14.

::::::::::::::::::

Dawn woke up on the couch with the crick that ate Detroit in her neck and a goony smile on her face. It was quiet in Xander's place, and she loved it. Quiet, the way a home should be, with morning light spilling across the floor and this deep, deep sense of calm everywhere. Calm like a good long nap under flannel sheets.

And if she preferred a home with a vampire in it, that was just Sunnydale. And if that home now also sported rumbly make-out sounds coming from the bed her two former (male!) crushes shared, then that just made her cool. Something like that, anyway.

Ewww. They were getting louder: less rumbly, lots more groany. She was about to start feeling distinctly uncool, when the shower started.

Much better.

::::::::::::::::::

"Ssssspike--" Xander hissed. He was being ignored. While that wasn't exactly new, and the ignoring this time consisted of a very thorough soaping of his exceptionally private parts, so he couldn't exactly be angry or anything, there was Dawnie to consider. "Man, come on."

Spike looked up from where he sat on his heels. The shower spray plastered his hair in silly waves and Xander would have laughed if it hadn't been for the fact that Spike had quite the grip on the base of his cock. "Mmm?"

"I kinda need to get going."

Spike nodded shortly and drew his finger up the side of Xander's cock. It was already so hard--hell, he woke up about a minute from coming these days--and so purple that it kind of glowed in the harsh fluorescence of the bathroom that Xander's thighs twitched at the touch. He clenched his ass, trying not to thrust against Spike's hand. "I'll say," Spike said seriously. "'Bout to burst, huh?"

"Yeah-- Shit." Xander braced his hand on the wall behind Spike. He was about to lose his mind. The water pounded hard, cold needles over his skin and his blood pounded harder, like hot surf, underneath. A moan was building in his belly, and he squeezed his eyes shut, certain that if he looked down one more time at that smirking pretty face he'd just lose it really badly. At this point, it was a matter of losing it with some dignity. "Awwww--"

Spike was raising himself up, using Xander's cock as leverage, until he was pressed up against Xander's chest and the wall. With his free hand, he fumbled off the shower tap, letting the water run into the tub. Xander slid his own hand down the wall and wormed it between them until he was brushing Spike's erection with his palm.

"Better?" Spike breathed into his ear, closing his lips around the lobe and sucking gently. Warm tremors squirmed through Xander, and he pushed into Spike's hand as he started to slide his own up and down Spike's cock. It twitched and nearly throbbed against his palm.

"Yeah," Xander sighed. Cool hard vampire, totally soaked and smelling like Irish Spring? His more-than-usually addled mind was utterly blissed out. He wrapped his other arm around Spike's waist and mouthed along the stretch of his neck as he squeezed and tugged at his cock. Spike was doing something worthy of Doug Henning with his own hand on Xander, something slippery but also firm, and Xander felt his hips starting to shove forward. "Oh, *fuck*--" Spike jerked his wrist, opening his fingers, letting Xander thrust over his palm while he stroked behind his balls. Xander's spine did its lightning flashing thing and just as he started to come, Spike closed his fingers around again and pulled him into a tight hug. He shot-- somewhere, not exactly sure, but it was wet and slidey and now Spike's mouth was moving away. His sharp pink tongue was methodically licking clean his hand.

Hey, clear thinking: Xander still had a nice grip on Spike. He wrapped a couple fingers just below Spike's cockhead and rubbed quick and hard as he nibbled and sucked his way down Spike's chest.

"Xaaaan--" Spike whispered.

"Ssshhh," Xander said, and dropped to his knees. Ouch, porcelain? Harder than he would have thought. He braced both hands on the wall and leaned forward, closing his lips around the cockhead and curling his tongue around clockwise, then counter-clockwise. Spike's hand pushed at the back of his head, and Xander took in one big breath through his nose just as Spike's cock started jumping around, poking the inside of his cheek, grazing some wisdom teeth, nudging that little dangly thingy at the back of his throat.

