Parts 1,2,3,4
TITLE: The Secret (1/?)
AUTHOR: Laikokae (laikokae@hotmail.com)
CATEGORY: S/X;
RATING: R
FEEDBACK: Would be nice.
DISTRIBUTION: If you want it, just take it.
SUMMARY: Xander's got a secret. Spike is about to find out.
DISCLAIMER: They're all mine. Except when they're not. Like now.
NOTES: This is just a little ditty I came up with while waiting for egroups to damn well process the next part of 'Warrior'. It is in no way related to that series.
Confucis say 'don't start new story while old one is unfinished' but I just couldn't help myself.
Smutty goodness is on it's way, I promise.
*****
Xander had a secret.
It was a relatively harmless secret, in that it didn't involve other worldy activity, a hankering for blood or plans to suck the world into hell, but it was a secret nonetheless, and that's the way Xander had wanted it to stay.
You see, Xander had lost his job. Again. That wasn't the secret. That was just pretty much a given. Xander losing his job was a common occurence, not really secret-worthy, that could almost be plotted by the moon and the stars.
The secret was that Xander had a new job.
He honestly hadn't meant to get back into the stripping industry. His one-time debacle at the 'Fabulous Ladies Club' in Oxnard was something he'd hoped to keep as just that - a one-time debacle. Never to be repeated again.
But when he'd lost his latest job, and his last paycheck to the damage he'd caused (don't ask) and his rent was due in two days, Xander had been ready to try anything.
He had come across the advertisement for an exotic dancer by accident. It had been on the back of a newspaper clipping of Giles' about a recent grotesque murder that the ex-librarian had suspected involved demon activity. They'd been researching, when Xander had idly flipped the clipping over to find the employment advertisement.
WANTED, it read, EXOTIC MALE DANCERS FOR CLASSY MEN'S BAR. NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. CREATE YOUR OWN PERSONA AND APPLY.
Xander was dubious to say the least, but the next two lines did more than enough to change his mind.
EARN UP TO $1500 A WEEK.
Xander made his excuses to the scoobies and had rushed home and dialed the number listed in the advertisement.
"Name, please?" a bored voiced had asked him over the line.
"Xander Harris," he replied after a moment.
"Experience?"
"A little."
"Name of your persona?"
Xander had several excuses for what he said next. He'd rushed home so quickly that he hadn't really had much time to think about what persona he would adopt. He hadn't really expected that it would come up before the interview.
In a panic, he had quickly run through his head all the men he knew. Riley - the whole soldier boy thing could have a kick to it, but he figured a dozen other guys would probably try the same thing. Angel - tall, dark and mysterious was definitely an option, but it didn't quite fit the whole stripper deal.
He needed something...naughty.
"Spike," he told the bored voice over the phone.
"Auditions are at 4pm at the Playpen.."
Xander quickly scibbled down the address, thanked the voice on the line and hung up.
Choosing what to wear to the auditions was easier. He rifled through his clothes and found that he owned a tight pair of black jeans, matching t-shirt and a red shirt similar to the blond vampire's, except that it wasn't actually silk.
The boots and the duster were a little harder to come by, but his persona wouldn't Spike without them. In the end, Xander decided that if he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound, and spent the remainder of his savings on purchasing boots identical to Spike's and a relatively well-worn duster.
He briefly considered bleaching his hair, but decided that would raise way too many questions from the Scooby Gang, and decided a dark-haired Spike would have to do.
In the end his of-the-moment decision was what got him the job. He had a real person, one he'd lived with for a time, to base his persona on, while most of the other men were depending on their imagination, and coming up short by the looks of the variety of characters sprawled around the Playpen the afternoon of the audition.
There were a few tarzans, supermans and dark avenger types. Some men had gone with bussiness suits, others as construction workers, and strangely, quite a few nursemaids. The army-guy also seemed to be a favourite, Xander noted in satisfaction. He'd been right, there were about eight of them.
The difference was, that while some of the constumes were amazing, and, Xander admitted quietly to himself, some of the men looked extremely hot in them, there was no character behind them. No history, no personality and no attitude.
When Xander had strode in, duster billowing behind him, he'd been Spike to the core - sexy, confident bad boy with just a hint of pure evil underlying everything he did.
The man taking names at the door had actually stumbled over his words when he saw him. And when Xander replied to his queries with a passable imitation of the blond vampire's accent and winked at the man, he looked as though he was going to pass out.
