Closeted by Kimberly A

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is trademark 20th Century Fox. The world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the characters within are derivative of works copyright © 20th Century Fox, 1997-2004. No copyright infringement is intended.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Nothing Like the Sun: S/X – http://www.nothinglikethesun.com/SX/
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: Post-everything.
Author's Notes: My first S/X fic, written for margarks in rubywisp's Spander Inquisition ficathon in May 2004.
Pairing: Xander/Spike

Summary: Dirty talk, first time, forced isolation from the rest of the Scoobies, and amnesia.

The closet seemed a lot smaller from the inside. When Xander had come up with the plan, the closet had seemed plenty big enough to hide in for an hour.

In the pitch darkness, Xander pressed the button to light up the face of his digital watch. 11:13. They'd only been in the closet about 13 minutes, and Spike had already managed to piss him off at least twice that many times. It was almost impressive, how annoying Spike could be when he was really trying.

When the little green light went out, the darkness was nearly complete again. 47 more minutes until they could safely venture out. 47 more minutes…with Spike…in a closet the size of a postage stamp.

No one'll blame me if I dust him, right? I mean, there's a broom right here. Handy wooden handle. It'd be a lot easier to share this closet with a pile of dust than with a pain-in-the-ass chipped vampire.

Spike's voice was pointedly casual in the darkness, spoken almost directly into Xander's ear, due to their forced proximity. "You been working out? 'Cause I don't remember your pecs being this hard before." Indeed, their chests kept brushing whenever either of them moved.

"Spike, just…just don't touch or comment on my body, okay? Because that is just too much with the wrongness." Xander attempted to step away, but his ass immediately collided with what felt like several rolls of paper towels on the shelf behind him. No escape in that direction. There was barely enough room for the two of them in here, let alone any space to move around.

"Just sayin'…kinda hard to miss in such close quarters. Used to be a bit on the padded side, but you've gotten pretty fit, Not-So-Droopy Boy." Spike shifted position, and his hip brushed against Xander's groin.

Xander instinctively jerked away from the contact, but his resulting slight bounce off the paper towels only succeeded in momentarily pressing him more firmly against Spike's body. "Shut up! And stop rubbing against me, you undead pervert!" Xander pulled away, momentarily holding his breath to avoid touching the vampire…before realizing that not breathing really wasn't the best long-term plan. With his every breath, though, some part of him seemed to touch some part of Spike.

"S'not my fault. Crowded in here, ain't it? And, anyway, I'm guessing you like it." Xander could almost hear the arrogant smirk in his voice.

"Spike, if you keep talking, someone out there is going to hear us. Reconnaissance, remember? We're not here to take in the thrilling broom closet scenery. So enough with the witty homosexual banter."

Spike slapped his hand against the steel-reinforced door, making Xander jump nervously at the unexpected sound. "Army base, lack-brain. Even the closets are secure. Wouldn't want anybody stealing their patriotic toilet paper, now would they? No human'd be able to hear anything through this monster of a door. We could shag our brains out against it and somebody standing right outside'd be none the wiser."

"Shag our…? Spike, quit it with the suggestive remarks. I get it. Taunt the homophobic guy. Fun for the whole family. Well, I'm here to tell you that I am too secure in my manhood to be threatened by anything you have to say. So just give up and shut up."

Spike chuckle sounded low and – to Xander's mind – dangerous. "Now that sounded like a challenge. If you're so secure in your manhood, whelp, then why's the idea of a bloke sucking your dick got you squirming?"

At the words "sucking your dick," the appendage in question responded enthusiastically. Xander's entire body stiffened with fear that Spike would notice the more specific stiffening down below. Trying to sound appropriately mocking, Xander bluffed, "What…Are you offering, Spike?"

Spike sounded bored when he replied, "Could be. Gotta waste time in here somehow 'til these soldier types bugger off."

"You're joking." Xander wished he could see Spike's face, though that probably wouldn't help the situation any. Spike pretty much looked arrogant and condescending full-time. It was like his job. His job of evilness. Evil condescending smirkiness. With the raised eyebrow, sometimes, for extra annoying flavor.

"No." It didn't matter if some parts of Xander's body were standing at attention…he knew Spike was just jerking his…uh…yanking his…pulling his…uh…chain? Nothing else, though. No jerking or yanking or pulling of anything else belonging to the Xan Man. Not now, not ever. Not by Spike.

"Afraid?" Oh, the smirk had gotten louder in Spike's voice, like he was really enjoying this. Prick.

"I don't need to prove anything to a loser like you." Okay, so that was sort of lame. But Xander certainly wasn't going to admit to any less-than-manly tinglings. He would just have a quiet little panic attack when he got home. Because he really wasn't getting turned on by rubbing up against Spike. That wasn't possible. Not unless they'd fallen into some kind of hell dimension without noticing.

"Oooh! 'Loser'? Sticks and stones, mate. And I haven't seen you parading any lovelies on your arm lately."

"Damn, Spike! How desperate are you, that you'll come on to me?" It wasn't until it was out of his mouth that Xander realized how stupid that sounded. Why does my mouth move so much faster than my brain?

"Quite an ego you've got there. That work on the ladies, does it? Would explain your luck."

"Shut up. You know what I mean. I'm not into guys, Spike, and last I heard you weren't either. So what's your deal?"

Xander could feel Spike's shrug in the darkness. "I've nothing against blokes. Hell, simplifies matters, don't it? No guessing 'bout how things work and what they want. A cock is a cock. If I know how to handle mine, then I know how to handle yours, eh?"

"What?" Xander's voice nearly squeaked in panic. The mental image conjured by Spike's words was so not helping. Spike's hand on his cock, stroking, squeezing…"No! No handling! Keep the hands away from the…handling!"

Of course, Spike's hands hadn't been touching him at all. But in the darkness, his imagination had sort of run away with him. Problem was, he had been sort of enjoying where it had been running to, and that was just way too humiliating. Spike was obviously just amusing himself by trying to get a rise…er…reaction out of Xander. He'd been with Dru for how many years? And…

The silence stretched for a really long time. Xander fought the compulsion to check his watch again. Spike couldn't have meant what it sounded like he said. Because he was straight. Right? Right? Xander wasn't trapped in a closet with a hard-on and a gay vampire…and no way in hell was he going to come remotely close to touching the obvious closet jokes. Or anything else, for that matter. No touching. Of anything.

Eventually Xander couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "So…you've…with a guy?" He probably wouldn't have even asked under normal circumstances, but in the dark he knew Spike couldn't see his face, and that made it easier, for some reason. Like he wouldn't be giving anything away. Not that there's anything to be giving away! No giving! I have nothing to give! Crap. Why is this all starting to sound a little pathetic, even to me? What's that saying about protesting too much? Okay, so I'll just stop protesting, right? Okay, so…so maybe I sort of think Spike is attractive. I mean, everybody's noticed that, right? I mean, with the cheekbones, and that thing he does with his tongue… Xander bit his lip at the twitch from his cock in response to that thought. Okay. I can admit to noticing when a guy's attractive, without being gay. Perfectly normal. Doesn't mean I want…

"You want details and helpful demonstrations?" Spike's voice sounded so sexy…so hot…

Something rubbed firmly and deliberately against Xander's erection. Is that his hip? Or…his hand? Xander was horrified to realize that he hadn't moved away from the contact this time. If anything, his hips gave a little surprised buck toward the pressure.

"That doesn't have anything to do with you! That's about friction! You keep rubbing it, it's gonna get hard…"

Grateful for the darkness that hid his blushing confusion, Xander turned abruptly to face the unseen paper towels, but Spike almost immediately moved closer to press against his back. And Xander suddenly felt the hardness of Spike's own erection prodding at him through both their jeans…nestling at the crack of his ass. That's not supposed to feel sexy, right? That's not supposed to be hot. Hell. Fuck. I am so screwed. Spike will NEVER let me live this down.

Desperately, Xander looked down and pressed the button on the side of his watch. 12:26. According to the plan, they were stuck here for 34 more minutes.

I should know better by now. First Cordy, and now Spike. I should know to avoid closets. Closets are evil. Closets and me should never exist in the same place, because it just never leads to goodness. When I get out of here, I'm going to design myself a closet-less house…no closets at all…I mean, who really needs closets?

Spike's body was pressing against his back, and Xander found that for some strange reason he couldn't bring himself to object. The sound of his breathing seemed embarrassingly loud in the dark. Spike's voice was smooth and smug as he whispered into Xander's ear, "You want it. I know you do." He nipped Xander's earlobe lightly before adding, "I can smell it." Xander shivered in response to not only the bite but also the words.

