Stealth. Stealth was not a practicable talent. In order to be as silent as the night, as invisible as air, one had to have been born with the skill. One could not learn to be unseen…one could hone those skills, but only if one were blessed with them at birth.
Dawn had been blessed. Her movements were unseen in the dark of the room, the shifting of the air around her making no sound. Her footsteps were light and quiet. She was as silent as a cat. She was as sly as a fox.
Her eyes glittered in the night. Her muscles moved with grace and efficiency. Her steps tread lightly on the linoleum floor.
Her foot kicked Xander’s lunchbox, making a loud bang and rattle, and she squeaked before she could stop herself. She stilled, holding her breath, glancing frantically between the two men, passed out drunkenly and in matching positions on the sofa.
She held back a giggle as Xander’s loud snoring only grew louder, and Spike didn’t even twitch. This was too easy.
The plan had been hers completely. She had commissioned Anya’s help, and Anya had come up with a way to get both men drunk enough so that they would pass out on the couch. That had brought Buffy and Willow in on the game, and the five of them had sat around Xander’s coffee table playing drinking games. Only Buffy, Willow and Anya weren’t actually drinking alcohol. They had been faking it. Which had been Dawn’s idea.
As soon as both men had passed out (Xander first, of course), the girls had left to collect Dawn. Who was now stealthily making her way toward the sofa.
She heard giggling from the doorway, and turned her head to glare at Willow, who looked chagrined but continued smiling gleefully.
Dawn took the final steps to the sofa. It was almost too easy. She reached forward, slowly, silently. In her hands was the object that had inspired the entire elaborate plan. She pressed it forward, and attached it. CLICK.
Spike was up and snarling by the time Dawn was halfway to the door, her maniacally shrieking laughter mingling with that of the three women in the hallway. As Spike stood his arm wrenched up, yanking the set of handcuffs attached to his wrist, and Xander, who was attached to the other cuff, up off the couch. Xander’s body fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud, and his snoring started back up again.
“What the hell?” Spike snarled, confused and disoriented. By the time his head cleared enough to realize that Dawn and the other women had handcuffed his wrist to Xander’s, the women were long gone.
Spike grabbed hold of the chain attaching the cuffs with his free hand and yanked on his wrist. Nothing. He yanked harder. Still nothing. He glared at the seemingly normal stainless steel locking him to Xander.
Suddenly the phone rang, and Spike stomped toward it, dragging Xander with him. “What?” he growled into the phone.
Dawn’s giggles tinkled in his ear. “I don’t know if you noticed, Spike, but those handcuffs? Willow enchanted them, so they don’t come off for three days.” She and the women laughed hysterically, before Dawn hung up the phone on Spike’s swearing and snarling.
Spike glared down at Xander, who was finally beginning to stir. Spike toed him with one booted foot distastefully.
“Eugh,” Xander finally moaned, opening his eyes. “That’s the last time I play drinking games with the Girls of Iron Liver,” he mumbled. “And why am I on the floor now?”
“You fell.” Spike’s eyes were dark with anger, and Xander blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. He glanced around and tried to put his hands down on the floor so he could lever himself up, but his left hand wouldn’t come down from its spot in the air. He glanced at it and noticed the handcuffs.
“Wanna take those off me so I can pee?” Xander asked.
“What do you mean, you can’t? Tear ‘em apart. Vamp strength?”
“They’re enchanted,” Spike glared.
“They’re….why are you and I chained together with enchanted handcuffs?”
“Near as I can figure, the birds were all in on it. Red put a spell on ‘em, and Dawn put ‘em on us.”
“Thought it’d be funny.” Spike snorted distastefully. “We’re stuck like this for three fucking days.”
Xander’s eyes widened. “Three…but I can’t…this…there are things! Things I need to do that you can’t be there for!”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Yes, because having to listen to you prattle on for three straight days was on my list of things to do before I could die happy.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I have to pee.”
“We’re so proud.”
“No, I really, really have to pee. And you’re…attached. To me.”
