Disclaimers: Not ours, but sincerely admired.
Spoilers: General 4th season-ness.
Summary: Spike and Xander have a chat.

Monday Morning Going Down

Dawn Sharon & Misha

They were lying on a sprawl of blankets on the third morning of a long weekend. Spike was dozing. Xander elbowed him in the ribs. "Go eat breakfast."

"Ugh. That. Why bother?"

"Because I can't feed you if you're hungry. I'll get pale, Buffy will stake you, you'll be dead. Remember?"

"Oh yeh. And that's worse than living with you because?"

"Suit yourself. Here. Drink up. I'll open up a vein for you, how's that?" Xander set his teeth in the edge of his own left wrist, turned his head slightly to allow his canines, the sharpest of his inconveniently blunt human teeth, to pinch the thin skin near the vein. Spike's eyes followed the gesture helplessly, but his expression was skeptical and human.

"Get on with it, or admit you're bluffing and let me get my breakfast."

Xander opened his mouth, removed his wrist, and shrugged. "But aren't you nice and hungry now?" His eyes were wide with false innocence and genuine spiteful pleasure.

Spike didn't let himself smile until he was out of the basement.


When he came back, Xander hadn't moved, and his eyes were shut. "Did you brush your teeth?"

"You're still scared of blood. How impressive. You eat pigs yourself, you big wuss."

"Excuse me, but I've already had one case of VD, and no way am I walking into a hospital and telling them I've got sexually transmitted trichinosis."

"Like it would be the first time."

Xander opened his eyes, rolled to his feet, kicked Spike's legs out from under him, and pinned him to the floor. He wasn't really angry, but an excuse was an excuse.

"Oh, help. The mean boy is hurting me. I hope he doesn't stick his big nasty tongue down my throat."

Xander knotted both fists in Spike's hair and rapped his head smartly on the floor, then brought their mouths together for a kiss. His tongue tickled the roof of Spike's mouth, then played with the points of his teeth, over and over. When Spike's teeth sharpened to fangs, Xander didn't seem to notice, didn't break his pattern, and perhaps only Spike could taste the trace of blood they drew.


"All right, pet. Wake. Up. You've had your fun." Spike didn't bother to pause for Xander's obligatory objection to the singular pronoun. "I want blood."

"Really? Have you considered becoming a vampire?"

"I should have taken it while you were screaming your stupid little head off."

"Yeah, why didn't you? Couldn't be because a sudden headache would have stopped you from coming all over the place. Oh no."

Well, look at that. Xander had managed to get in his objection anyway. Berk. "Just do it, will you?"

"Make me. Oh, wait, you can't."

"Ha bloody ha --"

"Make me want to."

Xander had probably meant to sound complacent, but darkness had torn a little at his voice and left the edges ragged. Still, he remained lounging on his back, a frozen image of nonchalance.

Spike leaned forward, but didn't touch him. "Oh, Xander." He let his voice caress the boy. "You already want to."

Xander said nothing at all, which was as good as a yes.

"But you want me to do all the work, don't you, so you can blame it on me. That's all right, Xander. It's all right. Pretend whatever you like. It makes no difference to me."

Those big dark eyes were searching his face now. Yes, Xander. I do have the answers. Xander reached out, traced the line of his eyebrow up to the ring. Then he snatched his hand back as if burned, brought it to his mouth, and bit hard into the base of his thumb.

"Fine. Whatever." Xander's voice shook. "Just take it."

Spike actually hesitated. But blood was welling up visibly in the toothmarks. He gripped Xander's hand with both of his own and pulled it to his mouth hard enough to roll Xander onto his stomach, so that he let out a startled breath despite having known what was coming. And then Xander was panting for air as if he'd been running, but all he did was lie there while Spike fastened his mouth to the wound and drank, and drank.


When he had licked the hand clean, finger by finger, Spike turned his attention to the rest of Xander.