In the end he hadn't even needed to audition. He'd been reveling in his Spikiness by flirting outrageously with a cute boy in a dark avenger constume, when the club manager had found him.
"You there," he'd pointed at Xander. "What is your name?"
"Name's Spike, pet," Xander replied as Spikily as he could. He remembered a line that Spike had used particularly well. "Who do you kill for fun around 'ere?"
The manager had smiled approvingly. "You're hired," he clapped his hands. "The rest of you may leave. I have found my man."
And so it began. What Xander had planned to be another one time stint to earn him some money before the club owners realised he was useless, turned into a permanent, full-time career.
'Spike' became the most popular male stripper in Sunnydale, and Xander was suprised to find he was loving it.
For a boy who had worked hard to avoid any sort of attention, he found that he thoroughly enjoyed the attention he got while stripping.
He developed close friendships with the other dancers, the bar staff and the regular customers, sharing banter and often outrageous flirting. He found that they seemed to like his real self as much or even more than they liked his alter ego.
For the first time in years, Xander had friends outside of the Scooby Gang, and for the first time in his life, Xander was popular and extremely well-liked.
He still did the demon-hunting thing with the Scoobies,but he kept his other life a secret from his the others.
Partly, because he knew he'd be mocked for doing the stripper thing, partly because he wasn't sure exactly how to explain to Spike that he was making big bucks off his personality, but mostly because he liked his other life way too much and he was afraid the scoobies would somehow screw it up for him.
For a few fantastic months, things were great for Xander. By day he was slayerette, non-college-guy and his usual goofy self, but by night he was 'Spike' - confident, sexy and the best damn male stripper there was. And he'd successfully managed to keep both lives seperate and secret from each other.
Until now.
Because from side stage, Xander had caught sight of a very familar figure in the audience, dressed very much like him, only with bleached blond hair.
Spike. The real Spike.
And Xander had exatly five minutes until he was due on stage.
This would be a good time to panic.
*****
Part 2:
Spike was very confused and more than a little pissed off.
He'd been out strolling the streets of Sunnydale looking for demons when he'd come across a flyer stapled to a noticeboard. He had only noticed it because it'd had his name plastered across the front of it in big bold print.
Wondering if somehow had finally gotten around to putting a price on his head, he'd stopped to read through the document.
COME SEE THE BRITISH BADBOY IN ACTION, it read. SPIKE, THE HOTTEST MALE STRIPPER IN SUNNYDALE EVERY NIGHT AT THE PLAYPEN.
It then went on to list the address of the venue and the cover charge. Spike's eyes widened as he saw the amount. For a male stripper to earn that much of a cover charge was phenomenal. His namesake must be one hell of a performer.
His curiousity piqued, Spike had taken the flyer and had gone to the club.
That was when things had begun to get decidedly strange. When he'd arrived at the club there'd been a huge line up. 'This ponce must really be hot stuff' thought Spike as he unrepentantly shoved his way through to the front of the line.
It was only when he reached the front of the line and looked back that he realise something very strange was going on. About one in four of the men lined up waiting to enter was wearing an outfit almost exactly the same as his. 'What the bleedin' hell is going on here?' thought Spike.
When he arrived at the door, the bouncer asked him which section of the club he wanted.
"I'm 'ere to see...Spike," he drawled dryly.
The bouncer gave him the once over and rolled his eyes. "Oh please," he complained. "That accent isn't even close to realistic."
Spike was about to explain to the bouncer exactly what was realistic, probably using his fists, when a zap from his chip reminded him that was out of the question.
Spike scowled. "Look, just stamp me bleedin' hand and let me past, alright mate?" the blond vampire demanded.
The bouncer snorted, but did as he was asked.
Spike stormed past the bouncer and into the club. Behind him, his vampiric hearing picked up the bouncer muttering: "Bloody Spike Wannabe," to the other bouncer and the blond vampire growled under his breath and had to clench his fists to stop himself from attacking him and damn the chip.
Things hadn't gotten much better once he was inside.
The blond vampire had taken up a seat by the bar with a good view of the stage. He'd tried to order a double scotch on the rocks, but the bartender had been more interested in talking dress sense with him.
"You know, you make a pretty good 'Spike', honey," he informed the blond vampire. "You got the outfit just right, but that blond hair is waaay too extreme. Spike is more...subtle."
"Sod off," Spike told him.
The bartender winced. "And you're accent needs work too." He eyed Spike up and down and apparently liked what he saw. "What's your name, honey?"
