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href="non90.html">90Sajinn
No, they aren’t mine. I wish they were, but they aren’t. They belong to their creators. No money is being made. I just take them out, put them in pretty dresses, and make them fight each other. No harm, no foul. Feed the writer. Review.
Happy Birthday, Jean-Baptiste Lully.
Xander woke up to all kinds of achiness. His legs hurt in ways that suggested he'd spent the night running. His mind supplied evidence to back up that suspicion. Other parts hurt, too. The lungs and arms he chalked up to running and evading hellhounds. Xander's cock hurt too, just a touch. It wasn't a bad hurt, more of an 'I got some, and then some more' ache. His neck also twinged a bit. That, though, he knew to be due to something other than last night's odd bit of canine-inspired insanity.
He rolled carefully off the couch, leaving Spike alone under the blanket, still deeply asleep as only a vampire slumbering the day away can get. Xander watched as Spike squirmed around to maximize the warmth that Xander had left behind. He almost felt bad about leaving Spike by himself. Almost. Xander felt gritty and icky and really wanted a shower. The trip to the bathroom was interrupted by a brief foray into the kitchen to submerge Spike's half-drunk mug of blood into a sink of soapy water. He'd make the vampire finish cleaning it later.
The shower was hot and lovely and helped Xander forget about the sore muscles and burning lungs that kept trying to invade his awareness. By the time he'd finished, the young man felt almost normal. Almost. He stood in front of the slightly foggy bathroom mirror, shaving cream in one hand and razor in the other. Lather the face and neck, draw the blade along skin.
Xander didn't wonder why shaving was a male ritual. After all, every day he took up a deadly weapon and dragged it along one of the most sensitive, vulnerable places on his body. One bad move and he'd be bleeding out all over his Egyptian cotton towels.
The same thing could be said of his lover.
The thought drew Xander's eyes to the healing bite mark that graced the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Spike had bitten him in the club just two nights ago. Opened that cold mouth and pushed those ivory fangs deep into Xander's body, drawing out blood even as he lured a shaky, shuddering orgasm out of the boy's body.
And Xander had liked it. A lot. Part of it was just liking the bite; a touch of something sharp to accent great sex. However, that wasn't most of why Xander had liked it. When Spike had bitten him, Xander had felt a sudden... calm, as though the entire universe had stopped. He felt every molecule in his blood orient on the bite and flow towards it. The young man could feel some part of himself flowing through layers of skin, muscle and fat and into Spike. He could sense the eternal cold of his lover, could feel the demon accepting the blood, loving it. He could even feel his body start to tense and slide into climax.
Then Spike pulled away and the universe began to spin again, momentarily throwing Xander off his usual rhythm. And like a considerate lover, Spike had promised that it didn't have to mean a thing. How nice. How... freeing. If it was Xander's will, the single most important, significant, close, fucking perfect moment of his life could be completely meaningless.
Xander knew one thing with absolute certainty: he wanted it to mean something. Exactly what, he wasn't sure. No, that wasn't true. He knew just what he wanted that bite to mean. Spike was his. He was Spike's. They belonged to each other, with each other. Bonding deeper than frequent orgasms and the sharing of toothpaste. More real than the mutual secret that they kept from the others, that they were in fact involved.
Spike watched Xander watch himself. The boy was once again lost in some thought, drifting away in that beautiful miasma that was his mind. Spike decided to let him be, so the vampire walked past him and got into the shower. Normally he'd be asleep at this time of day, but between the less-than-perfect comfort of the couch and Xander's removal of his lovely warmth, Spike had been roused. A shower was definitely in order; he smelled like cum and the boy's sweat, which didn't bother him, and hellhounds, sewers and hospitals, which did.
Xander realized that Spike was bathing and quickly finished his ablutions. By the time the vampire walked out of the bathroom, Xander was half-dressed and quickly becoming more so. "Going somewhere, pet?" Spike inquired softly, sitting down on the half-made bed. Xander had mentioned previously that he wanted to spend the weekend resting, out of sight of the world. So why was he getting ready to leave?
Xander glanced over at Spike, feeling guilty for wanting to run. He needed to think, to mull over things, to... "Need to run errands," Xander muttered, taking the next shirt he found.
Spike frowned and stood up, blocking Xander's retreat. "What's up, luv?" He peered closely at the nervous human. Xander was fairly trembling, he was so uptight. "Why're you so..."
Xander's eyes darted this way and that. "Nothing, Spike, I just need to..."
"Run?" Spike murmured, trying hard to keep sadness out of his voice. Why was Xander running? What had happened? When? Xander winced, telling Spike that he'd been very right. "Why?" He whispered, voice just on the solid side of tremble. "Tell me, Xander."
Xander looked down at the carpet, twisting his shirt in his hands. "I, ah... you... um..." The young man bit his lips, turning his neck in a soft-skinned parody of the torture he was inflicting on his poor shirt. The movement stretched the bite, making Xander grimace. Spike saw it all, and more.
A chilled finger traced the bite, making Xander shiver. "It's this, isn't it?" Spike murmured. "Worrying you now?" Was his boy regretting it? He'd not really had time to until now; after they'd left the club Xander had collapsed until work the next morning, and after work had been patrolling. The word 'hellhounds' summarized their patrolling, so now was Xander's mind's perfect time to kick in and give the boy a good going-over.
