Madness and Joy

by
Yindagger

Part One

*****

Xander took another swallow of his beer and counted to ten in his head. Then he counted to ten in his head in Spanish. Then he did it in Fyarl, handily using up his entire vocabulary in that particular language. He thumped the beer bottle down on his kitchen table and looked at the bleached vampire sitting opposite him. Clear blue eyes stared back at him, and the expression in them was … anxious?

"Could you repeat that?" Xander asked. Spike sighed and toyed with his beer bottle, slender fingers picking at the edge of the label. He looked down at his hands, then back up at Xander. "I said that I’m trying to make peace – with you, with everybody." Xander started counting in his head again, and then suddenly stopped. "Everybody … everybody who?" he asked.

Spike sighed again and went back to picking at the label. "Buffy, Dawn, Red, Rupert, Angel," he enumerated in an even tone. Xander stared. "So, everything is cool with all of them? Clean slate? Forgive and forget?" His tone was incredulous. "Even Buffy?" Spike nodded, and there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Especially Buffy." Xander snorted. "What exactly did you do to make Buffy forgive you for trying to rape her?" He was pleased to see the vampire flinch. The flinch didn’t last long. A hard glint came into Spike’s eyes, and he leaned forward. "I got a fucking soul, Harris, and it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. That was enough for Buffy."

Xander swallowed audibly; Spike was kind of scary like this. He decided to push his luck. "So, you two are back at it?" he sneered. Spike’s expression didn’t change, but he sat back in his chair. "No, Harris," he said, enunciating clearly, as if he were speaking to a particularly stupid child. "We are not back at it. We never will be. That bridge is thoroughly burned. Neither of us wants to go back there." Xander digested that tidbit of information for a moment, and then shrugged. "What did you have to do for the others?" he asked.

"Apologize." Xander goggled at Spike. "That’s it? All you had to do was apologize?" Spike nodded. "Yes, I asked for their forgiveness, and they gave it." Xander sipped some more beer. "And how surprised were you by that?" he asked. Spike looked at him for a long moment, and then a small smile flitted over his face. "Pretty fucking surprised," he admitted. They looked at one another and each drank some more of their beer. Xander was startled to find that his was empty. "Another?" he gestured at Spike with his bottle. Spike drained his bottle and handed it to Xander with a nod.

Xander returned to the living room and handed Spike one of the two beers he carried. He sat down heavily on the sofa and let his head hang, elbows on his spread knees. After a few minutes he looked back up at the vampire. "I’m sorry, Spike, but I can’t do it. You could give me the most sincere apology in the whole world, and I could tell you that you’re forgiven, but it would be a lie." He paused. "I don’t think I have it in me." Spike nodded and drank some of his beer. "I know you don’t. The others, it didn’t cost them anything to forgive me. You and me – men of action and all that. That’s why I thought of another way." Xander raised one eyebrow and waited.

"Right," Spike said. "Here’s my idea. You can do anything to me for one hour. Sixty minutes. You say it - I do it. You dish it - I take it. But when it’s over, we start over; clean slate. No more taunting me with past behavior, no more treating me like garbage. We don’t have to be friends, but no more bullshit." Xander thought about the vampire’s words. "Anything?" he asked. "Anything," Spike agreed, "as long as I’m not dust at the end."

Xander sat, thinking. Spike finished his second beer and sat the empty bottle on the table. Xander’s eyes were downcast, and the vampire could almost see the wheels turning in that dark head. What would Harris choose? Spike knew that the kid had a mean streak, and was actually slightly afraid of what that creative, devious mind might come up with. He’d known that Xander would be the most difficult. Well, after Buffy. But she felt so awful about using him that she’d been happy to forgive him. Her asking for his forgiveness had been a shock, but he’d agreed readily. Willow and Giles had been easier, but still awkward. Dawn had acted as if she wanted to refuse, but had suddenly broken down crying in his arms, sobbing her absolution on his shoulder. Spike knew that he could expect no such reaction from Harris.

Spike knew that Xander was still choking on his rage over the vampire’s involvement with both Buffy and Anya. Those slights would not be remedied with a simple apology. They demanded a sacrifice, and Spike was willing to offer whatever was necessary. He didn’t know how things had gotten so bad, but he really did want another chance with Xander. Perhaps, in the future, they could be…friends. It was really the most he could hope for.

Spike was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice Xander leave the room until the human returned. He was holding a rolled magazine in his hand and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Spike could smell the burst of pheromones rolling off him. Fear, shame, nervousness, longing and arousal were swirling around, intoxicating the vampire’s delicate sense of smell. What in the hell was going on, he wondered.

Xander cleared his throat and looked down at Spike. "There’s something that I want, and I think you’re the only one who can give it to me." His voice was low and strained, and his brown eyes met Spike’s, and then skittered away, only to come back again. His hands clenched and released on the rolled magazine until finally, with a nod, he tossed it to land at Spike’s feet. Spike picked it up and unrolled it. It was a bondage magazine. The cover showed a blond man holding a leash attached to a darker man, who crouched, at his feet, eyes downcast.

Sucking in an unnecessary breath, Spike looked up at Xander. "What exactly do you want, Harris?" he asked, with an edge to his voice. Xander shuffled his feet and didn’t answer. With lightning speed, Spike was on his feet, one cool hand reaching out to wrap around Xander’s upper arm. His lips were less than an inch from the human’s warm ear. "How far do you want to go, mate? You want to stay with bondage and domination, or do you want to get into the heavy S&M? You want me to bleed for you, is that it?" he demanded through clenched teeth. Xander’s wide eyes met Spike’s narrowed ones, and he had to try twice before he could make words come out of his open lips. "I want…I want you to…" his voice trailed off, and Spike suddenly got it, like the pivotal puzzle piece slipping into place, the big picture was spread out before him.

