This is for the Color, Sound, Random Object Ficathon. Enjoy!
Title: Your Love Coming Down Like Rain
Written for: kyrieane
Color: dove grey
Sound: the sound of rain on fallen leaves
Random Object: an old painting
Betas: Thanks to silvertedy and ladycat777 for beta work. I love you both. And someday I will reward you both with fic. That day, however, is not today. You should see my ‘to write’ list. The horror! The horror! But someday. I promise you. *g*
Note: The request was for first time and Spike being romantic, with a rating of NC-17, and schmoop and smut. I think I managed to squeeze everything in. Silvertedy said Harlequin’s got nothing on me after this, so I hope it pleases. It’s a bit soft and gooey, but sometimes that’s what we need. Enjoy.
Your Love Coming Down Like Rain
Xander lay in the grass staring up through a brilliant canopy of red, orange, yellow, brown leaves. The wind rustled, sending leaves drifting down around him. It was a beautiful contrast to the sky, which was getting darker -- passing from the usual bright blue to softer white then slipping into steadily darker shades of grey. Xander knew he was pressing his luck. The sky was sure to grow black soon with the coming storm. The weather always turned crazy after some really evil stuff happened. And evil had to be afoot because Spike was being nice to him. Hell, Spike was flirting with him; this morning he'd cornered him in the kitchen and said, “I like you, Xander.” And Xander had liked hearing that, which clearly meant that something evil was afoot.
It was the unexpected kindness--topped off by those words--that sent him running out the door. He drove aimlessly for a while and ended up at the park. Sure they’d been cohabitating without too much trouble since Buffy’d forced him to take the crazy vampire in, but just because they weren’t fighting didn’t mean they were meant to like each other.
Of course, Spike was the only one who was actually being nice. Xander had been trying to ignore things and after this morning's encounter he'd become Mr. Avoidy so he didn’t have to think about it. And that avoidance had led him to here -- to laying in the grass in the park thinking about the one thing he was trying desperately not to think about: Spike. And wasn’t that how things always happened on the Hellmouth?
Spike paced the glorified closet that passed for his room, wondering where he was. “For crying out loud! What the hell is wrong with me? How could I fall for him? And then to tell him? Worst thing I could have possibly done.”
He flopped down on his bed and for the billionth time in the last week looked over at the cardboard tube leaning in the corner of the room. A package from Angel that he’d not yet gotten up the nerve to open. Knowing Angel, it was probably a big stake with a bow on it. As far as Spike knew no one had told him about the soul yet, but he wasn’t so sure they’d been as quiet about that night in Buffy’s bathroom.
Spike closed his eyes and tried to relax, but all he could think of was the package staring at him and Xander fleeing the apartment at Spike’s words. He was God only knows where while the First was fucking with them all and the sky was growing darker and darker. The rain was heavy; the wind blowing so hard the power had gone out.
Xander or the package? Package or Xander? Lesser of two evils then. He got up and grabbed the tube from the corner and held it in his hands, testing the weight. It was substantial but not too heavy, the weight evenly balanced. He pulled the cap off one end and his senses were hit by a long-forgotten scent. Curious, he tipped the tube and slid the contents out -- a canvas. As he unrolled it, Spike found himself staring at a portrait.
He tilted it toward the candlelight. It was him. Naked, tangled in cream-colored sheets, skin aglow from candles or a fire to his left. He was asleep, an innocent smile on his lips. Sated. He remembered nights of relaxation after sharing the pleasure of sex and blood with Dru and Angelus, but he didn’t remember posing like this. He wondered if he’d truly slept through it or if Angel had painted it from memory. He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the image of himself. He wished Xander could see him like this, but he doubted Xander would ever give him such a chance.
Splat. Splat. Splatter. Splat.
Xander heard the rain hit the leaves above him first, then gradually fall on those scattered around him. Finally, he felt it on his skin, but was too lazy to move right away. Of course, by the time the rain penetrated the canopy above him, it was coming down pretty hard. Once he did move, the few seconds it took for him to run across the fifty-yard clearing between the trees and his car left him soaked. Not that it mattered, because he got there only to find that he’d locked his keys inside the car. They lay on the floorboard, and he realized he must have dropped them when getting out.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He looked up at the sky then back at the car and decided there was no way he was going to knock out a window in this storm. Squaring his shoulders, he began the walk home. For a moment, he considered going to Buffy’s instead, but that would mean answering questions he wasn't ready to answer--even to himself. Questions like why didn’t he want to go home?
Spike looked out the window again. It was black as night out even though it was early afternoon. The storm raged on and still no Xander. Spike rolled his eyes at his mother hen behavior. “He’s probably over at Buffy’s.” Should he call? Maybe Buffy could use some help with the girls--that would work as a cover for calling. Spike went into the living room and grabbed the phone. Just as he was about to dial, someone pounded on the door. “Spike! Open up!”
