I wrote a little ficlet for you, sweetie. Don't faint. ;) Hope you like!
Title: Dancing Fool
Word count: 3,500
Disclaimer: These boys belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and all companies associated with the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They are not mine. I just have more fun with them.
Posted at: My journal and bloodclaim
Notes: Happy birthday, Suki *smooch*
"I'm bloody sick of pizza," Spike groused. "This thing tastes like shite. Can't you get a half-way decent job, like delivering Chinese take-out or fried chicken? Anything that isn't melted cheese and lumps of rubber on cardboard."
Xander rolled his eyes. "Can't you say anything that doesn't involve telling me I'm a loser? Fine. I don’t shine at the demon-slayage, I’m not so great with the girlfriend-getting and my job sucks. Don't eat it, then. No one's forcing you. And I'm not quitting my job; it's the only one I could get."
"Just as well. Anything more complicated would confuse your lone brain cell," muttered Spike.
"Hey, I heard that! I'm not dumb, just not so good with the book stuff. Why are you even eating pizza? You need red corpuscles to stay alive, not red meat. And may I say again how much that squicks me?"
"Like human food, don't I? Tastes good." Spike glared at the pizza in disgust. "'Least, some of it does." He pondered for a moment. "Prefer humans as food, though."
Wincing, Xander continued, "Look, for the last time, you aren't a guest here. You're lucky I split the cheesy cardboard with you. You're a prisoner, Spike. Got it?"
"Yeah? Don't see any ropes."
Flushing slightly, Xander said, "You promised me you'd behave if I untied you." He slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Fuck! I believed you! You're right, I am dumb."
"Oi! I might be an evil vampire but I don't go back on my promises. I'm a vamp of my word."
Frowning, Xander said, "Yeah, but you'd say that even if you were planning on chowing down on me or...or not cleaning up after yourself." His frown deepened. "Hey, you don't clean up after yourself. Are you planning on-"
"Can't, git. Chip, remember?"
"Yeah, but if it stopped working I'd be a very pale corpse about two seconds after you got the memo, right?"
"Damn right you would." Even as the words left his mouth, Spike knew they were a lie. He didn't like the man. Couldn't go that far. But he'd been pretty decent, what with the lack of rope and the pizza-sharing. Sometimes, just sometimes, Spike felt something that could almost be called warmth towards him. It was a strange feeling and it made him uncomfortable. Mortals were - should be - his food source and it was dangerous to start thinking of them as anything else. Once he got rid of his leash, it might make him hesitate at the wrong moment and that way lay a dusty demon.
A look flashed across Xander's face that could almost be described as hurt to Spike's untrained eye, but it was quickly replaced by indignation.
"I can't tell you how relieved I am," he said sarcastically. "Now I'm going out to find someone I can actually talk to. Someone who won't make it his life's work to make me feel like a moron."
"It'll have to be someone who doesn't know you, then," shot back Spike.
That unfamiliar look crossed Xander's face again and he grabbed his coat from the unmade bed and stomped up the stairs, anger clear in every line of his body. He slammed the door as he left.
Spike returned his pizza slice to its box on the floor and slumped back in the chair. Bugger! Now he'd done it. He'd be on his own for the rest of the evening. Pathetic, relying on the idiot mortal for company. Still, he was better than no-one and gave as good as he got. Wasn't like he had much choice in who he hung around with, was it? He didn't think the Watcher would take it too kindly if he asked to share afternoon tea and a cosy chat, and other demons were inclined to try to pulp his face.
Spike woke up two hours later, ran a hand over his face and peered blearily at the wind-up alarm clock standing on Xander's sad excuse for an end table. It was after midnight. Despite himself, he felt a twinge of worry. The boy had been going out after work more and more often, but he never came home this late. Wanker shouldn't be out on his own. He knew better than most that the Sunnydale night was crawling with things that went bump in the night and would love to gobble up an innocent abroad.
An hour later and he was even more worried and pacing the floor, muttering to himself. What if the kid had gone and got himself chomped on? The Slayer'd be sure to find a way to blame him and use it as an excuse to toss a stake in his direction. Yeah, that was the only reason he was worried. He reached for his duster, decision made. It was time for a wally-hunt.
After checking to make sure there was no sign of life at the Magic Box or Giles' place, he headed for the Bronze, but all the kiddies had gone home and it was dark and shuttered.