"Com---" Spike groaned. Xander set to swallowing, and there it was, flooding his mouth before finding his throat, and he sucked as long as he could until Spike pushed him away. "---ing."

Xander gripped the edge of the tub and pulled himself shakily to his feet. Spike looked pale and dazed. I did that! he thought, and wondered if he'd ever stop thinking about sex like some extra-credit project. Probably not. He took Spike's elbow and helped him out of the tub, and the bathmat bunched and got soaked under their feet as they kissed. Xander's tongue was thick and kind of numb, but Spike swabbed him clean, leaving little buzzing trails like fireflies in his wake.

"Gotta get going," Spike said, pushing him away with a gentle hand.

Xander grabbed a towel and scrubbed uselessly at his arms and chest. "Thanks."

Spike hoisted himself onto the edge of the sink. "Don't thank me, mate. Pleasure's all mine, and so forth."

Spike took the towel from his hands and patted Xander's back dry while Xander attempted to brush his teeth around the vampire. He couldn't decide which was more awkward: being dried so carefully, almost affectionately, by the bad, rude man, or having to crane his neck like this and spit into the wastebasket.

"There," Spike said, tossing the towel in the general direction of the hamper when Xander straightened up. "Go. Be responsible or something."

"Yeah. You going to be all right here?"

Spike shrugged and grinned. "Think I can keep myself busy."

"Okay."

Xander didn't want to leave. He really didn't want to leave. Driving Dawn to school was one thing, but having to find something to do all day long just to pretend to be at work when he could be home with his own ever-ready vampire seemed like a really dumb thing to do. Dumber than usual, that is.

"Got something to say?" Spike asked, sliding off the sink and wandering into the bedroom. He climbed back under the covers and folded his arms behind his head.

"Nah," Xander said. "Aren't you going to be cold, sleeping wet like that?"

Spike just lifted a brow and scratched his stomach. Xander cut his eyes away, because watching black finger nails on ivory skin was definitely in the stratosphere of distractions.

"Throw me those socks, will you?"

He'd figure something out on the way. Maybe come home at lunch when Spike woke up again? Plead noxious gas leak? Something.

Dawn grumbled about them hogging the bathroom, about Xander hurrying her, about not being able to eat any of his too-sugary cereal, and he just waited by the door. Morning sex? Better than Prozac, definitely. Morning shower sex? Except for the slight complaining ache in his knees, better than morphine. He felt all loose and dopey, scrubbed clean but at the same time weirdly thrilled.

In the car, Dawn put both feet up on the dashboard and looped her arms around them. He didn't have to wait long for her to lay into him, even if her tone was light and teasing. "So, getting ill with the vamp. I can see that."

"That's slang, right?" Xander asked and she nodded. "And how can you see that? I can't see that, and I'm like right up--. Never mind." Not going to describe just how far up in the vamp he was getting with her.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Dawn said. "Homoerotic love's got a long history, you know. Very storied."

Xander kept his eyes on the road. There seemed to be a lot less traffic than usual. "Storied? What are we talking about?"

"Uh-huh. Storied. Of legend. Like-- Greeks. And sailors. Englishmen. Oscar Wilde."

"Wilde was Irish."

Dawn glanced at him, mouth open for a second. So him sleeping with Spike didn't faze her, but let him drop one literary fact and she got confused? "Really? How do you know that?"

"I'm not retarded! I pick stuff up!"

Dawn slapped his shoulder, and he managed not to swerve into an oncoming station wagon. Go, Xander. "Like that guy in the park? Sammy?"

"I said I'm not retarded," Xander said. Dawn slapped him again, more lightly this time. "Oh, 'cause he's got that pointy stick and the bag? Yeah, I pick stuff up. Like Sammy."

Dawn rested her cheek against the window. "I don't care," she said softly. She was great at ignoring his freak-outs, and it usually made him a lot less hyper. But this was too weird. "About the gropey fun. With a guy."

