As Two Such Men Should Be

by
Mwrgana

Part Seven

{GOD, the Watcher can bloody talk. And that warlock of his is just as bad when he gets going.

All that yack and still no sensible words of advice for the sex-lorn. Ah, what the hell, I was only curious to find out what father-figure-to-the-kids Rupert thought of his boy's new tack. As if the Big Bad ever needed lessons in sexual technique from a bloody human - I really don't think so; a body's just a body after all, regardless of its sex.

Interesting buggers, though, those two. Gonna have to go back sometime, I've a feeling they could get quite entertaining - and that Ethan - the man has hidden shallows. But talk, ten things at once - have as much difficulty sticking to the topic of conversation as Harris - but at least it gave me the chance to make me getaway while they were lost in the finer points of whatever.

And I've made a small profit.}

Spike grinned triumphantly, tossing Ethan's cigarette pack up and down in one hand as he strode down the darkened streets, feeling the reassuring bulge of Ethan's wallet in his hip pocket with every other step.

Arriving back at his crypt, Spike looked around and decided it was time for some housework. He drifted around for a while moving things from one pile to another and throwing several past-their-time belongings in to a pile for rubbish. As he moved unsystematically through his stuff he crowed with delight as he found the thing he was waiting to uncover.

Half an hour later, bringing the final conversation to an end he hit the 'off' button of the tiny phone and sank back in to the sofa, content with the outcome of his several calls. He drained the bottle of beer he had been sipping and carelessly threw it over his shoulder to land in the general area of the newly-designated rubbish pile. The cushions of the sofa again yielded a bottle of Tennessee's finest sippin' whiskey and with a happy sigh, Spike raised the amber nectar to his lips and swigged. {sip, hell!}

"Decisions, decisions, time for decisions," he muttered. {okay, decision made, now to plan what to do next. After hours of yabbering all I really got was 'he's made his move, now you make yours'. Well, damn it, Harris's the one who's been hanging round gagging for it - why should I have to...? Oh, yeah, I did tell him I'd think about it. Hmm, could be waiting for ever for him to find the bottle to come back here to ask me what's what, so I 'spose I'll have to go to him…... an evil, waiting-to-be-seduced-vampire's work is never done.}

Xander bowed his head and sighed blissfully as the scalding water pummelled the aches and pains of a day's work out his neck and shoulders. Here, under the shower, was a time out-of-time each evening when the pressures of the day drained away and when he had yet to be concerned about facing another night on the Hellmouth.

Finally leaving the shelter of the shower, Xander roughly towel-dried his hair as he padded naked to the kitchen. The moisture pearled on his skin and he relished the slight chill along his body as the air dried him off. Towel slung across his shoulders, he threw a variety of packages in to the microwave and leaned back against the opposite counter, whistling softly and out-of-tune as he watched the clock count down.

He was feeling relaxed and sanguine; what ever was going to happen concerning the bleached wonder would happen. After hours of worry throughout the previous night he had decided to decide that he was in a win/win situation. [If he comes across, I get laid and close-up and intimate with that gorgeous body. If he's not interested, I get to live a much safer life.] The 'not' alternative seemed lame even to Xander but even so, probably was more beneficial in the long run. [yeah, keep telling yourself that, Xand-man, you might just believe it by the time you're dead and gone.]

As the micro's clock pinged to announce that another nutritional meal untouched by human hands and untainted by anything remotely related to flora or fauna was ready for consumption, Xander yet again shrugged off doubts and resumed his cheerful demeanour of optimism. Whatever, he was going to enjoy a quiet and relaxing night at home for once.

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa he prodded the TV remote and settled back to watch the Cartoon Network's finest as he ate. No sooner had he taken the first mouthful of what called itself chicken lasagne with country vegetables, than there was a ring on the doorbell. "Goghay," mumbled Xander prepared to defend, against all comers, his enjoyment of chopped-and-shaped-poultry goodness and this rare oasis of calm and tranquillity "Khm nu'in".

