Shacking Up
By
EntreNous
************
Part 31: Some of That Flaunting
"Wow, that's . . . wow," Buffy said, as she entered the room.
"It's just a bed," Willow pointed out. She reached over and smoothed the comforter that she had just spread out over it and tugged out of the pillows further into place.
"That's not a bed," Buffy said seriously. "In the pleasure boating industry of sleep and sex surfaces, that's a deluxe cruise liner."
"Well, when you have three people sharing one bed, it has to be a good mattress. Supportive. King-sized. And comfy," Willow explained.
"So this is the last of it then?" Buffy asked, gesturing at the boxes stacked against the wall. "You're all set?"
"Guess so," Willow said. "Thanks for helping with all the heavy lifting. Especially since Xander couldn't make it today because of work, and Spike couldn't help, what with the daylight and all."
"No worries," Buffy said. "They're covering patrol tonight instead. I didn't mind lending a hand."
Willow came closer to her and nudged her gently. "You okay?"
"Yeah, fine," Buffy said briskly, looking around the room. "I'm great. Never better."
"I'll miss living with you too," Willow said in a soft voice, and when she moved forward Buffy hugged her tightly.
"You know, you're allowed extensive visiting rights," Oz said as he poked his head around the corner before entering the room.
"Oh, I'll be visiting lots and lots," Buffy assured him as she pulled back and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Can't stay away from my Willow."
"Devon called to say that he's bringing the van back," Nathan announced from the hallway. He came through the doorway, leaning against the jamb and sneaking an arm around Oz's waist.
"Thought this place was a band free zone," Buffy said.
"Devon's just swinging by with a couple of amps and the two guitars I used to keep at his place," Oz answered. "Now I've got space for them in our basement."
"Our basement," Buffy repeated. "You all have a basement that you share. That's like . . . hard-core adult stuff."
"And hey, other people just think basements are the things underneath a house's foundations," Oz shrugged.
"No, I mean -- the three of you. A house! A whole place that's all yours. And even though it's on the small side, it's a great place."
"It is pretty cool," Nathan agreed. "A study for Willow upstairs, the basement for Oz if he wants to practice.”
"And what about you?" Buffy asked with a grin. "Don't you rate your own special space?"
"Oh, I get the rest of the house," Nathan said confidentially.
"Dork," Willow scoffed.
"Who's a dork?" Nathan asked, sidling up beside her before starting to tickle her.
"You . . . are a dork!" Willow gasped in between giggles. "I'm a geek. That's different!"
"If I'm a dork, and you're a geek, what's Oz?" Nathan asked. His question closed in a yelp as Willow pushed him onto the bed and began to tickle him back.
"Oh, I'm a spazz," Oz said mildly, giving Willow a little push so that she ended up on the bed beside Nathan.
Willow shrieked with laughter as she rolled to get away from Oz's descending wriggling fingers, only to end up right in the line of fire from Nathan's tickle attack. "Stop, stop," she pleaded weakly. They all pulled back slightly, catching their breath and relaxing against the mattress.
"Hey, where's Buffy?" Nathan asked, raising his head from the tangle the three of them made as they lay recovering.
"Staying away from your kinky tickle party," Buffy's voice called out cheerfully from downstairs. "And raiding the refrigerator while I'm at it. All that lifting made me starved."
"Oh, she's way worse than Devon with food consuming," Oz murmured just before Willow loomed over him, wagging her fingers.
"Oz isn't ticklish. Uh, is he?" Nathan asked as Oz inched away from Willow's touch almost imperceptibly.
"Oh, he is. If you know all the right spots," Willow said in her best patient-tutor voice. "Like, say for instance, right here . . ."
Downstairs Buffy raised her eyebrows at the sound of Oz laughing breathlessly. "There's something you don't hear every day," she remarked as she poked around in the cabinets. "Ooh, Twinkies," she added happily as she found a half-full box in the recently-stocked shelves and pulled one out.
* * *
Later that same night as Spike and Xander were walking home from patrol, Xander turned suddenly and said, "We should go out more."
Spike tossed his cigarette into a puddle, where it extinguished with a fizzing sound. "What for? Since you have that funny thing about not wanting to shag in public, better off staying home."
Xander stopped in his tracks. "You know, you'd think you'd get the appeal of going out, letting the anticipation build --"
"Think I've had enough anticipation with you to last a while, pet," Spike said with that look that always gave Xander the shivers.
"Okay, fine. But maybe I just want to go out, even if it puts a delay in the sex-having. Because of the fun."
