Hour of Power
Spike looked at it like a twelve step program. And not the kind where you took twelve steps away from whatever it was you were conditioning yourself to respond differently to. This was the kind that took work. Spike’s first task at atonement (and don’t you just hate that word) was making amends. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to make amends to everyone he had ever hurt (might as well buy an auto-dialer if that’s the way you’re going to go about it), but he could try to start with the people who were close to him. He thought would save the worst for last because at this point he still couldn’t tell Buffy he was sorry.
He had apologized to Dawn, Anya and Willow for any insults, murder-attempts, violence, and other transgressions (And you got a few smiles out of the birds, didn’t you?). Now, he was at Xander Harris’. He was living in Buffy’s basement, most of the time, because there he could be chained. He still didn’t trust himself after what the First Evil had done to his head, and the chains made him feel slightly more comfortable (As comfortable as you could be in chains, anyway).
He knocked on the polished wood of the oak door to Xander’s apartment. He looked at his feet, glancing up nervously (You wanker) when Xander opened the door. Xander glared at him and stepped aside, so Spike moved into the room.
“What?” Xander asked coolly.
“I…uh… Look. I just want to apologize.” Xander’s expression didn’t change, so Spike forged on. “For…being rude to you, in the past and all, and, you know, trying to kill you a few times, and beating you up more times than that, and for, you know, making time with your bird.”
Xander stepped back to the front door and opened it. He stood aside, glaring at Spike, waiting for him to leave.
“Just, hear me out, okay?” Spike said, trying his best not to plead (Sunk low enough this evening, haven’t you, Soul-boy Jr.?).
“No. Get out.”
“Come on! I just want to make things right, and I…”
“You think apologizing is going to make things right? You think…you think you can just… You’re dumber than I thought, Fangless.”
“Look, Xander, I just…”
“You…you tried to kill me, and my friends, countless times. You…you had sex with Buffy, when you knew, you knew, that she was messed up and couldn’t deal with anything. You slept with Anya, just for kicks, didn’t even…and then you tried to rape Buffy. Rape, Spike, because you couldn’t get it from her any other way when she started to climb back from rock bottom, and you think you can get in my good books with an apology? I didn’t even like you in the first place!”
“I’m not asking you to…”
“You want to make things right, you figure out a better way to do it,” Xander interrupted, motioning pointedly at the door.
“What, did you turn into Ed Bradley when I wasn’t looking?”
“No…sixty minutes of revenge. Sixty minutes. You say it…I do it. You dish it…I take it. After that, clean slate, all’s forgiven, we don’t have to be friends but you can’t look at me like I’m the scum you can’t scrape of your shoe anymore.”
“You’re kidding right?”
“No. Sixty minutes. You can do anything you want, make me do anything you want. I won’t complain, I won’t back out, I won’t mention it to anybody after the fact. Is it a deal?”
“I…Why should I?”
“Because. You want to pay me back. I want to make it up to you. I won’t deny that I’ve put you through a lot of shit over the years, and what I’m asking is that you let me have the chance to make it up to you.”
“Why do you even care?”
Spike smirked self-deprecatingly (Not the first time, is it?). “I’m atoning, is all.”
Xander simply stared at him for long moments, lost deep in thought.
Spike was sure the human wouldn’t take his offer. He prepared himself for the negative response.
“Okay.” Spike’s eyes widened at Xander’s answer.
“Yeah. Sixty minutes, like you said. I say it, you do it.”
“Oh. All right, then. What do you…”
“Come back tomorrow night at ten. I’ll be here, and you can…atone…then.” Xander smirked and it sent chills down Spike’s spine (Don’t think you’ve ever looked so evil, Spike, and you’re a vampire).
Xander ushered Spike out the door. Spike went outside, his face a mask of light puzzlement, and went back to the Summers Residence (Casa de un millon loca chicas). He went out that night with Buffy and the swarm of potential slayers, hunting demons and showing them how to fight. Before dawn, he was back in the basement (When’s the last time you didn’t live in a basement?), chained to the wall, on the cot. He slept most of the day away. He spent the evening training the potentials again, and at 9:30 he began the walk to Xander’s apartment. He stood outside the door for a while, nervous (Still a bloody wanker) and trying to convince himself he should knock. Finally he did.
Xander opened the door and grinned maliciously.
“Spike. Fancy meeting you here.”