He hesitated. Maybe he'd missed Xander and he was safely tucked up in bed? Oh well, in for a penny. Might as well check out any other places the whelp could be sulking in. He ruthlessly suppressed a twinge of guilt at the hard time he'd given Xander today. After all, what kind of a nit wore fluorescent orange at work and almost got involved with a bint who was scared of Bugs Bunny?
There was Willy's and the other demon bar further across town, but he didn't think Xander would have gone to one of those. He might be stupid but he wasn't suicidal. The only other place that'd still be open was... He snickered. Yeah, right. Not likely the straighter 'n' straight, girl-crazy hormone bomb would head for a gay bar. Not unless he was really desperate for a drink. Thinking back to just how annoyed Xander had been, he decided to check it out anyway. After all, he had nothing else to do and he could use a cold one himself.
Spike arrived at Paradiso and looked appraisingly at the burly bouncer guarding the door. The bouncer look back just as appraisingly, seeming to like what he saw. He smiled and ushered Spike in, commenting, "You're new. Careful, you'll be like catnip to the guys here. Blond hair and blue eyes are always popular. Just make sure you don't cause any trouble, okay? Otherwise I might have to hurt you, and I'd rather not mess up that pretty face."
"Not planning on doing anything but get a couple of drinks, mate. 'Course, if I do see somethin' I like..."
The bouncer laughed. "I get it. But consider this a friendly warning. We don't have many rules - you can do pretty much what you want - but causing fights won't make you any friends."
"Right. I'm warned. Catch ya later, Muscles."
He headed for the bar and perched on a stool. After ordering a beer from a barman whose nametag informed the world his name was 'Jason', he turned around to check out the dance floor. Considering the hour, it was heaving. His eyes were drawn to a knot of figures on the left hand side of the floor. He could swear...
It was Xander. Xander, who was at the centre of a circle of at least a dozen men. Spike wasn't surprised. Xander had taken off his work uniform to reveal a broad, strongly muscled body dressed in a skin-tight white wife-beater and a pair of jeans that should have been a size smaller to show off his taut arse, but the men slavering over him didn't seem to notice that little fashion tragedy.
Even from this distance, Spike could see that his nipples were erect. One man after another reached out to thumb and pinch them through the thin cotton. Spike growled softly when he noticed that the groping didn't always stop above the waist.
The real revelation was the way Xander was dancing, though. There was nothing of the Zeppo about him, nothing of the gawky boy Spike had always seen. He was swaying to the music, head back, eyes closed, arms raised and crossed above his head as if in supplication; his hips undulated, sex oozing from every pore of his body. He wanted, he needed, and his acolytes were drawn to him like moths to a flame. He was like a six foot cat, writhing sinuously in perfect counterpoint to the rhythm.
Spike finally understood. Xander was sex-on-legs, hidden behind baggy, ugly clothes and a crippling lack of self-esteem. He felt an unaccustomed touch of shame for adding to that, for making Xander's confidence plummet with his mindless insults every time they were in the same room.
Spike watched as the men rubbed themselves against Xander, naked hunger on every face, and he felt an unfamiliar emotion surge through him. The bastards were touching Xander. They were touching what was his. He'd kill them all! Every last one. Except...he couldn't. The chip made sure he couldn't defend his territory from these humans.
And Xander was his territory. Angelus, Drusilla; the memory of everyone he'd ever wanted or loved before retreated in the distance as though they'd never existed. It hadn't been about baiting Xander for fun or having a laugh at his expense because he was bored. It had been about wanting him and being afraid of what would happen if he told Xander so. He wanted to be the one running his hands over Xander's body and pressing his erection against the sweet roundness of his arse, the way some ginger creep was.
Adjusting his jeans to accommodate his rapidly hardening cock, he turned back to the bar and beckoned Jason over. "That guy come in here often?"
Jason's eyes went to where Spike was pointing and he said, "You mean Alex? He's here a coupla times a week. The other customers seem to like him." He looked harder. "Oh yes, they really like him."
"He got a favourite? I mean, someone he...gets off with?" Spike felt a sudden sense of panic. "Or does he get off with more than one?"
"Nah. He just plays 'em. They know it, don't seem to mind. He lets them touch him but never touches back. Never goes into a corner with one of them. It's like he's waiting for something. Or someone."