But his next mouthful was nearly shot across the room as a loud banging on the front door threatened to tear it off its hinges. Hurling muttered imprecations and colourful curses at whomever was out there wanting to be in, Xander had his hand on the door knob before he remembered to tug the towel from his shoulders and wrap it around his waist. Checking the spy-hole before opening the door, he stumbled back and whimpered. [mwaaaghh!]

"Jeez, Harris, open the bloody door will you? I've only got eternity, don't waste it."

Xander hastily combed his fingers through his hair, hitched the towel up, brushed his hands down the dark blue cotton terry cloth to smooth it out then bent over to pick it up from the floor from where his grooming had deposited it. He wrapped it around himself more firmly then, not relinquishing his hold on it, used his other hand to open the door.

"You got problems with the concept of a door as an entrance?" The vampire stalked in, not sparing Xander a glance, and took up residence on the sofa, throwing his coat over the back.

"Huh, uh, what? Door?"

"Oh, and let's not forget the problems you've got with the concept of language as a form of communication, eh? Yes, the door - using yours to let me in, now; using mine to come in to my place, yesterday. Do you always need to be told how to use 'em? How do you get in here, if there's no-one to open the door for you?

"Oh, yes! I can see it now, a Harris world-original, a voice-operated lock which, instead of reacting to your telling it to open the door, would have to tell you to unlock it." Looking pleased with this flight of fancy, Spike got serious with the remote he'd been playing with, settled back and threw a look over his shoulder at Xander, who was only now coming in to the room. "Grab us a cold one from the fri… igging hell! Do you normally answer the door looking like that?"

Xander felt a blush rising up his body - partly embarrassment, mainly reaction to the look in Spike's eyes as they roved up and down his body, which sparkled in places from water droplets still falling occasionally from his hair.

[mwaaagh! Oh my god, oh shit, I don't think I'm going to be doing the living-the-safe-life option. And I don't think it's going to be my decision at all! Oh shit. Clothes, gotta get some clothes. Oh shit.]

Tearing his gaze away from Spike's and grabbing at his last remains of cogent speech he made for the bedroom, "Only when the manic dead can't wait two seconds for someone to answer the door before going straight to demolish," he managed heroically.

Heart racing, feeling as if all the breath had been punched out of him, Xander closed the bedroom door behind him and with shaking hands grabbed some clothes. He hurriedly climbed into a pair of loose drawstring pants and was just lifting his arms to pull on a sweater when he heard the door open behind him. Stomach lurching, he mustered all his self-control, donned his cool façade and turned to face the intruder.

Spike, elegant and unruffled as ever, was leaning lightly against the doorframe, hand gracefully holding the door open. He was Lord Heathcliffe D'Arcy-Rochester - sneeringly-sophisticated, barely-domesticated - the rake whose languid glance rips through layers of culturally enforced sexual ignorance to lay bare, and to release, the basest of animal cravings in the demurest, most innocent young virgin.

Hands crossed in front of him, sweater only half-pulled down his chest, pants still riding low on his hips, Xander froze. His breath caught in his throat as his lungs forgot what to do and his eyes widened in shock and carnality as they devoured the stark, predatory beauty of the man before him. For what seemed an age, he stood there still as a statue until, finally, he caught his breath and he started to tremble.

Spike stared back, relishing the sight before him. {Christ - Michelangelo's dying slave. Fuck, he's beautiful… a Renaissance wet-dream} Caught up with his image of seeing Xander emerge from a bondage of marble to a new freedom, Spike moved softly, almost reverently towards the youth still frozen in that achingly erotic pose. As Spike closed the distance between them, he almost buckled beneath the weight of desire in Xander's eyes. Completely unaware of his own body, his own posture, Xander's whole being was concentrated on the man walking towards him and Spike felt his last reservations about wanting the boy crumble to nothing. {just a body…}

Spike reached out and gently took hold of Xander's wrists, pulling his arms away from his body. Never breaking eye contact, he took the young man's hands in his, turned them outwards and, slowly, drew them to his mouth and kissed each palm in worship, tracing their lines with his tongue. Drawing closer, he gathered up Xander's hands still palm-upwards and, putting one on top of the other, he placed them carefully on the palm of his own right hand. Reaching up, he softly ran his other hand, fingers spread wide, down the silken skin of the chest in front of him, dragging his thumb back and forth across each nipple before grasping the dark head and pulling it harshly towards him to devour, almost to rape, that half-open mouth with his own.

