Title: Rough Trade
Author: Moonloon
Email: maryavatar@gmail.com
Website: Amused and Abused
Feedback: maryavatar Rating: NC17
Pairing: Andrew/Spike
Note 1: Written as part of the Andrew ficathon, for Voluse
Note 2: Many thanks to Emony for betaing.
Archive: Funnel Cakes and Flying Monkeys

The house was eerily quiet.  Spike lay on his bed and revelled in the sound of Potentials not thundering across the floor that did duty as his bedroom ceiling.  In fact the only people he could hear at all were Xander cursing and swearing as he unblocked the upstairs toilet for the third time that week, and Andrew sighing over The Fellowship of the Ring.  Again.

An evening with no women.  Spike smiled.  If someone had told him he'd get sick of being surrounded by nubile young lovelies, he'd have laughed long and loud.  But he was.  Completely and thoroughly sick of the twenty-four hour sleepover that left everything smelling like Clearasil, strawberry lip balm and linen-fresh panty liners.

Spike stretched and got up.  Trudging up the stairs, he wondered which would prove more entertaining, laughing at Xander, or talking through the big death scene at the end of Andrew's film. He grabbed a Tupperware beaker full of blood from the fridge as he passed though the kitchen, and decided Xander would smell too bad to make needling him worth it.  The kitchen looked like... well, like twenty hungry teenage girls had gone through it in a hurry.  Andrew was going to either scream in horror when he saw the mess, or get all turned on about how helpful he could be by cleaning it up.

Spike entertained a few thoughts about what Andrew might look like turned on.  It was a constant irritant that he'd fed from Andrew, but couldn't quite remember what he tasted like.  Sex and feeding urges tended to get all mixed together, and Spike was feeling itchy from not having had warm blood or someone wrapped around his cock for... far too long.  Not that he was all that interested in blokes, but a change was as good as a rest, and Andrew had that whole virginal clueless air that tended to attract vamps like demons attracted Buffy and a big axe.

Spike sipped his cold blood and grimaced, someone must have opened the container by mistake and not sealed it properly, it tasted like cheese.  Cold, cheese flavoured cow blood... Spike decided he needed cheering up, and Andrew had been volunteered for the job.

"What you watching?"  Spike asked, lounging against the wall and sipping his blood.

"Shhh!"  Andrew was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his arms wrapped around a cushion, and his gaze fixed on the TV.

Spike glanced over.  He'd caught bits and pieces of the movie here and there; Andrew seemed to have been playing it every time he got the chance.  "This is the bit where the big ugly demons kidnap the little blokes, isn't it?"

"Shhh!  This is the best bit!"  Andrew whined.

Spike grinned.  "The kidnapping of the little boys for immoral demonic 'activities'?  Or do you mean the bit where Strider and the dead guy have a nice blood-soaked smooch?"

"Spiiiiiike!"  Andrew whined.  He'd gone pink, but mostly just looked annoyed.  "Could you please not talk right now."

"What's it worth to you?"  Spike asked, as the first arrow thudded into Boromir.

"Anything!  Anything, just shut up!"  Andrew said, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Spike sat down and finished off his blood, anticipation fizzing through his body.  This was going to be good.  He studied Andrew: he was rather attractive in a petulant way, and probably gay judging by the adoring looks he'd been sending in Xander's direction.

Andrew sighed and hugged the cushion tighter as Boromir died, then relaxed as the last few scenes and the credits rolled across the screen.  "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," Spike said.  "You don't know what I want."

Andrew finally looked at Spike.  "Huh?"

"You said you'd do anything if I was quiet until your film finished.  I was quiet, time to pay up."

"Oh.  Um."  Andrew looked confused, then smiled.  "How about a nice cup of blood?"

"Just had some, thanks.  And it wasn't nice, it tasted like cheese."  Spike grinned and flicked his gaze over Andrew's body.  "How about a blow job?"

"What?"  Andrew squeaked.

"A blow job. Sucking the sausage.  Blowing the horn.  Drinking from the fountain of youth.  Oral sex, little boy."

Andrew looked stunned, then he blushed bright red.  "I can't do that."

"It's easy, just open your mouth and start sucking."  Spike sprawled back on his chair, spreading his legs and rubbing a hand over his crotch. 

"No, I mean I can't.  What if Xander walked in?"