Spike sighed. “What, you think I’m gonna sneak a look? No thanks, Harris. Got better things to do than to look at your dick. Like count ceiling tiles.”
Xander blushed slightly. “Fine. Then I’m going to the bathroom, and you can count the tiles.” He tried to drag Spike with him, but Spike kept his feet planted on the floor.
Xander glared. “You didn’t say please,” Spike explained with a smirk.
Xander glared harder. Spike’s smirk grew.
Xander’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Fine. Please.” He mumbled angrily.
Spike grinned and nodded his head once, following Xander into the bathroom.
Frequently glancing sideways at Spike, who was still grinning, Xander moved in front of the toilet. He used his right hand to undo the zipper on his jeans, but couldn’t fumble the button undone with only one hand.
Spike rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to molest you, Harris. Use both hands. But if you piss on me…”
Xander snickered and uncomfortably undid the button on his jeans, keenly aware of the fact that the weight of Spike’s cool hand had pressed up against his thigh. That makes me feel very uncomfortable. Xander thought. It wasn’t really a lie. He was uncomfortable. But mostly because of where he’d rather have that hand.
He reached into his jeans and pulled out his dick, aiming it down at the toilet bowl. He sneaked a glance sideways at Spike, and was relieved to see that Spike was staring straight ahead at the wall behind the toilet, a bored look on his face.
With a sigh, Xander began to pee.
And Spike’s eyes darted down swiftly, unnoticeably, so that he could take a mental picture of what he saw.
Xander’s cock. Soft and pliant now, but definitely pretty. Fairly thick, it seemed, and slightly longer than the average flaccid penis. Spike could see why Anya had once upon a time called him a Viking in the sack, because he had a pretty impressive horn.
Xander finished and reached forward to flush the toilet before automatically reaching to fasten his pants. He’d managed to forget that Spike’s hand was coming with his left one, and as he tucked himself back into his jeans, the backs of Spike’s fingers brushed against the smooth skin of his dick before he could stop them.
The quiet creak from Spike’s throat went unheard, but Xander yelped loudly. “Watch your hands!” he glared at Spike.
“Oh, please,” Spike snorted. “That was a bit too subtle for me, mate. If I wanted to fondle your dick, I’d have grabbed it and squeezed, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to hide it.”
Xander hated to admit it, but Spike was right. He almost didn’t want the accidental brush to be accidental.
He didn’t know when, but at some point he had started staring more at Spike’s ass than Anya’s. Which was strange, because he’d always loved Anya’s ass. Then one day, he’d noticed Spike’s, and… well, it had all snowballed from there, really.
Xander moved to the sink and began to wash his hands. He brushed his teeth while Spike stood slightly behind him. Xander couldn’t see the other man in the mirror, seeing as Spike had no reflection, but he knew he was there because they were still attached at the wrist.
Spike, taking advantage of the fact that Xander couldn’t see him, spent the few minutes in front of the mirror glancing over Xander’s body. He had some pretty good muscles. And that round little ass wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Spike wished he could look at Xander’s dick again, just one more peek. He really hadn’t tried to grab Xander’s dick. He’d just been staring blankly at the wall, thinking about that lovely dick and how it would feel hot in his hand when suddenly his hand had been on it. Hot didn’t even begin to describe Xander’s skin.
“You stink, mate,” Spike finally spoke up. It was evil, yes. It was underhanded, yes. It was dastardly and devious, yes, yes, yes.
But it was going to get him a look at Xander, naked. Damned if that wasn’t reason enough.
“Yeah, well, all-night drinking binges usually lead to that less-than-fresh scent. Nothing I can do about it so you’ll just have to hold your breath.”
Spike rolled his eyes, doing his best to keep the gleam from them. “Please. What are you, in grade school? Take a shower.”
“Handcuffs. Attached. To you. I’d rather stink.”
“Like you haven’t seen more in the locker room. Grow up, Harris.” Spike snorted as though he couldn’t believe the immaturity of the man standing beside him. Inside he was holding back victorious chuckles, because if anything was going to get him naked in that shower with Xander Harris, it was this. He could see the gears turning in Xander’s head, the defiance in his eyes.