The realisations just keep battering at Spike's consciousness. Xander was tired of being the idiot Scooby, the one without super-strength or a mega-brain or witchy powers. Here he was a minor god, the centre of attention. No wonder he came here whenever real life became too tough to handle.
The jealousy finally peaked and he felt an urgent need to do something.
"Right, it's time."
"Never mind, Jason. You won't be seeing him back here any time soon. ‘Least, not unless he's with me. Only me."
Jason looked at him sceptically. "I've heard that before. Good luck, Sunshine."
Spike grimaced. "Please, don't swear."
Ignoring Jason's puzzled expression, Spike jumped off the barstool and headed for Xander. Tonight, he was homing vamp.
After what seemed like an aeon, he finally shouldered his way through the crowd surrounding Xander. Bearing in mind the bouncer’s admonition and the danger of setting off the chip, he trod carefully, but the Xan-groupies seemed to be jealousy-impaired and didn't give him any argument. A couple drifted away, arms wrapping around one another as they headed for a darkened corner of the club.
Spike put his hands on Xander's hips from behind and began to move in time with him, gradually shifting in until he was pressed up snug against the boy's backside. His cock was rock-hard but he doubted if Xander even noticed the bulge pressed against him, lost as he was in the music.
He was wrong. Xander pushed back against him and he gasped. "Fuck, pet."
Xander stopped as if slapped, crashing back to shocking reality. "Spike?" He spun around. "Spike?!"
"Yeah, it's me." Spike raised a hand and ran his thumb across Xander's ashen cheek. "You look good, love. Dance good, too."
"Why are you calling me that?"
"Calling you what, pet?"
"That! Pet and love and... You don't even like me." The misery on Xander's face pulled at Spike's unbeating heart.
"I like you fine. 'M just not very good at saying so. Would I bother to insult you if I didn't like you? Use all my best put-downs on you, I do." Spike tried on his familiar smirk.
Xander cocked his head. "I never felt like you liked me. Or like you thought about me at all, except to make me feel like shit."
"Well, I was a prat and... Think we should take this somewhere more private, like."
Spike grabbed hold of Xander's arm and dragged him off the dance floor towards a secluded booth, away from the glare of the strobe lights.
"What are you doing? I was having fun. What do you-?"
Xander's words were cut off as Spike pushed him down onto a bench seat, straddled his lap and proceeded to kiss him.
Xander had never been kissed by a guy before. Everything he'd done in the club had been for fun, because he could. No sloppy kisses - or sloppy anything - on the agenda. Here, he was someone, and everyone wanted to be the one he went home with, as bizarre as it seemed to him. He'd had plenty of offers for fluid-exchanging fun but he'd turned them all down with a gentle shake of his head and a sweet smile. He'd known for a long time he was bi, but he hadn't felt the urge to do any experimenting with the penis-having portion of the population. They all accepted the rejection gracefully and came back for more the next time he started dancing.
But now Spike was kissing him.
A tongue flicked across his lips and he opened his mouth, wondering if he was making the biggest mistake of his short life but unable to resist.
Spike pushed his tongue into Xander's mouth and proceeded to explore it, regretting that he'd never tried this before but determined to make the most of his chance. He explored delicately at first, tasting, delving, running the tip over Xander's teeth and gums and across his palate. He groaned when Xander opened his mouth wider, inviting him to play. He wrapped his tongue around Xander's and they entered into a sweet, wet duel, neither caring who won. Spike turned his head slightly to seal their lips and Xander's hands reached for his hips, his tongue never ceasing its thrusting movements. Their cocks pressed together through two layers of denim and they moaned.
Suddenly Xander drew back.
"It…it's just 'cos those other guys want me. That's all it is, right?"
Spike heard the anxiety in Xander's voice and stopped dead, trying to find a way to answer. He dropped his head onto Xander's shoulder for a moment, then raised it and cradled the dark head in his hands, forcing Xander to look at him. "No, pet. That's what made me realise you're something special..."
Xander tried to wrench his head away but Spike held firm.
"That you're something special to me. I don't care about what those other wankers think. I just know it 'bout made me spit nails to see them putting their hands on you."
"It did?" Xander asked hopefully.