"Yeah, that's coming through loud and clear." Xander wished she wasn't quite as perceptive as that. Someone with a little more static between her ears would be good right about now.

"Chill, Xander." Dawn sighed and tapped her forehead a couple times against the window. Her voice was muted but clear. "Anyway, I think I'm bi, too."

"And how do you know that, oh wise one?" He tried to grin at her, but she wasn't looking anywhere near his general direction. He waited for a few blocks, telling himself he'd drop it if they reached the intersection of Main and Calhoun before she answered.

They were nearly there, only about three minutes from school, when Dawn turned and looked at him with her wide, calm eyes. Jeez. She could probably rule a large country with those eyes. "Just do. There was this girl, Kit? Haven't seen for a while. I miss her."

"Miss her like a friend, you mean," Xander said. He knew what that was like. You just start getting to know someone, and, whoosh, Sunnydale bites back. He'd always kind of figured they could hold graduation in someone's rec room.

"Miss her like a friend," Dawn said, nodding. "And like a couple kiss sessions in the second-floor washroom."

He squeezed the steering wheel as hard as he could and tapped the gas. "Not listening, Dawnie!"

"Grow up," Dawn said. She was kind of smiling but pretty much not. "Pot, kettle, right? Anyway, I think everybody's bi."

"Who are you, Oz? Vernon Reid? This is what you spend your big Rosenberg-grade brain thinking about?"

"Oh, I multitask," Dawn said. "Stop here."

They were a block from school, and he wondered why she wanted to get out here. Not to mention the, you know, incredibly bizarre turn the conversation was taking. "What, that's it?"

"Our time's up," she said, slipping off the seat. "Think about what I said, though."

Xander ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "Stop channeling Jennifer Malfi, and maybe I will."

Dawn grinned at him, a real, wide, mega-watt smile, the kind Spike got from her, the kind Tara used to get, and Xander wanted to hug her, or kiss her. Marry her. Something like that, something real and permanent so that she'd never leave.

"Gotta go," she said, and he realized he was just sitting there, arms draped over the steering wheel, grinning like the world's hugest dork.

"Okay," he said. "Right. Love you."

And she was gone, running down the sidewalk, hair lifting and waving behind her.

::::::::::::::::::

The bed was too damp to sleep in; Xander had been right. He should probably listen more often.

Spike was dozing on the couch, one of Xander's insufferably mainstream music magazines open on his chest, when he felt the air pressure in the room shift and drop. He opened one eye and saw Xander stop short in the doorway.

"Got fired, huh?" Spike said, scrounging in the couch cushions for his smokes.

Xander's expression went tight-lipped and pale. "Something like that. Oh, and nice to see you, too."

He sounded a little too cranky for Spike's taste. A little too reminiscent of the basement. Spike swung his legs over to the floor and clasped his hands between his knees. "Sorry. Tad surprised to see you is all."

Xander sank into the couch next to him, and tipped his head back so he was staring at the ceiling. "Got fired like six weeks ago."

Spike twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy's face, but Xander turned away. "Okay," Spike said slowly. Xander's job was real, as far as he'd ever been able to tell. Not that he'd paid much attention until, well, recently, but it had always struck him as something Xander did well and carefully. Something he was good at it and enjoyed, rather than something like Buffy's various attempts to increase the cash flow. Or her most recent venture with that shifty principal. "Maybe you should back up a couple steps. 'Cause I seem to remember--"

"No more steps," Xander said. He rubbed his fists over his eyes and down his jaw; his knuckles were almost as white as Spike's own skin. "Missed one too many days. Got fired. Pretty simple."

He missed days for Buffy; they both knew that, and neither one seemed all that willing to say it. Instead, Spike ventured a hand onto Xander's chest. When he wasn't rebuffed, he kneaded at the fabric until it rose under his fingers and he brushed warm skin. "Sorry, Xan," he muttered. That's what you said when someone got bad news, right? It didn't sound all that good. Fairly weak, as a matter of fact.

