3. He Might Be A Pain in the Ass, But He's My Pain in the Ass

***K***

Karma.

Maybe this is my karma coming back to bite me in the ass. I mean, after all that I've said about vampires, and as much as I've done to Spike, maybe this is my just punishment. The wheels of fate go round and round, round and round, round and round...

I could handle that. I test the idea on myself. Karma. Bad Karma. Payback. It fits.

So why does it give me such a happy to be thinking naughtywickedbad and oh, yes, *gay* thoughts about Spike?

I mean, I thought karma was all about now it sucks, now it doesn't... oooh, imagery...

::shakes head hard::

Little Xan's getting awfully pepped up here. I'm not sure how much longer I can hide it. Vampire senses and all that. And boy, do I ever want to hide it, because I really don't think I can handle all this right now. I mean, all I bargained for tonight was some bitching because Bleachboy had to sleep tied up in a chair in my un-comfy-cozy hellhole basement. And more bitching because I'd be trying to sleep a few feet away, knowing that he'd be staring at me until I manage to drop off. Aching for a nice little session of spank-the-monkey but not daring because -

Hang on. Come to think of it, don't I feel like that a lot whenever I'm babysitting Spike?

Can't be. Has to be because Anya refused to sleep over when he's there. I'm all for refusing that option forever. Absolutely no sex with the vampire in the room - don't want to give him ideas.

So maybe it is karma. We're back to that again.

But bad karma shouldn't feel this good.

And since when does it feel so good to be so bad?


***L***

Lust.

That's got to be it. That's all it can be. Anya's gone, and I'm lonely. So lonely that any warm - well, okay, living - *okay*, mobile body will do, especially one like Spike's.

I'm not blind. Not-gay aside, I can admit he's delicious - no - just easy on the eyes. Ice-blond hair, eyes the color of blueberry Popsicles, skin like snow, and so long and lean and just dangerous enough that -

Lust. Gotta be just-lust, plain and simple. I'm lonely and horny enough to bang anything.

God, that's pathetic.


***M***

Masturbation. Ooh, that would be good right about now. Beat the meat, spank the monkey, choke the chicken, address the bishop, capture the one-eyed trouser snake, pinch the Grinch, whatever you call it, I wanna do it and I wanna do it now.

Trouble is, I'm stuck in a crypt with a rapidly catatonic vamp.

You'd think that would cool me down.

Damn if it doesn't make me hotter.

Stop thinking about Spike!

Think about getting it off. Oh, yeah. Relief. Sweet relief. That would be so good.

Where would be the best place? Mmmm... maybe a tub full of nice hot water. It's cold in here. Yeah, a full tub, with bubbles even. My hand could slip beneath the water and finally answer my cock's steadily urgent call. Stroke up and down, play with the sac a little, thinking about Anya and how she used to writhe and wriggle beneath me. I can almost hear her, calling me: "Xan-pet... don't stop... fuck me raw, fuck me hard, fuck me now. Oh, bloody hell, Xan!"

My eyes shoot open.

Last time I checked, Anya didn't have a British accent.

And she didn't have a cock that I'd swear I could almost feel grinding against mine.

Bastard! He's invaded my daydreams now!

I glance over at him. Still smoking. Still staring at nothing. Brooding. And he says he's nothing like Angel? Pfah!

At least he hasn't noticed. Not even that my breathing's quickened.

I hope.

But what if he did? And what if he flung down that cigarette and came over here and with that wild look in his eyes, he knelt down and tossed open the robe and slid his mouth over my...

***N***

No.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no...

Oh, hell.

Hello, Little Xan.

You're not going to go away this time, are you? Not even if I threaten to zip you?

Well, can't blame you. No zippers handy just now. And what wouldn't I give for one? Just to hide the body in, as it were.

::sigh::

Well, if you're going to be doing this, at least you're doing it right, even if you're thinking about naked Spike, and-- >ungh!< damn! Surge like that again and the skin's going to pop!

I can't help but twitch my robe open a little and peek. My eyes pop open. I've been bonking Anya for years, and was a past master at beating the meat before that, but I have never, and I mean never, seen myself this hard, this long. Little Xan has risen to amazing new heights, flush against my belly, and I can't help but be proud. Yeah, me! That's a hard-on that could star in porno!

Then I remember who it's... eek... who it's for...

>UNGH!<

::moan::

I slap the robe and my mouth closed, but not fast enough to 1) hide the fact that there's already pre-cum dripping down to my groin, and 2) He Heard Me. My face burns bright red as I realize that he can probably smell me, too.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette, not looking at me. "Little problem there, pet?" he asks lazily, not a bit of concern in his voice.

