Ahestele
FEEDBACK: Love some.
SUMMARY: You meet the damndest people at the airport.
SPOILERS: Through Season 6. Set fifteen years after Season 6 finale.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: Some four letter words
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, Never were. All rights to Joss, Mutant Enemy and assorted capitalist entities.
NOTES: Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are mine alone.
AFTERNOON
They did wake up together then, by degrees, stretching and yawning. Xander had to pee and by the time he got back out Spike had sat up in bed blinking and rubbing his eyes in an astoundingly child-like gesture.
They wandered into the kitchen where he nuked the leftover Chinese food. Spike warmed up some blood and they sat in companionable silence sharing the Sunday Times. Spike propped his feet on Xander's lap, absorbed in the paper, and he was really going to have to give him those sweatpants. He looked around himself.
The afternoon had that lazy feeling he'd grown to love because he'd never had it before. No warm, fuzzy Sunday afternoons in the Harris household, and Anya simply was not a sleep late person, always up at first light, buzzing and frenetic, rushing around talking a mile a minute. It hit him then, fully, how different Spike had become in that respect, because pre-souled Spike had some serious ADHD going on: tapping fingers, jiggling foot, prowling around when he had to sit still more than thirty minutes. In a moment of epiphany he'd realized how hard it must have been for the vampire to be tied up in the bathtub, or on his lawn chair in the basement. Spike had always been about pent up, coiled energy, sleek and dangerous, like a panther.
But not this Spike. No nervous thrumming, no foot tapping, just calm, paper in one fine boned hand, mug of blood in the other, honey blond hair tousled into his eyes. Spike glanced up and was Xander ever going to get used to the clear, guiless blue of them? An inquisitive smile curved the corners of the perfect mouth up and Xander put down the paper to start rubbing the feet on his lap, just to touch him again.
"Anything you want to do today?" Spike's gaze traveled down his body and Xander felt his stomach clench at that indecent, speculative look. "Besides that. You of the one track mind." Spike's foot, the one not in his hand, gave a toe at his crotch and Xander jumped as the thin fabric of his nylon shorts rubbed against...well, hell.
"You were saying?"
"I was saying that's fighting dirty."
"Nancy boy." But the teasing foot moved away and Xander shifted in relief. Spike put the paper on the table and stretched, cat-like still despite being cured of the twitchies along the way. "Thought I'd watch some telly, see if I can find some football on your bazillion cable channels. Not up for much else, it bein' daylight and all."
"Just didn't want you bored, Fangless. I've got some work to finish up."
"No fear." Spike shrugged and emptied the mug. "Could use some down time."
"Yeah?" He stood up and began to gather dishes. "Recovering from-- where is it you were?" He hadn't realized it sounded like fishing until the words hung in the silent air and he bit his lip where he stood at the sink scraping moo goo gai pan scraps down the disposal and flipping the switch. That bought him a few seconds of time before the silence descended again, and he inwardly sighed. Come on, Spike, give me something so I don't feel like I have to pry it out of you with a crowbar.
"Budapest." The answer came, finally, actually sounded casual. And hide the relief, too, Harris.
"Is that where Drusilla is?" He asked turning back to the table, and felt his stomach sink at the pinched discomfort on those features that didn't match the collected voice.
Spike nodded, getting up to wash his mug, but Xander plucked it from his fingers with an encouraging smile. "That's where she moved on, yeah."
He's lying, the thought materialized in his head, and he ignored it as he washed out the cup to put on the drainage rack. He didn't know that. Didn't know any such thing. He hadn't seen Spike for fifteen years, what made him think he could read the vampire that well? Arrogant much?
Pale blue veined arms around his waist and silken chest at his back and Xander stroked the forearms. He felt Spike lay his head at the nape of his neck and had to turn around to hold him properly. Such a serious look in those blue eyes. "Getting that heavy feeling again. Want to share?"
"No. Not really." Spike answered neutrally and Xander nodded, letting it go with some effort. Something had happened, something to do with the bruised sorrow in those eyes. Sometimes he felt he could physically touch the thing between them.
Spike watched him for a few moments before reaching up and brushing his morning shadow with the back of a hand. "I'm here. I want you. That enough?"
"Yeah." Xander said softly, turning to kiss a smooth-rough palm. "It's enough." For now. He swallowed the slim vampire in his arms, cupping Spike's skull with one hand, felt the man give a sigh and relax. He watched infinitesimal dust particles dust in the light of a small patch of sunlight, and held his vampire for a while.
The afternoon passed, lazy and peaceful. Xander laid out his work for the next week focusing on two presentation bids he'd compiled regarding the insulation for new commercial buildings. Every once in a while he'd glance over his shoulder to where Spike lay on the couch idly flicking channels. Once he heard cheering and saw Spike put the remote down, settling in for some soccer. Settling calmly in, which was all kinds of wrong, but he couldn't really say that, could he? He'd only ever watched one soccer game on TV with Spike while the vampire lived in the basement with him, and he didn't know how Spike even heard anything, so preoccupied was he with yelling and cheering, and insulting the official's ancestry. The still figure watching the game was only another thing that was different, apart, not right to the Spike he'd known.
Of course he'd never have taken that Spike to bed, right? Sure, Harris, kid yourself, he thought, snorting. Who took the initiative that morning? They'd be ice-skating in hell before he would have put move one on Spike of his own accord. Not that he exactly fought too hard when said move was done to him....
