Shame the Devil (cont.)
Chapter Nineteen
*****
Research was… research. Willow handed everyone dusty old volumes, and the bodyguards gamely started flipping through them, scanning for references to the Ritual of DeShand. It was proving elusive to the readers and to Willow, who was Googling at a rapid pace.
Spike read the page he was on for the sixth time and tried in vain to still the bouncing of his knee. He was wound up, horny and utterly sick of any activity that didn’t include shagging Xander through the mattress. Trust a bloody apocalypse to get in his way yet again – the cosmic joke was wearing thin.
Buffy had gone back to Willow and Tara’s house to stay with Giles and Sia, and Tara and Dawn had shown up a bit later with snacks and coffee for the research crew, then joined in. Spike looked up to see Dawn’s head nodding down towards her book, and he slammed his own closed, startling her back upright.
“That’s it. Can’t stand this anymore. Everybody go home,” he said, tossing his book onto the table and jumping to his feet.
“But… research… and,” Willow’s protest was cut off by a huge yawn.
“My point exactly, Red,” Spike said kindly. “You lot need some sleep.” He turned his gaze to Xander, and his eyes promised something else entirely. Xander gave Spike a slow blink and an even slower smile.
“Right,” Spike said. “Let’s go.”
The bodyguards stacked their books on the table and waited by the door in a grim line.
“We’re never going to be able to go anywhere without them again, are we?” Xander asked Spike, eyeing the four muscular men.
“Probably not,” was Spike’s dry reply. “Guess we’ll just have to stay in.” He leaned his shoulder against Xander’s and brought his hand up to clasp the tanned skin at the back of the human’s neck. Xander shivered at the contact.
“Staying in is good,” he said, and pressed his shoulder against Spike’s side.
The girls finished securing the store, and Carl and Isha walked out first, followed by the Sunnydale crew. Jack and Ace fell in behind for the short walk to their cars. Once the women were safely away, the six men piled into the limousine, Jack in front and the others in back. It was rather a tight fit, but Spike didn’t mind the necessity of sitting very close to Xander. He took the opportunity to drape his hand over the human’s denim-clad knee and trace the bones there with his fingernails.
Back at the hotel, Spike managed to keep his hands to himself in the elevator through sheer force of will, but the moment the door of the suite closed behind them, all bets were off.
With one hand on his shoulder, Spike turned Xander and pushed him against the wall, rattling a painting and eliciting a chuckle that he cut off with his mouth. The chuckle turned into a groan, and Xander wrapped his arms around Spike and submitted to a sweet kiss.
Sweetness didn’t last very long. The interrupted limo sex, the adrenaline of the fight and the complete and utter boredom of several long hours of research all combined to stretch Spike’s limited patience to the breaking point.
“Want you, Xan,” he whispered between kisses. “I want to fuck you.” Spike felt Xander stiffen a little at the panted words, but there was no pause in the frantic kisses, and the grip on Spike’s hips only intensified. Xander buried his face in Spike’s neck and licked a path from collarbone to jaw. Spike shuddered as teeth and tongue rasped over his jugular. He tilted his head back and to the side, allowing Xander full access to the long column of his throat. Spike wrapped a hand into Xander’s hair and pulled his head up so their eyes could meet. Xander’s were hazy with passion, pupils almost comically huge. Spike’s eyes were glittering, hard and predatory, and they followed the motion as Xander swallowed hard.
Spike stepped back and held out a hand. “Come to bed with me?” he asked, knowing that his eyes were making the question into a demand, and not caring very much. Xander nodded and allowed himself to be led to the bedroom. Spike reached out and began stripping off Xander’s clothes, batting away the lust-clumsy hands that rose to assist and interfere. Spike then turned his hands to his own clothes and roughly threw them aside.
Spike climbed onto the bed and propped himself up against the headboard, pulling Xander down so that they were facing one another, with Xander’s knees on either side of Spike’s thighs. The position brought their erections together and they both pushed forward to increase the contact. Xander snaked a hand between their bodies and encircled both of their cocks. Spike gasped at the twin sensations of Xander’s rigid flesh and hot hand bracketing him.
Spike pulled Xander’s head down and kissed him roughly, thrusting his tongue in time with Xander’s strokes. With his other hand, he fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table. Finding what he was looking for, he expertly opened the tube of lubricant one-handed and soaked the fingers of his left hand.
