In the Dead of the Night     by Buddy

 

 

 Spike could make his life easier and simply walk on by; no one would ever know he'd seen him if he turned up dead or worse, and oh for the days that that thought would have carried some weight. Xander hasn't even noticed he's there, which is sloppy, unless he has and really doesn't give a damn. And come to think of it what the bloody hell is he playing at, propping up gravestones without Buffy or Red to watch his ass? Spike could make his life easier but apparently today's the day he's not only a martyr to his soul, he's turned into a raving masochist with a shiny new penchant to save the one guy in the world who hates him more than Angel does. He wouldn't mind so much if his rebellious feet were taking him somewhere that ensured entertainment but getting a rise out of Xander these days is a severely unsatisfactory endeavour. Empathy sucks. The stake that Xander's holding works better as a 'come eat me' sign than as a deterrent to hungry vampires and Spike doubts he'd have a fighting chance against the new breed even if he were packing a flame-thrower. Still, he looks more relaxed than he has in weeks. If Spike ignores the shell-shocked look in his eyes and the patch of shaving burn on the left side of his jaw, he can almost convince himself he looks better than merely relieved. "Trying to get yourself killed the old fashioned way?" "Spike. What are you doing here?" "Just visiting the old neighbourhood. I got all nostalgic for simpler times." He nods at the gravestone Xander's leaning against. "That was my favourite perch. I used to enjoy a smoke here whilst I waited for the nightlife to entertain me," he shrugs. "Or try to kill me, either way it was a party." He nudges Xander over with his hip, settles his ass against Annabel Peterson and his left foot against Beloved Mother. Xander huffs but says nothing, just puts his stake away as though he really doesn't need it now the cavalry has arrived. "Don't get much in the way of entertainment these days," Spike grins and Xander stares at him as though it's something he never does, which, if he has to be honest, is true. "I'll have to make do with you." "Sorry Spike, you're outta luck; I have clown phobia, and Dawn borrowed my juggling balls to boost morale within the ranks." The familiar hostility is still there but it sounds as old as Xander looks so Spike simply nods at him and turns to walk away. "It's driving me nuts!" Spike stops and turns to face him and the eyebrow he raises signifies genuine astonishment instead of sardonic amusement and he enjoys the feeling; the good ones don't come along that often since he gained his soul. "And here's the evidence. You are standing in a cemetery." "All the bars are closed; it's the only place I could think of. Buffy's house is over run and my place is beginning to look so much like a girl's dorm that I keep forgetting I still pay the rent." Spike narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "Sick of seeing young nubile flesh? Tempting and forbidden, and in your face day in and day out, or fed up because you can't use the bathroom without a feminine chorus of annoying English accents that make you want to piss all over the loo and leave the seat up?" "I was gonna go with oestrogen poisoning but you're so much more eloquent than me." "A guy can't even get a wank in peace." "Spike!" "Just playing the empathy card, seeing as we're bonding." "We're not bonding. You're just the only other guy around apart from Giles and he doesn't count." "Why not, because he's boring?" "Because he's old and he doesn't talk about se... he doesn't talk. Unless it involves end of the world stuff, even more Potentials, or the lack of decent tea available in California." Spike smiles and relaxes his stance, crosses his arms against imagined cold, because he still feels naked without his duster, and decides that maybe he can have a little fun after all; it isn't as though Xander's troubles are heartbreaking. "It's not impossible you know, you just have to keep the noise levels down when you come." Xander gapes at him. "I'm not having this conversation with you." "Why not? Afraid it might get you hot? Might make you hard?" "Shut up!" "Tell me which one you think about when you do it. Not Kennedy because she's only got eyes for Red. I bet if she wasn't gay you'd go for her; she's a mouthy bitch and you seem to like that in a woman." "Spike …" "Amanda? Too innocent maybe, although she's got the nerd thing on her side and we all know how you feel about nerds. Do you still think of Re …" "I'm leaving." Spike shoots his hand out; grabs hold of Xander's sleeve and yanks him back before he can take more than a step. Xander falls heavily against him and Spike can smell the pungent scent of arousal and realises it's his own. He lets him go hastily and steps back against the gravestone. "I was just trying to break the tension." Xander's face is dark with anger and Spike