Spike smiled. "Ya know what? We're a right pair of twats. A perfect matched set of morons. All that sniping and bickering - it wasn't because we hated one another. Ever heard of UST, pet?" He leaned forward and pressed another open-mouthed kiss to Xander's lips then drew back and looked at him expectantly.
Xander shook his head minutely and jumped up, dislodging Spike, who fell in an ungainly heap on the floor. "I'm sick of you playing games with me, Spike! Funny Xander, the butt-monkey. Now you’ve managed to ruin the only good thing that's happened to me in a long, long time. Those guys, they wanted me! They didn't see me as some kind of loser."
Spike scrambled to his feet. "Neither do I, Xander, I swear!"
Xander laughed derisively. "Yeah, right. That's why you never missed a chance to tell me I was a stupid piece of shit. Which doesn't sound any better in an English accent. Well, I'm tired of being the court jester and I've had enough of vamp-sitting. I want you out of the basement. Now." He spun on his heel and walked rapidly across the dance floor, dodging the other customers until he reached the front door of the club. Before Spike could move, he was gone.
Xander ran all the way home and, by the time he reached the door of the basement, he could barely breathe. He reached into his pocket for his key and let himself in then almost sprinted down the stairs. He threw himself face down onto the sofa-bed and waited until his breathing slowed to a normal pace.
What had just happened?
He raised one hand and ran his fingers over kiss-swollen lips. He'd wanted so much to believe Spike, but he couldn't afford to let down his guard with the vampire. Any more than he had, anyway. The rational part of his mind knew he'd been smart but the other part, the part that wanted the blond with a fiery yearning, was rhythmically kicking him in the head for missing his chance. Somehow, he'd revealed his secret and given Spike the ammunition to hurt him in ways he could only imagine. He'd probably start by telling the gang about his adventures in Paradiso.
Every hour, every moment he spent in the club, he danced and closed his eyes and imagined it was a lean, blue-eyed blond touching him, needing him. Well, that was all over now. He'd lost his rep and he'd be considered fair game for any idiot who wanted to drag him off into a corner for some naughty fun and games. He wasn't Xander the Metaphorically Untouchable any more, just some guy who was looking to get up, get off and get out. His breath hitched in his throat and he swallowed a sob. No crying! Boys didn't cry. His father had assured him of that again and again, occasionally using his belt to reinforce the lesson.
Lost in his misery, Xander didn't hear the door open. It wasn't until he felt a touch on the back of his neck that he knew someone else was in the room. Long, slim fingers began to card through his hair and he almost sighed in pleasure. Suddenly regaining his senses, he turned and sat up on the bed, glaring at Spike's worried face.
"Congratulations, Mr. Short, Blond and Ugly. You've finally done it. My life is now officially ruined. Like it was so great before."
"I'm sorry, Xan. I know you don't believe me, but I wasn't trying to do you any harm. I just-"
"You just what?" Xander snapped.
"Just wanted to kiss you."
The simple words finally filtered into Xander's brain. He fought against it for a moment but couldn't help himself. "You did?" he asked in a very small voice.
"Yeah," whispered Spike.
Spike pushed Xander back down on the bed and covered his body with his own smaller one. "Let me kiss you, love. Please?"
Xander looked into pleading blue eyes for a moment then grabbed Spike's ears and pulled his head down. "What the fuck. Everything's going to hell in a handbasket. I might as well enjoy the ride."
The vampire's lips were soft and pliant and strangely warm. Must be all that blood, Xander figured. And I so did not just think that.
The sensation of Spike fucking his mouth with a wicked tongue distracted Xander until a slight chill on his overheated skin alerted him to the fact that they were both stark naked. Damn, but this was one sneaky vampire. At least it explained the way their cocks had been gliding and rubbing against one another for the last, oh, hundred years. Not to mention the shredded clothes lying on the floor.
Xander pulled back to breathe then looked down at their sweat-slicked bodies. He raised his eyebrows and asked sceptically, "You just wanted to kiss me?"
"Yeah," breathed Spike. "You've got the prettiest mouth I've ever seen. Made for snogging, it is."
Giving in to the inevitable, Xander twined his fingers in Spike's gelled blond waves and prepared to be ravished. Life on the Hellmouth could be short and not so sweet, but some things made it bearable. A beautiful, hot vampire attached to his mouth was about the best thing he could imagine.