Spike spread his own legs a little, opening Xander’s above him. He slipped his hand beneath Xander’s balls, letting the back of his fingers brush against the soft, velvety skin teasingly, and smiling when Xander gasped into his mouth. He didn’t let up on the intensity of the kiss as he gently circled one fingertip around the opening to Xander’s body, finally pressing inside. Xander was relaxed, and within seconds he was pushing down against Spike’s hand, silently begging him to move.
Spike obliged, after a minute adding a second finger, twisting them and speeding his pace. This was as far as he had ever gone with Xander, as far as anyone had, to his knowledge. He tried to move slowly, but his control was frayed by the sight, smell and sound of Xander, flexing his knees and fucking himself on Spike’s hand.
Spike spread his own legs even further, and worked another finger into Xander’s body, knowing that his tissues were stretching painfully. Xander’s hand on their cocks stilled, and he broke the kiss to rest his head on Spike’s shoulder to pant.
Spike stopped with his fingers halfway inside. “Xan, love,” he said. “You’re so fucking tight. You feel like velvet inside, all hot and slick and sweet.” He petted Xander’s hair and gently kissed the side of his neck. “Just relax and let me in, I won’t hurt you. Much.”
Xander laughed at his tone and lifted his head so their eyes could meet. At the same time, he pushed down, letting Spike’s fingers slide fully into him. Spike felt Xander’s body crushing his fingers together, fighting the intrusion until something relaxed and gave and he was able to move. He began moving his fingers in and out, unable to do more than keep up an uneven rhythm and watch lust, fear, surprise and pain war for dominance on Xander’s face.
Lust was winning. Grimaces of pain quickly turned to something else. Xander’s eyes were gleaming, and Spike could feel hot breath brushing his cheek, carried on waves of small gasps and moans.
“How you doing, love?” Spike asked.
“Very…non-verbal,” Xander gasped. “’S good.”
“Get verbal,” Spike said; his voice strained with the need to hear the words. “Tell me.”
“Want… you,” Xander panted, and Spike pulled his hand quickly from between them.
He slicked himself and pulled Xander into position. He looked into Xander’s eyes. “You’re in charge, love,” he said, smiling when he saw comprehension dawn. It took all of his control to not slam his hips upwards when Xander began to take him in, and he knew he was babbling about heat and softness and God and love and Jesusfuck and please, but couldn’t stop himself.
When he was halfway inside, Xander stopped moving, holding his body tense, panting, eyes wild. “Don’t know if… I can take it,” he gasped.
“Yes, you can,” Spike assured him. “For me, you can.” He pulled Xander’s head down to his and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, feeling his entire body start to relax.
Spike shouted into the kiss when Xander flexed his knees, slamming their bodies together in a swift move. They both froze in place.
Xander pulled back and looked into Spike’s face, the look in his eyes a mixture of lust, triumph and pain. “Glad it was you… first.”
The words broke Spike’s very tenuous hold on his control and he started moving inside Xander, grabbing his thighs hard enough to bruise, rolling his hips and thrusting wildly. The movement was enough to send Xander over the edge; the clenching of internal muscles was Spike’s undoing and he let go.
By the time either one could form a coherent sentence, they were almost sealed together with drying sweat and other fluids. Both men hissed as they pulled apart, and Xander’s knees made ominous cracking noises as he finally unbent them. He fell heavily onto the other side of the bed, face-down.
“You OK?” Spike asked.
“Mrmmmphmmmm,” Xander replied into the pillow.
“I see verbal’s still shot to hell, how are you on math?”
Xander lifted one hand and flipped Spike the bird.
“One. That’s a good start.” He tiredly pushed at a tanned shoulder. “Shower.”
Xander turned so he could blink lazily at Spike. “Too far.”
Spike reached out and smoothed Xander’s hair back from his face, and then leaned in for a gentle kiss. He pulled back and smiled. “Shower; you smell like a whorehouse.”
Xander rubbed his face against the pillow. “You sweet-talker, you,” he sighed, and then levered himself off the bed. He hesitated for a second, then leaned down and bit the enticing globe of Spike’s shiny, white ass.
At Spike’s indignant, “Hey!” he sprinted for the bathroom.
Spike
followed.
tbc