Xander was still lying face down, as quietly as if every bone in his body had been broken, but he had turned his head to watch Spike drink, and his eyes were still dark with it. You liked what you saw, didn't you, pet. You like making me want it, want you, so much I can't think... Soft alarm bells rang in Spike's head. Let's change the subject. He let go of Xander's hand and pushed gently at his shoulder, and Xander obligingly rolled onto his back. Considering what he's slept with, you'd think he'd be a little less trusting. He licked his own fingertips and began to rub the wetness into Xander's nipples. When the moisture dried, he set his mouth to them instead.

"You can stop that now, you know." Xander murmured. "You're not getting any more today." Spike lifted his head from Xander's chest, not to stop but to admire his handiwork. His fingers continued to circle Xander's nipples.

"No, Xander." Circle, circle, lick. "That would be wrong." Lick. "They're all hard," lick, "and rosy," a hard rub with his tongue, "and they want more, don't they?" A sound from Xander, not precisely an objection. "I can't just stop, because that would be bad, and I can't do bad things, remember?" Spike lowered himself onto Xander, face to chest, Xander's hard cock pressed to his belly, and spoke the last words into his collarbone, then bent his head again to tongue paired spirals across his chest.

"Oh... funny." Xander had begun to pace his breathing to the steady strokes of Spike's tongue. "Like what you said to Willow... wasn't bad." His voice became a bit stronger, although his eyelids were still at half mast.

"Just being forthright and honest and true." Xander's eyes opened wide at that, and Spike had to kiss him. It seemed important not to stop until Xander was a little dizzy for lack of air. Why do they insist on staying alive? It's nothing but inconveniences. Vulnerabilities. Oh, yeah. "That is what the little sprogs say, innit?"

Xander had to blink twice before he spoke. "True. Ha. Straight from the horror's mouth?"

"All I said, petal, was that she thought it was only a phase." He went back to Xander's nipples, only lifting his head now and then to speak. Xander didn't even pretend to object this time. "You know Buffy was thinking it. Just because she is too shit-scared to face up to it doesn't mean I ought to cover for her."

"You know," Xander's voice was dreamy, "I really hate you."

"Of course you do." Spike let the words fall one by one, clear and distinct. "Because you know you'd have been thinking it too. If you hadn't been too busy drooling." He bit down - gently, too sodding gently for either of them -- on the nipple he was teasing.

Xander shut his eyes and moaned, but when he opened them again, they were alert. "Is that supposed to hurt? You've got to be kidding."

"Oh, no. I'm not allowed to hurt you. But I am trying to torture you. The least you could do is be grateful."

"You just keep trying, Spike. I'll let you know when you're getting warmer."

"Shut. Up." And he raked his nails down Xander's torso, so fast that he was already pushing himself away when the pain hit, almost missing Xander's gasp and the word he breathed out.


"Hmm. No. I don't think I shall." Spike licked along the scratches he had made, but he hadn't drawn a drop of blood. "I seem to have a headache." He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

"Your lips are twitching."

"Your cock is twitching." His eyes were still closed, but it was a safe bet. "Like a lonely little puppy. Pity I don't feel like teaching it any new tricks just now."

He heard Xander take a deep breath, and waited for the explosion. But all Xander said was, "Amateur."


"What did you say?"

"You heard me, Blondie. You may toss around a few remarks now and then, but you'd rather be biting."

"I thought I did rather well with you and your little friends. A few remarks, and you were at each other's throats in no time."

"Oh, please. That was a fight waiting to happen. You could just as well have said, 'Nice weather we're having.' And don't give me the face. All right, you want to make faces? Two can play at that game."

"Stop that, you idiot, or I'll have to stop you. Oh, you think I can't?" Spike moved fast enough that Xander couldn't repress his flinch entirely. He pulled the punch at the last moment, turning a shot to the balls into a silky stroke up the underside of Xander's cock. Xander forgot about making faces.