For the second time their tongues met and Xander released his breath with a body-wracking groan and, shaking off his paralysis, he broke away from the kiss just long enough to drag his sweater off. Arms freed, he savagely pulled the other man against him. Spike answered with a desperate groan of his own as he felt strong arms crushing and possessing him and the twin of his own erection grinding hard and demandingly against him. In blind reflex, Spike grabbed hold of the younger man's hips and lifted him up and then they were rolling and writhing, vined around one another, claiming the promises offered by the wide, soft expanse of Xander's bed.

Xander moaned in frustration as they struggled to get rid of Spike's shirt; the need for skin against skin, for both of them, was reaching pain threshold and then they were dragging naked, hard-muscled chests together in a delirium of friction, rubbing and sliding and biting and kissing, until the relief of contact finally slowed their first desperate gyrations and they lay, barely moving, outspread arms and bodies touching at every point. Their mouths were doing little more than fluttering against each other and Xander's legs lay almost relaxed between Spike's as they slowly rocked their pelvises together, seeking not completion yet but just this wonderful, wondering introduction.

Spike lifted his head enough to look down in to Xander's eyes and directed a small, crooked smile at the flushed and open face below him. "And we've hardly got our clothes off, yet."

Xander released a breathy laugh, somewhat reassured as Spike's carefully calculated remark reduced the intense flood of sudden desire that had threatened to engulf them. "I kinda feel that we should be in the back of an auto, parked up somewhere dark and quiet.

Spike pushed his face into Xander's chest, "I can see paradise, by the dashboard light..." he sang softly.

"I guess this means that you've decided to, um... oh god that tickles! So you think we... you know..."

Spike shifted, causing Xander to moan, and leant up slightly on one elbow, propping his head on his hand. His expression was one of barely concealed amusement [and he's doing that damn thing with his eyebrow again] as he considered the stammering man lying underneath him. "If you can't say it, Xan, I don't think you should do it." He proceeded to draw feather-light patterns with one slender finger along Xander's lips rendering them both incapable of speech for a long minute. ['Xan', he called me 'Xan'!]

Finally, with a strangled squawk, Xander captured the distracting finger in strong teeth and held it still. [yay, go me, I'm biting a vampire and I used to think my life could never get any weirder.] "Gissen, geech-goy, gon't gawal sugeeiaw ongee."

Spike worked out a rapid translation and smirked, "You think I should go all submissive on you, instead? You were taking notes about the chains'n stuff weren't you?"

Xander gulped, not an easy thing to do with someone's finger grasped between your teeth. "Uggh, guh?"

Chuckling, Spike nuzzled Xander's throat, the flutters of breath sending new shocks through the man's body. "Living proof of evolution from ape-men aren't you, pet? Ow!" Spike pouted as he inspected the teeth marks in the finger Xander had sharply bitten down on, "Hey, evil vampire here, remember? No blood play on the first date with humans - not safe."

"For you or me, D Boy J?" Xander snickered. "Anyway, stop distracting me, and stop acting superior." He raised his own eyebrows as Spike seemed about to interrupt, "I seem to remember you referring to it as 'trying something different' - yeah, that was like graphically explicit. Not.

"So, I guess you, like, came around to tell me that you have decided to 'try something different', huh?"

Spike stared back for a moment then lost himself in chewing a convenient earlobe that seemed to him to be feeling sadly neglected. "Agshly, ashnuh wha'khm yer uheloo a'awl."

