Title: “One for the Little Boy Who Lives Down the Lane”
Disclaimer: Not mine. Oh, if they were mine….My lovely…my precious.
Oh. Sorry. Lord of the Rings channeling moment. I don’t own that either. Although, on Tuesdays I own Legolas. Mmmm….Legolas….
Sequel to “When the Pie was Opened” and “I See London, I See France”
Alternate Title for this fic… “The cock’s on the woodpile a-blowing his horn”. It’s from a child’s nursery rhyme. But I’ve managed to pervert it. Bwahahaha!
Rating: NC-17. See Alternate Title. Cock. Wood. Blowing his horn. Need I say elaborate further? Because I can. If you want.
Summary: Spike watches something he shouldn’t have, then goes to Angel for comfort, then finds himself back in Sunnydale, being thrown for a loop by Xander.
Xander’s POV…because we don’t want him feeling left out.
Feedback: yes.
Distribution: yes.
Author’s note…you know what I’d like to see? Angel/Spike/Xander/Legolas slash. Ohhhhh yeah. Totally unrealistic, yes. But meh. You know, the only slash I have a problem with is Harry Potter slash. The writers are great, and so are the fics, usually…except that the kids are like, 11 years old. Shudder. ok. I think I’m done now. You came here for fic. No one ever called me a tease.
What the hell am I doing? I’m fucking with a demon’s head. A demon, who, if luck goes his way for once, could have a little behavior modification device removed from his skull and kill me dead. Or turn me so he can do it twice. And why?
Because I’m on a power trip. The other night, when I saw him watch me jerk off…I freaked. I mean, how often to you spank your monkey to thoughts of a male vampire who you’re pretty sure hates you, and turn to the window to see him watching you and spanking HIS monkey? You don’t. And the look on his face… So I said it wasn’t him. I wasn’t going to be like, “Please, Spike, come in and make sweet love to me.” We’re guys. And he’s a vampire. Even if he WASN’T a vampire, he’s SPIKE!
So I said it wasn’t him, and then I drew the shades. Then I went to bed, and felt miserable. I’d seen the way he looked at me…he wanted me. But I fucked with his head. Because I can.
And it’s sick. So now what am I doing? I’m walking to his crypt to apologize. I never really realized how close Spike’s crypt is to my apartment. Really, it’s just down the road. Guess it’s cuz we don’t exactly have many social visits, he and I. Maybe it’s that mortal enemy thing. Which makes this whole “wanting him bad” thing even MORE wrong. Man…I am messed up.
I bang on the door of his crypt before walking in, and I see that it’s empty. It doesn’t look like he’s been here for a few days. I move to the little mini-fridge, and sure enough, no blood. No empty whiskey bottles lying around. Where the hell IS the dead guy?
“I don’t remember invitin’ you in, mate,” he says form behind me, and I whirl to see him entering the crypt with a small duffel bag. He’s not smirking, or glaring. He looks embarrassed. And maybe a little hurt.
You know how in cartoons, when the character feels guilty, he turns into a horseshoe that says “Heel” on it? I feel like that. Really, really crappy. I mean, okay, evil dead guy. But I hurt his feelings, I think, and that’s not something I like to do. Well, okay, I do it all the time. But this time, I feel bad about it, because he actually looks really hurt.
“You running away from home?” I ask, trying to make my voice light, but it comes out accusing.
“Went to visit the Poof for a few days.”
“Thought you’d run some more hot pokers through his chest?” Why am I being such an asshole? He doesn’t answer, just sits down in front of the television.
“You’re free to go, now,” he tells me.
“So why’d you come back?” I ask. My voice is a little more neutral now.
“What, and I’m gong to spend quality time with Angel for the rest of eternity? I don’t bloody think so. Five days in the same city as that poncey bugger is more than I can stand.”
Silence for at least a minute. He’s watching the TV, with the crappy reception and all. Finally, I speak.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Good for you.”
“About the other night.”
“Lots of other nights,” he tells me. He’s playing dumb. Undead bastard.
“You know the one I’m talking about.”
“Oh! THAT other night. The one where you decided it was a good idea wanking in front of an open window and thinkin’ about a guy while you were doin’ it! That the night?”
“That’d be it. But don’t you go throwing stones at me, Bleach-boy. You’re the one looking in on me like some creepy undead stalker guy, and doing the exact same thing in a goddamned tree, above the STREET. Watching ME.”
“I certainly didn’t expect the show, you know. Not my fault watching you wank makes me a little horny. Thought I’d tend to business while I watched you do yours.”
“Will you just…shut up.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to apologize!” I snap, throwing my hands up in frustration.