And then firm hands were on Xander's hips, sliding forward from behind, meeting in the center to explore his fly and the now-straining bulge it covered. At the first touch, Xander gasped, but he didn't pull away. He closed his eyes, and his head hung forward slightly, his breathing even louder in his ears now. This is crazy. This can't be happening.

Lips pressed to the nape of his neck, and then a tongue flicked against the sensitive skin. Xander groaned, and the hands at his groin shifted, one rising to his waistband to deftly unbutton his jeans. A moment later, the sound of the zipper was loud in the dark. Xander felt blindly in front of him, finding a shelf at chest height, which he pressed with both his hands, the cold metal smooth against his palms as he braced himself. He was panting now, the sound seeming to fill the darkness around them.

As Spike's cool hands – I thought they'd be warmer – slid inside his boxers, Xander tilted his head forward, his forehead resting against something soft. Patriotic toilet paper? And then a hand was holding his cock, another man's hand, not Xander's hand, and it was squeezing hard, just like Xander did when he jacked off. "Oh yeah!" he moaned aloud before he could stop himself. And then another hand was cupping his balls, rolling them and squeezing them gently as his cock was squeezed tightly again. Xander's body arched with surprised pleasure and his head fell back, luckily not colliding with anything along the way.

But then he felt cool lips against the skin of his ear, just brushing, lightly enough to make him shiver, as Spike murmured, "You like that. My hand on your cock." The hand squeezed again and began a slow stroke. But then the hand was abruptly pulled away, making Xander groan in disappointment. The other hand still fondled his balls, but he needed more than that. "I want it wet," Spike whispered. "Lick my hand."

Xander felt blindly for Spike's hand, and found it in the dark, bringing it toward his face. Spike's other hand had risen from his balls and now roughly jerked his boxers down, making Xander gasp. As Xander licked Spike's palm, the jean-clad erection behind him ground against his bare ass. Without thinking, Xander instinctively moved his hips, grinding himself back against the rough fabric and the hardness it covered.

Xander's tongue stroked Spike's hand over and over, thoroughly wetting the skin. When the hand moved away, Xander almost wished it had stayed, his mouth and tongue now suddenly bereft of stimulation. But when the wet hand fell to his cock, Xander forgot about anything else, moaning, "Oh god!"

His hand now stroking Xander's cock firmly, his other hand returned to gently massage his balls, Spike murmured in Xander's ear, "Knew you'd like it. Bet you wish there was a little more space in here, room maybe for me to get on my knees, suck you off, yeah?" Xander moaned again, his hips thrusting helplessly.

"Yeah. Want to feel your cock in my mouth, feel me sucking you down, taking you all the way down, deep, deep, looking up at you while you thrust into my mouth, looking up at you and begging for more…"

Xander was panting heavily now, his cock hard as it had ever been. He was getting close already, trying to hold off orgasm if only to avoid humiliating himself by coming so quick.

But Spike kept whispering as he roughly gripped Xander's cock, his hand now rising and falling quickly in faster strokes. He ground his erection hard against Xander's ass, trapping the boy between his dick and his hand. "Or maybe you'd rather I fuck you, eh?" Xander jerked in surprise, trying to turn his head, but Spike kept stroking, kept grinding against him, kept whispering.

"Oh, yeah, you'd like it. Me stroking you like this while my cock drives into you, filling you up, thrusting into you, making you beg for it, making you whine and thrust your ass back to meet me…" And that's exactly what Xander was doing, mindlessly rubbing back against Spike's thrusting hardness as his breath came in harsh gasps interspersed with inarticulate moans. He was close…so close…

And then Spike's tongue was tracing the whorls of Xander's ear before he breathed softly across the area he had moistened, the air on wet skin making Xander tremble. "Yeah, you'd beg me for it. Slick me up in your mouth and beg me to bend you over…beg me to slide in, all hot and wet and tight. Beg me to give it to you. Beg me for more. Beg me to fuck you harder…" And finally the mental images conjured by Spike's words were too much. Xander couldn't hold back anymore, and with a startled cry – a sobbed, "God, yes!" – Xander came, his body shuddering and jerking in Spike's arms as his throbbing cock spurted onto unseen cleaning supplies.

Silence. When Xander's cock had softened, Spike released it, raising both of his hands and wiping one of them against something soft on the shelves.

"My turn," Spike said, once again pressing his erection tightly against Xander's ass, his hands coming to rest on Xander's hips, holding him still while Spike ground against him.

Spike used his hands on the boy's body to turn him, so that they were once again face-to-face in the dark. Xander heard something that sounded like buttons popping free of cloth, and then Spike grabbed his hand, placing it on cool bare skin.

The sensation was strange, feeling a cock only from the outside. And it felt different, too. Not quite as smooth, but softer. Xander figured that must be foreskin. Curious, he stroked down and then up again, fascinated by the feel of the soft skin stretching over the hardness.

"That's it," growled Spike. "Harder." His hands were still resting on Xander's bare hips, as if he were about to pull their bodies together. But he didn't move. He just maintained that firm touch while Xander handled his cock.

Xander tightened his grip, absurdly pleased at Spike's resulting groan, and began stroking rhythmically. It was a bit awkward, holding onto a cock from the wrong way around, but the mechanics were still basically the same.

And I've got plenty of experience with the old game of naked solitaire. Who'd've thought it'd come in handy someday? Heh. "Come" in "handy."

Spike was thrusting his hips into Xander's hand. "Ah yeah," he grunted. "Like that. Just like that." Xander tried to keep a steady rhythm, but Spike's hips were moving fast now. "God, wish I could fuck you," Spike moaned, "right up against this fucking door, all tight and hot, make you come for me, make you come just from the feel of my cock in your ass…"

This should be grossing me out. Why isn't this grossing me out? Why is it really really hot, instead? What's wrong with me?

Suddenly, Spike was groaning loudly as his cock throbbed in Xander's grasp, spilling liquid onto his fingers, some shooting far enough to land on Xander's bare arm, some even hitting his naked thigh. It was strange to feel it without being able to see it.

For a long moment, the only sound in the darkness was heavy breathing. Xander pulled his hand away, holding it suspended away from himself, acutely aware of the thick liquid on his hand, arm, and thigh. He hesitated briefly, and then used his left hand to grab one of the rolls of paper towels, opening it awkwardly with fingers wet with Spike's spunk. When he'd gotten it open, he tore off a few paper towels and handed them to Spike, then tore off a few for himself.

Xander found that getting his boxers and jeans back up was a bit more of a production. There was little room to maneuver, but he was eventually able to manage and was once again fully dressed. He stood still again, painfully attuned to Spike's nearness.

Neither of them spoke. Xander tried to avoid fidgeting, since it only made him brush against Spike and that seemed incredibly complicated right now. Time seemed to crawl. In the darkness, there wasn't even anything to look at, and the only sound was Xander's heart and breathing. It was eerie, having Spike so close, making no sound whatsoever.

But, after what felt like an eternity, Spike casually drawled, "So. How we gonna waste the rest of the time, eh? A rousing game of I Spy?"

Glad for an excuse, Xander pressed the button on the side of his watch. "12:53," he said quietly. "Only 7 more minutes and we can get out of here. If everything goes according to plan, they should all be gone by then."

But the tense voice beside him only hissed back, "I don't think everything's going according to plan, pet."

The cell wasn't a lot bigger than the closet, but it was somewhat of an improvement. Except for the armed guards. Spike could've done without them, quite happily.

Not fond of being prisoner to military types. Had enough to last me plenty, last time 'round.

Sitting with his back against the concrete wall, he rested his head in his hands, pressing against his temples. He still had a bitch of a headache from the fight when they'd been discovered. He'd gotten up close and personal with the butt of an M-16, but most of the lingering pain was probably due to the chip's repeated firings.

Yeah, he and Harris hadn't gone easily…but Spike wasn't much good against humans, and Xander couldn't handle five guys on his own. They'd been thrown into this cell hours ago and hadn't seen but a few glimpses of their captors since.

Well, to be precise, Xander hadn't been seeing much of anything. He'd taken some pretty harsh-looking blows to the head during the scuffle and got knocked unconscious. It was the length of time he'd been out that worried Spike, though. The kid might have a concussion…or worse.

Xander lay motionless on the sagging gray mattress in the corner of the cell. Spike had investigated his head, but only found some impressive lumps beneath the kid's thick dark hair. No way of knowing what was going on inside. Could only hope the kid hadn't suffered any permanent damage.

How the fuck are we going to get out of here? And am I gonna have to carry him out?

His head still aching, Spike got up and walked to the bars that formed the front of their cell. The three cement walls didn't present many opportunities, particularly since the room had no windows. But the bars…the bars would be their only chance.