Spike walked into the room, his stomach dropping as he saw the scene set up in the living room. Candles, flowers, champagne, romantic music. Everything in the world that was the last thing Spike had ever expected. He’d maybe expected a Star Trek episode, or a stack of comic books, even a torture table on the extreme side of his imagination. This place was set for seduction.
“Relax, Spike. I’ve just decided to up the ante.”
Spike’s face took on an expression of disbelief, bravado, and a dare.
“You have sixty minutes to seduce me.” Spike’s jaw dropped. “If you don’t get your cock in my ass within sixty minutes, without raping me, I get to make your life Hell. You do, all’s forgiven.”
“But you can’t…you don’t want me to…so I couldn’t possibly win!” Spike sputtered.
“Then I guess you’d better try extra hard.”
“Why would you…”
“I want to see why they couldn’t resist you,” Xander said angrily. “Why you were so much better than…”
(So that’s it. Boy’s got an inferiority complex, because you usurped his women. Figures.) “So…”
“Fifty-nine minutes, Bleach-boy.”
Spike sighed. “Fucking hell.” (Fucking. Hell.)
Xander just smirked and waited. Spike rolled his eyes, carded his fingers through his hair anxiously, and sighed again (Fucking. Hell).
“I don’t know how to seduce you, Harris,” he finally admitted.
Spike growled under his breath went into the bathroom, and came out a moment later, with no shirt on. His lips curled into a smirk, his scarred eyebrow slightly tensed so it was a little higher than the other. He moved like a cat, his muscles sinewy and lithe under his pale, ivory skin. His nipples were a dusky brown color, his navel tucked within a six-pack abdomen decorated with a sparse trail of light brown hair that led into the waistband of his jeans.
He stood directly in front of where Xander was sitting on the couch, his eyes staring intently into the younger man’s. Spike’s eyes were a deep, velvety blue, but he allowed them to flash golden for only a moment, and his smirk widened at the very slight jump in Xander’s heartbeat (Boy gets off on danger, which ain’t particularly surprising, given his hobbies). He bent from the waist, delighting in the fact that Xander leaned back, away from him. Spike moved closer and braced his arms on the back of the sofa, on either side of Xander’s head.
“I think we both know why you suggested this little exercise,” Spike said, his voice low, whiskey smooth, and sexually predatory. Xander swallowed heavily. Spike ran his tongue over his white teeth, and continued. “You want me. You’ve always wanted me. So you think, if I try to seduce you, you’ll get me, and you can pretend it’s not because you want me. But we both know the truth, don’t we, mate? We know that you want to feel my skin against yours…you want to touch me, feel my lips on you. You want to have me in you, slick inside you, touching every part of you while I bugger you six ways from Sunday. You want me to make you scream, don’t you, pet?” Xander’s mouth was open slightly, and he was panting lightly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Spike was painting an erotic picture with his words, and Xander was beginning to feel strong arousal, despite the fact that Spike still hadn’t touched him. Spike leaned forward until Xander’s breath brushed against his lips. He extended his tongue and slowly, sensually, licked Xander’s lips (Just a taste, just one), slicking them with his saliva. A quiet whine drew from Xander’s throat, and Spike’s smirk turned smug, and he leaned toward Xander’s ear.
“You want to beg for it, don’t you, pet?” Spike whispered, his breath tickling the skin covering the shell of cartilage. Xander’s head involuntarily tilted to the side, his neck extending erotically for Spike’s eyes (Just come on the spot, eh?). “You want me to taste you. To taste every inch of your slick, golden skin. You want me to make you feel things you’ve never felt. You want me to throw you down on the bed and ravish your body, to make you come and come until you pass out from the pleasure. You want to ride me, to feel me pounding into you, stretching out that little virgin arsehole of yours, fucking you for hours and hours.”
Xander groaned loudly this time as Spike’s tongue licked from his shirt collar to his ear, leaving a slick trail that cooled and raised goose bumps immediately. Xander shuddered as Spike nibbled gently on his ear.
“Want me, Xan?” Spike asked, and suddenly the teasing, porn-star voice was gone, replaced by a pleading, insecure, desperate voice. The glinting eyes were shoved aside for entreating orbs.