He had to be sure. He shook Xander slightly by the arm he held. "What do you want, Xander? In the nasty little picture in your head, which one are you? Dom or sub?" Xander’s eyes remained downcast, and Spike shuddered when the single word dropped from his pink lips to hang suspended between them: "Sub." Spike very carefully unwound his fingers from Xander’s arm and took a short step back, then sat back in his chair. "Right," he said. "Sit down – we need to talk about this." Xander sat, but wouldn’t meet Spike’s eyes.

"Look at me," Spike said, and he put just a little bit of steel in his tone. Xander’s eyes snapped up to his, and he couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips. Lovely boy, he thought. "Why me?" Spike asked. Xander swallowed hard. "We, um – Anya and I experimented a little, but she’s so…" Spike laughed. "She may be an ex-vengeance demon, but she’s still a tiny little girl, right? You want something with a little more … authority." Xander nodded. "No matter what, I knew it was just a game with her. I need it to be…" "Real," Spike finished his sentence for him, and then nodded again.

"I can make it real, Xander," Spike said, keeping his tone even, his voice low. "I can make it very real. This is a game I know well. However, if you’re looking for serious torture, I’m not your vamp anymore." Xander swallowed audibly, and Spike smelled fear enter the heady mix of pheromones. Good, he thought, he’s not asking for hardcore. He just wants to be dominated. "It’s OK," he said soothingly. "I get what you want. You, the one with the overdeveloped sense of responsibility, who always carries the weight of the world, want to be free. You want all of the decisions taken out of your hands. You want to give me all of the control so that I can keep you safe, take care of you. But you want more. You want me to take you places you’d never go on your own. You want me to push your limits and show you what you can have, what you can endure, what you can be. Am I right, Xander?" The human licked his lips and nodded, and Spike smelled the fear recede, to be replaced by relief and more arousal.

Spike reached out and took one of Xander’s hands in his own, holding it lightly. He was gratified that the human didn’t pull away from the contact. "I can do all those things, Xan, but there’s going to have to be some preparation. Will you trust me to take care of the details?" Xander’s eyes flicked up to Spike’s and then back down. "Yes. Spike," he whispered. Spike smothered a smile at the boy’s show of submission. He’s going to be beautiful, he thought.

Two nights later, Spike showed up at Xander’s door. The human ushered him inside with a shy smile that made Spike’s jeans feel suddenly too tight. They wound up sitting at the kitchen table in easy silence, each with a beer. Finally, Spike brushed his hand lightly over the one of Xander’s that rested on the table. At the touch, Xander looked up, but did not move away. "Saturday," Spike said. Xander nodded. He drew in a shaky breath. "What do I do?"

The vampire pulled his hand away and reached into his back pocket. He handed Xander a plain white card that had an address engraved on the front of it. As the human turned it over and over in his hands, Spike began to speak. He kept his voice calm, but bolstered the words with a little authority. "You’ll go there at 10:00 on Saturday morning. You will speak only if you are asked a direct question. You will be taken care of and prepared for me. I’ll meet you there at 7:00." He paused and looked at Xander, who met his eyes steadily.

"For our hour together, you will keep your eyes down, unless I direct you to look at me. You will call me ‘Spike’ or ‘Master’ – your choice. You will not speak without permission. You will do everything that I ask of you." He paused again, noticing a flush spreading on Xander’s face. "I’ll take care of you, Xander – I promise that you won’t come to harm. I’m not saying that there won’t be any pain, because I know you want that, too." The flush darkened, but Xander didn’t drop his eyes. "Do you have any questions?"

Xander thought for a moment. "Spike, do we… need a safe word?" he asked. Spike shook his head. "No. Either you trust me to do this or you don’t." He knew that Xander needed total surrender; he also knew that he had no intention of doing anything to the boy so drastic as to require a safe word. He knew he’d been right when Xander nodded and said, "OK."

They finished their beers, and Spike rose to leave. As he passed behind Xander’s chair, he laid his hand lightly on the back of his neck. He leaned in so that his lips were behind Xander’s ear. "Oh, and one other thing," he said casually, "wanking off after I leave will be the last time you come until Saturday night, so make sure you enjoy it." The vampire whirled and walked out of the apartment, leaving Xander sitting at his kitchen table with a burning face, an open mouth and a raging erection.

He entertained the idea of not beating off - for about a second. In a daze he stood and walked over to the sofa, sprawling at full length on it. With one hand he pushed his sweat pants to his knees, with the other he reached under the cushions to find the tube of lubricant that he knew was there. He opened the battered tube and squeezed a dollop into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it. He couldn’t help the low moan that was torn from his throat as he pushed his cock through the warm, slick circle of his fingers.

He tried to go slow, but Spike’s words were reverberating around in his head, making him breathless with need. He drove himself relentlessly, squeezing and rubbing his thumb over the crown of his cock, his other hand tugging at his balls. He thought about what Spike had said; that this would be his last orgasm until Saturday night. Xander’s hands tightened on his flesh painfully as the full implications settled over him. He was gonna come on Saturday night. Spike was gonna make him come during their hour together. That thought sent him spiraling over the edge and he came hard, shooting against his own abdomen and chest, a long groan torn from his lips.

In the hallway, Spike stood with both hands and his forehead pressed to the door, listening. He’d heard the boy’s haste to get to the couch and get started, and heard the sounds. That had been expected. What had been unexpected was hearing his own name groaned as Xander climaxed. Spike reached down and rubbed his own erection harshly. He was painfully aroused; those few rough strokes were all it took to make him come in his pants like a schoolboy. With a snort, he turned away and pulled his jacket closer to cover the spreading wet stain on his jeans. Lighting a cigarette, he strode down the hall to the stairs.

*****

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