“For what?” He looks aghast. Was I wrong?
“For…sayntwuntyu,” I mumble.
“What was that?” he says, cocking his head.
"For saying it wasn’t you. I’m sorry. For hurting you.”
Spike stares at me for a moment, then starts to laugh. Hard.
“What’s so funny?” I demand.
“You…actually thought you HURT me? Good Lord! What, do you think I’m some sort of nancyboy poofter who wants to take you out to dinner and sweep you off your bloody feet. Not with that fat arse, I’ll tell you that much. I don’t care about you, Harris. I don’t even like you.” And that hurts. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. Maybe I felt more for Spike than I thought I did. Which kind of creeps me out. What with him being the evil undead and all.
“Right,” I say dryly. “Should have known. Of course you don’t. Me either,” I tell him. I’m not sure if I’m saying I don’t like him either, or if I don’t like me either. Maybe it’s both. I turn and start to walk toward the door. I open it before he speaks again.
“Harris?” he asks, quietly, like he’s hoping I won’t hear him.
“What?” I ask through clenched teeth, holding the door open, but not turning around.
“You really don’t like me?”
“Spike…don’t tell me I hurt your feelings,” I laugh, but it’s not really laughing. “You just told me you didn’t like ME!”
“Dinment,” he mumbles.
“What?” I ask, cupping a hand behind my ear. “Didn’t quite catch that.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he repeats, staring at his chipped fingernail polish. I just stare dumbly at him. So I was right? Wasn’t I? I’m confused. I sit down on the steps of the crypt with a plop, my chin resting on my hands. I need to think.
“You didn’t?” I finally murmur.
“No. Bloody hell…I like you, okay? Probably more than I should. Maybe I even love you.”
“Oh.” Silence.
“Why are you still sitting there? Thought you’d be off like a shot.” I still don’t say anything. Finally, thought returns. Did Spike jut say he loved me?
“You…love me?”
“Oh, we’re catching up, are we?”
“Do you have o be such an asshole?” I cry, standing to leave again. But I don’t make it far. With all the vampiric speed he possesses, Spike is in front of me, his lips on mine. His lips are cool, wet, sliding against my mouth so sweetly, and his tongue is playing at my lips, trying to pry them open, and then suddenly he’s gone again, standing away from me, looking into my eyes…waiting. He’s waiting to see what I’m going to do.
Well…what else? I’m a walking hormone. I jump him.
My lips clash with his, our tongues dueling, little moans coming from both of us, and I don’t have time to think about it. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to feel it.
It doesn’t matter that we’re not friends. He’s in love with me, and I’ve thought about doing this for so long. I want to touch every part of him, and I make a pretty good effort, running my hands over his arms, his chest, his back. His tongue tastes like cigarettes and chocolate, and I can’t get enough of it. I whimper. The most unmanly sound I could possibly make right now, and then I do it again, because I don’t care and this feels so good.
Then he does it too, when I push my hips closer to his. I certainly didn’t expect Spike, of all people, to whimper, but he does it. I experiment, pushing my hips against his again, harder, and he whimpers before breaking his mouth off of mine and looking up at the ceiling, panting. A small smile surfaces on my face, and I start to nibble gently on his neck.
“Oh, God, Xan,” he whimpers, his fingers digging into my sides as he tries to force me closer, and I nibble a little harder. Now he’s just making noises, but the words aren’t intelligible. I’m starting to feel that, too, when he grinds his pelvis against mine, and my knees nearly buckle. Spike supports me as far as the bed, and then we lay down, still entwined, kissing. Somehow, we manage to get our clothes off, and we’re writhing on the bed, groping and kissing. His tongue trails down from my mouth to my neck, to my chest, circles a nipple, then goes lower, till he dips into my navel, and I can’t breathe. I’m trying really hard, but I just can’t breathe. I’m too busy moaning.
“Spike,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with passion. I’ve never felt this good before. Then his mouth is around the head of my cock, and I cry out, thrusting my hips up. Spike presses my hips down, to hold me still, and slowly envelops me in his cool, wet, talented mouth. God, he’s good at this!
“Xander,” he says, taking his mouth off me for a moment, and replacing it with his hand, stroking slowly up and down my cock. “Can I ask you something?”
He wants me to talk? To have coherent thought, while he’s doing THAT to me?
“Wh…ohh…what, Spike?” I finally manage to say.
“Have you ever done this before? With a bloke, I mean?”
Have I ever…no, I haven’t. Now, I just have to get the words out. But he puts his mouth back on the head of my cock and sucks, and I cry out, completely forgetting what he asked me. What was it? Oh, yeah.