“Yeah, I guess you’re probably right,” he finally admitted reluctantly, and Spike had to check himself before jumping in the air and crowing with delight. “We’re both adults, right?”
“Right.” In Spike’s head, a tiny version of himself wearing a leprechaun hat and dancing a jig was humming the tune to “The Stripper”.
“What?” Xander asked, glancing back from where he was trying to remove his shirt. He ran into some trouble when the left arm slid down and directly onto Spike’s right arm.
“What?” Spike repeated, his eyes a little wider. Had he been humming aloud? Could Xander have heard just what tune was going through his head?
“What were you humming?” Xander replied with exasperation.
“I wasn’t…don’t know what it’s called, just popped in my head.” Spike tore the shirt Xander had been having so much trouble with apart at the shoulder, removing it from their hands, before doing the same with his own shirt. He watched as Xander leaned down to turn the water on, casting a surreptitious glance at the young man’s bum. Spike unfastened his jeans with one hand, and noticed that his cock was starting to harden a little bit. He thought of cricket. He thought of football. He thought of parliamentary debate. He thought of Glen Matlock replacing Sid Vicious in the revival tour. His dick stayed as it was. He cursed under his breath.
Xander unfastened his own jeans, and Spike watched as the tight round ass in front of him was revealed. He thought of Margaret Thatcher in a basque. He thought of Bambi’s mother being shot. He thought of Angel. Damn, damn, damn, because Angel made him think of Buffy made him think of scoobies made him think of Xander made him think of the tight round ass in front of him. Bloody hell.
Xander glanced back as he stepped into the tub. “Are you…Spike!”
“What?” Spike asked, entirely too innocently.
“You’re…what are you….you have a…”
“S’called a boner, pup,” Spike said, glad he didn’t have a beating heart to race as his voice took on a bored tone.
“S’not like I get my jollies thinking of you naked,” Spike lied. “Just thinking about the last group shower I took.” Spike let out a nostalgic sigh, trying to think of a good story. He’d never actually taken a group shower before.
“The last…” Xander’s eyes had glazed over suddenly, and Spike leered theatrically.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Xander said, shaking his head and stepping under the hot spray. Spike mentally sighed with relief, glad he didn’t have to make up some story that was sure to make him even harder as he said it aloud. “Let’s just get this over with, and then I want to get some food.”
Spike watched as Xander’s hands lathered shampoo through his hair. Spike’s own hand kept “accidentally” brushing against Xander’s hot, hard shoulders or neck as Xander worked. When Xander put his head under the spray, Spike drank in the sight of all that naked, wet skin unabashedly, doing his best not to whimper out loud. When Xander’s hair was rinsed, he looked uncomfortably at the bar of soap for a moment.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Spike said impatiently. He grabbed the bar and handed it to Xander. “Use your right hand if you’re so scared I’m going to molest you.” Xander blushed and took the bar, soaping up most of his body. He had to use his left hand to get under his right arm, and Spike’s knuckles brushed lightly across his nipple, causing a shiver. To disguise it, he leaned down slightly and turned the hot water up. He then stepped out of the spray slightly to give Spike room to do his own washing.
Spike washed his hair and tried not to think of Xander, so naked, beside him.
Xander watched. And looked at Spike. Spike, with his smooth, alabaster skin. Water running down his body, his tight, hard-muscled body. His cock was half hard at the sight, and getting harder as he looked at Spike’s own half hard erection.
He cast his eyes away when Spike finished and turned off the water, and stepped out to grab a towel.
He passed a second towel to Spike and used one hand to dry himself off, carefully keeping his back as much to the vampire as he could, trying to hide his arousal. He slipped his jeans up, and turned to see that Spike had already finished and was waiting.
“Let’s go eat,” Xander said, blushing when his voice cracked slightly. He self-consciously moved toward the kitchen, oblivious to Spike’s eyes on his muscled back as he followed close behind.
“Sorry, Spike, no blood,” Xander shrugged, trying not to sound as apologetic as he felt.