Kid could be dying right now. Nothing I can do about it. Shouldn't care. Not like we're best mates of a sudden, just 'cause of some mutual handiwork in the dark. Doubt he'll be inviting me over for tea.

Spike strained at the bars, but couldn't budge them. Iron, probably. And thick. He investigated the lock on the cage door, but it was controlled by one of those computerized keypads, not so easy to pick as the old-fashioned type.

Swearing colorfully, Spike walked back to sit sullenly beside the mattress, muttering to the unconscious Xander, "You'd better bloody wake up soon, or I'll go round the twist talking to myself in here. You're the one's supposed to know this place backwards and forwards. What do I know about the sodding Army? So you damn well better wake up and know the way out of this."

Spike drummed his fingers restlessly against the cement floor. Glanced around. Not much to see. Toilet. Sink. Mattress. Boy. Bars. Spike drummed his fingers. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Silence.

"Twenty - twenty - twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated Nothing to do Nowhere to go I wanna be sedated…"

A groan sounded from the mattress, followed by a mumbled, "What on god's green and bountiful earth is that horrific noise?"

"I sing bloody well, I'll have you know. So you're finally awake, eh?" Spike's voice was casual. Doesn't matter to me. Not like I care about the kid or anything.

"Uh…yeah. I guess." Xander tried to sit up, but abruptly swayed and braced himself with a hand against the wall. "Whoa! Who set the world on 'spin'?" Scooting carefully to rest his back against the wall, Xander brought both hands to his head, groaning, "And why is someone shoving knives in my eyes?"

"Headache?" Spike asked with mock solicitousness. "Yeah, that happens sometimes when you get the shit beat out of you."

Xander raised his head to meet Spike's gaze. "Somebody beat the shit out of me? Well, I guess that would explain the excruciating pain." Looking around, Xander suddenly frowned and asked, "Am I in jail? Why am I in jail? Was there alcohol involved? Because I really can't be held responsible for anything I do after the third beer. Was there dancing? Did I keep my clothes on, at least?"

Smirking broadly, Spike replied, "Oh, your clothes were on for most of it. Only dropped trou long as it took." The kid knocked his head even harder'n I thought, if he doesn't remember that. Oh, the fun we're gonna have with this!

Xander's brown eyes were wide and confused, his voice a bit hysterical when he repeated, "Dropped trou? Okay, what the hell is going on here? Who are you, and who beat me up, and why are we in jail, and…and…what the hell is going on around here?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? Do I look like I'm having fun? Because I've gotta tell you: I'm not. My head hurts and the room won't hold still and I have no idea what I'm doing here."

"Not a clue. Except you're obviously English. Are we in England? Are you the one who beat me up? Is that why we're in jail? Some kind of bar fight? Or I guess you call them pubs here…I don't remember going to a pub, but…"

"Uh…never clear a table saw while it's still running…. Bubblegum ice-cream isn't nearly as tasty as it sounds…. The third season of Star Trek sucked, and the summit of the suckage was 'Spock's Brain'…. Never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line…All the lyrics to Weird Al Yankovic's 'The Saga Begins'…."

"Hold on, there, nerd boy. Do you remember your name, where you live, who your friends are, that sort of rot?"

"So we noticed that some pseudo-soldier types had moved into Sunnydale's empty Army base…"

"Fucked if I know. End of the Cold War? Cuts to the military budget? Abduction by aliens? Doesn't matter. Point is, these other blokes moved in and seemed to be planning something shady."

"Seems somebody caught on to our little voyage of discovery. Decided to put a stop to it."

"Not talking about that business in the dark. Talking 'bout the plan to check this lot out, see what they're up to, that sort of thing. Guess they didn't want us knowin'."

"Never mind 'bout that now. Point is, there was a fight, and we lost. That's why we're here."

"Well, duh. I mean, you're not Superman or anything. Hey! I remember who Superman is, too! I even know that Dan Jergens killed him. But you can't keep a good Kryptonian down, and so Superman returned in issue…"

Xander stood up and began walking around the tiny cell, investigating everything, peering out through the bars in hopes of seeing something that might help them escape, but the room was nearly empty. Only a small metal table, a folding chair, and a black stick.

Spike noticed that the boy seemed to be moving differently than usual. A bit more confident, maybe. He still winced occasionally, probably still feeling the knock on the head, but he carried himself with more self-assurance, less cringing. Spike had always hated the cringing. The slouching. The way Xander had of carrying his body so that it shouted, "Please don't hurt me." It was pathetic.

Truth was, the kid was a lot more attractive this way. Spike found himself eyeing the muscles bunching beneath the boy's gray t-shirt, the long legs, the large hands.

Oh yeah. Those hands on him had been the best thing he'd felt in a long time. His cock stirred at the memory. He licked his lips, eyes still following the boy as he stood at the bars and tried to shake the hinged door. It didn't move.

Spike raised his eyes to Xander's face. That wasn't too bad to look at, either. The boy had a beautiful mouth, all curved and pink. Spike wanted to suck on the upper lip.

"Red might notice you're gone after a couple days," Spike suggested. It seemed pretty likely, actually. He wasn't sure how often Xander and the witches got together, but he had the impression they were still pretty tight.

"What about you?" Xander asked, watching him curiously. "Won't any of your buddies notice you're missing?"

"Why?" Xander's voice was earnestly confused. Of course he would assume that Spike had friends. Everybody has friends, right? Not quite everybody.

This time, Spike's voice was just tired. "Just shut it." He kept his face turned away, not wanting the boy to see his expression.

Xander came over to sit beside Spike on the mattress. He eyed Spike speculatively. "So…you and me…are we…friends? Or…?"

Even now, kid thinks he's too good for the likes of me. Couldn't be friends. No, 'course not. His eyes narrowing defensively, Spike demanded, "Seemed like what?"

Xander didn't look away, but he looked a bit uncertain now. "Well, like there was something going on. Between us, I mean."

Something going on? The brat thinks we're lovers? Well, now, that's an interesting development, now ain't it? Spike raised an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

Xander shrugged, and Spike again noticed muscles moving beneath his shirt. "Well, there was that stuff about 'dropping trou' earlier…and the way you've been looking at me…"

"Like you know what I look like naked" – Spike grinned – "or like…like I'm covered in chocolate and you want to lick it off…" Spike's cock twitched again, hardening further.

He tried to make his voice cool and casual when he remarked, "Nice. Graphic. I like it. You're a lot more fun this way. Should bash you on the head more often."

"Vampire, remember? It ever cross your mind that maybe I was lusting after your blood, and not your flabby ass?"

"Hey! My ass is not flabby!" Xander reached behind him to clutch a butt cheek in each hand as if to verify that the body part in question was suitably firm, which it was. As if Spike hadn't noticed that fact already. "And, anyway, that wouldn't explain what you were saying earlier about 'dropping trou'. So what was that all about, huh?"

"Oh, that was a long time coming." Pun definitely intended. "You've been wanting me for years…hid it under a pile of half-baked insults. Y'ever read Shakespeare? He had a bit to say about protesting too much. You're a prime example of it." Spike didn't know if this was actually true, but it seemed like a pretty good theory.

Xander was still frowning in confusion. "Uh…is this a metaphorical closet we're talking about?"

Spike chuckled. "No, no metaphors. An actual broom closet. Though now that you mention it…"

Eyeing Spike with a new light in his eyes, Xander said, "So…mutual hand-jobs?"

"Frigged each other's love muscle? Spanked each other's monkey? Choked each other's chicken?" Xander was grinning, obviously enjoying himself immensely.

Spike gave the kid a scorching look and said, "Now, see, how I remember it is that I wrapped my hand around your cock, all hot and hard and throbbing, and squeezed and pulled 'til you came all over some soldier's cleaning supplies. An' then you returned the favor."

Xander swallowed audibly, all traces of amusement on his face now replaced by hunger. "Uh…sounds different when you put it that way."

Xander glanced anxiously at the door and shook his head quickly. "Anybody could come in!"

"Well, apparently I am." The kid was looking a bit pink, actually. Blushing? Didn't seem to stop him eyeing Spike's body, though. Definitely like him better like this.

When the room's thick metal door opened a while later, they both turned to look.

Two different armed guards – a thin cowboy and an older man with a comb-over – had taken turns stopping in periodically during the hours Xander was asleep, but this was the first time anyone had come in since he woke.

It was the cowboy this time, wearing his brown leather cowboy boots beneath his military fatigues. These guys obviously weren't really military, judging by their haircuts and such, but they were still in a position of dangerous power…and Spike and Xander were currently in a position of considerable weakness. It was driving Spike nuts.

"Sleeping Beauty has risen at last!" the cowboy guard grinned. "You wake 'er with a big juicy kiss, Blondie?"

