Word Count: 1496
Prompt: 27 (slash_100)/37 (fanfiction100)
Xander had no idea a vampire could talk so much, so fast. It must be the whole "not breathing" thing, he thought.
"Did you see that little nancy-boy? I thought he was going to cry for his mum, I did. Wait. Does that kind of demon have a mum? Or are they hatched or somethin'? Oh, well, doesn't matter. We killed him good - "
Interrupted, Spike looked confused. "Huh?"
"How much of that dust were you hit with?"
"I don't know- let me think. I hit him in the chest and he threw some at me so I hit him again. That seemed to make him mad. Mad-angry, not mad-crazy, you know? And so he - "
Xander cut him off again. "How. Much. Spike?"
Spike was quiet for a moment, lips working. "Three times? No, four. Definitely four. Unless it was three?"
"Oh, god." This was bad, very, very bad. One dose was enough to hype up a human for hours. Three or four doses to someone as hyperkinetic as Spike? It could last for days.
Xander backed carefully from Spike, who was back to babbling. "You just stay there, Spike. I - I'm going to go call Willow, okay?"
Right. You're gonna call witchy-girl and she'll de-dust me and it'll all be right. Say, did I ever tell you about the time we were in Berlin? Drusilla found this soldier, right? And -"
"What do you mean, there's nothing you can do?" Xander's voice cracked as he watched Spike pace, talking and laughing to himself.
"Sorry, Xander, but I haven't found anything that will undo the effects. You're just going to have to... well, babysit him until he slows down."
Now Spike seemed to be retelling the fight with the demon, complete with acting out every blow "How long will that be? I have to sleep sometime!"
"Um, it could be a few hours?"
"It could be much longer. This stuff was designed to be used on humans. I don't know how it's going to affect a vampire!"
"Great. Just great. Okay, well. I'll have to - " Spike picked that moment to punch a hole in a wall and stood there for a moment, looking confused, before pulling back and continuing his one man show. "Oh, shit. Gotta go, Wills. Call me later."
He hung up without waiting for a response. "Spike? What say you sit down on the couch?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but he wasn't sure how successful he was.
Spike didn't seem to notice, flopping down on the couch then squirming like he had itching powder in his pants.
"Now what, Spike?"
"I, uh, I feel funny. Funny strange."
Xander sighed. "Of course you feel funny. You've been hit with a demon's idea of a joke."
"No, it's not that. It's - I'm -" his voice dropped to a whisper and he closed his eyes. "I'm really bloody hard."
"What?" Xander yelped.
But Spike didn't answer, being far too busy undoing his fly. Xander yelped again and threw a blanket over Spike's lap without looking. Spike didn't even seem to notice, hands busy under then soft material, then he sighed in relief.
Xander carefully didn't look at the bulge in Spike's lap. "I'll just... uh... go get a soda, okay? Without waiting for an answer, he retreated to the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, he finally talked himself into coming out of the kitchen. That should have been more than long enough for Spike to do whatever he was going to do.
Unfortunately, it wasn't. Xander walked into the living room to get treated to Spike, pants around his thighs and blanket no where in evidence, playing with himself.
"Urk," said Xander and he turned to leave.
Spike didn't stop, but he said, loudly, "Don't go, Harris. Please?"
It was the please that caught his attention. Spike never said please. "I can't talk to you while you're doing... that!"
"I'll stop." And sure enough, when Xander turned around, Spike's hands were no where near his crotch. This was worse, though, because now his cock was just kind of hanging out in the breeze.
Jerking his eyes away, he stared fixedly at Spike's face. "What?"
Spike grimaced, but said, "Gimme a hand? I can't..."
"What? No! Besides you seemed to be doing just fine without me."
"I can't..." Spike almost seemed embarrassed. "Can't get off. That powder's done somethin' to me."
"Well, yeah. It's got you sitting on my couch, waving your parts around!"
Spike moved restlessly, yanking Xander's attention back down. "No. I mean, it's done something. Hurts like a mother, but I can't get off."
Spike's hands had drifted back to his cock, and Xander if it wasn't for the fact that they were moving. "What do you want me to do about it? You got a girl we don't know about or something? Someone I can call?"
"No time. Fuck, Xander, it bloody well hurts!"
Xander didn't know what to do. Spike really did look miserable, and he had gotten like this helping them out. It didn't seem fair to just leave him hanging, so to speak.
On the other hand, there was the not-gayness that was him. And now Spike wanted him to do what? Give him a handjob?
"C'mon, Xander. Be a pal?" Spike looked really miserable, and that made up Xander's mind for him.
"Fine, but we never speak of this again, okay?" Hesitantly, Xander sat down next to Spike on the couch. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just... touch me," Spike moaned. Xander slowly reached and rand one finger down the length of Spike's dick. The effect was electric as he gasped and his hips came up off the couch. "Fuck, yeah."
Encouraged, Xander did it again, then wrapped his hand around Spike's cock and rubbed gently.
Spike's cock was silky and there seemed to be a lot of extra skin. It took Xander a moment to realize that he must not be circumcised. Curious now, he moved the skin up and down.
It must have felt damn good to Spike, who moaned again.
Pretty soon, Xander was moving with more assurance. Spike was vocal about his appreciation of what Xander was doing.
So it was a surprise when Spike's hand came down on his, forcing him to stop. "Wait, Harris, just let me..." And then Xander was being manhandled around so that he was leaning up against the arm of the sofa, Spike cradled between his legs.
Reaching around Spike's waist, Xander ignored the effect that the position caused on his own dick. He wasn't gay, and Spike leaning into his crotch wasn't getting him hard. Not at all.
Instead , he focused on what he was doing. In this position he could move as if was his own cock, except for the foreskin, and he went with that feeling, closing his eyes and moving over it with increased confidence.
When he teased the bundle of nerves below the head with his thumb, Spike gasped, hips moving to a rhythm only he could hear. "Just a little more... Only a little..." As Xander tightened his grip, Spike cried out and came over his fingers.
For a long moment, Xander stayed frozen, until Spike brought his fingers up to his mouth and started to lick them clean. "Um, Spike?"
"Just let me, Harris." Spike's tongue felt... surprisingly good, actually. With a deep groan, Xander tipped his head against the couch and closed his eyes again. He hadn't been laid in far too long.
When Spike twisted in his arms, Xander's eyes fluttered open only to stare in shock as Spike started to undo his pants. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he squeaked.
"Shut it, Xander." Spike's fingers were busily undoing his fly and yanking his pants down.
Xander tried to formulate some sort of argument, only to clamp his mouth shut when Spike dropped and sucked him down to the root. With a shout, Xander's eyes slammed shut and his hips shot up.
Spike's mouth was cool, but wet and slick, and he was trembling on the edge of orgasm in moments. He was so distracted by what Spike was doing that he didn't notice what else he was up to until a finger brushed over his opening.
Xander felt like his hips were going in two directions at once - back towards Spike's hand and forward into his mouth. He couldn't stop the sounds that poured from his mouth. Dirty, broken, needy sounds; sounds of want and desperation.
Spike's mouth dropped down unbelievably further, and Xander sobbed once more and came, screaming.
By the time he was with it enough to notice, Spike was curled up with his head on Xander's stomach, sleeping. He sighed and ran his fingers through Spike's hair. He somehow had a feeling that things were never going to be the same.
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