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Cicirossi
It started with with a (fictional, we hope) ice cream/donut/sex shop rest area on the highway. And then it just grew until it ate Cici's brain.
Rated NC-17. Contains rampant silliness, ice cream abuse, food as sex toys. If you're bothered by slash you might not want to keep reading....
Spike, Xander, and the Buffyverse ©Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers,
UPN, 20th Century Fox, Sandollar, and probably some other people I've forgotten.
It's Joss' world, we just like to play in it.
Honestly, Xander had no intention of following through on his offer once they got to the room. He had no real desire to relive the excruciating embarrassment of flopping his fish butt around on stage in a thong. Two things changed his mind. First, the unbelievable amount of money Spike retrieved from the payment window. He could use some of that, even if he did have to dig it out of his sweaty underwear. Second, the look in Spike's eyes. That really hot look, the one that told Xander he could not only get Spike back for the unexpected hand job during dinner, but also earn at least a week of constant adoration. It was worth it.
"Okay, you pick what you want me to strip out of, since you bought the clothes. And you can choose the music, but I swear to God, if you give me thrash metal, or something like my Conway Twitty tape I will stake you. Got it?" Xander put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and made sure it closed firmly behind him. Then locked both locks. "I'll be in the bathroom, getting ready."
Grinning, Xander grabbed up one of the Trucker's Delite bags, still full of wondrous toys, and slipped into the bath area. His last sight of Spike was of a blonde head sticking out of a whirling dervish of fabric. Doing a little jig, he started disrobing so he could wash up a little and put on a pair of butt floss undies. Spike knocked on the door, and Xander opened it a tiny crack to grab the stuff he was supposed to wear. It was a near thing, but he didn't quite slam Spike's fingers in the door.
Of course, when he saw what Spike had given him, he wished he had. "Holy shit, Spike," he hollered through the door. "When did you buy me leather pants? And how the heck am I supposed to get out of them without looking like and idiot?"
Apparently Spike was still right outside, because Xander could clearly hear him snigger. "Very slowly, love. You're going to have to make this one last. I intend to get my money's worth. Let me know when you're ready. I've got the music all set up for you."
Pride too, goeth before a fall, Xander thought. With a philosophical shrug, he struggled into the snug, black leather pants. They fit perfectly, and he got a little goofy there for a minute. You had to be awfully familiar with someone's body to buy them pants like this. Without them needing to try them on, that is. The thought didn't help the fit of the leathers one bit. After a minor adjustment, he reached for the rest of the clothes. There was a t-shirt, also black, that looked to be Spike's. There was a silk shirt, too, that was obviously for him. He couldn't bring himself to be mad about the Spike buying these. Sure, Spike hated his clothes. But he never really said much about it, except when they brought up each other's faults in a petty argument. So Spike buying him nice clothes for their vacation wasn't an insult. It was kinda sweet.
The shoes stayed off, and the socks came off before he went out. No matter what the porn movies would have him believe, Xander thought a man looked stupid in a g-string and white tube socks. Filling his lungs with a deep breath, Xander knocked on the door and yelled, "Ready when you are, Spike."
A throbbing beat started up in the other room, not too loud, as they didn't want the neighbors complaining. Kiss him or kill him, Xander wondered, because he recognized the song. It would be easy enough to strip to, but damn Spike anyway for his taste in music. Deciding he might as well get it over with, Xander flung the door wide and shook his ass out into the room to the opening strains of "Closer", by Nine Inch Nails.
It was more embarrassing than he expected, dancing for Spike. Hotter too. Spike sprawled in one of the club chairs at the far end of the room, stripped down to his jeans with the top few buttons undone. The single-minded intensity in Spike's heavy lidded gaze reminded Xander that Spike was a predator, through and through. He felt like he was teasing the lion at the zoo. It made heat rush to his face, and to his cock, and Spike's nostrils flared just a bit.
The silk shirt came off first, button by button, and his fingers fumbled as he swayed awkwardly in place. It slithered down his arms and fluttered to the floor, and Spike's whole body tensed, and it got easier. Just that little sign that Spike was loving this, that it was turning him on, gave Xander the confidence he needed to slide his hands up over the thin, soft cotton of the too tight t-shirt and pinch his nipples through it. Spike squirmed, and Xander let himself go one more notch, letting the music lead him now, feeling the beat pulsing in his chest and in his balls. The t-shirt was gone before he even thought about it. His one miserable experience taking his clothes off for money had never felt like this. He hadn't been dancing for Spike then, just a bunch of screaming women who, even after a lifetime on the Hellmouth, taught him that fear had depths he'd never dreamed of.
This was different. This was all about the little movements of Spike's hips in time with his, even though there was still a whole room between them. He hurt, and the thought startled him. Time to get out of those pants. He hadn't spent much time in them, but he'd had them on long enough that he knew he'd have to wear them again, once in a while, just to see that expression on Spike's face. The buttonholes were stiff, and they popped audibly as they released. Each tiny noise made Spike lean forward in his seat. Xander turned his back as he bent to pull the pants off, presenting Spike with a perfect view of his ass. It felt utterly ridiculous until he was rewarded with a frustrated growl.
"Hurry it up, pet."
The impatience only made him go slower, calmed him, and Xander luxuriated in the feel of soft-stiff leather sliding down his legs. He pushed the pants off his feet, giving a good wiggle in the process, then stood and turned to Spike. The only reason Spike wasn't drooling was because, well, Spike didn't drool as far as Xander knew. But he did have a hand down the front of his jeans, rubbing himself as he watched Xander gyrate across the room in his little string bikini. He didn't even laugh at the penguin printed on the front pouch. What he did do was wave a fifty-dollar bill in Xander's general direction, then waggled his hand a "come here, little boy" motion.
All of this took less time than Xander imagined; the song was only half over when he reached Spike's chair. He danced around Spike, shaking his groove thing with abandon now, lost to the feeling of hands on him, brushing against all the naughty places. A fleeting touch on his ass, another barely there rub against his thigh, and he was ready to melt. His skin radiated heat, sweat ran down his chest, and Spike caught Xander's hips to hold him still as he leaned forward to lick it off.
Something snapped, either Spike, or the strings on his underwear, and Xander straddled Spike's legs for an impromptu lap dance. They ground against each other to the driving beat of the music, convulsive movements that made them both groan. Then Spike lifted Xander with that casual, brutal strength, so he could skin his jeans down around his thighs. Hardness against hardness then, a frenzy of sliding flesh and panting breaths that lasted after the final wavering note of the music died. It went on and on until Xander felt his spine draw impossibly tight, and his whole body arched back away from Spike, rigid with release. Spike shouted, a triumphant sound, and dug his fingers into Xander's skin to hold him there while he gave into his own orgasm.
When they finally recovered enough to peel themselves apart, they headed for the shower. Stopping just long enough to pick his hard earned cash up off the floor, Xander asked, "So was it worth it?"
"Worth every penny and then some, Xan."
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