Let's Talk About Sex

by
Estepheia

Part Eleven
U-Turn

When his lips pressed against the vampire's, Xander was prepared for their coolness. But he certainly hadn't expected those lips to be so soft and delicate. Oh my, I can't believe I'm actually kissing him! He withdrew, noticing the vampire's reluctance to break contact. Okay, one doesn't count. He moved forward once more, less hasty this time, for a lighter, less nervous kiss. Time seemed to slow down, as if the universe was pausing briefly to allow him to commit this moment to memory. And there was so much to memorize! Like the smoothness of the vampire's skin. It was as if Xander's hands were more daring than the rest of him, because they were moving very slowly, exploring the hard curves of the man's arms and shoulders. And then there was that smell he had come to associate with the vampire, of cigarettes and something slightly spicy. Or the surprised expression in Spike's eyes, before his long dark lashes came down, shutting out every sensation but that strange contrast of warm and cool lips, skin and breath. Xander was acutely aware of the way the vampire was gradually leaning towards him. Pressing his lean body against his.

How could something that had been intended to be a quick peck, as a spontaneous demonstration of trust, how could that turn into something so... so... intense? For a moment Xander could even hear and feel how his rapidly beating heart was pumping heat through his body. He fleetingly wondered how Spike managed to remain in his human guise, when he was undoubtedly even more aware of all that blood.

Spike wouldn't have noticed if a platoon of Initiative soldiers had barged into his crypt, because all his senses were focused on Xander: his lips, his heartbeat, his scent, his hot hands touching him, the taste of brownies, coffee and toothpaste on his breath...  the warmth of that broad muscled body. Meanwhile he was trying very hard not to scare the boy off, but he was fighting a losing battle. He pressed his pelvis against the boy's hard-on. This felt so good. Oh god... yes. Come on, Xan, you know you want it.

When the vampire's lips parted and a cool tongue tentatively sought entrance Xander pulled back with a start, suddenly unsure how far he was willing to go. Sirens were going off in his head and he was hit simultaneously by fear and shame. His hands fell to his sides.

The vampire opened his eyes. There was something desperate about the way he searched Xander's face, trying to discern what was going on in the human's mind.

Xander realized he had to either say something or... well... say something. He took a step back. "Sorry," he said, raising his hands as if to ward off a threat. "Don't take this personally, Spike," he giggled nervously. Took another step back. "... but see, now I'm having this sort of wild urge to do something excessively masculine, like climb a mountain or something. So, I think I'm just gonna grab my stuff... and like, zoom off at warp speed." Wincing inwardly at his own cowardice he back-pedalled some more until he reached his cooler.

Spike was perceptive enough to realize that the boy wasn't deliberately leading him on, but that didn't stop his frustration and exasperation from boiling over. "Bloody hell! What is it with you?" he roared. He began to pace. "Can't you make up your bleedin' mind? You waltz into my crypt and... and then you mess with my head... and now you get cold feet and I'm supposed to say, 'hey Xander, go climb a rock, and have fun'?"

Spike slowed down as fury was replaced by bitterness. "I mean, I was minding my own bloody business. Had everything under control. Until you came along... playing buddy. Found yourself a lovely little game, didn't you? Well, let me tell you, if I didn't have that soddin' chip in my brain I'd..."

"...you'd do what? Kill me? That's the Spike I know," Xander interrupted him. "You know what? You were right, I don't trust you. You've just proven that I can't."

Oh brilliant, Spike! You really have a way with words, he told himself, shaking his head at his own stupidity. "I was gonna say 'sweep the floor with you'" he said quietly, suddenly feeling very weary. "And what a pathetic threat that is, for Christ's sake. Oh, go away, Harris. Just leave me alone."

He turned his back on the human. He could hear Xander picking up his cooler and the bag with the tapes. He listened to the boy's footsteps approaching the door of his crypt and to the sounds of it being opened. Then the door was slammed shut.

"Spike?" Xander said sofly.

The vampire turned around. The boy was still there, looking at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry Spike, but I guess I'm not ready for this, I mean, not yet, anyway. One moment I think I trust you and then I think I don't, and then I think I don't trust myself, and... I dunno, does that make sense to you?" he babbled. "Cause it sure doesn't make sense to me."

And with that he turned around and hurried away.

Part Twelve
"L" for Lonely

Spike stared at the closed crypt door. Hoping against his better judgement that Xander would change his mind and come back. Yeah well, why should he? When HE gets horny he can always do his ever-horny ex-demon. Spike shook his head. He'd file this under "d" for doomed. Or perhaps "p" for pathetic.

He plopped into his armchair. Something was uncomfortable. He fished around and came up with a plastic blue lid. He looked around and saw that Anya's Tupperware dish was still sitting on the lid of his stone coffin. He dropped the lid to the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push everything away, the hunger, the hurt. Forget about the last 24 hours, he told himself, knowing he couldn't. Short of a lobotomy, nothing could erase those memories.

He smoked three cigarettes in short succession. "Bollocks," he finally said. It was time to get up and do something. Brooding wasn't his style. He climbed into the cave underneath his crypt and rummaged around until he found his stash of brand new clothes. No black T-shirts left. He shrugged and tore the price tag off a blue T-shirt before he pulled it over his head. He stuck a crude wooden stake into his back pocket. Then he grabbed his leather duster, but when he noticed that it needed another dose of leather care cleaner he decided to wear his brown leather jacket instead. One of his nicer trophies, stolen out of Agent Asshole's locker at the university gym. He ran his fingers through his hair and picked up the blanket he always used to hide from sunlight.

He needed to get out. Find himself a nice bit of trouble. Perhaps kill something nasty. Stock up the fridge. Steal some stuff. Keep the mind from replaying that kiss. Perhaps get thoroughly plastered to get that blasted imagination of his to bloody shut up. So it was daylight? Fuck daylight!

He clambered back up into his crypt, picked up the empty container and its lid and disappeared into Sunnydale's world of tunnels.

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