"Spike," the blond vampire ground out.
The bartender rolled his eyes. "No, I mean you're *real* name," he corrected himself.
"Spike," the vampire repeated, glaring at the man.
The baretender backed away. "Geez, obsessive much?" and he disappeared down the other end of the bar, without, Spike noted, serving him his drink.
Which was how Spike happened to be sitting at the bar of the Playpen, waiting for a stripper to some on stage, very confused and more than a little pissed off.
Just when he was beginning to wonder if something decidedly Hellmouthy had occured sending everyone around him stark raving mad, a voice came over the speakers announcing:
"The one and the *only* Spike - the British Bad Boy!"
The real Spike ground his teeth at the wording and mentally stopped himself from breaking something and forced himself to pay attention to the stage the stripper was about to appear on.
He wanted to see the bloody pouf responsible for all this, so he could devise a way to kill him - slowly and painfully.
After a moment, a rock song began to pump through the speakers, one of *his* favourites, and a familar figure strode out onto the stage.
Xander.
The whelp. Donut Boy. The Slayer's whipping boy. The dark-haired, puppy-eyed kid that he'd shared a basement with. Dressed head to foot in clothes identical to Spike's and moving with a finesse that the blond vampire recognised as his own.
All at once, several things clicked into place at once. Spike recognised the song playing as one on a tape he'd accidently left in Xander's basement. The kid must've nicked it, along with Spike's look and his name to get himself a job.
Spike was furious, completely outraged....and extremely turned on.
Who knew how shaggable the boy could be with a bit of dress sense and some sexy moves?
Spike stalked towards the stage.
It was time he did something about this.
*****
Part 3:
Xander had gone into full-blown panic mode after seeing Spike by the bar. He was practically hypreventillating when his friend, and one of the other dancers, Rory found him.
"Jesus," Rory swore, rushing to Xander's side. "Xand-man, are you okay?" he asked anxiously.
"Nooo," Xander replied. "I am *so* not okay."
"Christ, Xander," Rory was beginning to panic. "What's the matter?"
Xander caught his breath long enough to explain. "See that bleached blond over by the bar?" he gestured to the master vampire.
Rory nodded. "He's kinda cute," the dancer observed. "Does a pretty good Spike impression too, except for the blond hair."
Despite the immense stress he was under, Xander began to laugh weakly. He looked out over the stage and saw that Tim, the bartender was talking to the blond vampire. Xander began to laugh harder. Tim was probably giving the master vampire tips on how to do a better 'Spike' impersonation.
Rory peered at him. First the boy was stressed as all hell and now he was laughing. What had he said? "Xander? What is it, man?" he asked. "You know that guy?"
Xander cut his laughter down to a snicker. "You could say that," he remarked dryly.
Rory nodded in understanding. "You've never performed in front of someone you know before, have you?" he guessed.
Xander shook his head. "They don't even know I'm a stripper," Xander confirmed. He rubbed at his temples. "And there's no way hell, I'm going to be able to convince Spike to keep his big mouth shut."
Rory's eyes widened at the mention of the blond vampire's name. "Spike?" he echoed. "You mean your persona was based on a *real person*?"
Xander snorted. "He's not exactly a person," Xander corrected the other man without thinking. He caught Rory's confused look and quickly covered his tracks. "Uh, I mean's he's not exactly a person...that..um, you'd want to know. Right. That's what I meant."
Rory shrugged. "Xand-man, I'm going to tell you the truth, which is pretty damn nice of me since you take out at least half my potential tips every night," he told him matter-offactly.
"You are the *hottest* damn dancer around, no question about it." He made Xander turn to look at him. "Who gives a damn if the guy knows you? When you get out on that dance floor, he's going to be as hard as every other guy in the joint."
Xander felt a warm flush run through his body at his friend's words. The very thought of Spike getting hard over watching him dance, turned him on way more than it should, given the fact Spike *was* a souless demon. Not so deeply down, however, Xander knew how little that really mattered to him. The dark-haired slayerette had been helplessly attracted to the master vampire for much longer than he cared to remember.
Xander leaned over and gave his friend a quick thank you kiss on the lips. "You're right," he replied finally. "Thanks."
"Cock tease," Rory muttered in a mock accusing tone. Xander grinned at him and Rory grinned back. "Now get out there and shake something," he ordered.
Xander straightend up and gave Mike the cue to do his introduction.