Xander immediately rushed forward to the iron bars, grabbing hold of them and shouting, "Let us out of here, you gun-toting Nazi! I have friends who are witches, and when they find out you're holding me prisoner…"

The guard calmly put down his Uzi and picked up the black stick from the table near the door, a dangerous smirk on his face. Spike knew that expression well: the gleeful anticipation of violence against the helpless. Kid's asking for it, stupid sod. Spike stepped forward, glaring at Xander and explaining quickly, "Kid got knocked on the head, jarred his brain a bit loopy. He's even stupider than usual." But the guard walked slowly toward the bars, swinging the black stick casually in his right hand.

"Witches, hmm?" grinned the guard. "Well, Sleeping Beauty, I don't think your little imaginary magic friends can help you now. And you shouldn't shoot off your mouth when you're locked in a cage."

As the guard stepped forward with the black stick, Spike grabbed Xander's shoulders and shoved him back hard enough to send the boy crashing into the cement wall and falling momentarily dazed to the gray mattress. Spike had barely a moment to turn back toward the bars and the guard beyond them before he was jolted with pain. The guard had thrust the black stick through the bars, and it seemed to be some sort of cattle prod, sending electricity surging through Spike's body. When Spike roared and tried to reach through the bars to grab the guard, he was jolted with the cattle prod again, and again, and again, until at last his muscles contracted strongly, sending him toppling to the floor motionless and rigid, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his teeth grinding against the pain.

The guard laughed. "That's what you get in here when you wise off, boys. You keep good and quiet 'til we decide what to do with you, eh?" Grinning, the man walked away toward the door, placing the black stick again on the table and picking up his Uzi. Glancing back toward the barred cell, he remarked casually, "Play nice and we won't have to hurt you again." And then he opened the door and left.

When Spike opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the mattress with Xander gently wiping his face with a damp cloth. Where'd he get a cloth? But then Spike saw Xander rise and walk back to the sink, running the water over the wad of gray in his hand, and realized the boy was bare-chested. He's using his t-shirt. Obviously, Xander hadn't realized Spike was conscious again, because he didn't say anything, just continued moving with that new confident grace, wringing out the wet t-shirt into the sink and turning to return to the mattress.

Xander stopped walking, noticing Spike's eyes had opened. But neither of them said anything. Then Xander walked the rest of the way to the mattress and sat by Spike's side, once again applying the cool damp cloth to his skin. Even though Spike didn't experience body temperature changes as humans do, the coolness still felt somehow comforting.

Or maybe it's just the fact that someone's taking care of me. It's been a long time. A really bloody long time. Not used to this…connection. Not used to this…care.

Spike's muscles were still recovering from the electricity, and so they didn't want to move. He lay there and allowed Xander to stroke his face and neck with the damp cloth, and he watched Xander's face. The boy didn't make eye contact, watching his hand instead as it moved along Spike's pale skin. After several long moments, Xander stood again and walked back to the sink, wetting the t-shirt again, wringing it out. Fascinated, Spike openly watched the bunching and rolling of muscles in the boy's bare arms, shoulders, back…watched the flowing of muscles under the boy's tanned skin. Must work with his shirt off sometimes, out on those construction sites. A sight to see, I'm sure.

This time, when Xander came back to sit on the edge of the mattress, he gently lifted Spike's head and rested the cool cloth against the back of Spike's neck, keeping one hand cradling his head so that Spike's neck did not arch uncomfortably.

"Does that help?" Xander asked quietly, his eyes now meeting Spike's. The kid's eyes were dark and warm, filled with some emotion Spike couldn't identify. But it was there, whatever it was.

"Yeah. Helps," Spike's voice croaked. "Been electrocuted before. Not my favorite way to spend a Saturday night."

Xander nodded, biting his lower lip for a moment. Then he looked intently into Spike's eyes. "It looked pretty bad. I…I'm sorry I opened my big mouth. That guy wouldn't've zapped you if it wasn't for me."

A bit awkward with the boy's intensity, Spike replied dismissively, "I'm sure he would've found a reason eventually."

Xander stroked the cloth along the back of Spike's neck, still holding the vampire's head cradled in his hand. Something inside of Spike just wanted to abandon itself to this gentleness. Xander stroked the cool, damp cloth along his face again and said quietly, "Still…I feel bad. Is there anything else I can do?"

Spike tried to shake his head, but his muscles still weren't reacting quite normally yet. "Nah. Just need to rest, maybe sleep it off."

Xander checked his watch. "Well, it's 8:52 in the morning, and I've been thinking. I figure our chances of escape are probably better at night. During the day there's probably more people around, more of these fake-military jerks."

Not to mention the fact that I'd burst into flames in the sun. But somehow don't think you're ready to find out you're locked in here with a vampire, chip or no chip. "Yeah, night's our best bet."

"So I guess we're stuck here all day. And, you know, you've been electrocuted and I've probably got a concussion, so I think we could both use some sleep before we try to get out of here. The mattress is big enough for two if we scrunch. My manhood can handle it if yours can."

Biting back a smart remark about the handling of manhoods, Spike admitted tiredly, "Probably a good plan." The electric shock really had taken a lot out of him, and sleep beckoned.

Xander tossed the damp t-shirt onto the floor, and then gently nudged Spike over enough to make room for himself on the mattress. Soon, they lay side-by-side, sound asleep.

Spike woke to a comfortable warmth and an odd sound. It took him a long drowsy moment to realize that the sound was a heartbeat. And the warmth came from a human body. He opened his eyes to find his head resting on Xander's bare chest, his cheek nestled in the hollow between the boy's shoulder and pec. One of Spike's hands was also resting on the smooth bare skin of the kid's chest, and there was a strong arm wrapped around Spike's waist, holding him close.

Probably thinks I'm the demon bint. That ended a while ago, but old habits die hard, as they say.

From his vantage point, Spike could look down the length of Xander's body, and he noticed a bulge in the boy's pants. Speaking of "hard." Spike felt his own cock begin to fill and rise in reaction. He knew Xander was probably only dreaming, but the boy's nearness and arousal were delicious, especially after that business in the closet, especially now that he knew the feel of the boy's hard cock, knew the noises he made in pleasure, knew the kid's tight grip and heavy breathing. Spike's dick grew even harder as he remembered.

And then he felt a subtle tensing to the body against his. Kid's awake. Spike lifted his head slightly, enough so that Xander could turn his head, and indeed he did.

Always thought the kid's eyes were brown, but they're not. More like hazel, all filled with flecks of green and gold.

And then the arm around him tightened, pulling him closer, and those sleepy green-gold-brown eyes fluttered closed, and then warm lips pressed to his, a moist tongue tracing the exquisitely sensitive skin, requesting entrance. Spike's lips parted in surprise, and then they were kissing.

Xander hadn't been planning to initiate a kiss…it just sort of…happened. There'd been all that talk about sexual shenanigans in a broom closet, and about Xander secretly lusting after Spike for years without having the nerve to do anything about it, and…well…Xander didn't remember any of that stuff, but he did remember the dream he'd been having.

Okay, yeah, so apparently he had the hots for Spike. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Okay, so he'd been dreaming about Spike holding him down, bending him over a table and fucking him with deep, slow thrusts. So in his dream he'd been begging for more, panting and squirming and arching and pushing back to meet Spike's hip bones with the flesh of his ass.

Or maybe it was just the situation, with Spike giving him all those looks, with his blue eyes all intense, sort of glancing down Xander's body all the time. With them locked up alone together, and all the sex talk, and Xander not remembering anything…maybe it was just the intensity of the weirdness.

And so when Xander woke up from his dream of incredibly hot fucking – his dream of being bent over a table and just taken while he cried out for more, begging please please more – when he woke up and saw Spike's blue eyes so close, staring at him so intently…well…kissing just seemed like the thing to do. He didn't really give it a lot of thought.

And Spike hadn't seemed to mind at all, his mouth hard and eager, his hand absently stroking Xander's bare chest, toying with a nipple, tracing the outlines of various muscles in his arms, chest, stomach. Xander moaned and flexed slightly, wanting more, wanting to tell Spike to keep going, move lower.

As he gradually woke more fully, the kiss grew increasingly passionate, their tongues thrusting against each other, their bodies pressing together more and more tightly. Feeling Spike's erection pressing against his hip, Xander found himself wanting to touch…wanting more…

When he needed air, he pulled his lips from Spike's, panting heavily, his lips swollen and sensitive from the roughness of their kissing. Xander pulled his face away only far enough to be able to see Spike's eyes, and they seemed darker than before, watching him with some deep hunger that made heat curl low in Xander's belly.