"None of your business, Spike," I grit out. Shit. He doesn't have a bathroom, and I am so not going downstairs to wank off. It's still pouring outside. But if I don't get this taken care of and soon I'm going to come without even touching myself, and damn if I'm wasting an erection this good. If he would just...

... maybe drop his cigarette and come over here and open the robe with gentle fingers and fall to his knees, and take the purpled head of my cock in his mouth and suck and suck and...

***O***

>Ohhhhhhhh shit!< Almost. Managed to stop myself. Don't want to waste it. > Especially not on a fantasy. If Anya were here I'd -

And Little Xan flags the tiniest bit at the thought!

Okay, okay, I know what you want! I give myself the tiniest stroke, and almost bite my lip in half. Never so good. Never so much sensation all at once.

Why? Where is all of this coming from?

The cigarette gets stubbed out, and another one lit immediately after. "Doesn't smell like nothing, pet," he said idly. "Doesn't sound like nothing. Got your willy up, do you?"

*That* should be like a bucket of ice water, but oddly enough it isn't.

"So?" I snarl. "Normal human response."

"Mmm." Deep drag on the cigarette, eyes staring blankly into the distance. "Response to what, then? Or should I say who? Thinking of slipping one to the demon bint? Woops, can't do that, she buggered off to East Nowhere to 'find herself', didn't she? What about Red? You fancy boning her and her pretty little bird 'till they can't walk straight? Maybe she's got you hot and bothered. Or Harmony. Heard her say a few things about you." He clutches his groin briefly, but there's nothing reflected in his eyes, not even an evil smirk. "Buffy?"

My stomach sinks. That's not nothing in his eyes. I've seen that before.

It's pain.

He's hurting, deep inside, and he's determined not to let it show.

But why?

Does he...

::deep breath::

Oh, god. Oh, god oh god oh god oh god. He wants me. *Me*. And he thinks there's no way on earth I'd want him. So he's got the Big Bad mask on to hide under. But from the bulge in his own jeans, and his uncomfortable shift once his hand moves, I can tell that his own friend wants to come out and play almost as bad as mine does.

And it's for me.

Whoa.

Think, Xander, think. Never got with the gay lovin' before. Have no idea what to do outside of what I've seen in those pornos Anya bought. Never thought about gay lovin' before. But Wills seems so happy. She said that a woman understood her like no man could.

Maybe a man would understand me like no woman could. Because he'd have been there, felt the same pain, known the same grief.

We won't think about the vampire part. That's just making it way too complicated.

I swallow around the pretzel that's developed in my throat. I would never be thinking this, but now that I'm looking for the sorrow in him I see it, etched so plain on every line of his face. Sorrow and yearning. For me.

Swallow again.

Okay, Xander. If you're going to do this, do it right.

I'm already on my knees, so it's not much of an effort to shuffle over the carpet until I'm sitting back on my heels by his side. He glances down at me, startled, and I whip the robe open like a stripper. Little Xan jerks out to greet him, hot and hard and oh so ready. His mouth opens in a small 'o' of surprise, and if that isn't the cutest expression I've ever seen on Spike...

I reach out and lay one hand on his groin. The massive hardness underneath jumps. I wasn't wrong. "I'm thinking about you," I say, voice full of gravel. "Who are you thinking about, Spike?"

Now he swallows. His cigarette smolders forgotten in the ashtray while I wait, while his brain whirls in what dance I don't know. It's almost one long cylindrical ash teetering on the edge of the tray when he finally speaks.

"You."

I give him the smallest squeeze. "You want me, Spike?" My daring has me almost breathless with excitement. And... hope?

His eyes blaze up. "Fuck, yes!"



4. Um... Would You *Be* A Pain in... um?

***P***

"Please? Can I, then... please?"

I'm stroking him through his jeans, and my voice is shaking like it hasn't since my first time. When Faith teased me up and then rode me like I was one of those put-a-quarter-in-ponies at the supermarket. She knew every trick in the book and I was younger, it was my first time, and from the first second I sank into her folds the rocket launcher was ready to fire - but she wouldn't let me. 'Please' wasn't good enough. I had to beg, plead, whine, utterly humiliate myself before she'd let me come, and that was only after she'd had her jollies two or three times. Nice to know I could do that, but I wasn't too much into caring about it after but so long, you know? Please, please, please, I begged, and finally she let go and let me come.

And she acted like it was nothing. A bone tossed to a dog. She even pulled up and off so that I didn't come in her. I had a condom on. She was on the pill; I saw the pack tossed on her bedside table. She didn't have to worry about getting pregnant. She just didn't want any more of me. Not in her, not on her, not even beneath her.