Xander's head rolled back until his eyes met Spike's. He gave a small smile.

"Wanna talk about it?" Spike asked. He could do that; listen and murmur the occasional supportive noise. His hand slipped lower, entirely on its own accord, and he would swear to that in any court of the land. Xander glanced down and lifted his hips a fraction before looking back at Spike.

"One-track mind, huh?" Xander muttered. He didn't sound quite so cranky any longer. He twitched his hips again and Spike stroked his knuckles over the little pad of muscles under Xander's navel.

"Seems we're on the right track."

Xander laughed and rolled over, swinging a leg across Spike's lap, until he was nearly on top of him, grabbing the back of the couch to keep from spilling onto the floor. "This track?" he asked, grinding down a bit as his free hand grabbed Spike's shoulder. He yanked Spike up until their chins knocked together, and in the midst of yelps and half-sincere apologies, they were kissing again.

Xander's stubble scraped and rasped over Spike's chin as their tongues tangled. He tasted take-out coffee in Xander's mouth, the powder off a donut, and the faintest hint of his spearmint toothpaste. Spike grabbed Xander's ass and pulled him tighter, kneading and rolling his fingers into the rough fabric. Xander moaned sweet and hoarse into his mouth, biting Spike's lower lip as he ran his hand up under Spike's shirt and pinched the first nipple in reach.

The damp, urgent heat of Xander, looming over and covering him, set Spike's thoughts fluttering and cawing off like a flock of jays. Xander pulled back, mouth open and eyes dark, balancing unsteadily to unzip first his pants, then Spike's. Spike lifted his hips and let Xander pull the pants down to his knees.

"Bit get off to school alright?" Spike remembered to ask. Xander shot him a dopey glance and nodded. "Just wonderin'."

"Okay," Xander said. "So--" He paused, then stopped, cocking his head to take a long, burning look at Spike's body as he licked his lips. Far too young to have mastered that look, Spike thought, but his skin was screaming for more contact, and didn't particularly care about where or how, let alone the extent of Xander's experience. Spike worked his fingertips into the cleft of Xander's ass, just at the top, letting them rest there. Xander's head dropped forward and his eyes closed.

"Believe we were--" Spike said, bringing Xander's hand back to his nipple and licking his way down Xander's shoulder. "Right here. Thereabouts."

Xander nodded and mewled as Spike moved his fingers down his cleft. The skin was so incredibly hot there between his cheeks, and so tight, and he had to grin as Xander pushed back against his touch while managing to rake his own fingernails over Spike's nipple.

Spike shivered and squeezed harder, licking quite dryly now back up Xander's arm and throat. "Sensitive?" he murmured against the rapidly bobbing Adam's apple.

Xander groaned and pushed back. "Please," he muttered. His lips and teeth closed on the knob of Spike's shoulder and he bit down as Spike worried his first two fingers against the slightly swollen pucker. "Come *on*, Spike, just--"

"Can't, pet," Spike whispered. He meant to be soothing, but his own body was thrumming electrically and every time Xander shifted his weight their cocks met all too glancingly. It came out hoarse, almost angry. "Need sticky--"

Xander kissed him again, open-mouthed, messy, and wet, managing to cover only about half of Spike's mouth. His tongue drove in as he reached between them and caught both their cocks in his hand. Spike squeaked, then moaned, as hot flesh rubbed and teased his cock on all sides. Xander jerked them roughly, panting into Spike's mouth, drooling over Spike's tongue.

With every word, every hoarse gasp from Xander's wide red mouth, Spike's hand reflexively tightened a little more on Xander's ass. As his orgasm gathered and spiraled deep in his guts and down his legs, Xander rubbed and pulled harder, nearly folding their cocks together. "Want that," Spike managed to get out. "Christ, Xan--"

Xander nodded, bucking his hips against his hand, pushing their cocks against their bellies. "Don't care, don't care, just--" His eyes widened and mouth dropped open as his hand fell away and he clutched Spike against him, smearing him with the heat and sweat of his skin, biting down on Spike's nipple as they came, groaning and rubbing wildly.