But it was getting harder to stop the boy's constant chatter. He arched into the strokes, looking blissful, but not shutting up. "Notice a pattern -- ohh -- Spike? You get annoyed, you make fangs. Fangs don't work? You still -- go for the physical. Which -- yes -- you're good at -- yes! But..."

"But you don't like it." It occurred to Spike, not for the first time, that if he kept rewarding Xander for talking, he was never going to train him out of it. On the other hand, he didn't happen to feel like stopping, so why should he?

"No! That's... just it. It's so..." Spike smiled. Xander was clearly having trouble remembering his original point, assuming he had one. "It's so good. But -- it isn't torture."

The advantage to being an idiot, apparently, was that if there was a thought in your head, it couldn't hide in a crowd. Ah, for the days when he could have replied with a simple evisceration. "So. What."

"So," and the insufferable creature was grinning around his gasps, "when it comes to making people *miserable* -- human-style -- you're just not in the same league."

Enough of this.

"You mean I'm not in the same league as your parents." Spike punctuated this with a wicked twist, just this side of hurting them both. Good. Again.

"If you mention my parents while your hand's on my cock I will have to stake you." But Xander's eyes were closed again, and he rode out the twisting strokes like a pro. Doesn't bother you that much after all, does it? Now that was... promising.

"Aren't we butch. But still stupid. What would make sense would be to stake them." Spike offered this casually, and waited.

Xander heaved a jaded sigh, then had to breathe even faster to make up for it. "Always after blood. Don't think you're getting any... that way. I don't want to kill... anyone. Not even my dad."

"Oh, dear. Magic word. Mustn't touch." Spike let go of Xander's cock and looked innocent, but couldn't help smiling at the way Xander showed his teeth. Pure instinct. Was there anything prettier? He leaned close and licked a nipple, blew on it, licked it again. There, now. Not enough to distract him. Just enough to keep him listening.

"Now, you see, that's where that nasty soul is such a handicap. Of course you want to kill people. Who wouldn't?"

"Hey. Ohhh..."

"'Course you do. But you have this thing, this conscience riding your brain, kicking you if you do something it doesn't like. And it has its way with you, doesn't it? You can't shake it, so you pretend you're proud of it. It's your soul, it's all good and moral, it's so valuable devils want to steal it. And maybe you're dumb enough that you believe it. But it isn't you."

"That's... completely..." Spike licked up Xander's throat, the mumbled protest buzzing briefly against his tongue.

"You know, Xander, you feel much more intelligent than you sound."


"I want you to have exactly that expression on your face when I kill you," Spike said, and, taken aback by the tenderness in his voice, caught Xander by the ears and kissed him before he could quite get his mouth shut. Such a soft mouth, and then so hard when he gets with the program at last. Xander surged upward and pulled Spike down on top of him, and they both went still for a moment, each feeling the other all along his length.




"Maybe you're on to something there."

"No kidding. Come here, damn you." Oh, Xander. You are learning how to growl.

"No, no. I meant your argument."

"My...?" Xander could go -- could be taken -- from focused to clueless and back again in moments, and Spike couldn't decide which state made him seem most edible. Well, no point in deciding just yet.

"Vampires get into ruts. Take Darla and Angelus." He paused, but Xander was speechless under his fingers. "She made Angelus kill his parents. No, I take that back. She didn't have to make him do anything. She barely nudged him. He liked it. Kept going 'till he'd run out of family. Sad, really."

Spike watched reason and lust fight for possession of Xander's vocal cords. Lust won, hands down. Xander just moaned and Spike smiled.

"See, he liked it so much he passed up some lovely opportunities. Did he make Drusilla kill her family? No, he did that part himself, and made her a vampire after they were all gone. The same with the Slayer. I kept telling him to kill her before she got over him, but no, he has to do all her little friends first. Her friends' friends. Her Watcher's bloody girlfriend. I ask you... Oh. Sorry, pet. Forgot." He kissed Xander lightly, over and over, until he couldn't remember why he was frowning at Spike, and the scowl, abandoned, slowly dissolved.