Xander was, at present, stoically attempting the impossible task of wrapping his ear around the mouth that was producing such delicious, buzzing sensations. Consequently, he took a while to realise that the buzzing was actual words; when he worked out what the words were, he shot up in dismay.

"Oops," Spike's observation, while not entirely devoid of sincerity - as they both regarded the blood dripping on to the pillow and as he gazed with professional interest at Xander's torn earlobe - was just totally devoid of any sincerity recognisable as apology or regret.

"Oops? Is that the best you can do? Half my ear is lying on the pillow and the other half, for all I know, is having strange vampiric things that I don't even want to think about being done to anything much less done to anything of mine done to it in your stomach and all you can manage is 'Oops'?"

Spike blinked at Xander and tried again, "Oops-a-daisy?"

"Oops-a what?" Xander's mouth continued in goldfish mode as his powers of speech deserted him again. Spike, subtly heading back towards Xander's ear, watched in fascination, practically able to hear the cogs whining as they spun free of any traction. "Whaaaaah!"

Spike pulled back sharply, thinking the unbelievable for one split second, before realising that the screech had come from Xander's mouth not his brain. He looked, with his version of patient, into wild, staring brown eyes, only inches away, "Now what the hell's grabbed you and bitten?"

Spike looked on with mild amusement, while Xander continued the fish impression for a moment before managing, "You, you undead menace heading back to my ear - going back to finish the job and - Oh! Oh yeah, oh, mgnaaah. Oh god, that feels good. Oh, yes, mmmm, don't stop. Noo! Don't stop!" Xander was back valiantly trying to wrap his ear around Spike's tongue when the vampire pulled away.

"You've got to learn a bit of trust," Spike admonished. "Now then, Pet, doesn't that feel all better and healed up now? Magic vampire laving healing, that - 's all in the spit. And don't forget it was your fault, jerking your head away like that for no bloody reason. Could have set the chip off." Xander looked somewhat chagrined. "Why the hell d'you want to soddin' do that in the first place, anyway? I'd been enjoying meself there, until you nearly ripped me teeth out with your ear."

Xander frowned, thinking back to what had precipitated his abrupt retreat from that blissful ear-mumbling "Hey, I know, yeah - what do you mean you didn't come here to tell me you'd decided to phmmmmm..."

If it was possible to grin evilly while thoroughly and adeptly kissing your new lover's increasingly fascinating mouth, Spike probably managed it. {oh, but I did come here to phmmmmm... Just not straight away, luv.} There was no doubt whatsoever about the grin, or its state of grace, when he finally released a newly-breathless and flushed Xander {damn, I could get addicted to this} to say, "Nope, I came to tell you that the Slayer needs us both a bit urgent like, to help her with some new demon or other she's found to bother."

Xander found himself once again hoisted up in Spike's arms and deposited, more or less standing on his own two feet, in the living room as the vampire shrugged carelessly back in to his shirt, picked up his leather and headed purposely for the door.

He turned around, glaring impatiently at the dumbfounded man gaping back at him and said, "Come on, Harris, chip-chop, get yer bloody shoes on, and your arse in gear, for Chris'ake. You know how 'er Slayness gets if she's kept waiting. Give her half a chance and she'll be blaming me for your being late - I don't fancy having to deal with any shrapnel flying my way because you ain't got any sense of urgency. Come on, shift it."

Part Eight

Several hours later, Spike and Xander came limping back to Xander's apartment. The demon had proved more difficult to deal with than expected and when four members of its family turned up as well, the fight had turned bitter.

During the worst of it Xander had been struck a blow to the back of his head that not only knocked him out but also knocked him several feet in to the air. When he came to, it was to a splitting headache and agonising pains in his back. Just he was starting to panic about a broken spine and never being able to walk again, a blood-covered Spike came hurtling through the air towards him propelled by one of the larger demons. Xander automatically jerked his legs out of the way and a disgruntled vampire landed next to him on the ground. "Bloody hell, what happened to my Harris-type soft landing, Git?"