Licking his lips, his eyes still holding Spike's gaze, Xander stroked a hand along Spike's hip and down to where their bodies were pressed together. Spike's eyes widened at the unexpected touch of Xander's hand against his denim-covered erection, but then his lids lowered slightly, his gaze simmering with heat, his mouth open slightly, his lips red and wet. He pulled away just enough to give Xander space to touch him.

At the first firm squeeze, Spike's eyes closed and he groaned softly. Encouraged, Xander stroked and squeezed and explored more fully. His hand was on the button at Spike's waistband when he heard the door on the other side of the room beginning to open.

"Apparently not," replied Spike, leaping to his feet with a murderous look of frustration directed at the doorway, which produced a short balding man dressed in military fatigues.

Unlike the cowboy, this guard carried an M-16 and seemed less interested in witty repartee. He merely eyed the prisoners suspiciously and took a good look at everything in the room, making sure nothing had changed. After a few moments, he turned and left without a word, shutting the door behind him.

Spike turned back around to find Xander standing near the mattress. Smirking, he said, "Where were we?"

"No way." Xander shook his head. "No more messing around. I don't want Mr. Hair-Club-For-Men coming back in here to see me bare-assed with my pants around my ankles."

Xander frowned again. "Getting my…? What? No. Whatever that means, no. We need to worry about getting out of here, not about getting 'ends' away."

Spike pouted, but still managed to look amused. "Any bright ideas, then, Captain Amnesia?"

Xander didn't reply. Spike sighed heavily, shrugging. "Could pass the time talking 'bout shoes and ships and sealing-wax and cabbages and kings…"

"Okay. Have you gone completely insane? Because you aren't making any sense at all."

"Lewis Carroll? The walrus and the carpenter? Ever read a book, nobhead?"

"Well, if I read that one, I guess I don't remember. There's a lot of that going around. The not-remembering, I mean."

Xander walked to the sink, turning on the faucet and cupping his hands to get a drink and splash water over his face. "Hey, Spike, you should drink, too."

"Seriously. If we're gonna break out of here, we need to be strong. If you get dehydrated, you won't be much help."

"I'm deadly serious. If you get weak from dehydration, it could mean the difference between getting out of here and getting killed. So just drink the damn water, okay?"

"Fuck! If it's so bloody important to you, then fine!" Spike stalked over to the sink, elbowed Xander out of the way, and brought a hand full of water to his mouth, gulping quickly. "There! Are you satisfied?"

Xander was frowning in confusion. Why was Spike making such a big deal about it? He turned off the faucet and went back to sit on the mattress, his back against the cement wall.

He watched Spike. "Is something going on here that you aren't telling me about? Because you're sort of freaking me out."

Still standing near the sink, Spike replied guardedly, "You don't want to know, pet."

Cursing, Spike turned away and didn't say anything. He saw where this was going, and it wasn't going to go well. Spike could feel Xander's eyes on him as the silence stretched on and on.

"Fine," he muttered, "remember what I said about the witches, and fighting demons, and all that?"

Xander nodded, then realized Spike couldn't see it while he was facing the other direction. "Yeah. Pretty weird stuff. Why?"

Rolling his eyes, Spike vamped out and turned to look at the kid, waiting for the screams and hysterics.

"Bleedin' hell! Aren't you even afraid of me now, what with the memory loss and all?"

"I don't know. It just seems like…like I've seen it before. I know I should be wigging big time, but I'm not. I mean, you could've bitten me while I was sleeping, or even when I was unconscious before, but you didn't."

Spike grumbled, "Yeah, well, I can't." He shot a brief glance over his shoulder at the closed utility door that was the only way into the room. Wouldn't do to let the shady fellows know his weakness. Turning back to look at Xander, face now smoothed into human planes again, Spike explained begrudgingly, "Got a chip in my head, gives me a migraine any time I try to hurt a human."

"Any how. 'S why we got taken prisoner. I tried to fight the blokes who caught us, but the chip just kept firing. Pretty much knocked me flat."

Xander shrugged. "Yeah, well, I got knocked flat, too, so I'm not gonna be pointing any fingers on that score."

"But I'm a vampire," Spike growled. "I shouldn't get bashed up by a bunch of kids playin' at tin soldiers."

"Well, look, okay, yeah, I guess that sucks for you. But let's just figure out how to get out of here, okay? I mean, you must have some kind of…I don't know…super powers or something, right?"

"Everybody remembers that stupid parlor trick! Bleedin' Dracula and his flashy…"

Still bare-chested, Xander shook out his damp, rumpled t-shirt and lay it across the sink to dry. "So is that why you said your friends wouldn't be coming to save you? Because they're vampires?"

Spike shook his head cynically. "The vamps aren't much fond of me these days, what with me fighting alongside you lot."

Xander turned to look at Spike sitting casually on the mattress, his legs spread, his arms resting on his knees. "So we're your only friends? The…uh…witches…and me?"

Spike turned to look at Xander again with a shuttered expression. "Depends on your definition."

"Spike, quit it with the cryptic routine. I've got amnesia, remember? I'm already confused enough."

Spike looked Xander in the eye and said defensively, "You and your little friends hate me, all right? That what you wanted to know?"

Xander frowned. "Hate you? But I thought you worked with us…with the…fighting the…demons…all that stuff."

"Why don't you just take off, then? You know, go do your own thing? Leave us twisting in the wind?"

"With this chip, I can't hunt. Depend on packaged blood to survive. Can't really be a vampire, but can't be human, either. Just stuck."

"See, when Buffy died, I took it hard. Guess you did, too. Started showing up at my crypt, toting a six pack and a bottle of JD, nearly every night. We'd sit there and get pissed out of our heads, 'til we couldn't remember anymore."

Spike shot Xander a dry glance. "Don't think you'd be tossing that word around so lightly if you were all set in the head."

"Okay, yeah, maybe somebody knocked some sense into me without meaning to. I mean, whatever went on in the past, I consider you my friend now."

Spike was silent a long moment, then awkwardly joked, "Bit more than that, eh? What with the heavy petting?"

"Well, we'll just see when you remember, eh? Don't think we'll be holding hands and strolling through the daisies."

"You know, I might not remember much, but I'm pretty sure I'm not big on daisy-strolling, anyway. So no big loss."

Xander was wandering the cell restlessly again. "You know, much as I'm enjoying our little chats, I really want to get the fuck out of here. I mean, these guys haven't given us a single thing to eat the whole time we've been here, and that's been…uh…what? Two days? I could eat a camel."

"Nasty beasts. Better off with a llama, and they're pure evil. Spit the most disgusting…"

"Well, there seem to be two fellas keeping watch on us. A tall bloke with cowboy boots and a little balding git."

"Yeah. Baldy doesn't look so tough, but Cowboy Guy's a real sadist with that cattle prod. You sure it's only them?"

"I've seen a couple other guards come in, but only during the day. At night, it's just these two, and they take turns. So between the times when they…"

"Or," interrupted Xander, a thoughtful expression on his face as he eyed the porcelain toilet bowl, "maybe there's another possibility." Cowboy boots don't have treads on the bottom. And I do not want to even think about how I know this, because unremembered fashion errors of times past deserve to rest in peace. But…no treads…cement floor…

He turned to look at Spike, running his eyes over the length of the other man's body, noticing the black t-shirt and jeans, the red over- shirt, the black Doc Martens. Spike smirked and cocked an eyebrow, enjoying the attention.

The next time the door opened, Spike and Xander were waiting. Spike stood near the toilet. Xander stood near the bars, wearing his still- damp gray t-shirt, figuring that he could deal with a bit of cold if it meant getting out of this place. He also held Spike's red shirt in his hands.

Great. It's Cowboy Guy. Got it on the first try. Now I won't need the shirt to tie up Mr. Comb-Over. Tossing the red shirt back to Spike, who put it on, Xander nodded slightly and thought, Here we go.

"So, you're a big man, huh? Electrocuting a guy just because he's helpless in a cage? What, you going to electrocute me next? I'm not as hardy as my friend, you might actually kill me. Sound like fun?"

Cowboy Guy put down his gun and picked up the black stick. So predictable! The guard walked cautiously toward the bars, and Xander backed away from them, keeping his eye on the cattle prod stick.

"What, even with that thing you're afraid? Even though your friends beat the shit out of us and left me with a concussion, and then you electrocuted my friend…and then you starve us…what…you're still afraid of us?" Xander laughed with pretended glee. "Now I can't wait to tell this story when we get out of here, about how you were afraid of a couple of half-starved, thoroughly-beaten, electrocuted prisoners. Pretty damned funny."

Just as Xander had been hoping, Cowboy Guy was approaching the door to the cell. Xander had moved back so far that the black stick couldn't reach him, and the guard was too stupid to realize he was being baited.