Xander. He crossed to the door and opened it. Act normal. Act normal. “Forget how to --” Spike’s question died on his lips when he saw Xander looking like a drowned rat.
“Don't.” Xander headed straight to the bathroom. “Locked my keys in the car. Had to walk from the park.” He flipped the light switch and nothing happened. He turned back to Spike. “Have you just been sitting in the dark?”
“No. Lit some candles.”
Xander looked around him. There were no candles in sight.
“Um . . . guess I only lit them in my room.” Spike pushed past Xander into the bathroom and lit a candle on the toilet tank with his lighter. It smelled flowery; Anya was probably the one who put the candles in the bathroom. Spike stepped back but didn’t leave the room. “So, you walked all the way from the park in this weather? Why didn’t you call?”
Xander looked at Spike like he’d grown a third eye, and Spike would have blushed if he could. Apparently the mother hen was back. “What I mean is why didn’t you call Buffy or Anya?”
Xander relaxed, but still seemed a bit unconvinced. “Oh . . . uh . . . phone’s in the car, too,” he mumbled.
“In the car? Lotta good that’ll do. What if I needed to reach you while you were off playing in the sandbox or riding the merry-go-round or --”
“Sandbox? Merry-go-round? What am I? Five?”
“Whatever. Point is, there could have been an emergency and you wouldn’ta been reachable. And what if something happ--”
He stopped and looked at Xander. Somehow during all his ranting he’d missed Xander stripping down to his boxers. He eyed his body from head to toe and swallowed. “Yeah?”
“You mind leaving so I can get a shower?” His words were slow and even like he was talking to a child. Normally, Spike would have been offended by that, but Xander was practically naked and all he’d been able to think about for the last few weeks was seeing Xander naked. Well, seeing and touching.
“Uh, sure. Right.” He nodded and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He stood leaning against it, eyes closed, for several minutes. Eventually the sound of the shower pushed through his thoughts and he moved away.
Xander let the hot water beat down on him until he was warm again. Leaning against the tile under the spray, he watched the flickering shadows on the shower curtain. The last time he’d showered by candlelight he hadn’t been alone. And there was Spike again, invading his thoughts. I like you, Xander. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew what Spike had meant. He’d seen the way Spike had looked at him before leaving the bathroom.
Xander banged his head against the tile and took a few deep breaths. He was out of his depth here. He knew what to do with girls, not guys. Not that he wanted to do anything with any guys, but . . . Okay maybe that wasn’t strictly true. Maybe Larry had been right all those years before when he’d assumed he and Xander had something in common. But that didn’t mean Xander was going to learn about guys by doing something with Spike. He was vampire. And after all the shit Xander had given Buffy about Angel and Spike, there was no way he was going to set himself up for the payback that his own involvement with Spike would surely inspire.
Fuck. He was already thinking about doing something with Spike. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be thinking about Buffy teasing him. How had this happened? Sure, Spike was nice and they watched TV and movies together and he’d been a relatively good roommate. But he was Spike.
Xander banged his head against the tile again and let thoughts of Spike wash over him.
Spike glanced around the living room and realized he should probably light some candles in here for Xander. Just because Spike could see in the dark, didn’t mean everyone else could. He busied himself, lighting some candles and turning on the stereo as he walked by. The radio was tuned to a jazz station he’d been listening to earlier in an attempt to keep himself from freaking out after Xander’d run away. I like you, Xander. What the hell had he been thinking? Or what had he been thinking with?
No. That wasn’t right. Sure, he hadn’t minded getting a glimpse of Xander half naked, but that wasn’t all he was interested in. He’d come to enjoy living here. It may have been unexpected, but it was real. He looked forward to hanging out with Xander on the rare evening they weren’t patrolling or researching. They’d become friends, and somewhere along the way, Spike had started to fall for him. He knew it was foolish, but he couldn’t help himself.
As he stopped thinking about how foolish he was, he looked around the room to realize just how foolish he was. Soft jazz on the stereo? Candles everywhere? He was tempted to blow some of them out, but he heard the water turn off in the shower and fled to the kitchen instead. He opened the fridge and without thinking made them each a sandwich. Placing them on the table, he was sitting down to eat when the bathroom door opened. Xander stepped out of the room with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, and Spike would have stopped breathing if he did that sort of thing.
Xander’s skin glowed in the candlelight, and Spike inhaled deeply. Calming breath. In. Out. He swallowed hard as Xander walked toward the table, eyebrows raised. “You cooked?”
It took Spike a minute to realize Xander was waiting for an answer. “Uh, no. Just sandwiches. Power’s out, didn’t want everything to spoil.” Xander stood staring at him, glued to the floor midway between the bathroom and the table. “Besides, figured you might be hungry. Been gone all day.” He ducked his head and went back to his sandwich, relaxing when Xander moved toward the table.