Spike could see the change in Xander’s demeanor. One moment he was in a mindless fantasy, and the next he had realized the truth and implications of this situation. Spike knew (hoped) that Xander understood, finally, that for Spike this wasn’t a game. It wasn’t just atoning. This was Spike, wanting (needing) to be wanted. To be needed, touched, cherished, caressed (Don’t want to be alone anymore, don’t want to be without…without.). This was about Spike wanting Xander to want (love) him.
They held a gaze for what could have been seconds, minutes, hours or years (Timeless eyes). Xander’s head nodded slowly, and his lips opened to speak the affirmation Spike had already seen in his eyes. Spike swooped, capturing Xander’s lips with his own. His tongue charged inside, slick and insistent, and was met by Xander’s own hot tongue, caressing and tasting. Xander’s hands were in Spike’s hair, and Spike’s hands were around Xander’s back. Both men were moaning, writhing to get closer until they were on the floor, not noticing that they had fallen (Literally or figuratively?). They rolled across the carpet, hands roaming for contact. Spike shivered as Xander’s hand brushed his nipple, then groaned as the questing fingers began to manipulate the tiny, hard nub. Spike slid his hands under Xander’s shirt, the contrast of the hot, thrumming skin against his cool hands like silk on velvet. Xander broke his mouth away to rid himself of the garment, then his hands went immediately to Spike’s jeans, and he began to pull at the buttons.
Spike’s hips pressed up as Xander’s fingers slipped inside, his own hands clawing passionately at Xander’s smooth back. Finally Xander managed to get the buttons undone, and he began to pull Spike’s pants down, sliding the coarse material over silken white hips. Spike’s erection bobbed from the fabric confines, the engorged, bulbous tip shiny with precum. His hands went directly to Xander’s own pants, divesting the human of them easily and efficiently, then pushing Xander onto his back, naked before him. Spike’s lips trailed wet kisses across Xander’s chest, down his stomach, to kiss the sensitive skin of his hips. Xander moaned, his hands carding through Spike’s hair as Spike licked Xander’s erection from root to tip. His mouth enclosed the leaking tip. Spike moaned at the musky taste (So fucking good) of Xander’s seed. He began bobbing his head, sucking and licking as Xander moaned and gasped, scrabbling for some tenable purchase on reality. Spike stopped, licking his way up to Xander’s head, kissing him roughly.
“Lube?” Spike murmured into Xander’s lips.
“Bedroom,” Xander murmured back. Spike jumped up, grabbing Xander in his arms and dragging him to the bedroom, practically dropping him on the bed. Xander reached out and yanked open a drawer in the end table, and Spike’s hand snaked in and grasped the small white tube of KY. He popped open the top as Xander lifted his legs in the air and over Spike’s shoulders. Spike slicked his fingers liberally, sliding two into Xander’s puckered opening. He didn’t take long to prepare Xander for himself, finally leaning forward and breaching Xander’s body (So hot so hot so fucking bloody hot) with his own.
Xander moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as his cock twitched. Spike began to thrust, and Xander nearly yelled with pleasure (Hot and tight and hot and God). Spike’s long cock was hitting his prostate, and the sensations were almost blinding for both men. Xander’s hips thrust up in time with Spike’s, their bodies slamming together viciously. Xander let out a scream as his cock erupted, spurting hot white come across his twitching belly. Spike fell over the edge a moment later as Xander’s contracting muscles milked him dry. When Spike caught his breath, he leaned forward, kissed Xander’s lips gently, and rolled off, his spent cock sliding out of Xander’s body with a slick sound.
“So?” Spike finally asked.
“You are not going to ask me about your performance,” Xander mumbled.
“No. Just wondering. Was I right?”
“About why you wanted this. Wasn’t about payback, was it, Xander?” Spike turned serious eyes on his lover (Don’t lie about it…just want to be wanted).
Xander glanced down shamefully. “I…may have had ulterior motives,” he whispered in admission.
“S’okay, pet.” Spike gave the man a gentle smile (he wants…shouldn’t but he does, and isn’t that just peachy fucking keen). “D’you think I would have whored myself out? Even for forgiveness?”
The small confession must have been enough for Xander, because he rolled Spike forward so that he was cuddled into Xander’s side, with Xander’s arm around him.
Xander glanced at the clock. “We still have ten minutes in your atonement.”
Spike snorted. “Right. What do you want me to do?” (Don’t say leave.)
“Go to sleep.”
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