Spike sighed, and then gestured at a darkened doorway behind which the dim sounds of throbbing music could be heard. "Fine. Why not this place then, and right now? Get it out of your system."
Xander looked up at the building and shivered again, though this time not for a good reason. They were outside the same bar where he had gone that time on a date with Davy. Where he and Spike had fought, and Spike had left alone and . . . What were the odds?
Well, the odds were pretty good, actually, given that there just were only so many bars in Sunnydale to start with, and only one full-on gay bar that Xander knew about. But when Spike pushed the door open and stalked inside, he decided not to bring it up.
By mutual unspoken agreement they parted when they got further indoors, and he wove his way through the crowded room to grab a table while Spike went to the bar to get their drinks. No reason to feel at all antsy, Xander told himself. After all, it wasn't like Davy would be at the place the one night that Spike and Xander decided to show.
A pint of beer set down in front of him startled him back to attention, and he nodded his thanks to Spike, who was already sipping his whisky before he sat down completely.
"Haven't been here for a while, have we?" Spike asked carelessly, and Xander swallowed some of his beer the wrong way. Goofy to think that Spike wouldn't have a mind like a steel trap about this kind of thing. Of course he remembered.
Xander resisted the urge to start apologizing like crazy and instead took a measured drink of his beer. "Nope. Not for a long while." He glanced around the room like he was just seeing it for the first time since they'd walked in. "But oddly, I've got some really good memories of hanging out here."
"That right?" Spike asked. His lip curled back slightly, and he took a gulp of his drink instead of a sip.
"Well, yeah," Xander said quietly before letting himself grin. "You coming in here . . . all hot and bothered . . . and big with the possessiveness."
"That right?" Spike asked again, but now his demeanor changed entirely as he smirked and leaned back in his seat.
"I was kind of an ass that night," Xander noted, biting back his smile when he saw Spike grin in response.
"Not really, love. Just a bit tight from too many pints and not quite clear on what you wanted."
"Oh, come on," Xander said easily. "At least let me claim stupidity about getting annoyed with you and deciding to stay here with Davy."
"Can’t find much fault when it finally brought you to me, though," Spike said in a low voice. His eyes were intense as he raised Xander's fingertips to his mouth and brushed them against his lips.
"Most definitely," Xander said. His eyes followed Spike's tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. "Soon as I figured it out -- and let's just give me a free-to-be-oblivious pass for all the time that it took me -- I knew you were so very much the superior choice."
"Only a matter of time, working that out," Spike said with a raised eyebrow.
"You know, I would deduct points here for the non-modesty. Except that it's true any way you look at it," Xander agreed. "Davy was . . . just . . . well, I guess he wasn't a totally bad guy, but --"
"Oh, come on," Spike said with force. "Trying to make you think he was a possibility for you -- getting you drunk and trying to have a go -- not to mention the way he kept up a smear campaign against yours truly."
"Okay, I give," Xander said, his palms facing up. "Davy was a prick. He tried to come between us and mess with my head. And if I ever see him again, I fully plan to flaunt how much better off I am with you."
"Damn right," Spike grumbled. His expression softed a little when he looked up to find Xander watching him. Then he looked up above Xander's head. And suddenly he was relaxing more in his seat, in a move that Xander recognized as calculated. "Well, love, here's your opportunity," he said with a nod towards the bar.
Xander's eyes widened. "Oh man. He's -- Davy's -- seriously here?"
"That he is. And from the looks of it, he's quit chatting up the dark-haired boy next to him in favor of watching you with his jaw hanging open."
Xander very deliberately did not turn around, but he exhaled slowly. "Just . . . weird. I mean, the last time I saw him was in the apartment, when he tried to . . . " He trailed off when he saw Spike's eyes flash. "Okay, stopping now."
"No, not stopping now," Spike said darkly. "Let's have some of that flaunting you mentioned a moment ago."
Xander laughed, and then stared at Spike. "Hey, you're not joking, are you?"
"Absolutely not," Spike said, his eyes flickering back in the direction of the bar.
"Never let it be said that I don't indulge you," Xander said with a shake of his head.
"Certainly hope not," Spike replied, touching his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he smirked.
Xander leaned forward, resting his weight on his crossed arms on the table. "Wanna dance?" he asked with a grin.
Spike didn't bother answering, just tugged Xander out of his seat and drew him by the hand over to what passed as a dance floor.
* * *
There were a number of people clustered on the open space already, some dancing quickly and shouting conversations out over the noise, some moving together sensuously in a slow grind that had nothing to do with the music.