They sat in silence, eating and strenuously avoiding looking at each other. Finally Xander broke the silence. “If I didn’t know for sure that the power was out, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”
Spike’s head flew up, his eyes piercing Xander. “You think --” What? Think what? He didn’t know what to ask, he was just surprised. And he was sad, because it sounded like Xander was saying he’d be bothered by that. So he just nodded, pushed back his chair, and moved to step away from the table. But as he stepped next to Xander, a hand shot out and grabbed the back of his t-shirt.
He froze and Xander froze and they stood there, Xander staring at Spike’s hip next to his shoulder, his hand gripping the shirt tightly. He tugged gently, and Spike looked down at him.
“I didn’t --”
“I didn’t --”
Xander laughed. “You didn’t what?”
“No, you first.”
“Okay. I didn’t mean to . . . imply that I didn’t like the candles and . . . stuff.”
Spike nodded. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not your fault I’m freaked out. It’s not . . .”
“Don’t even say it’s not me. I’m not daft.”
“I’m sorry I said . . . what I said earlier. I didn’t want to --”
Xander fixed his eyes on Spike’s. “No. I’m glad you said it.”
Spike pulled away and dropped back into his chair. “What?”
“I’m glad you said it. It . . . needed to be said.”
“Right.” Spike stood again and moved to leave the room and was once again stopped by Xander’s hand. But this time he’d grabbed Spike by the belt loop and hauled him backwards with more force than he’d intended. Spike landed in Xander’s lap. In his shock and haste to get up, he knocked the chair over and Xander’s head smacked against the floor.
“Ow. Fuck. This isn’t going how I planned.”
“How you planned?” Spike was sprawled on top of him and turned to look him in the eye. “Wait. How you planned?”
Xander felt himself blushing all over and realized that being dressed in nothing but a towel meant Spike could see that he was blushing all over. And then he realized that the towel had come loose when they fell and Spike could see him blushing all over. As in everywhere.
Spike started to lift himself up, and Xander realized it was now or never. He grabbed Spike by the back of the head and pulled him down for a kiss. It was clumsy and not particularly good, but still wonderful. As clumsy and not particularly great as it was, he wanted to do it again. And he did. And this time it was better because Spike kissed him back and relaxed and he could feel Spike’s body against his and then he realized Spike could probably feel his body in return and suddenly he was stiff as a board.
Spike pulled back a touch and smiled at him. He ran his fingers along Xander’s jaw, “Relax, Xan. Not gonna hurt you.” And then they were kissing again. Spike’s t-shirt was soft against his skin and his jeans were rough and the contrast was driving Xander crazy. He shifted and Spike shifted and they moved off the chair onto the floor, their bodies stretched long and lean. Xander tugged at Spike’s shirt, getting to the soft skin beneath. He was cool, but it was nice. He felt like his own skin was on fire. Soft, rough. Cool, hot. It was sensory overload. He pushed Spike up a bit. “Can we --”
Spike was panting, body held taut above Xander. He kept waiting to be pushed away, to be denied, rejected. But the look in Xander’s eyes was asking for something else. He pulled back to kneel astride Xander’s thighs and caught a glimpse of what was no longer concealed by the towel and felt pretty confident that he wasn’t being pushed away. He trailed his fingers down Xander’s chest and waited for his heart to start beating again. The way Xander responded to his touch was wonderful. He rose to his feet and pulled Xander to stand before him. “My room.”
He led Xander into his room. He’d forgotten that there were a few candles lit in here as well. And there on the bed was the painting. He moved to hide it but Xander’d already seen and reached out to stop him. “Is that you?”
Spike swallowed and nodded.
“Who -- Angel painted it?”
He nodded again. He looked at Xander and tried to figure out what he might be thinking as he studied the painting. His fingers traced the lines of shadow on the canvas then came up to trace the shadows dancing on him from the flickering candles. Spike gasped and let his eyes fall closed as he pressed into the feel of Xander’s fingertips ghosting across his face. “You’re beautiful.”
Spike opened his eyes at the whispered words. It’d been so long since he’d heard them from anyone who mattered. Now they mattered. “So are you, Xan.” He smiled at the flush that rose on Xander’s skin and stepped in close to kiss him again. They let go of the canvas, letting it fall to the floor as their hands moved to hold each other instead. While Spike cupped Xander’s face with his hands and kissed his breath away, Xander’s own hands came down to Spike’s hips and then slid up, pushing his shirt up until Spike pulled back to remove it. As soon as it was off, they were chest to chest.
Xander couldn’t quite believe how gentle and slow Spike was moving. He was so used to seeing him all fast and furious; this soft, careful Spike was alien to him. Not that he was complaining, because he wasn’t sure how comfortable he’d be with hyper-Spike right now. It was weird enough that he was (and had been for some time now) completely naked while Spike still had his pants on. Only one way to change that.