“No,” I gasp, as he sucks harder. He moves to leave again, to ask me something else, I guess. “Ask me later,” I growl, glaring at him. He smiles around my cock, stifling laughter. He sucks again, and then pushes head down, so that he’s got my whole cock in his mouth. Have I mentioned that it’s really cool that vampires don’t have to breathe? Because it really, really is.
Then he swallows around the head of my cock, still sucking, and I can’t hold it in. My hips jerk, and I cry out his name, and shoot my seed down his throat, and he swallows it all.
I’m panting, gasping to catch my breath, and he slides back up my sweat-sheened body, placing soft kisses along my skin as he moves up to my mouth, and he kisses me.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips, and my heart swells. No one’s ever called me that before. I want to hear it again.
“What?” I ask, pretending I didn’t here.
“Said, I wanna fuck your ass,” he said, a smirk on his face. I narrow my eyes.
“That’s not what you said.” Then I think about it, and blink. “But okay.” He looks a little shocked, like he didn’t think I’d consent to that. But I want him to. I reach up and kiss him again.
“You sure, Xan?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing, like he thinks he’s going to get hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t have fucked with his mind a few days ago.
“I’m very sure,” I say, kissing him again. And I am.
He lets me kiss him for a while, before joining in the festivities. He’s still kissing me as he reaches toward the nightstand, and pulls out a little white tube from the drawer. Oh. Right. Lube.
I close my eyes and concentrate on how good this feels, and slip my hand down to his cock. He gasps into my mouth, and pushes his hips closer to my hand, and I chuckle low in my throat. Then suddenly, slick fingers are finding their way under me, into the crease of my ass, and he’s just gently playing there, running his fingers in circles around my hole. I whimper, wanting him in, and my cock starts to wake up again. Huh. That was fast.
Then he pushes one finger in, and my hips buck up against him, and his cock drips a little precum on my belly, and what’s that, Little Xander? You’re ready to go again? Sounds good to me!
“More,” I grunt, pushing back against his hand. He stills for a moment, then slips another finger in, and starts thrusting it in lazily, scissoring his fingers to stretch me. It burns a little, but in a good way. “More,” I whimper again, and he kisses me while he slips a third finger in. He thrusts them in, an I thrust back against them, and my eyes are rolling back in my head because he’s hitting that spot, the one that makes stars flash in the back of my brain, and makes my stomach clench and burn, and my cock twitches, and it feels so good.
“Ready, luv?” he asks breathlessly, and I take a moment to fleetingly wonder why he’s breathless, since he doesn’t need to breathe, but then the head of his cock is pressing against my opening, and my eyes are rolling up again and there’s no thought, only sensation. His cool hardness, pressing slowly into me, stretching, filling, pushing. A few more short thrusts and he’s completely inside, and he groans.
“You’re so hot, Xan…so tight…so perfect. Beautiful,” he murmurs, raining kisses across my face, and it seems kind of out of place. Because the way I’m feeling right now, I was kind of expecting a hard, fast, wild fuck, and it’s like he’s…making love to me. And I like it.
He starts moving inside me, making sounds that tell me he likes it as much as I do, and I’m gasping for air, because nothing’s ever felt this way. I’ve never been so full, so loved. Everything’s intense.
He starts moving faster, grunting with each thrust, losing himself in the moment, and I feel like any minute now, I’m going to explode, because his cock is deep in my ass, and his hand’s around my cock, and he’s making little sounds and looking deep into my eyes before they flutter closed because for both of us, it feels so good. He starts murmuring again, and I don’t think he even knows he’s saying it out loud.
“So sweet…my boy…gotta be a dream. So hot. Love you so much, makes me hurt. So good. Don’t stop.” I can barely make out the words, and then he strokes my cock all the way to the head and swipes his thumb over the slit, and thrusts in deeper, and I feel him stiffen above me, and jerk, and I can feel him spill into me, and it finally sets me over the edge again, and I’m splashing semen over my stomach and his hand, and we both cry out. Finally, he rolls off, both of us breathing hard, completely taken away by what we just shared.
I roll over and curl up against him, and he puts his arms around me, while I rest my head on his shoulder. I’m completely content, and he’s cooling off my over-heated body, and I know I’m warming his up, and neither of us moves. I’m almost asleep already, but there’s something I want to say to him first.
I take a deep breath, ready to say what’s on my mind, mostly because I think he’s asleep, too. “Spike, I…maybe I love you too.”
“Love you too, pet,” he mumbles in his sleep. He heard me. I kiss his forehead, then snuggle in closer. I’m kind of tired, and it’d be nice to get some sleep.
END