"Hey, Spike, it's OK, I'm not broken - see? Leg movage." Xander smiled a happy smile and wiggled his legs.

Spike quirked an eyebrow, "Glad to hear it, Luv, but stay put for now - you're better off down there out the way. Be back in a sec, I've just about seen this bugger off." Grinning with blood lust, Spike grabbed up Xander's axe and threw himself back in to the fray. There was only the one demon left and in a whirl of black and blade Spike made short work of it. Buffy and the others were still getting their breath back as Spike sauntered over to Xander, axe over his shoulder and smug look firmly in place.

Crouching down beside the lad, Spike ran his hands over him briefly, searching for obvious wounds or breaks. Satisfied, Spike stood and reached his hand down. "Come on, you'll live." Xander clasped the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Truth to tell, he could not have managed it by himself and was grateful for the vampire's assistance. As he gained his feet, pain shot through his head and he swayed alarmingly. "OK, I gotcha. Just stand still for a mo." Strong arms came around him and he leaned in to the shoulder against him.

For a few blessed minutes Xander rested his head on the cool leather of Spike's coat and let the world settle around him. "Whoa, you know, sometimes I forget how much fun slayage can be. And then a big and nasty kicks my ass around the block a few times and it all comes rushing back to me."

Light footsteps announced Buffy's arrival. Noting Spike's purchase on her wounded friend, she glared at the battle-scarred and bloodied vampire. He shot back a nasty look in return but released Xander gently, checking that he was able to stand by himself.

"Hey, Xan, are you OK?" she queried.

Spike snorted at Buffy's facile question but managed to say nothing. {the less said the sooner we can get back to his place and check him over properly... and see just how OK he is.}

"Buff, yeah, I'm OK, a bit of a headache but no bones broken. Just the usual slay achiness and bruises."

"So, are you good to go or do you want one of us to go home with you?"

"It's alright, Slayer. I've got to pick up stuff from Xander's anyway. I'll see he gets home OK."

"Xander, you OK with that?" Buffy looked doubtfully at each of them.

"Yeah, yeah, Buff. That's fine, don't worry, Spike's harmless…"

Spike rolled his eyes and let the axe fall to the ground with a thud.

"…and I just want to get home without any fuss."

"Well, you get straight to bed, then, and I'll call in the morning, see how you're doing."

Xander caught Spike's eye to see how he'd reacted to the *harmless* remark. He expected exasperated recriminations; instead Xander was stunned and then instantly aroused by the look of sincere, almost stern desirous intent in Spike's blue-grey eyes. The longer Xander held Spike's frank, seductive gaze the more Xander craved him and the less he cared that the vampire could read it all over his face. [oh, I think I'll be doing very nicely, thank you, Buff and I'll surely get straight to bed.]

"Yeah, but don't, like, call too early huh? I think I'll be sleeping in, like, *really* late. Come to think of it, I'll probably turn the phone off completely. Why don't I just call *you* tomorrow evening instead?" With this he grabbed Spike's arm, ostensibly for support, and the two headed off.

Buffy continued to watch them for a while, frowning and wondering what it was that seemed a little off about the two men. They seemed awfully chummy. Finally she shrugged, "Naw, Xander would never fall for any of Spike's stupid crap," she thought. "Spike will talk his way into the apartment, mooch some beer and Cheetos and Xan will throw him out. There's nothing to worry about. Still, am I being totally gross or were both of them sporting chubbies when they limped out of here?" Buffy shook off her doubts and headed back to the cemetery for one, final sweep.

Although each step jolted Xander's head and made him wince with pain, he found that moving actually helped clear the mugginess he felt and by the time they were out of sight of the others he was beginning to feel better. He slowed down and pulled Spike to a stop, turning to face him. "My hero!" Xander grinned and batting his eyelids and reaching in for a kiss. Spike ran his hand gently through Xander's hair and was rewarded with a soft moan of compliance, "Oh, yeah, Spike, that feels good."

"There's plenty more where comes from, luv, but let's get you home first and see what's what."

