Word Count: 1622

Summary: This seemed to be all that Spike wanted and it was easy enough to give it to him.

A/N: Written for the Manathon challenge, sponsored by winterlive. My recipient was ficbitca_bear who asked for "Two things to include: snow, pancakes Two things to leave out: Non-con/rape, het Favorite thing about men: That they're men - as frustrating, adorable and irritating as that makes them!" Hopefully this covers all the bases. Many thanks to sweptawaybayou and xanphibian for the betas!



Xander stood, leaning against the open hood of Spike's DeSoto, listening to the various clanks and thumps coming from beneath the car. He'd thought they wouldn't be able to do this, what with it snowing and everything, but Spike showed up before sunrise and loaded him and his toolkit in the car, driving to this privately owned garage. Ever since, Xander had felt like an extra appendage as Spike -

"Hey, Harris. Hand me the..." A hand, fingers snapping, came out from under the car, snapping and pointing at the toolbox. With a smile, Xander pulled out a wrench and handed it over. It disappeared under the car, only to reappear immediately. "No, not this. I need the other - "

"Which other, Spike? I can't read your mind." The words were snappish, but the tone was not. Xander was amused more than anything else.

"Screwdriver, you git." With a soft sound, Spike slid out from under the car, grinning from his position on his back. Xander couldn't hold back the laughter - he had a smear of oil over his nose, and his t-shirt was filthy with various fluids from the car.

Xander got the screwdriver and handed it over. Spike smiled again and slid back under the car. Almost immediately, the bangs and clanks started up again. "Give 'er a try, mate," came the call from under the car.

Moving around to the driver's seat, Xander leaned in and twisted the key. The engine immediately purred to life, and Spike slid back out from underneath, climbing to his feet. Leaning over the engine, he worked nimbly, doing something completely unfathomable. Turning the car back off, Xander came around and joined him. Curiously, he watched as Spike checked the wires from the sparkplugs and then closed the hood with a definitive thunk.

The smile on Spike's face was wide and open for once. "Thanks for your help, Harris."

"It's no problem." Running a hand over the flanks of the DeSoto, he smiled at the fanciful fins. "I've always meant to ask - have you owned this car since it was built?"

Patting the hood, Spike said, "Well, I wouldn't say 'owned.' That implies that I bought her, and I didn't. But I drove her off the showroom floor myself, and she's been with me ever since." He rubbed at the dirt on his nose, only succeeding in spreading it further.

"Spike, um" Xander rubbed at his own face, trying to hide the laugh. With the dirt smeared across his face, Spike looked about ten years old.


"You've got oil all over your face."

"Aw, bloody hell." Spike grabbed one of the hand towels and rubbed at his face briskly. It didn't get any of the mess off though, and Spike snorted in disgust, throwing the towel to the side. "C'mon."

"Where we going, Spike?" Xander asked as they started walking towards a door set into the large warehouse's wall.

"Bathroom. 'S got a shower, and I can get this crap off."

"And you need me why?" Spike just looked at him, and Xander felt a bolt of lust shoot straight down his spine.

But Spike said mildly, "Not like I can look in the mirror, is it?"

Silently, Xander followed Spike to the bathroom, where Spike wasted no time in stripping down and stepping into the shower. There was part of him that wondered how Spike had gotten the keys to this place. The garage itself was huge and the bathroom was well appointed shower stall big enough for two. Then Xander stopped worrying about it and really looked at Spike. Other than the smear of grease on his face and the matching grease on his hands, Spike's body practically glowed under the fluorescent lights, muscles and bone cut sharply

That was enough to get Xander moving, as he stripped out of his own clothes. The air was a little chilly, but the steam that rose and swirled out of the tub was rapidly warming the small space, and Xander couldn't hold back the soft sound of contentment when he stepped into the shower with Spike.

Naked and hard, he climbed in behind Spike, hands already roaming over Spike's body, mouth on the side of his neck. He tasted of car oil and blood, and Xander hummed. One hand sought out Spike's nipples, twisting and pinching them lightly. The other dropped to Spike's cock, feeling it fill and harden as Xander stroked. His own cock pressed up against Spike's ass, not actively trying to penetrate - yet - just rubbing because it felt good.