"I..." Xander stuttered and bit his lip. Finally he lifted his head to look at Spike directly. "I don't know what it means."
Spike smiled softly, sadly, regretfully. "What does it mean to you?"
Xander frowned. "To me? I just said I don't know."
"You don't?" Spike pressed, still speaking barely above a whisper.
"Well...I..." Again Xander found himself without words. Spike, though, could see what Xander wanted to say; big black letters floated around the boy's head like so many tiny devils, each one set out to torture the boy. Xander knew exactly what the bite meant to him, but he couldn't tell what it meant to Spike. That was what was troubling the boy.
Spike reached down and took the torn fabric from Xander's hands. Then he picked the young man up, cradling him gently as he laid him down on the bed. Spike made quick work of Xander's trousers and shoes, soon leaving the boy as naked as he was.
Xander gasped as cool skin met warm. Spike covered him, somehow feeling still as a statue even though he rubbed himself against Xander like a cat. Those bluest eyes never left Xander's face, always fixed on the boy's whisky eyes. "Xander?" Spike said questioningly.
"Yeah?" Xander whispered.
"You do know I love you, right?" Spike inquired, pushing his legs between the boy's.
Xander's breath hitched. "Yeah," He replied slowly. They'd established the mutual sharing of fuzzy emotions a long time ago, but that had only done so much to dispel Xander's insecurities.
Spike traced his tongue over the spot on Xander's chest where his heart was pounding. "More than I ever loved Dru, Angel, or Buffy," Spike continued, hands stroking that so-smooth skin in a manner meant to comfort and reassure. "More than I love a good bit of bloody mayhem, too."
Xander couldn't help but smile. "Sp--" A slender finger reached up to silence Xander.
"I love your skin. It's so sweet and smooth, like rose petals that never fade," Spike whispered. "I love the way you smell; spicy and strong and you. I've never met anyone who always smelled so damned good," Spike continued, pressing random kisses to Xander's skin. It helped Spike to do this whilst pouring out his heart; if he'd been face to face with Xander he'd have lost control long ago. It wasn't easy, and he was no poet. Despite his former literary leanings, Spike was rough with words.
"I love the way your mouth curves when you smile; it's like the arch of the moon when she's almost new. But when you do smile, you light up the room like the sun, all joy and warmth and strong hands," Spike murmured into Xander's abdomen. He shivered slightly; each word he spoke dragged another emotion out of him, making him relive each reason why he loved this precious boy.
"And your eyes, they're better than the best of Red's spells. They entrance me, hold me to you. I look into your eyes and see everything I ever wanted to be, right there. I see the night never ending, just so I can always be with you." Spike buried his face in the crease of Xander's thigh, hiding his tears. Xander quivered slightly, undone by Spike's words. The vampire never ceased to amaze him with the depth of his emotions.
"But all of that is rubbish, really," Spike said suddenly. "It's not any part of your body that made me want to bite you," He explained. "It was this," He said, once again pressing his lips to Xander's chest. "Your heart."
Xander moaned softly, not sure of what to say.
"I'm a vampire, Xander. A demon, something you fear, hate, hunt, kill. But you haven't done that to me; that night you didn't fear me when I had my fangs on your neck. No, you asked me to bite you. Somewhere along the way you traded in hatred for something less...violent. And you don't try to kill me; you hunt beside me. An equal, that's how you treat me." Spike gave up trying to maintain any sort of control of his emotions. He didn't care anymore what the boy saw, or how poncy a bugger it made him. He kept this kind of emotion locked away for a damned good reason; once they got loose there was no controlling them.
Xander watched as Spike broke down on top of him. He hadn't meant to upset his lover, but he'd somehow done an excellent job of it. Feeling lower than the lowest scum, Xander wrapped his arms around Spike and pulled him up his body. When they were face to face, Xander pressed their lips together, trying not to cry himself when he felt telltale moisture on the vampire's face.
Spike cried out brokenly as Xander kissed him, letting the power behind his feelings for his lovely boy come through with every touch. Their bodies trembled together, shaking with the aching sadness and hope that Spike couldn't restrain, and the doubtful but oddly sure love Xander was afraid to express. When Xander's arms tightened around Spike, the vampire returned the favor, holding his boy so close there was no telling them apart. When Xander thrust against Spike, lured into arousal by the seductive satin of his vampire's body, Spike replied in kind, sliding their cocks together in a wet, hard-soft concert of flesh.
Xander wondered how he could have ever doubted Spike's feelings. How could he have possibly questioned a creature so passionate, so pure in his devotion? The young man redoubled his efforts to make up for his earlier bungling, delving into that precious mouth with renewed vigor. He felt Spike thrust harder, movements growing slightly erratic. Oh, Spike was close, endurance stripped away with the tears he'd shed. Xander held him closer and urged him on, moving in a swift counterpoint to the vampire's frantic thrusts.
Spike screamed into Xander's mouth as he came, spilling cold seed between them. He held onto Xander with near-painful force as the boy joined him, giving heat to their climax. Once he'd found his mind again, Xander encouraged Spike to relax against him, holding the vampire to his warm body as though he was never letting go. Then again, he had no intentions of letting Spike get away from him. Ever.
"Twenty-one," Xander whispered, caressing the skin of Spike's lower back with one reverent hand. Spike shuddered and nodded, still wallowing in pleasure. "And Spike? It means everything to me. Everything."
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