Cool palms on the nape of his neck made him jump and he smiled as they moved down his chest to rub slowly on the stiff peaks of his nipples. "I'm gonna get you a bell...." And no more talking, his mouth too full of tongue and teeth and moist, copper velvet. Desire unraveled like string, looping off faster and faster and oh, yes, petal soft muscle, naked Spike in his hands, springy honey curls tangled in his fingers as he clenched in them, ground the thrusting cavern in so hard teeth clicked, stronger tang of copper.
Spike pulled away panting, blue eyes dark as twilight and stain of alizarin on his lips. Bloody lipstick.
"Sorry." Xander whispered, concerned, then watched, riveted, as a pink tongue peeked out, lapped at the moisture, and he pulled Spike to him again, too rough, sorry, but oh, swirling explosion of taste and mewling, whimpery sounds, which one, and suddenly the cool muscle climbed onto him, fitted in his lap like it was made for it. His hands grabbed slim hips, curve of bone he loved, too hard, man, but he couldn't seem to pull back, rein in, every intention evaporating like so much smoke.
Fuck him, he wanted to fuck him so bad as he watched that face take it, oh God. One hand groped feverishly between them as the other held onto that fragile neck, holding Spike close, only parting to steal gasps of air around the nipping, biting lips. Fingers found his, tube slipped in and he'd laugh but the burning relief wasn't funny right now. Flick, coat, tossed the tube aside without closing it and weight on his legs was suddenly lighter, lifted. Even while kissing he knew, could picture it: Spike using the table as leverage, every bicep and deltoid bulging as he allowed Xander room to reach into the damp confines of his shorts, pull himself free. The touch of his own fingers nearly sent him over, pushed a moan through his teeth because the skin was so sensitive, felt like he'd been hard forever, and maybe he had. Waiting for this, he hadn't even realized, so fucking beautiful....
Tight, tight sheath on his cock and he gasped, mauled the skin of Spike's hips helplessly because oh, Jesus, oh....gravity and physics and weight and the slightly lifted knees, and the vampire worked himself on Xander's hardness, bouncing, rocking, taking him inch by inch and watching emotions run across that face had him holding onto control by the barest sliver.
Little winces, wide, wide blue eyes and panting, parted lips. Xander pushed down with his hands, felt quivering globes through the bunched up nylon of his shorts and the blue was very, very wide, knuckles almost white, whiter, on the table.
"Okay? Spike?" He had to pant around the heart in his throat. "Talk...to me..."
"Can't..." Ragged voice sounded lost and it stripped the last vestige of reserve he had. Pumping on him, hands gripping bruises on the pale flesh, had to be, but so good, Jesus, and slouched lower in the chair to go deeper, angled hips, there, and Spike jerked on top of him, again, rode faster in the heat and motion nothing existed but this, in, in, uh.... Spike scrambled for the erection leaking all over Xander's stomach and he pushed the hand away, dark, thrill at the sobbing moan of desperation that keened into pleasure when he fisted the turgid cock, snug channel. Down on him, up into him and he surrounded Spike, was surrounded by him, felt a vibration, a clenching begin.
"Tell me." He gritted out, willed the sooty lashes to open so he could see, and must have heard him, yes. "Talk to me." But Spike couldn't, no words, just torn, airless breathing, and hard moans, and the trembling intensified, good, because Xander was on borrowed seconds here, not much longer...
Spike turned away. Strained away, cords of his neck outlined and quivering and Xander's blinked in confusion, hand leaving a pistoning hip to move the fine jaw back. Jerk of the head, fall of curls hiding Spike's face and Xander mumbled. "No." Tried again, more twisting away. "No!" Gripped the cut glass cheekbone hard and forced, and Spike went this time. Feral golden eyes collided with his, ridged brow and razor sharp fangs. Holding the yellow eyes his hand outlined the territory, lashes fluttered over molten eyes and when his fingers moved over Spike's mouth they were sucked in deep.
The orgasm ripped through him viciously, shocking and fast, every nerve exploding and he yelled, shot powerfully into the binding flesh. Spike growled, thready and desperate then startled Xander by laying back on the table, taut outline of rib cage like some alabaster sculpture, arms outstretched over all his papers and notebooks, the rigid, unsheathed cock an offering against his midriff. He fisted it, pumped twice, hard, and Spike howled, back arching and quivering as cool seed splashed them both. Slower, slower, still.
They panted, breath still not caught. Xander carefully lifted the prone body upright, then against him, wrapping his arms around the slim shoulders and Spike curled onto his chest, face tucked into his neck. Molding the skull with one hand, loved how he could do that, he pressed his lips to the damp curls and whispered into them. "Why did you look away?"
Body instantly tense on top of him and he sat Spike back up he could look in the apprehensive blue, but Spike wouldn't meet his eyes until he pushed the curls away. Such hurt in there and he touched one perfect cheekbone. "Embarrassin' innit?" Rough, low voice. The annoyance fell flat, more anxiety in there than anything. "I could control it, before....before the soul thing..."
"I like it." Xander said, and suddenly his own voice dipped down, flush staining his face and Spike stared at him with such open wonder his insides turned over. Too much, too bald that, and it made him want to devour the pink mouth all over again, crawl inside the satin skin and never leave. "It's you."
God his eyes, the look in them. All of a sudden, the blue was too bright and he hugged him then, too tight, but vampire's don't need air, so what of it. They sat there, damp and sticky and warm, cocooned in each other as the shadows grew, and night stole over the horizon.