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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
They fumbled into their clothes, and Xander was amazed to see Spike's hands shake. He had no illusions that it was nervousness; he was pretty sure it was the chocolate need inducing the tremors, but wow that must be strong magic to have that effect on vampire physiology. And Spike hadn't answered his question.
"You have two minutes now."
"That's all I need, isn't it?" Finally winning the war with his jeans, Spike shrugged into his t-shirt and glared at Xander. "It's your fault."
"What?" That raised his voice. In both volume and range. "What the heck does that mean?"
"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be getting what he always wanted right? So looks to me like you've always wanted a vampire to bite you, maybe so you'd know what it felt like. Only reason I can explain the compulsion, because it's not like I wanted to."
That snarky speech was much less impressive than it could be, because Spike swayed where he stood, and his speech slurred just the tiniest bit. Pressing the advantage was mean, but Xander knew Spike would be feeling worse by the minute and would have to tell him the truth eventually just to get his chocolate.
"Yeah. And it's not like you wanted to fuck me either. I mean, it wasn't like you practically attacked me when I mentioned it. And that still doesn't explain why you tried to make Buffy into a floor mop."
"I don't feel good, pet."
"So you said. You tell me what I want to know, we go get you feeling better."
"That's just wrong. Have I withheld your fix? Have I? No. Taken care of you, I have. Least you could do is return the favor." Looked like Spike was going for his trademark pout, but his teeth started to chatter and that kind of ruined the effect. Guilt was not a word Xander usually used in the same sentence with "Spike" but the last few days were full of new experiences, so why not this?
"Okay. Come on." He put an arm around Spike and started out to the living room. The instant, heavy lean into him told him more than anything else could how much Spike needed a Tornado bar. Well, that and the feverish heat of Spike's skin, and didn't that feel weird? Even more guilt. The girls were waiting for them, and Xander accepted a single chocolate bar from Tara. He hoped that would be enough, like it was for him when the whole mess first started, because he really wanted one in reserve, just in case. Half expecting Spike to grab it and shove it into his mouth fully wrapped, Xander handed it to him gingerly. Spike took it, sniffed it curiously, then handed it back. "What? You need to eat it, Spike."
"Not what I'm craving. Why don't you eat it, then you feed me."
A chorus of horrified exclamations burst from the female section of the room. "No! Absolutely no way," from Buffy. And "Are you crazy?" from Willow. Tara's quiet, "That might be the only way," went almost unnoticed. Almost.
"What do you mean, Tara?" Not that Xander really wanted to hear it, but he knew he had to ask.
Obviously still not completely comfortable being the focus of the whole room, Tara swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, look at the difference between how Xander reacted to the chocolate and how Spike did. It, it's obvious that Spike is in withdrawal of some kind." Here she gestured to Spike, who was starting to shake visibly. "But the chocolate didn't make him violent, or ravenous like it did Xander." Looking earnestly at each one of them in turn, Tara shrugged. "Maybe Spike has to have his filtered through Xander."
"Oh! Or maybe he just needs it in blood. Like hot chocolate, only with blood, not milk. We could even put marshmallows in it."
Death-ray glare at Willow and she pretended not to notice. "You are not putting my chocolate in pig's blood."
"What, you'd rather we tap one of your veins and stick a straw in it for him?" Now it was an equal opportunity "die" stare as Xander trained it on Buffy.
The point became a little more urgent just about then, because Spike's legs went out from under him and he crumpled to the floor. "Spike." Xander squatted next to him, and pale usually described Spike, but now he was practically transparent. "Okay, somebody give me something sharp."
More no and crazy and general mayhem flew at him. And Tara was still the voice of reason, because she said, "He might be able to bite you. Just don't give him a place with a major artery."
So that was exactly what Xander did. Just handed over the fleshy part of his arm like he'd never had a problem with bloodsucking fiends and like Spike had never tried to kill him and like he wasn't scared half to death. But Spike took care of him, and he had to take care of Spike, and this was something he could do so he did. And Tara must be right because the game face came out right away and Spike sank his fangs into Xander's arm, and then there was blast off.
Connected. They were connected, that's how it felt. He'd slept through this last time; passed out cold and missed it. But this pulling, this drawing out of himself and into Spike, it was like nothing else before, ever. Every time his heart beat Spike seemed to suck and it became a rhythm, something hard and urgent and throbbing, and that wasn't the only thing hard. Not for Spike either, because he was humping air, his hips snapping in time to his swallows, and it hurt, it burned like the time Xander got his wisdom teeth out and they put the anesthesia in his arm and it burned just like that except in instead of out. But it felt so good, too, straight to his cock, making him squirm and making Spike moan, and Xander thought he could come from just this and...
Blinking, Xander stared up at Buffy from where he landed a few feet away. "That's enough," she said. "You did your good deed. But if you do anymore of the deed right now, you'll both, uh, finish. And then you'll need chocolate and he'll need Xander blood and we'll be back where we started, right? "
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