Spike spoke up, saying ironically, "Oh, I think we're supposed to be afraid of him. Because he's got a stick, and he's not afraid to use it."

Cowboy Guy narrowed his eyes and said, "That's right, you low lifes. You break in here, nosing around in our business, and now you think you're better than us? You really think you can take another beating?" He stepped that last step forward, and punched buttons on the keypad to the lock. Xander heard a click, and the door to the cell swung open.

When the guard had taken two steps into the cell, stupidly leaving the door open behind him, Xander did not taking his eyes off the man, but said quietly, "Spike, now!"

At the signal, Spike smashed his foot across the toilet bowl, shattering the porcelain and sending water flooding across the cement floor. The cowboy guard had been caught with one foot in the air, in mid-step, and when he quickly put his foot down to steady himself, the smooth bottoms of his boots sent him sprawling to the ground, the black stick flying from his hand, his head cracking against the cement.

Without waiting to check if the guard was okay, Xander and Spike ran out through the cell door. "Follow me," said Xander quietly. "I seem to know a lot about the layout of this base."

Spike was driving Xander's car toward the boy's apartment – since Xander didn't know where it was – when he asked, "Bloody good plan, Boy Wonder. How'd you come up with it?"

Xander grinned. "You know, it's weird. I can't remember my life, but I know that in issue 8 of Watchmen, Rorschach is in jail, but he uses his jumpsuit to tie one guy up through the bars, and then another guy comes at him with an arc welder, but he breaks the toilet and the guy gets electrocuted…"

"See, I was really hoping Cowboy Guy would get electrocuted by his cattle prod. That's why I wanted to know if your boots had rubber soles. Because my sneakers do, and that would insulate us from the shock…"

"It was kind of disappointing when he didn't get electrocuted. I suppose it was too much to ask for, that it would happen just like it did in the comic."

There was an awkward moment when they arrived at Xander's apartment. Spike was appalled to realize that their approach to the doorway had a distinctly end-of-the-date feeling to it. Something was coming to an end, and the transition was uncomfortable.

As they stood in the doorway, Xander seemed hesitant to step inside the unfamiliar abode.

"Look. Are you gonna go inside or not? 'Cause I'm not standing here all night chatting about the flat."

"Oh. Uh. Right." Xander stepped inside, looking around him in some confusion. "I wonder if I have any food. I really could eat a llama."

"Doubt you have one in the fridge." Spike followed Xander into the living room, pointing the way to the kitchen and closing the front door behind him. "In fact, probably won't be anything much in there, but the magnet from the pizza place is on the door."

"Mmmmmmm. Pizza. Sweet tomato-y goodness, you shall slake my manly hunger!" Xander already had the cordless phone pressed to his ear as he stood on the kitchen linoleum, reading the Pizza Hut delivery number off the magnet on the fridge door. "Hey, Spike! You want anything?"

When Xander had finished placing his order, he came back into the living room and hung up the phone. Awkwardness filled the room again. Spike started edging back toward the front door.

"All right, then. You're home, all safe and sound. Should phone up your friends, let 'em know you're back."

Xander's eyebrows went up. "Spike, I'm not gonna call some people I don't even know."

"Hey, Red. You all good there? No. Well…Yeah. He's here. Now, wait, see, there's this problem. No. No. No. Not an apocalypse, Red. Just a problem. See, the whelp got hit on the head, and he's got a bit of a concussion. No. No. Bloody hell! It wasn't me! No, I didn't take him to the hospital, because we've been in a bloody cage for the past two days! Yeah, well, I would've told you if you'd shut your gob for twenty seconds at a stretch. Yeah? Fine."

Xander shook his head, backing away. "I'm gonna have a look around. You tell her what's up. I don't want to talk to strangers right now. I'm tired, and I just want to eat, and have a shower, and go to bed. No talking. No explaining. Please?"

Spike tried not to show it, but the "please" melted his resolve. "Grr. Fine." He pressed the phone to his ear again as Xander wandered away, opening doors and cabinets curiously.

"Red? He doesn't want to talk right now. See…Wait…No…He's just tired. Can't it wait for tomorrow? He'll…we'll…I'll…uh…talk to you tomorrow, eh? Yeah. That'd be best." After hanging up the phone, Spike tiredly rubbed his forehead. Bloody kids're more trouble than they're worth.

He walked through the apartment, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking for Xander. The boy was peering into the bedroom closet, idly fingering the fabric of one of his gaudier shirts. He looked up when Spike came into the room. "Do I really wear this stuff?"

"Um. Yeah? I was kinda…kinda hoping you might stick around. I mean, you probably know this apartment better than I do…and you're the only person I know…and I'd kinda rather not be alone right now, you know? It's just all kinda freaky, and having you around makes it…less freaky."

Spike hesitated a long moment. The boy wanted him here? It'd been a while since anybody actually said they wanted him around. Well, the Nibblet, but that wasn't the same. "Uh, sure, I guess so."

When Xander had devoured a large pepperoni pizza and Spike had drunk some blood they'd found in the refrigerator – "See? This isn't friendship? How many of your non-friends keep bags of blood in the fridge?" "Well, there's this one git in L.A…." – they both lay sprawled comfortably on the couch, half-watching an episode of "Law & Order."

"You know," drawled Spike, "every minute of every day, this show is on somewhere in the world. Taking over the bloody planet, I tell you. Mark my words."

"Somehow, I can't bring myself to be big with the caring. The idiot box is lit up. The pizza is digesting. I'm not currently imprisoned by any sadistic cowboys. By my definition, all's right with the world."

Xander stood and stretched, muscles rippling distractingly beneath his t-shirt. Spike eyed him with obvious appreciation. The kid really did have a decent body on him these days, and memories of the closet, and their later kiss, caused his jeans to grow uncomfortably tight. He turned back to stare at the television, feigning sudden interest in bland courtroom melodrama.

Xander stretched his neck to either side. "Jeez. I feel like crap. Kinda like I've been sitting in a cement cage for two days, sleeping on some rank ancient mattress.…Oh, wait! That's because I have!" Xander stretched his back again and then pulled the gray t-shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it onto the floor. "I think it's high time this escaped prisoner indulged in the hygienic bliss we mortals call 'showering'."

Xander shrugged. "Hey, you've gotta be yearning after the cleanliness as much as I am, right? And…I just thought…"

Spike's face was grim. "I'm not getting staked later when you remember you hate me. Not getting blamed for taking advantage…"

But Xander interrupted. "Wait a frilly pink second, there. If I hated you before all this happened, then why was I drinking with you every night, huh? And what about the…the thing…in the closet?"

"Don't have to like a bloke to fondle his dangly bits." Spike was looking away, refusing to make eye contact.

Spike's eyes flew to Xander's face as if against his will. His voice was quiet when he said, "I didn't say…"

"Look. I don't know what was going on before. But I know that I trust you. I mean, you're the only person I trust. We've been through stuff together. And I'm…uh…you know…I'm…attracted to you. After that kiss in the cage, I sorta thought you were…you know…too." This new Xander, this amnesiac Xander who apparently didn't remember a lifetime of being mocked, was a lot more confident, more open, more…courageous, maybe. And with that bare chest…Spike wanted to grab him. But he didn't.

"You offering a no-stake guarantee?" Spike looked hesitant, but trying to hide it. His expression showed a strange combination of cynicism and hope.

"Spike, I don't think I'm going to lose my mind when I find my memory. I'm not going to forget that I wanted this."

"You sure?" Spike hadn't moved from his place on the couch, but his body was tensed now.

Slowly, Spike stood and walked to where Xander watched him from the center of the room, stopping when they were face-to-face, close. He'd always thought Harris was pretty tall, but they were actually near the same height, only a couple inches different. Their eyes were almost on a level. After a moment of hesitation, Spike licked his lips and then leaned in very slightly, hands still at his sides, to press his mouth to Xander's, waiting cautiously for a reaction.

The boy didn't disappoint him, immediately returning the kiss with obvious eagerness. Within moments, they were pressed together, their mouths hungrily sliding against each other, tongues thrusting and stroking, hands clutching at each other's bodies, trying to get closer. It was as if they'd returned to their kiss earlier in the day and simply picked up where they'd left off.

Then Xander pulled away slightly, his breathing shallow and fast. He watched Spike with eyes dilated by passion, but his mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "Shower now, okay? Because I can smell my manly prison stench, and it is so not a turn-on."

The shower was warm and wet and soap-slippery, magnifying every touch, so that the simple brush of Spike's hand against his hip made Xander shudder with want.