“S’okay. Not particularly hungry right now anyhow,” Spike replied, wondering what Xander’s skin would taste like if he licked it right now.
Spike watched as Xander made himself a sandwich and gobbled it down. Xander eating was not a particularly sexy sight. Xander swallowing, though…Spike was very glad that he was wearing pants and could somewhat disguise his reaction to the thick adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. That hot, warm throat convulsing around the food…
Spike thought of Glen Matlock again. Damn. Thinking about unsexy things worked in the movies. Apparently, however, it only worked in the movies. Damn.
As Xander swallowed the last bite, Spike cleared his throat. “So, now what? We’re stuck like this for 3 days, I’m not spending them watching you eat.”
Xander shrugged. “Might as well watch TV. We can’t exactly go out. I mean, night time, demons, we can’t fight chained together, and day time, you fry. Wait. Maybe we should go out.”
“Funny, Harris. Real funny.” Spike headed for the sofa, where all of this had started in the first place, dragging Xander along with him. They sat and began flipping through the channels.
After the first half-hour of Passions, Xander was ready to tear out his eyes. “This is the show you can’t miss?” he asked incredulously, looking at the screen in distaste.
“Well, it’s not very good anymore, is it. Back when Timmy was still a doll, this was quality television.”
A few more hours of watching television and Xander’s eyes had started to droop. Spike, too, was beginning to tire.
“Think I need a nap,” Xander mumbled, turning to Spike.
“Not feeling daisy-fresh myself, actually.” Spike stood and pulled Xander up with him. Together they moved to the bedroom, and Xander stood uncomfortably, staring at the double bed in the middle of the room. Spike rolled his eyes. “You’re a shy one, aren’t you, Harris?” he finally snorted, pulling Xander to the dresser. He rifled through the drawers until he came upon two pairs of clean boxer shorts and handed one off to Xander. He stripped off his jeans and slid the boxers in place before looking expectantly at Xander.
With a sigh and a blush, Xander mirrored Spike’s actions and crawled into bed. Spike laid down beside him and closed his eyes so that he could sleep.
The bed shifted. Spike sighed. The bed shifted. Spike’s brow furrowed. The bed shifted again.
“What the hell?” Spike asked.
“Sorry. Can’t get comfortable.” Xander held still for a moment. His cock was raging hard. Having Spike this close, in his bed, where bedroom activities took place…it was driving him insane. His cock was so stiff he didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep. He just hoped Spike didn’t look over and see the tenting of the sheets.
He’d tried thinking of naked Ferengi. He’d tried thinking of Roger Moore replacing Sean Connery as James Bond. He’d even tried thinking of the moldy food in his refrigerator. Damn! The fridge made him think of the blood bags he hadn’t had to feed Spike with, which made him think of Spike, which reminded him of the very sexy nearly naked body laying beside him.
Xander shifted again. He’d wait till Spike was asleep, and jerk off. That was the only way he’d be able to sleep himself.
Spike sighed again, and opened his eyes. He glanced at Xander, whose own eyes were closed, and looked down his body.
Yep. Hard-on. Spike’s own cock stood proudly at the sight, and he licked his lips. Xander shifted again. A knowing smile grew on Spike’s face, and he closed his eyes, laying back. He pretended to fall asleep.
“Spike?” Xander whispered cautiously after long minutes. No response. No twitch of muscle, no flicker of eyelid. Xander sighed with relief, his right hand moving to throw the sheets off his body. He reached down and pulled his erection from his boxers, gently massaging it so as not to shift the bed too much and chance awakening Spike.
His hand on his cock was like heaven. He’d been so hard…the friction was amazing. Xander’s eyes closed and his breathing grew slightly erratic as he fisted his cock, doing his best not to make any noise. He pictured the blond man beside him pushed over a chair, or on his knees with Xander’s cock in his mouth. His hand moved more swiftly.
Spike’s eyes were open and he was watching Xander jerk off. His own cock was painfully hard, but he would attend to it later. If he wasn’t dust later. Because he was about to do something that very possibly held that consequence.