is really grateful that the chip came out because he's swinging his fist like he means business. Spike ducks and Xander misses the first time but not the second and he catches Spike's jaw with a messy punch that rocks his head backwards. Spike puts his hands up. "Feel better now do we?" Xander is still holding on to Spike's jacket and his grips tightens as the anger leaves his face, only to be replaced with horror when Spike blinks at him and licks his lips. But it's too late; Spike can smell him now and he doesn't care if he's going to get punched again because it's heady and sweet and he can't help but push his nose against Xander's throat and breathe him in. "Spike?" "You smell so good and it's been so long and …" Xander's lips are hard and the gravestone is biting into Spike's back before it registers that he's kissing him. Hot lips against Spike's, and Xander's tongue is punishing; quick darts that barely touch the inside of his mouth before he moves on to tease the next part. He cups Spike through his jeans, grinds down with the heel of his hand and then he fumbles for his zipper as though he can't get it open quick enough. Cool air and rough fingers envelope Spike's cock and nothing matters right now except the rapid stroke of skin over crown and he reaches inside Xander's jeans to return the favour. Xander groans when Spike frees him and bites Spike's bottom lip as he closes his hand around Xander's hard length. Sucks his lip in and laves at the dents his teeth leave behind and Spike would dearly love to know what he would do if he fucked him. He's not surprised when Xander grips his hair but he is when Xander starts to stroke it, as though he always wondered about the texture of it. His kisses slow down like he's not just angry or horny but in real need of physical connection that isn't all about coming. It's Spike's undoing because he doesn't expect need and tenderness from someone who's supposed to hate him. He lets go with both pleasure, because Xander's good at this, and reluctance because he doesn't want it to be over. Xander's wide-eyed as Spike clasps his jaw tight, pulls his face closer and kisses him hard. He slows his movements on Xander's cock and pushes his forehead against the top of his nose, as though that alone can convey his need. "Fuck me, Xander." "What!" "You heard me, I want you inside me right here, right now." Spike pulls back to look at Xander and catches guilt, need, and desire flicker across his face before he finally yanks Spike's jean over his hips, spins him around and bends him over the gravestone. "I haven't done this before." "I'm sure you'll figure it out, it isn't that different." Xander wipes come down the crack of his ass and in seconds he's nudging eagerly at Spike's entrance. He slips inside so easily that Spike hardly feels the burn and he thrusts back hard because he wants to make Xander feel good too, at least for now. He spares a thought for the nightlife they must be entertaining but then it seems like Xander is everywhere, his hands clutching Spike's shoulders as he drapes himself against his back and drives into him relentlessly. The rough rub of granite against Spike's still sensitive cock brings it perversely back to life and the intermittent brush of Xander's cock past his sweet spot soon has him murmuring Xander's name over and over again. Xander pants hot breath in sporadic bursts below his earlobe and mercifully reaches round to provide better friction. "Oh god …" Xander's thrusts are erratic and he stills for seconds, clutching Spike closer to him and tossing him faster as he shoots his load deep inside him, fucks him harder and harder until he's spent and all he has breath for is Spike's name. Spike sprays the front of the gravestone, sullying Annabel Peterson's good name just before the stone cracks at the base and falls backwards. He pitches forward and Xander collapses on top of him. "Ow! Bloody hell!" Xander is laughing and Spike doesn't think it's funny because he's still inside him, until Xander pulls away slowly and rolls them both onto the grass. He lies on his back and fastens his pants and he's still laughing and Spike really has no choice but to join in. "We'd better get out of here. Nasties must still be out in force and as nice as that was, I don't think either of us wants to die for it." Spike stands up to fasten his pants and puts his hand out to pull Xander up. "That's probably never going to happen again." Xander says soberly and leans forward to kiss him, his eyes fixed on Spike's until their lips meet. "I think I might have to ask Willow for a forgetting spell just so I don't remember how much I hated it. Because it's highly disturbing in a world of massive disturbance." Spike smiles at him and lets Xander kiss him again. "Come on Harris, you can come to the basement and I'll show you how to do it without the women hearing a thing." The End back to: Spander fiction Recommended fiction Reading Room