But the intensity of the sensation also caused them to slow, to focus more on exploratory touches, to kiss more languidly, to run soapy hands over biceps and shoulders and collarbones, to watch with fascination as suds cascaded across firm flesh, to lean and taste fresh water from a hardened nipple, to twine fingers into wet hair and tug slightly, to assiduously wash each other probably more thoroughly than either had ever been washed before.

When Xander wrapped a soap-slick hand around Spike's hardened cock, they both grinned on a quick pleased breath. Xander squeezed and pulled, enjoying the sight of Spike's wet eyelashes fluttering, his eyes closing, his mouth opening slightly in another gasp of pleasure.

After a few firm strokes, Spike took Xander's left hand and made sure it was soapy before pulling it behind himself, resting the boy's fingers between his buttocks. Xander paused a second, uncertain what exactly he should do, but then tentatively stroked his finger along the puckered flesh, making Spike moan.

"See for yourself, pet." Spike soaped up his left hand and reached around the boy to run his fingers along the outside of Xander's hole.

Eyes opening wide, Xander gasped, "Wow. Never felt that good when I washed there."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," smirked Spike, manhandling the boy to turn him toward the shower wall, kneeing his legs apart.

"What…?" Xander began to ask, but stopped when Spike sank to his knees behind him. What's he doing back there? Then he felt hands grasping his buttocks and pulling them gently apart, water cascading against his back, washing soap away.

And then he nearly fell down. Instead of soapy fingers, a tongue was touching him down there. At least, he assumed that's what it was, because he couldn't see it, but it felt smooth and firm and…agile, twisting and flicking and circling until Xander thought he might scream. Occasionally, it slipped inside, and those were the times when Xander groaned out loud, resting his forehead against the shower wall and arching his back to raise his hips, trying to give Spike even better access. The tongue slipped in more, and suddenly the skin on the inside of his ass was one of Xander's favorite places on his body. It was almost as intense as having his cock touched, but different. More…diffuse. Like he felt it all over his body. He shivered and spread his legs a bit wider.

Spike pulled away and Xander made an unhappy sound, starting to turn, but Spike only held him in place and chuckled. "Don't worry. Not stopping." And then a wet finger was probing Xander's asshole, just lightly touching the outside, which had softened and widened with all the tongue action. Gently, the finger pushed inside, further than the tongue had gone, making Xander moan and arch his back again.

"Want to fuck you," Spike purred as he moved his finger in and out in a slow rhythm, letting Xander get used to the intrusion. At his words, the boy's heart rate sped up even more, his legs widening just a bit more, his back arching further. When Xander seemed ready, he inserted a second finger and pumped steadily, murmuring, "Slide my cock inside you…feel you hot and tight around me…"

Xander tensed very slightly, a frown creasing his forehead. This seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't quite figure out why. Like he'd heard these words before somewhere.

Me stroking you like this while my cock drives into you, filling you up, thrusting into you, making you beg for it, making you whine and thrust your ass back to meet me…

Spike carefully inserted a third finger and Xander gasped at the feeling of fullness, the feeling that Spike was touching him everywhere inside at the same time, that the stroking fingers were turning him inside-out with the intensity of sensation, that he might cry or laugh or something else equally embarrassing. Reaching down with a shaking hand, he began fisting his cock rapidly, knowing that he was going to come soon, even if only from Spike's fingers and words

And Spike was still talking in a low voice. "You'd like it wouldn't you? You want it. Want me to come in your ass, want me to take you hard, make you beg. Yeah, you'd beg me for it, wouldn't you?"

Yeah, you'd beg me for it. Slick me up in your mouth and beg me to bend you over…beg me to slide in, all hot and wet and tight. Beg me to give it to you. Beg me for more. Beg me to fuck you harder…

And in that moment, Spike's words flipped some sort of mental switch, and Xander suddenly remembered. Remembered everything. The closet at the Army base. Willow. Drinking with Spike at the crypt. His third grade teacher, Mrs. Kretsinger, and her fascination with President Chester A. Arthur. His carpentry job at the construction company. His break-up with Anya. Buffy's death. Doing the Snoopy dance every Christmas.

And at the same moment, physical sensation overcame him and he bucked and cried out and came all over the shower wall with Spike's fingers still in his ass.

Xander rested for a long moment, his forehead against the wall, his legs still spread, his mind racing, as Spike rose to stand behind him. Turning only his head, Xander stared at Spike in recognition, in disbelief at all that had happened between them, in horror at what this might mean for his life.

So, what, I'm gay now? I'm a gay vampire-lover? I just let a guy vampire lick my ass. And I liked it.

And, in the instant after their eyes met, in the instant that Xander's shock and horror registered, Spike's expression went from warm and hungry to cold and distant. "Right," he said abruptly, stepping out of the shower with no further discussion, dripping on the floor. "Fucked some sense into you, did I? Remembered everything? Guess that's my cue to bugger off."

Somehow, Xander couldn't bring himself to say anything. He knew he was probably acting like a prick, but he just couldn't help wishing that none of this had ever happened. He wished he could go back to what his life was before they'd ever gone to that stupid Army base, before they'd ever hid in that closet, before he'd ever kissed Spike and…wanted him. Because he didn't want to want Spike. Numbly, he just watched the vampire in question quickly towel himself dry and stride nude from the bathroom.

Xander turned off the water and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself and following Spike into the bedroom, where he was already pulling on his black jeans with some difficulty because of his still-damp skin. His movements were jerky with some emotion, anger or frustration or something else even more complicated…like hurt. Or maybe betrayal. He wasn't looking at Xander. Xander just watched.

When he'd gotten all his clothes pulled on, Spike stood and smiled sardonically. "Cheers for the hospitality, mate. Guess I'll be on my way."

And Xander sat on the bed and stared dazedly into space, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do now.

It was three weeks later that Xander first went to the crypt looking for Spike. No luck. He hung around for a couple hours, sitting in Spike's chair, watching Spike's TV, nervously drinking Spike's beer, but the vamp himself never showed up.

On Friday night after work, he showed up at the empty crypt again, this time with a six-pack of beer and a bottle of Jack Daniels, determined to stay until Spike appeared. Figuring that Spike was probably out on patrol or something, Xander once again made himself comfortable and turned on the television.

"Law & Order," he muttered in disdain. "Spike was right. This show's taking over the world." He changed the channels until he found an episode of "The Simpsons," then settled down with a beer. He was feeling more than a little nervous about seeing Spike again, and alcohol seemed to soothe the flutterings in his stomach.

Ever since the shower, he'd been dreaming about Spike, incredible sex dreams that left him a little dazed and aroused all day long afterward. He couldn't count the number of times he'd had to hide sudden physical reactions to the memories. The guys at work had probably noticed, probably figured he had a new girlfriend or something. It was embarrassing.

But, after a lot of thinking, and a lot of talking with Willow, he'd finally admitted that he'd liked what happened in the closet with Spike. And he'd liked what happened in the shower with Spike. And…yeah, okay…he'd like to do more with Spike. Because it didn't necessarily mean he was gay, since he liked women, too, but maybe he was bi or something.

The way Willow had explained it, it didn't matter what label you put on something: bi or gay or straight or whatever. What mattered is whether you felt attracted to someone or not. And if you liked them.

Xander was definitely attracted to Spike. He'd admitted it to himself, and he was here to admit it to Spike, too. He couldn't pretend the dreams didn't mean anything, especially when he found himself thinking about them all the time while he was awake, getting excited by them, jerking off thinking about them. So he'd eventually, after much angsting, admitted it to himself: he wanted to have sex with Spike.

And Xander had realized that he sort of liked Spike, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spent so much time at his crypt last summer after Buffy died. And he wouldn't have gotten along with him so well when he had amnesia, when he was just dealing with Spike as he was now, rather than holding his whole past against him.

Because, really, the stuff he'd said when he hadn't remembered anything had been pretty accurate. Spike had been working with them for more than a year now, taking care of Dawn, saving their lives, fighting the good fight, and he deserved to be treated like a person because of it. He deserved to be treated like a friend. Or more.

When Spike arrived home just before sunrise, Xander was giggling at an old episode of "Remington Steele." When he saw Spike, Xander gestured at the television screen and slurred, "Y'know, Pierce Bros'an 's really hot. Mebbe 's the English accent."

Spike stood motionless in the doorway, eyeing the boy warily. "What're you doing here, Harris? And why's my crypt stink like a brewery?"

Xander held up the partly-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "Dutch courage!" he exclaimed loudly. "Figger'd you'd be mad. Needed a li'l drink t' help me out."

Spike raised an eyebrow, noticing the empty beer cans around Xander's feet. "Looks like you've had more than a 'little' drink."

"Dutch courage. Hey, wha's tha' 'bout? 'M not Dutch. D' Dutch people drink 'lot? They real courageous? Neve' heard o' them bein' particlarly brave. Mebbe only when'ey drink? Iss tha' why's called 'Dutch courage'?"