And I was out the door less than five minutes after that, barely dressed and the sweat still cooling on my body.

How can any woman be that cruel? But idiot that I was, all I could think was - "I had sex! I can't believe I had sex!" Idiot. That wasn't sex. That was consensual rape.

That's why I'm afraid. Spike could toss me across the room if he really didn't want this (OK, his head would explode - ack, bad metaphor, but still), but he couldn't hurt me enough to get the idea across without almost killing himself. That's why I'm trembling, terrified. I don't know why I want this but I want it so, so badly that I'm about to burst. But I can't - I won't - not if he doesn't -

I think he sees that in my eyes. There's an answering burst of - something - no, I've seen this before and I was too stupid to recognize it - heat - lust - passion - and yes, wanting. He wants it, too. He wants me.

Thank you, god.

***Q***

Quickie this is not going to be. I've never been with a man before, for one thing. Much less with a vampire. We're going nice and slow despite my hard-on that I could hammer nails with. If I don't go off like a geyser when he touches me -

Ohhhhhhh, oh, oh, he touched me! Not my cock. Just my face, and that's almost enough. One lean hand, the palm surprisingly soft, cupping my cheek. The ball of his thumb runs over my cheekbone, brushing my lashes, which flutter closed. It's cool, not cold, and it feels so very good. Comfort and the promise of consummation. He manages to get all of that across with just one sweeping touch. Damn, he's good.

"Will be good," he murmurs, his voice low and heavy with sex. "Be the best ever for you, pet. Ssh, shh now, don't shake so. 'Less -" and he sounds - different - a little amused, even a little more turned on - "less it's the thought of me that's got you trembling. That it? You want me that much?"

I can only swallow and nod.

"Your eyes," he says softly, "they're sparkling like stars. Dark stars."

Oh, god. I reach for his zipper, but one strong hand stops me. "No, pet," he whispers, "we do this right."

And he leans over, his face close to mine. Cool breath ghosting over my face. His lips touch my own, soft at first. His chilly tongue slips out and traces the line of my startled lips, dissolving invisible sugar stitches until I open for him. Strange how I was so ready for the sex but a kiss throws me for a complete loop. After a moment, though, I forget, because he is so talented with that tongue, and I figure it's time to show him I know a few tricks too. His quiet groan and another jump of the bulge beneath my hand tell me he's enjoying this.

One hand comes up to thread itself in my hair and pull me close, keep me from leaving him. >Don't worry, Spike, I'm not going anywhere. Not when there's this.< My arms are around his neck, then stroking down his back. Too many clothes. I can't feel his skin through them. I make a small, needy sound, and he lifts his face, lips kiss-swollen and eyes hazy with pleasure.

I give him a gentle squeeze. "Please, Spike," I say, but it's not begging. It's asking if I can be his, even if it's only just for now.

"What d'you want, pet?" he asks in a voice like a lion's, low dark velvet.

"You. I want you. I want to have you and you to have me-"

And that does the trick. He presses his face to mine for one more searing kiss that almost makes me see stars and lights, then pulls away to leave me gasping.

He's standing, holding out a hand to me. Beautiful hand, chipped nail polish and all. Nail polish. I'd laugh if I weren't way too aroused. "Downstairs," he grates. "Come on, then. Hurry. Need you so bad, Xan. Need you in my bed. Need you in me-"

And oh, how I want to, but I almost don't dare. I don't think my legs are strong enough to make it down that narrow ladder. Why can't it be here, the floor isn't that cold, and -

A kiss, a gentle kiss. "Me first, then. I'll catch you if you fall. You trust me?"

And I do.


***R***

Ricochet.

Stars are ricocheting inside my head. He did end up having to catch me after all when I slipped halfway down. Then again, he had put his hand on my ass to balance me and my brain almost exploded with the contact. But he caught me light and easy as a ballet dancer and set me on my feet. Really am gay tonight, aren't I?

He set me down so that we were face to face, and he's nuzzling into my neck, nipping and kissing soft little love bites. I never knew how erogenous that zone was for me. Now, do I ever. I don't want him to stop for years.

Until he moves a little closer and his erection bumps into mine.

Now I *am* seeing stars, and my sharp intake of breath seems to excite him more than ever before. "Want this, do you, Xan-pet?" he murmurs in my ear, nipping the lobe. "Want to feel this against you, skin on skin?"

I'm beyond words. All I can do is gasp and nod. He might be smirking, or genuinely smiling, but I feel his lips curve up as he puts my hands at the edges of his shirt. "Do it then, love," he asks, almost humbly. "Unwrap the prezzie."