---

Xander sat at the kitchen table and took a deep breath; after a couple of strong pains killers and a soda he was starting to feel better. He looked up at Spike, nerves and anticipation flowing at full strength, only to realise that the vampire, himself, was now swaying a little. In the harsh light, Xander realised that a lot of the blood on Spike was Spike's own and, along with other smaller wounds, was a large gash across his chest.

"Hey, Spike, we'd better get that cleaned up and, and hey, how about blood for you? I've got some here." He hurried over to the fridge and bent down to retrieve a couple of bags of blood; as he did, he felt Spike's hands on his hips and the grinding of an urgent erection against his arse.

"Get it warm for me, luv, hmm? I'm gonna wash this muck off me and then we can see about getting you straight to bed."

Xander gulped and backed away from the fridge, enjoying the feeling of Spike close behind him. A gentle nip on the back of his neck, as Spike let go, made him shudder. Turning around, he started to speak, "I'll come wash your…. Damn, I have got to stop him doing that disappearing thing." He glared at the space that only a moment ago had been filled with vampire then crossed to the microwave to heat up the blood. As he waited for the timer to go off he took a sip of soda and gingerly rubbed his temples; somehow it didn't feel as good as when it was Spike's hand soothing him.

Thinking of Spike's hand, and what else it could be stroking, brought him to full, painful hardness and he shifted uncomfortably.

[But, hey,not just dreaming about it this time. This time, got it here ready and waiting and full of real-life goodness and I'm really so not panicking. See me not panicking? After all, if he hadn't stopped when he did and hauled me off to patrol we'd have already…] Xander's thoughts shuddered to a halt as he started to hyperventilate. [I so want this, I really, really want this and Spike wants it too and it's not of the bad, it is not getting scary now that it's happening, I am so not starting to worry now that it's too late to change my mind. Not that it is too late, he's not going to make me to do something I don't want to do and I don't want to do this, I mean, I don't not want to do this. I've been wanting to do this for like forever and now I'm actually going to be doing it and it's so good and Spike is so beautiful and so sexy and oh god, I can't do this. Why did I think I could do this? I'm not panicking, I'm just thinking realistic here. Spike's a guy, a gorgeous, sexy guy but still a guy - an evil undead guy - and , okay, thinking this through sensibly, now.]

He jumped as the timer went off and numbly took out the warmed blood, pouring the contents of one bag in to a mug. He looked at what he was doing and his hands started to shake.

"Um, Spike," he called, "I've, uh, I've got something I need to tell you."

Part Nine

Xander sat in a deep, warm bath, nestled against the firm, muscled chest of the man behind him. Eyes closed, he inhaled the scented steam and relaxed under the long fingers that were massaging his scalp. He moaned as, once more, Spike attempted to take his hands away. "Xan, if I keep on shampooing you, your hair's going to fall out from the friction."

"Nooohh, feels good. Takes headache away. Nice an' soothing," Xander managed to mumble. "Don't stop, 's nice."

"Is your head still hurting?" Spike asked, a little concerned. "No, feels good now, don't stop. Soothing." Spike frowned dubiously and gave Xander, or at least the back of his head, a hard look then shrugged and reached out for the mug of blood. Draining it, he dipped it in the bath water and poured the contents over Xander's head.

"Fghgshwhaw. Ugh, you could drown someone like that!"

"Easier and more reliable ways to drown you than that," remarked Spike, delivering another mugful of water and running his free hand across Xander's hair, pushing the remaining lather out. "By the way, what were you going to say?"

Xander tensed, "Say? When was I what going to say?"

Spike rolled his eyes. {now what's rattled his cage?} "Xan, the individual words are all English, well done. But it's usual to put them in a special sort of order, then you make them in to a proper sentence. Can you manage a sentence for me? Come on, start again: just before you came in here you yelled out that you had something to tell me. What was it?"

"Um, that I had some blood for you?"

"Knew that already. Try again."