They never spoke of this, never planned it. But in dark cemeteries after a fight, or quiet basements when no one else was around, they did it. Xander shied away from thinking about it at any other time, and Spike, well, god only knew what went on in Spike's head. Thinking about what they were doing would give it more weight than Xander wanted. When it was unplanned, undiscussed, it gave him a level of plausible deniability. Besides, the one time that he'd offered to take Spike to bed to sleep when he was injured, Spike had reacted badly, talking about being no one's dolly. This seemed to be all that Spike wanted and it was easy enough to give it to him. Spinning Spike around, he shoved him against the wall. Spike laughed and braced himself with his hands on the cold white tile. "In a hurry, Harris?"

He hadn't been, but now he was. Now he needed to feel Spike, drive him crazy, make him curse and swear as Xander touched. Nudging one thigh between Spike's legs, he pressed against the back of Spike's balls. His hands kept busy, too light to make Spike come, just hard enough to make him shudder.

Leaving one hand on his cock, the other moved around and back, searching out Spike's hole, sliding the tip of one finger in just enough to get a "Christ!" from Spike. Grinning, Xander bit down on his neck, waiting for it.

When Spike started breathing, Xander dropped both hands, backing up just a little. Hot water pounded down on his neck, and for a long moment he just studied the way that Spike stood, head up and proud, belly and chest pressed up against the tile, legs spread wide.

A frantic look around the shower, and Xander spotted some conditioner on the side of the tub, a relic of whoever used the warehouse during the working day. Not caring in the slightest, he grabbed the bottle and dumped a bunch into his hand, slicking it over his cock, hissing at the sensation of his own touch.

When he was as slick as he could get, he grabbed Spike again, pulling his hips back away from the wall. Without any real prep, it was tight, hard to get in, but finally with a sensation that made Xander's eyes cross, the head of his cock slid past the ring of muscle and into Spike.

Pounding the wall with one fist, Spike urged him on. "C'mon, you wanker. Fuck me already!"

Hands tight enough to bruise on Spike's hips, Xander slammed into him as hard as he could. Then, without pausing, he started to fuck him in earnest, each stroke going in as deep and hard as he could manage. If it wasn't for the way Spike's hands were braced, he would have been slamming him into the wall each time, but instead he was rewarded with a chorus of grunts and hisses as he stroked across Spike's prostate.

When one of Spike's hands dropped, aiming for his dick, Xander spoke for the first time. "No." His hands shifted, pinning Spike's wrists against the wall. "You're gonna come just from this." Slamming in even harder, he continued, "Just from my cock in your ass. Give it to me."

"Harris Spike's voice trailed off as he strained a little against Xander's grip. It wasn't a real struggle, though, not nearly hard enough to be serious, so Xander just tightened his hands, forcing Spike to stay where he wanted him. Spike may have been a vampire, but he had a chip in head that limited how much he could struggle, and Xander had muscles that had grown, gained strength from working construction all day.

Leaning into Spike, he spoke directly into his ear. "You're gonna give it up for me, Spike. You know it and I know it, so don't fight me. Just let it go."

One deeper thrust, and Spike was coming with a bellow. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." Now Xander's grip was doing more than holding him in place, it was holding Spike up, and it wasn't going to take much more to push him over the edge, as hard as Xander had been holding back.

Spike twisted his head, and Xander realized that when he'd come, Spike's features had slipped into his vampiric guise, and that loss of control was what did it, as Xander gasped and came hard. Pressed against Spike's back, he tried to catch his breath.

It was only when Spike started to shift restlessly under him that he pulled out, causing them both to groan in unison. At some point during the sex, the water had started to run cool, but neither of them cared. Soaping up quickly, they both rinsed off and stepped out to towel off.

Xander had to resist the urge to reach out and touch Spike, to reassure himself that he was there. That wasn't what they were about, and Spike wouldn't appreciate it.

"So, pancakes?" Xander asked conversationally as they walked out of the bathroom.

"Pancakes." Spike answered.

The End

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