"Just a creature of habit," Spike continued. " That's why he gets so tedious."

"That's why he gets tedious? What about..." Xander trailed off as Spike settled into a rhythm at last. Slow, very slow -- even dry-humping, Xander could be quicker than Spike intended -- but steady.

"Now, you humans, when you get 'round your little souls -- I think I agree. Your dark side is more imaginative."

"Oh, you're so generous. You're talking to... the man who... dated Cordelia."

"Oh, I know. So you have to have thought about revenge. Beautiful thoughts. Dark, warm..."

"I was talking about... her dark side. Not..." Xander thrust up against him as he denied it, and Spike had to hold him still, hands digging into his hips hard enough to hurt. But no headache, so they didn't. Xander was lapping it up, he thought, and then had to pause for a moment himself. Change tack just slightly...

"'Course you were. Helpless little thing, weren't you? Pity, that."

"What? Pity what?" Xander had such lovely teeth, good American teeth, a decorative snarl, but with real bitterness at the heart of it. And his hands gripped Spike so fiercely. It was all Spike could do not to pat his head.

"A pity that you weren't a match for her." Spike let his voice melt from cold syllables to a dreamy drawl. "You could have really made her suffer."

"Hey," said Xander, and then nothing more for a few breaths. Spike pulled back until their cocks barely brushed. "Have conscience, won't travel, remember? I wanted... I did think... but I would never have done anything. Anything else. All right, so I did something... mean and stupid. Really stupid. But if it had worked... no. I'd have felt -- ohhh -- even worse."

"And there's your trouble, Xander. Imagine you were a vampire, no soul, no conscience..."

"No..." He looked scared, a little wild. "Not. Going. There."

"Shhh, shhh, of course not, love." Christ, it was almost like talking to Dru. Petting with the sound of his voice, talking with the pressure of his hips. "It's just a game. All of it, just a game. You know I can't hurt you. Couldn't do anything to you. Not going anywhere."

"Not... a vampire."

"'Course not. You're Xander. Just Xander. You wouldn't do those things..."


"Not the really nasty ones, anyway. Not the ones where you... hmmm... where you wanted to... what did you say? You wanted..." He gave Xander the listening face, now, human and understanding and infinitely patient -- quite a kick, really, that he was so good at it. That he was good at it because of Dru. "You wanted, pet?"

"Oh, God -- I wanted to break her."

"Mmmmm?" Not a word out loud, not now. Only motion. Only rocking so slowly that the pleasure he was giving Xander was continuous, like letting Xander drink him from the smallest of veins.

"I wanted to make her feel... like me. Used and wanting. No, worse. I still had my pride, if you can believe that. Or as much as I ever had. Not like her. Oh, I wanted to take that from her. Take everything."

It was good, not having to breathe. He insinuated a hand between them, holding their cocks together and almost still. "Mmm."

"I was going to, I mean I thought about... locking her up. Having her chained to the floor. Having her. Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, except while I was -- fucking her. Humiliating her. And she... she would have been begging me... to drag her up by her hair... so she could suck my cock. Begging."

"Begging...?" He let the question, almost inaudible, hang in the air.

"First... because she had to. To drink. To live... Then... then... because she wanted to. Needed to. Because she --" Xander shut his eyes tightly, but couldn't stop, not the words, not the thrusts -- "because she loved me."

Spike held him through his orgasm, through a long series of shudders and small sobs. Xander wouldn't look at him, so he took his chin, very gently, and turned his head. It was a little risky, he knew, to give Xander the chance to identify him with this moment. But he had to see those eyes.

Wide with fear, dark with shame and the pleasure of it, and under that something that knew... He turned away to hide his smile, and to let Xander hide what Spike had seen.

"Well, that's shown me, then."


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