"The one and the *only* Spike - the British Badboy"
Xander grinned, knowing full well that in the audience, Spike was most likely fuming.
To the beat of one of Spike's favorite bands, Xander strode out stage, strutting his stuff. He stalked across stage like a cat on the prowl - every inch of him radiating sensuality and confidence.
His dark eyes scanned the room from the bleache blond vampire. Xander felt a pang in his gut as he saw the seat Spike had previously been occupying was empty.
Had he seen it was Xander and decided it wasn't worth his while to stick around and watch the boy make a fool of himself? The thought hurt. All the confidence he'd gained in himself these last few months faltered.
Xander desperately scanned the rest of the room for Spike, and a little thrill of relief and a pinch of excitement went through him when he saw that not only had the vampire stuck around, but at this very moment he was striding towards the stage.
Security had also noticed the blond's approach and two bouncers were moving into pull him back, but Xander dismissed them with an almost imperceptible wave. His stardom had gotten to the stage where what he says pretty much goes, regardless of the consequences. At his gesture, the bouncers shrugged and instead cleared the way for the blond vampire to come through.
Spike looked furious when he reached the edge of the stage. "Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing, whelp?" he demanded of Xander.
There were several ways he could play this. He could ignore the vampire, or he could do something about his prescence.
He decided to do something.
With a cocky grin, Xander pulled grabbed the vampire's hand and pulled him up on stage and pulled the hard lean body close to his own.
He gave the vampire a wicked look. "Why don't you come up here and find out?" he asked.
*****
Part 4:
Spike had expected a lot of reactions from the boy when he confronted him. He expected the boy to be shocked. He expected the boy to be humiliated. He expected the boy to ignore him - not that he would've let him.
He did *not*, however, expect the boy to grab his hand and pull him onto stage, and he definitely did not expect Xander to pull his body up against his own.
"Xander?" the blond vampire exclaimed in suprise. This was not the Xander he knew. The wicked expression on the boy's face alone - the one that was sending shivers all over his body - was completely out of character. Or was it?
He'd only ever seen the boy the way the other scoobies saw him and Spike was beginning to believe that the scoobies didn't really see the boy at all.
The boy, who at this moment was placing Spike's hands on his own hips and sliding his own arms around the blond vampire's neck, pressing their bodies tightly together and swaying them both to the beat of the music.
He leaned close to Spike's ear, so that his warm breath brushed against his neck. "Come on, Bleachboy," he prompted the blond vampire who had yet to respond. "If you play along, I *might* even split my tips with you."
Spike needed no more prompting. Xander's proximity was driving him insane and the boy's hot breath against his neck and his low voice in his ear was more than enough to make him forget all reason.
The boy was looking damn fuckable at the moment, and who cares if he's a mortal, or even a friend of the Slayer for that matter. Spike at least desevered some bump and grind onstage and a good shag offstage for what the boy had put him through by pinching his identity.
With a low growl, Spike slipped his hands around to cup Xander's buttocks and pulled the boy flush against him, smiling appreciatively at the hardness he felt rub against his own as he ground their hips together.
Xander moaned softly and his head lolled back. Not one to miss an oppurtunity, Spike leant forward and slid his tongue in one long lick up his neck.
The audience, that they'd both almost forgotten about, rewarded them with a round of catcalls and wolf whistles. Seemed like they were putting on quite a performance.
Xander leaned forward again, so that his eyes were level with the blond vampire's. "Time for business," he commented so low that only Spike could hear.
Spike's eyes widened. "Hold on one second," his voice was low and growly and for Xander's ears only. "If you think I'm getting my kit off for this lot, whelp, you got another thing coming."
Xander snickered softly under his breath. "As much fun as it would be to see you try and strip convincingly, Bleachboy," the boy replied, his eyes dancing with amusement. "That's not what I meant."
Xander shrugged off his duster, until it fell as a pile at his feet. "I strip," he informed Spike, stepping back out of their embrace so that he could unbutton his shirt. His dark eyes kept constant contact with Spike's blue ones. They burned with desire.
"You..." and his voice dropped to an even lower, yet somehow more intense, pitch. "...watch."
Spike's body cried out at the loss of the warmth provided by Xander's body. Without hesitation, Spike took the boy by the collar and pulled him back to him. They still weren't touching exactly, but Spike could feel the heat radiating off him. It would have to do. For now.