Xander fell away, off to the side, as their movements gradually slowed. Spike raised his head and peered around blearily. There was a tang of blood in his mouth and Xander's bite mark was throbbing pleasantly just over his nipple. He needed a smoke more than he had in years.

He couldn't quite say why, either, unless it had something to do with the dizzying tempo of everything they seemed to do together. Swinging from stupid conversations from which neither could seem to make a graceful exit to this frenzied fucking. He was not complaining so much as something told him he might like a time-out, just a couple minutes to think it through. And nothing suited a good think-through as much as a burning fag.

He couldn't find the pack, though. Spike tugged off his shirt, certain that Xander would be out of it for several more minutes, and swiped the bulk of cum off himself and Xander. He untangled himself from the boy's legs and spotted his cigarettes at last. They were well across the room, on the windowsill, which meant Dawn had nicked another experimental smoke sometime that morning. Naughty, naughty girl.

The sunlight stung the back of his hand as he retrieved the pack, and he ambled back, spent and very loose, to the couch. Now for a light.

"So it occurred to me--" Xander started to say.

Spike tossed him his shirt. "Never a good thing."

"Shut up." Xander fumbled the shirt and fell backwards trying to reach for it. "So anyway I was thinking--. Shut up!"

"What?" Spike was twirling a cigarette between his fingers and glanced up. He hadn't actually been about to say anything. Lad was paranoid. "You're jumpy. Don't you usually need your nap after sex?"

"So." Xander took a deep breath. His furrowed brow and shifty eyes said he was serious, and Spike found himself straightening up a bit and quelling his fidgeting. "I was wondering. Does the soul give you like extra special powers of horniness?"

"Maybe." Spike tried to think about it, but what was left of his brain after most of it spilled out through his cock shrugged and turned away. "Look at you. Got a soul, and you're ready as a rabbit."

"Oh? Really?" Xander grinned and ducked his head. Spike heard his breathing hitch for a second. "Cool."

Ought to compliment him more often, Spike thought. "And--?" he asked.

"What?" Xander peered at him, blinking owlishly.

"That all? Sounded like you were workin' up to something."

Xander shrugged and twisted the shirt in his hands. "Nah. Forget it."

Sticking the fag behind one ear, Spike pushed himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. There had to be some of those matches left somewhere. "Okay."

Xander followed him, not saying anything, the tension of unspoken thoughts crackling around him. Spike kept his back turned, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. He rooted around in every drawer and finally settled for tapping on one of the burners and leaning in to light his smoke.

"Yeah," Xander said at last. Spike bit down on the filter to stop the bark of laughter zooming up his throat. He should time how long the boy's patience lasted, except he'd need one of those runner's watches that did hundredths of a second. "Was working up to something."

Spike puffed deeply a couple times before turning around. "Thought so."

Xander leaned in the doorway, shirt flung over his shoulder and arms crossed over his bare chest. Mussed hair spilled over his forehead as he looked around distractedly, chewing his lip. "Yeah, it went like, no, can't be the soul, 'cause you've always been sexy."

"Thanks!" Spike grinned again and patted Xander's cheek as he slipped past. "Never knew you cared."

He scraped a chair out from the table and collapsed in it, determined to concentrate on getting up a good nic buzz and let Xander get whatever it was off his chest. Xander twisted in the doorway, sheepish smile on his lips.

"S'posed to be an insult," Xander said and shrugged.

"Oh. Er, fuck you?"

"Yeah," Xander said, slumping a bit. "Losing my touch, huh?"

Spike glanced down at his own chest and fingered the dark bruise blossoming over his nipple. "Don't know about that. Touch seems intact."

He glanced up in time to catch another grin.

Good, then. One more sulk deftly averted.

And if the lump in Xander's pants was any indication, they wouldn't be talking for a good long while.