As if on cue, Xander stomped down the stairs.  "I need to pick up a few things from the hardware store.  I won't be long, and I'll pick up pizza on the way home.  Andrew, don't escape.  Spike, don't eat Andrew.  Later."  And with that he was out of the house.

Spike flicked open the top button of his jeans.  "Problem solved."

"Um."  Half a dozen expressions appeared one after the other on Andrew's face.  Fear, curiosity, embarrassment, excitement and finally a rather nervous anticipation.  "You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"

Spike rolled his eyes.  "Andrew mate, I still have hopes of Buffy seeing sense and realising I'm the best thing that's ever happened to her.  I know she's the best thing that ever happened to me.  What do you think my chances would be if she knew you'd been sucking my dick?"

"Even smaller?"

"Ha ha.  Now get your mouth over here before she comes back."  Andrew seemed frozen to the sofa, so Spike sighed, got up out of his chair, and walked over.  "I'll make it easy for you," he said, flicking open another button.

"Okay."  Andrew said.  His eyes were fixed on the front of Spike's jeans with as much attention as he'd given the TV.

Suddenly Spike's new soul started twitching, and before he'd even thought about it he cupped Andrew's face in his hand and said, "You don't really have to if you don't want to."

Andrew reached up and grabbed the waistband of Spike's jeans, tugging him down and to the side until he was lying on the sofa.  "Shut up, Spike."

"Demanding little poof all of a sudden, aren't we?"  Spike wriggled around until he was comfortable. 

"I'm not a..." Andrew blushed brighter, "...what you said."

"Uh huh."  Spike said, pulling his jeans open.  The buttons slipped free pop pop pop.  "Of course not."

Andrew slid his hands up Spike's thighs.  "Well, it's going to be the end of the world, and I'll probably die.  I should have some sort of sex, and you're the only person who's offered."

"And aren't you lucky?  Better take advantage while you can."  Spike was tired of waiting and shoved his jeans down far enough for his cock to spring free.

Andrew squinted.  "Is it supposed to look like that?"

"That's a foreskin, you twit!"

"Really?  Cool!"  Andrew reached out and smoothed it down, then pulled it back up again.  "Is it fun to play with?"

Spike sighed.  "Oh yeah."

"It's kind of cold."

"All of me is kind of cold."

Andrew laughed.  "Oh, right.  Maybe I can warm it up a bit?"  And he leaned forward, sucking the tip of Spike's cock into his mouth.

"Nnnng!"  Spike couldn’t help it, he thrust up and Andrew started choking.

"Eugh, that's probably a really bad idea, Spike.  I ate two bags of microwave popcorn, and I have a really twitchy gag reflex.  When I was little and my Mom made me eat broccoli, all I had to do was push my tongue back and I'd…"

"Okay!  I get the picture!"  Spike interrupted.  "I'll try to lie still."

"I could hold you down."  Andrew was starting to look turned on.

"You could try.  It wouldn't make much difference," Spike said, "Vampire strength, remember?"

Andrew shrugged and bent his head down to Spike's crotch again.  This time licking, rather than sucking.  Spike decided that licking was pretty good, until Andrew started carefully sucking.  Then he decided that sucking was pretty good.  And finally Andrew started sucking and jerking him off, and Spike decided that was better than pretty good, and didn't even think about Buffy as he came.

"Yuck.  A bit of warning wouldn't have hurt."  Andrew said, sticking out his tongue, and rubbing it with the sleeve of his shirt.  "That stuff is disgusting.  And cold."

"Uh huh."  Andrew's complaints didn't really register: Spike was floating on a sleepy 'I-just-came' high.  He heard Andrew's sigh though.

"I guess I'll just… um… go clean the kitchen.  The girls have probably made a mess in there again."

Spike opened one eye.  Andrew was sitting with the cushion in his lap again.  Suddenly feeling generous, Spike slid his hand under it, and grabbed at the bulge in Andrew's jeans.

"Oh.  What...?  Oh.  OH!  OH!"  Andrew shivered happily, and sank back on the sofa.  "Wow, thanks."

They sat slumped in post-coital silence for a while.  Then Andrew lifted his head and looked over at Spike.  "Want to be quiet while I watch Blade Runner?"

Spike opened one eye.  "Isn't that film almost three hours long?"

"Yes."

"You'd owe me more than a blow job if I stayed quiet all the way through that."

Andrew grinned.  "Uh huh."

The End.