Day Of DaysBy Sajinn
Chapter Twenty
Spike paced the sidewalk in front of Xander's apartment building, ignoring the storm that was brewing above him. He knew the boy was upstairs, probably waiting for the vampire. That's how it had been every night since Xander's birthday. Either Spike waited for Xander, Xander waited for Spike, or... well, neither of them waited to get back to the young man's place and ended up going at it in a dark alleyway or crypt. Tonight Xander got to do the waiting.
Although Spike would rather stake himself with a wooden spoon than admit it, he was nervous. Considering the normal pace of their…activities, tonight would probably be the last night they celebrated Xander's birthday. Spike didn't want that, however. The boy was easy to be around, at least when Buffy and the rest of the gang were absent. The blonde was more than a little surprised that he'd actually enjoyed the lad's company even when they weren't in the midst of shagging.
But as of tonight, that might all be over. Xander certainly seemed to be having fun with their little game, but what would happen later, afterwards? Would Spike be told to leave, to find himself a new fuck buddy, because there was no way in hell Xander was actually going to let him stick around? Yeah, Xander had invited him to stay on that first night, but...that meant nothing to the vampire.
Spike caught on to what he was doing and snorted. What was he, some sort of broody, bloody poof like his Sire? He was the Big Bad; if he wanted something, he bloody well got it. So maybe he'd have to change his usual tactics a bit, but no matter. By the time he got done tonight, Xander wouldn't dream of asking him to leave. No, he'd be begging him to stay.
Overhead, lightning crackled, drawing Spike out of his reverie. With lovely thoughts of Xander in mind, Spike ran up the stairs and knocked on his boy's door.
Xander was about to turn on the television and catch a football game when Spike knocked on the door. The boy had quickly learned to differentiate Spike's knocking from everyone else's. Now he was like one of Pavlov's dogs; Spike knocked and Xander got hard. He'd have been embarrassed by it, except that since they'd hooked up he'd never seen Spike *not* half-hard as well. "Spike," Xander said brightly as he opened the door. "What--"
Spike pushed through the door, picking up Xander as he moved. The door slammed behind him, echoing the storm outside, lock falling into place as one ivory hand fumbled for the knob. Spike pressed his mouth to Xander's, effectively silencing the boy with a hard kiss. He carried Xander into the bedroom, pitching him on the bed before stripping out of his own clothes. Xander followed suit, tugging at sneakers and jeans until he was as naked as the vampire.
"Gah..." Xander groaned as Spike slithered up his body, pressing them together from chest to ankle. The brunette began to speak, but was caught by the look in Spike's eyes. The vampire was...driven, blue eyes sharp as knives. Spike's face reflected pleasure, so acute it was painful. Xander let his hands run along Spike's sides, soothing the blonde with soft hushing sounds.
Spike shifted until his and Xander's cocks were sliding together in the hollow of his hip, pressing and slipping in between warm, sweaty and cool, silky. He reveled in this, this body underneath his, writhing and bucking because of what he was doing. Spike wanted to make that body react like that forever, no stopping, just this sweet tension, the perfume of pheromones drenching his senses. Xander was with him, riding high on waves of sensation, moaning and hissing as they struggled and fumbled onwards. Warm, thick, calloused fingers scrabbled along his ribs and Spike heard the murmured of the ocean tide, Xander's voice, rocking him gently. Slow, slower, Xander's humming urged. Come, we are naked and the moon is yet high in the night. This is a race best won in lassitude.
Xander gasped, thrusting helplessly against Spike's onslaught. That devilish mouth was teasing his throat, leaving passion marks in its wake. Gentle-harsh fingers broke him down and reformed him into something new, some creature that knew only Spike, only the blonde demon above him. Xander's universe shrunk, smaller and smaller, until the crash of lightning and thunder outside his bedroom window was the edge of the galaxy and Spike, Spike was his sun, dark and eclipsed but still there, burning him alive. Xander's voice poured forth unbidden, chanting Spike's name in a broken, breathy whisper, little more than a hiss and click amidst the groans, growls and keening wail of sex that surrounded them.
Spike, though, heard the words as clear as the night sky. Himself, a litany on his boy's tongue? The very thought pushed Spike over the edge, driving him onward with the devil's crop at his back. He called out for Xander, begging his sweet and lovely boy to join him, never abandon him in this maelstrom that suffered to pleasure them. See, Spike cried out in his ecstasy, see how I love you, see how I cannot be without you, this my boy.
"Spike!" Xander screamed, feeling himself fall over and down and sink into the sensation of climax, pounding into him. But Spike was there too, weak as Xander, shivering and quaking under the weight of orgasm. Xander thought maybe his heart was pounding out of his chest, loud as kettle drums. Maybe it was the storm outside, thunder echoing in his body. He couldn't tell.
A low groan accompanied Spike's first attempt to pick his brain out of wherever it had shoved itself. If someone had told him he'd shot it out over Xander's stomach, he would've believed them. After a minute he let his head drop back down next to Xander's, figuring that if the boy was half as wrung out as he was he wouldn't care. "Twenty," Spike murmured, sort of twitching suggestively instead of trying to actually slap the youth. Twenty-one was going to have to wait a bit.