"So how we going to do this thing?" Xander asked in Spike's ear as they started to sway to the beginning of the next song.
"Just have a bit of fun is all," Spike purred.
The tempo picked up slightly, and Spike turned, his back against Xander's chest, wrapping Xander's arm around him so that his hand rested just above Spike's belt buckle.
"Oh man," Xander said in a strained voice as Spike moved against him, twisting his hips smoothly. He pressed his lips to the top of Spike's head, murmuring appreciatively when Spike shifted and reached back to cup the back of Xander's head, bringing their mouths together in a slow, teasing kiss. Xander moved his hands to skim up and down Spike's hips, guiding him but letting Spike set the rhythm.
They moved together like that until Spike, in a sinuous turn, brought them face to face, groin to groin. He growled low in his throat and he pulled Xander's head down, matching their mouths together and flicking his tongue there until Xander's full lips parted for him.
"Wow," someone said near them, but the voice sounded tinny and distant. Spike swallowed Xander's moan, taking his breath from him while he slid his hands into Xander's back pockets, realigning their hips until they were pushing against each other to the steady beat of the music.
Xander yanked his head back, taking a quick breath just before Spike drew blunt teeth along the tendons of his neck. "Oh fuck," Xander whispered as he cupped Spike's jaw with both hands and kissed him again.
"That's it baby," Spike murmured as Xander pulled him closer, each of them at that point oblivious to any attention they might be getting from Davy or anyone else.
Xander laughed. "You know . . . I can admit when I'm wrong about the whole going-out and delaying of sex thing. We should probably get out of here . . . before this goes any further."
"Why's that?" Spike asked in a low voice as he edged Xander towards a darkened area against the wall.
"Because . . . oh . . . because . . . oh god," Xander hissed as Spike shimmied against him. Xander kept one hand splayed on the small of Spike's back, pressing him in and up, and lifted the other, thumbing against that sharp cheekbone as he bent his head for another kiss.
"Still want to leave?" Spike crooned.
"Don't know if I can . . . at this point," Xander gasped out. "Moving could become an issue."
"Shh, shh," Spike hushed him, deftly reaching to undo Xander's button fly and take him out.
Around them the music reverberated, pounding through the speakers. Different men worked their way past in front of them, moving around the floor with motions quick and slow, while shouted conversations transformed into murmurs blending with the music.
Xander swore as he tiled his head back and thrust his hips helplessly. Spike managed to caress and tease him with nimble fingers even as his other hand grasped tight, pulling hard. The pulse of the music seemed to increase along with their actions, paced to match Xander's harsh breaths and Spike's incoherent, encouraging noises.
When Xander cried out and closed his eyes simultaneously, Spike watched the flashing lights playing across his parted lips, highlighting the beads of sweat on his forehead, texturing the rapturous expressions cycling quickly across his face as he came.
* * *
When Xander finally opened his eyes again, Spike was pressed against him, licking his hand clean. "And that just keeps right on being hot," Xander said weakly as he buttoned his jeans back up.
"Come on love," Spike grinned at him. "Let's go home."
"You going to carry me out?" Xander asked in a languid voice.
"Will if I have to," Spike answered. His scarred eyebrow arched and he swept his eyes up and down Xander's disheveled form.
Xander's eyes went from heavy-lidded to slightly widening. "Oh man. How do you do that?"
"Already showing some interest, eh?" Spike asked, breezing his fingers over Xander's groin.
"Nearly," Xander said with a half smile. "Getting close to it, anyway. No way do I have your turnaround time. But you figure for how long it takes us to get home from here, and --"
"Right, then, we're leaving now," Spike said seriously.
* * *
The walk home did, of course, take a little while, especially given Spike's penchant for pinning Xander against darkened doorways to rub against him and growl tantalizing words in his ear. But finally the soft cries that his movements pulled from Xander spurred him to hurry them on once again.
As they slammed into the apartment (contributing yet another crack in the drywall from where the knob often struck it during such hasty entrances) Xander stopped for a moment. "Hey, wait," he panted.
"What for?" Spike asked. "Home now, love."
"But that whole . . . dance floor show thing . . ."
"Yeah?"
"Did he even see all that?"
"Did who see what?" Spike asked, keeping his eyes riveted on Xander and grasping both of Xander's hands with his, backing them towards the bedroom.
"You know," Xander began to say between kisses as they stopped briefly against the wall in the hallway. "At the bar . . ."
Then Spike pulled Xander's hand down, pressing it against the stiff cock standing in relief against the denim of his jeans, and Xander moaned and forgot all about whose name he had been about to say.
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