***S***

Sex.

Oh, god.

I didn't know it would feel this good. And according to what I make out from his gasps between thrusts, this is just foreplay. His erection is grinding against my own, both gripped in one long-fingered fist, and he's thrusting us in time to the pounding of our hips.

It happened so fast. I had his shirts off, and slid the zipper down on his jeans, and Spike Jr. jumped out to meet me, almost at the level of my lips.

I didn't think. I just took him in my mouth.

He screamed; I swear, he screamed, but it was a good scream. "Bloody hell, Xan!" He fisted my hair while I licked and sucked like a mindless thing. So good. So long and cool, like a human Popsicle, and salty-sweet. The head was the best, my very own lollipop to suck and kiss, to dig my tongue into the little slit. He was almost howling every time I did that, so I decided to try and deep-throat him and see what happened. Almost managed it. I was pretty impressed.

Then - by accident - I swallowed.

He roared, and his game face flickered in and out. That must have blown his mind! I swallowed again. He rocked on his feet, and then the hands in my hair were dragging me up to meet him into another searing kiss. "No more," he mumbled against my lips, stroking me everywhere he could reach, while wriggling out of his jeans. "No more, or it'll be over 'fore it starts, pet. Don't want that. Want you. Want to be in you."

"Then do it, Fangless," I taunted him.

His eyes lit up with appreciation and pleasure. He nipped at my neck, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough that it sent me reeling - and took advantage of that to push me over onto, into the bed. And then he was on top of me, and this beautiful thing began...


***T***

Temptation.

Temptation waits.

He's got his fingers circling my hole, but he's hesitant, and I know why, and god, it grieves me. I'm aching to have him fill me, but I know he can't. I'm a virgin to this. No matter what he did, it would hurt, and that would fry his brain. He looks like he's ready to cry with frustration.

So even though I'm really, really nervous, I put one finger to his lips. "Ssssh." I say, then kiss him briefly before rolling him onto his back. I saw this move in one of Anya's movies, and boy do I hope I can manage it. I think he knows what I have in mind, because he throws his head back in laughter, joy, and abandon, and spreads for me sweet as a flower.

At first I'm trying to remember the steps, then I decide to forget that and do what comes naturally. A good coating of some lube that he just happened to have under his pillow - yeah, sure, you weren't hoping for this, Spike - and then stretching him gently, finger by finger, to prepare him for the real me. Little Xan isn't "little", after all. Crooking my finger to find the prostate until I hear the howl and feel the little nodule that tell me I've got it and then angling myself just so, with the head of my glistening, slicked cock at his entrance. Never done it before but it feels so natural, you know?

I wait and listen to him begging and pleading, knowing that I'll do this, that I'm just waiting until we're both insane for it, and then sinking in in one long, slow slide. We both of us howl this time, it feels so good - cool, slick, tight, perfect perfect perfect perfect

And he's not idle. I don't know how he can focus enough - my own eyes are almost crossed with the bliss and the tightness surrounding my cock - but he's got one hand on his own dick, stroking it, and the other hand is back at my hole. His long fingers snake in, and it doesn't hurt, it feels beyond good, especially when he hits that magic spot as well.

I pound into him, harder and harder. He gives a low, frustrated wail of pleasure/pain, and I know that he needs something to thrust against, so I lean my torso forward enough that he can push against the skin of my belly. A ragged moan of relief and he's doing just that, bucking and humping like a mad thing.

I'm saying something I can't make out, but he's chanting: "Need you, need you, need you, more, more, more, harder, harder, god, god, love you love you love you-"

I capture his lips in a kiss, and kisses have never been sweeter, even when I feel the slight sting of a fang and know that he's slipped into game face. It doesn't scare me, it just makes me feel even hotter, because I know I've made him feel so good that he's lost control.

The tiny taste of blood does him in. A theatrical, almost frightening high arch of his back, a yell that makes the candle flames vibrate, and I feel a flood of cool spunk flowing a river between our bodies. The sensation, the squeezing and pulsing of his inner muscles, is enough to drive me over the edge too, and I roar as well when I feel the amazingness of my own hot jizz flowing in, around, over, past me in his cool insides.

... oh, god...

... so good...

And then we're lying flat against each other, still in each other, flat on the mess of spilled seed, kissing, heated at first, then gentler and more tender until it's almost sweet. He sighs, his eyes flutter, and he lies his head back. One hand strokes my arm. "Beautiful Xander," he murmurs. "Sweet. Love you, Xander."

And he doesn't realize what a bombshell that is.

*****

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