"No, whelp," Spike corrected the boy, leaning forward to place a kiss on the boy's bared collarbone. He slipped out his tongue briefly and and tasted him and Xander gasped. Spike drew his head up so that they were eye to eye again. He slid his hands down the collar of the shirt and slowly began to unbutton it. "I *help*."
Xander nodded wordlessly. He ran his hands up from Spike's wrists and rested them on the vampire's shoulders. He still managed to continue moving to the beat.
Soon Spike had finished unbuttoning the shirt and it hung loose around Xander. The blond vampire stepped forward and slowly, inch by inch, slid the shirt off the boy's shoulders and down his arms, followed by his own cool hands.
If he was going to play, Spike decided, he was going to play *well*.
Spike took both the boy's hands and entwined them with his own. With one smooth pull, he had Xander pressed against him again. He gave the dark-haired stripper an evil grin and, keeping the boy's hands entwined with his own, Spike slid down the boy's body until he was on his knees before him.
Xander's breathing grew ragged. Spike's mouth was so close to him...his mind was suddenly filled with images of Spike's mouth closing around his hardened member, his cool tongue sliding across his heated flesh...
Spike grinned devilishly up at the boy, all too aware of the source of his discomfort. He brought one of the boy's hands to his mouth, seperated a finger and gently sucked the digit into his mouth and ran his tongue over it.
Xander groaned out loud - a groan that seemed to be echoed by all the members of the audience.
Goal achieved, Spike released the digit, and twined the stray hand back with his own. The blond vampire then leaned froward and closed his lips around the thin material of the black t-shirt. With a gentle tug of his teeth, he pulled the t-shirt out of the waistband of the boy's jeans.
Xander quickly got the idea. Once the t-shirt was loose, Xander tugged the rest of it out of his jeans and pulled it off over his head and threw it out into the audience where a Spike-clone caught it.
Faced with bare skin, Spike did not hesitate to lean forward again, this time plating his lips around the boy's belly button and sliding his tongue out to dip into the natural indentation.
The effect of the vampire's cool mouth and skillful tongue on Xander was painfully obvious. His breath had been reduced to short gasping sounds that were absolutely delectable.
He needed to get the boy offstage and soon. For both their sakes.
He reluctantly pulled away from Xander's torso, releasing his hands and reached up with slender fingers, which made quick work of the boy's belt buckle. Pulling the belt loose with a satisfying 'snick', Spike twirled the belt above his head, careful not to hit Xander with it (he could save that for later) and threw it out into the audience.
Xander sunk his freed hands into Spike's surpisingly soft blond hair and gave his head an almost imperceptible tug upwards.
Spike took the cue and rose to his feet, silkily, rubbing his body against Xander's in all sorts of interesting ways. When he was finished, his hands rested at Xander's waist.
The boy leaned forward secretively, as if he were about to whisper sweet nothings in his ear. "The pants are velcro from the waistband," he told the vampire. "Tear 'em off, I'll shake my booty and we can get offstage and..." his voice trailed off, oozing with promise.
Oh yeah. One good shagging coming up.
Spike didn't take a moment to consider. With one swift movement, he tore the trousers off the boy and tossed them away, leaving Xander standing before him in nothing more than boots and a leather g-string.
Spike tried not to let the drool drip down his silk shirt. He needed to go to strip clubs more often, if this was what he was left with at the end of the night.
Keeping his eyes on Spike, Xander circled the vampire to the almost primal beat of the music, performing an intensely erotic predatory dance.
Once hand stayed in constant contact with the blond vampire, sliding up and down his torso and then a little bit lower, making Spike gasp for an unecessary breath.
Finally, Xander hooked the hand around Spike's thigh and slid around and down his body to sit as his feet like a pet or a slave.
And the music stopped.
For a moment there was pure silence. But an instant later, the applause was deafening. The cheers and catcalls rang throughout the club, overriding any othe sound.
Xander grinned and got to his feet, sliding his arms around the blond vampire's waist. "Well, I don't think you got me fired," he remakred dryly to the blond vampire.
"You weren't so bad yourself," Spike muttered back. "Of all the bloody cheek," he complained, before capturing the boy's mouth in a searing kiss.
The applause soared even higher in volume, if such a thing were possible.
Xander leaned eagerly into the kiss, sliding his hot tongue against Spike's cool and desperately molding his lips to the vampire's.
After a moment, he pulled away. "Backstage, now," he ordered.
"You better bloody believe it," Spike muttered and pulled the boy towards the stage exit.
Part 5
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