Black and White
Saturday, August 26, 2000
He shouldn't be watching.
Xander had gone to Angel's apartment simply to make sure Spike had been fed
before heading to the UCLA library to do a little research. No one had answered
the brunette's knock but that hadn't deterred him. He'd picked the lock with
nimble ease -- a talent he'd learned from his undead companion -- and had
entered the dimly lit apartment, planning to wake Spike, who he'd figured was
sleeping.
"Anyone here?" Xander had called, closing the door behind him with a quiet
click. He had only taken a single step away from the door when he'd heard an
unearthly cry.
Xander had froze for only a second, but in that time a million thoughts and
feelings had bombarded him. The cry had been made by Spike, of that Xander had
been certain, and the images of what could've been making his companion cry out
like that had chilled and enraged him at the same time.
He had bolted through the living room and down the hallway towards the back
bedroom, his heart slamming against his chest. He hadn't known what he'd find
when he reached the bedroom but, as he'd skidded to a halt on the beige
carpeting just inside the doorway, nowhere in his mind had there been an image
of Angel and Spike ravenously mauling one another in sexual abandon.
Xander had back-stepped rapidly, disappearing into the shadows -- another
trick he'd learned from Spike -- just beyond the doorway to the bedroom.
And there he'd stayed, watching.
With each minute that continued to pass, Xander's trousers grew tighter and
more uncomfortable. He knew he should leave because he sure as hell didn't have
the balls to ask if he could join in, even though that's what his dick was
telling him to do.
But instead of creeping back out of the apartment, Xander adjusted himself
and kept observing.
To Xander, the two writhing on the bed made a very interesting, erotic sight.
He couldn't tell if they were clothed or not -- clothing worn close to the body
didn't appear in Xander-vision. Angel was on top, kissing Spike hungrily as he
ground his hips in a circular motion against the other vampire. Spike's hands
were twisted in Angel's hair and he was returning the kiss with equal passion.
Angel looked completely black; Spike looked completely white.
Xander stared, his breathing heavy and loud in the shadows of the hallway, as
Spike flipped over so he was straddling Angel. The blond sat up, pulled his
shirt -- oh, they're still clothed, Xander thought -- off and tossed it away
before resuming his hungry attack on Angel's mouth.
Xander still couldn't take his eyes off the two of them. With his wild
vision, Angel's body was as black as night save for the bluish-white strands of
electrical activity in his head. Spike, as always, looked as white as a full
moon against a starless sky.
They should have resembled a 3-D Rorshach test to Xander, or a pornographic
chess game. Instead, they reminded him of ying and yang, opposites that fit
perfectly together.
A different type of uncomfortableness developed as Xander watched Angel's
large black hands slide sensually around Spike's lean waist. It was a strange
combination of anger and want that formed a knot inside Xander's gut, and it
sparked the desire to storm into the bedroom and break those damned black
fingers.
It was... jealousy?
Xander scowled, turned around and quietly stalked down the hallway. He was
not jealous. He had no desire to screw either one of the vampires. The thought
of caressing undead flesh made his skin crawl, no matter how dang sexy the
package.
A loud howl of obvious pleasure followed Xander from the bedroom as he
entered the kitchen. "Shuddup," he muttered as he began to dig through the
kitchen drawers. "You sound like a couple of demented zebras humping."
Finding his prize, Xander shut the drawer and headed back down the hallway.
He stopped again in the shadows outside the bedroom door. His lips compressed
into a thin line at the sight of the column of black flesh repeatedly
disappearing between muscular white asscheeks.
Nope, not jealous, Xander thought as he spun on his heel and marched into the
bathroom. He picked up Angel's hairgel off the sink and unscrewed the cap. With
his teeth, he twisted off the top of the tube of Superglue he'd gotten from the
kitchen.
Nope, not jealous at all.
End