Sensing that Xander was very close to his orgasm, Spike pounced. He pushed Xander’s hand away and swallowed that hard, leaking cock down to the root, moaning at the bittersweet taste of sweat and semen. Xander let out a strangled moan, his eyes flying open to see Spike’s white head bobbing up and down on him with intense speed, glittering blue eyes staring up at him while a cool tongue and throat worked him roughly. Xander gasped, his hips thrusting up as his cock exploded, coating the inside of Spike’s mouth and throat with slippery white fluid.
Spike swallowed with a satisfied rumble, slipping Xander’s softening cock from his mouth and sitting up.
“What did you…?” Xander gasped.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spike lied with a smirk. Suddenly he was pushed back so his head was hanging over the foot of the bed, and Xander was on him, mouth sucking at his furiously. Spike opened his lips and allowed Xander’s questing tongue entry, relishing in the feel of that hot muscle gathering traces of the semen Spike had diligently swallowed.
Spike’s hands were on Xander’s chest, his fingertips mapping out dips and plains, brushing roughly over hard nipples. Xander moaned into Spike’s mouth, pressing himself down against the hardness pressing into his hip. When Spike’s fingers pinched Xander’s nipple, Xander gasped and pulled his mouth away to breathe, arching his neck as Spike suckled roughly at his pulse point.
“Spi…” Xander trailed off into a moan when Spike sprang up, rolling them over so that Xander was now on the bottom, and Spike could get more leverage to grind his hips against Xander’s, and continue his ministrations at the younger man’s throat.
Spike’s hands slipped down and pulled at the waistband of Xander’s underwear. Xander lifted his hips up, both rubbing against Spike’s groin and aiding in the removal of the clothing, his own hands scrabbling at Spike’s boxers.
Skin on skin contact, and Spike gasped at the complete heat suffusing his body. A quiet moan from Xander as Spike thrust his hard, leaking cock into his hipbone, and suddenly Spike wanted desperately to get Xander hard again, to have them come together.
“Xan…hot, so hot…hard body…all day I couldn’t stop…thinking about you…your cock…in the shower…naked…couldn’t…everything…so hot…sexy…want…want you…” he mumbled against skin as his mouth caressed every inch of Xander’s chest and shoulders. Xander arched his hips up, and Spike was gratified to feel that his wasn’t the only erection trapped between within sweet friction of their bodies.
Xander, for his part, was not silent. Great gasps of air permeated the air around them as Xander fought to catch his breath. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Here in his bed, was Spike, rubbing against him, naked, sucking forcefully at his pulse point and making his eyes cross. He doubted this was a good idea. No matter what happened in this bed in the next fifteen minutes, Xander was entirely sure that it would end badly for him. Suddenly there was a cool, insistent mouth on his and wet fingers brushing against the tight opening behind his balls and coherent thought fled through the window in his brain. There was no good, bad or otherwise, there was only sensation and pleasure.
“Xan…” Spike moaned into his mouth, his tongue darting out to sip and taste.
“Spike…” Xander replied deliriously, his fingers clawing at a pale shoulder.
There were sure fingers in his ass, an experienced tongue in his mouth and increasing friction on his cock, growing rougher as Spike came closer and closer to orgasm. Those fingers pressed harder, higher, quicker, brushing against the tiny bundle of nerves that made up his prostate, wrenching a muffled scream from his throat that Spike caught with his mouth.
Suddenly cool semen splashed across his trembling belly, and Spike let out a cry of pleasure. His fingers in Xander convulsed powerfully against his prostate and Xander cried out, jerking his hips up as his second orgasm shot from his body, mingling with Spike’s own seed.
Spike’s head rested heavily against his shoulder, and Xander panted roughly, trying to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, sleep calling to him.
Spike suddenly popped his head up from its lethargic resting place on Xander’s chest. “So. What say we ask Red to not take off these handcuffs?” He leered.
“Sounds good to me,” Xander replied sleepily. Spike’s face took on a calculating look.
The challenge: "Handcuffed"
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