He swallowed and pulled back from the kiss. His head dipped a bit as he looked down at his hands and reached for the button and zipper of Spike’s jeans. He felt tight stomach muscles twitch against his arm as the button popped, and then Spike’s finger tipped his chin up and they were kissing again and he relaxed as he unzipped the jeans and pushed them down past Spike’s hips.
He wasn’t sure why it came as a surprise, but he hadn’t expected to feel cotton under the jeans. He’d figured Spike for a commando kind of guy, but he was wearing something under his tight black jeans. Xander grinned when he looked down and saw Spider-Man boxers. “Hey,” he laughed. “Are those mine?”
If Spike could have blushed he would have. He’d completely forgotten that he was wearing these. He’d nicked them from Xander’s dresser some time back. Hadn’t figured Xander would miss them since they were obviously two sizes too small. But now he’d been caught redhanded. “Uh . . .”
Xander just laughed and shook his head. Leaning in for another kiss, he pushed the boxers past Spike’s hips to join his pants around his ankles. His hands rested gently on Spike’s hips, and he leaned into the kiss. Spike gasped as he felt Xander’s cock brush against his own as he stepped out of his pants and moved them closer to the bed.
He shifted them and gently pushed Xander back onto the bed. “Relax,” he whispered as he lowered himself to lie half-beside, half-above him. “Not gonna do anything you don’t want.”
Xander’s heart was racing and his breath was coming fast. He reached for Spike’s hip and pulled their bodies together. “Want whatever you want, Spike. Want everything.” He was panting and they weren’t even doing anything yet.
Spike dropped tiny kisses to his chest and ran his hand slowly up and down his side. “Easy. Let me take care of you.” He moved over Xander’s body, hands beside his head. He nudged Xander’s legs and lowered himself between them, nestling his hips between Xander’s own. And they were kissing again and Spike was rocking his hips against Xander and he rocked back and soon they were moving together.
This wasn’t what Xander had expected. Maybe if he’d known it would be so easy, so gentle, so . . . comfortable, he wouldn’t have run off earlier. Wouldn’t have hidden in the park for hours. Hours he could have spent here, with Spike. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so damn afraid to admit that maybe he liked Spike. His skin felt so soft and so right beneath his hands. He let them slide down his back to his ass and pulled him tight to his body. “Spike?” he whispered against lips that hadn’t stopped kissing him even when they’d moved to explore his eyes, cheeks, ears, neck. And while a part of him thought he should have been afraid of that mouth on his neck, he wasn’t. Spike was being nothing but tender with him. He felt love washing over him. It was undeniable. “Spike?” His voice a bit stronger this time.
“Mmm?” He murmured as he licked along Xander’s collarbone to the hollow at the base of his throat.
“I like you, too.”
Spike froze then moved up. He stared down, his face full of uncertainty. “Say that again, Xan.”
Xander swallowed and then spoke slowly and clearly, looking into Spike’s eyes. “I. Like. You. Too.”
Spike’s eyes dropped closed, and he let out a long, shuddering breath. His forehead dropped to Xander’s and he began rocking against him again, faster this time, with purpose. Xander couldn’t believe how good it felt. It was nothing like rubbing against Cordelia in the janitor’s closet all those years before.
He felt Spike’s lips against his own again, and they panted together as they kissed and rocked harder and faster and then Spike’s mouth was at his ear. “Come for me, Xander.” He hadn’t realized how close he was until Spike spoke. But he could feel his body tense, his balls drawn up close to his body. His legs stiffened and his back arched and as Spike whispered again he arched up and came against his stomach. “So beautiful, love. So beautiful.”
As he came in jerks and spurts, Xander squeezed Spike’s ass and pulled him tighter to him. And as he started to come to his senses he felt Spike twitching and tensing and joining him before going limp against him. He relaxed under Spike’s weight. It felt good to have him there. He thought briefly of Anya collapsed on top of him after their lovemaking, but this was different. The angles, the shapes, the feel . . . and the feelings. It was new and good, and he wondered how he’d lain in the park under the trees and thought this could be anything other than wonderful. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Spike lifted his head and studied Xander, confusion clear in his eyes. “Sorry? For what?”
“For running away. For leaving you when you were . . . just trying to be honest.”
“You came back. ‘S all that matters.” Spike kissed him softly as he rolled them onto their sides. “Not leaving again, are you?”
“Nope.” He leaned in and kissed him until they drifted to sleep, unaware that the storm had passed. The rain slowed to a soft drizzle and the sky began to clear, passing from blackness back to a soft dove grey as the sun set behind the clouds. Tomorrow the sun would rise in a clear blue sky. Or maybe it wouldn’t. It didn’t matter, because together they’d weather the storm.
Feed the Author
The Author's Livejournal