Xander fidgeted, running his hands up and down the legs wrapped around him. "Um, I was going to tell you that I couldn't do this… I changed my mind and I couldn't do it."

"Right…" said Spike hesitantly. "So, does that mean you've changed your mind and don't want this, or you changed your mind about not wanting this?"

"Mmm, something like that." Xander thought back to a short while ago when he had decided he was too panicked to take what he thought he had wanted.

***********

He carried the mug of blood to Spike in the bathroom, resolved to tell him that he just was not ready to continue with… what they had been doing. Instead, he had been confounded by the sight of a naked Spike, the blood showered off him, sinking in to hot, steamy water scented with lime and mint. A strong, white hand snaked out and grabbed him and he found all resolution crumbling under the power of Spike's firm grip. Putting down the mug, he sank to his knees and pressed his face against the hard, muscular chest in front of him, kissing, nibbling and licking away drops of water as they fell from Spike's hair. The wound that had so worried him when they arrived home had already started to heal and Xander tenderly followed its track with his tongue and a finger.

"C'mon, get your clothes off and come in here with me." Spike was already pulling his shirt off him and Xander hastened to get rid of the rest. Standing, Spike picked up Xander, as he had earlier, and lifted him effortlessly in to the bath gathering him close for a slow, deep kiss. Pulling away, he turned Xander around and sat them both down, Spike positioned behind Xander, legs wrapped possessively around him, his feet between Xander's thighs. Xander sighed and leaned back, flexing his shoulder muscles hard against Spike's chest and pressing the small of his back against Spike's groin. He groaned as he felt Spike's hands wandering across his stomach and down along his legs and relaxed in to the embrace.

"'Sright luv, just lie back and breathe deep; this steam and smelly stuff'll help your head."

[so, what happened to 'can't do this'?] By the time Spike reached for the shampoo, Xander's body was a battlefield: relaxing muscles warring against leaping nerve endings. On the cusp of sleep, his body had never felt so awake in his life…

***********

"Something like what?"

"Wha…?" Xander was brought back to the present by Spike's terse question. Continuing to run his hands up down Spike's legs, he realised just how tense the other man had become. "I was panicking out there," he offered in explanation. "I felt I was in way over my head and decided that I just couldn't deal and then I came in to tell you and well, you just happened to me again and I knew I was wrong. Knew I could deal with this." He twisted his head round to look at Spike and could see the doubt and anger in the vampire's expression starting to fade. "Knew I wanted this, wanted you." He pulled Spike's head down and kissed him, tentatively at first, then more deeply as Spike relaxed under Xander's warm, plaintive caress. "We're all allowed first-night nerves, aren't we?" he whispered against Spike's lips.

"As long as the show goes on, luv, you can have whatever type of nerves you want." Pulling Xander up and around to kneel in front of him, Spike cupped his face in one hand as he ran gentle fingers across cheeks and brow, tracing the half-open lips with his thumb. "Come here," he said gruffly, pulling Xander down on top of him. One groan echoed the other as twin erections bumped and rubbed against each other in the slippery bath. Tongues fought as hips ground and hands grasped at flesh. Spike held Xander tightly, one hand stroking and kneading the firm silk of his behind, the other cradling his jaw as he forcefully tongued Xander's gasping mouth. Xander desperately ran his hands over Spike's chiselled chest and shoulders and finally settled his hands on the vampire's hips as he sought more satisfying friction beneath the surface of the water.

"Time to move this elsewhere, luv."

Xander moaned as Spike shifted him again. Out of the water, Xander's skin chilled and he shivered, even as Spike wrapped a towel around his shoulders and drew him close for another kiss. This time it was Spike who nibbled and kissed his way down Xander's chest, licking his way down towards the hardened length that was aching for his touch. Xander shuddered as he felt Spike's tongue very softly lick the tip before he straightened up to gaze into Xander's darkening eyes.

Spike's whisper was soft but clear, "Bedroom, now." The cool breath against his ear made Xander shiver again, but this time he knew that it was desire and not denial that was making him shake.