"Been thinkin' alot, an' I wan' you t' fuck me, Spike. 'S why I came. You said you wan'ed me t' beg, so I'm beggin'. Fuck me, Spike. Please?"

Spike's eyes narrowed as he frowned. "You're pissed out of your mind. You've got no idea what you're talking about. Not to worry, though. Come morning, you'll be right as rain, all filled with disgust and righteous indignation again."

"But…" Xander looked lost for a moment, then glanced down at Spike's crotch. "You wan' me t' suck your dick firs'? C'm'ere. Lemme suck your dick. I'll do it. Migh'not be any good, 'cause never done it before, but I wanna suck your dick. Wan' you t' fuck me. C'm'on, Spike. Don' be mad. 'M sorry 'bout before."

Spike sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Right. First it's amnesia, and now it's the drink. I'm not doin' this again, Harris. You can sleep it off and then toddle home when you can stand up straight." Spike took Xander's arm and tried to guide him down to the bed on the lower level. Xander staggered and nearly fell several times. "I'd toss you out now if you could walk, but I'm not carrying you all the way across town when the sun's coming up." He pushed Xander onto the bed, and Xander fell flat on his back, reddened eyes still watching Spike with an eager shine.

"Yeah. Le's go t' bed. I c'n do wh'ever you wan'. Jus' fuck me, 'kay? 'Cause you said you would, b'fore. Said you would. Said you wan'ed to. Donch'you wanna anymore?"

When Xander woke, his head was pounding and his mouth tasted like he'd been licking the soles of his shoes. He rubbed his hands over his face and opened his eyes.

But then he began to remember the previous evening, though the memories were a bit hazy and distorted.

When he got upstairs, he was feeling decidedly sheepish. Spike was sitting in the chair, drinking from the bottle of Jack Daniels Xander had brought the previous night. The crypt was dark – I must have slept all day. – with only a few candles lit to supplement the blue light from the television.

Spike was watching "Wheel of Fortune" and shouting at the contestants. "Buy a bloody vowel if you can't figure it out, you stupid cow!"

Spike sighed but kept his eyes on the TV. "Know you're there. Just givin' you a chance to sneak out quiet like. No conversation required."

Xander walked to stand near the television, looking at Spike, who did not meet his eyes. "So…uh…you've been making yourself pretty scarce lately. Haven't seen you since…" Since the shower. Since I remembered. Since my whole sexual identity fell into rubble.

Spike stared at the TV screen, as if waiting for Xander to leave. His voice was painfully casual. "Yeah, well, figured it'd be best."

"Wasn't lookin' to get myself staked, that's for certain." And now Spike finally did look at him, defiantly, daring Xander to pretend that it hadn't been a possibility.

"Yeah, and I saw your eyes when you remembered who I am. I know what disgust looks like. An' I know what it smells like, too. And you reeked."

Spike was looking away again, staring blankly at the television. "Spare me the apologies, Harris. As long as you and your little Scooby pals aren't out to skin my hide, we're square."

"Yeah, square. We're done. It's forgotten. No need for discussion, eh?" Spike's eyes flickered to meet Xander's, and then away, back to the TV screen.

Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Now came the difficult part. His voice was hesitant but determined when he began, "Well, except…here's the thing…see…I had a couple of long talks with Willow…"

"Yeah. About lots of stuff. Like…well…you know…she was into guys…and now she's with Tara…and there was this thing about…she said this stuff…about being attracted to people…instead of being attracted to what's in their pants…"

Spike's eyes had narrowed dangerously. "An' what's wrong with what's in my 'pants'?"

Xander's face heated, blooming with furious color. "Nothing! It's just…you know…I used to be attracted to…people with…uh…indoor plumbing…and so…the thing with the outdoor plumbing, it's just…weird."

"You here to install a loo, Harris? 'Cause vampires don't need 'em. May as well be on your merry way."

"No, actually, whelp, I don't have a bloody clue." Spike's eyes were tired. Was he really so certain that Xander couldn't possibly be interested in him? Was that why he refused to understand? Or was he just being a pain in the ass? Xander decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. There's a first time for everything, right?

Xander licked his lips nervously before saying, "You said you could smell disgust. And in the closet you said you could smell…uh…arousal."

Spike stared at Xander for a long moment, his eyes conflicted. Eventually, he looked away. "No."

"I think I was just sort of…freaked out. I'd always thought I was Mr. Heterosexual, and then here I am, naked in the shower with a vampire's finger up my butt."

Spike grinned, unable to help himself. The kid was so blunt sometimes. Maybe a bit of it was left over from that new confidence he'd shown when he'd lost his memory.

Xander explained haltingly, "I think maybe you were right…maybe I was sort of…attracted to you, even before…and so I acted like kind of a jerk…"

Xander looked offended. "Hey! You weren't exactly Miss Congeniality, yourself, mister!"

Xander crossed his arms and glared. "Can you blame me? I mean, you're slamming me every chance you get, calling me names, being a complete prick…and, what? I'm supposed to take this as a sign that you like me? What is this, second grade?"

"Didn't have to. I remember everything from when I had amnesia, you know. You were…we were…friends. And…more than friends. I can't pretend that didn't happen. I tried. A lot. There was much trying. And much talking to Willow. And much dreaming. But…uh…we won't talk about the dreaming, because it's not important."

Spike looked ready to interrupt, his eyes twinkling with obvious desire to ask about something that embarrassed the boy. But Xander just launched into more babbling, if only to prevent humiliating revelations about exactly what he had been dreaming lately.

"Point is…I guess…when I didn't remember everything about my life…I didn't know how I was supposed to feel…I just knew what I felt then. I didn't remember what a fine manly specimen of heterosexuality I am. I was just…me."

Spike was looking less defensive now, and he seemed to have entirely forgotten about the television. He watched Xander's face. "What're you trying to say, Harris?"

"Look…I'm not asking you to be my date to the company Christmas party or anything…but…I was…attracted to you when we were together…when I didn't remember. And…okay, yeah…when we were in the closet, too. And I guess I'm…interested…in…well…exploring that. Uh…if you are."

"Last night, you just begged me to fuck you. None of this treacley self-image shite."

Xander's face had grown so red it was nearly purple. "Yeah, well, I asked and you said no. I was pretty drunk, but I do remember that."

Spike's eyes were serious when he said, "The way things ended last time, way I see it, you owe me."

Remembering Spike's hasty departure from the shower and apartment with Xander silently watching, apparently reeking of disgust…Xander found that he could sort of understand where Spike was coming from. That had to have been humiliating. It wasn't surprising that he wanted a bit more proof that Xander really meant it this time.

Spike raised his eyebrows and scoffed, "That how you ask for it? Were a lot less stodgy last night."

"Begged me to fuck you. Even said 'please', all pretty-like. Said you wanted to suck my cock, too. Mostly, though, just kept begging me to fuck you."

"Okay, well…see…I'm really hung-over right now, so I'm not feeling entirely well, and I need a toothbrush more than sweet life itself…but…when I'm less grungy and have maybe had a shower and taken some aspirin…uh…I'd like…I want…"

Spike raised an eyebrow. He kept doing that. But it wasn't quite as annoying as it used to be.

But Xander quickly raised his hands to ward off the vampire, insisting quickly, "Wait…no…not right now! I need a shower."

Spike withdrew, nodding stiffly and sitting down in his chair again, turning back toward the TV, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

When he closed the door to the bathroom behind them, Xander realized that this time everything was really different. Last time, he'd had just taken off his clothes and climbed into the shower with Spike, not feeling particularly self-conscious. But now he knew who he was. He was Xander. Decidedly non-gay. Oft-rejected. Never particularly studly. Not big on the vampire lovin'. And did I mention non-gay?

So this wasn't just a shower. It was a sort of commitment to…non- non-gayness. It was one small step for Xan…one giant leap for gay kind.

"Look," said Spike impatiently. "You want me to just wait outside? Or…maybe I should just get going. Head off home."

Xander met his eyes nervously. "No, I do want you to stay. It's just…" he broke off, glancing away again.

"You're looking a little on the green side. Don't seem much into this, now that it comes to it."

"Hey, this isn't easy, okay? I mean, (1) my head is killing me, perhaps literally, (2) you're a guy, (3) you're a vampire, (4) I'm me."

"When you were here last time, I didn't have 21 years' worth of manly identity to overcome, all right? I'm a little nervous."

Rolling his eyes, Spike said, "Just have a wash. I'll watch the telly. Don't really fancy knocking boots with a bloke who winces every time his head moves, anyway. Get clean, sleep it off. After that, you can figure out what the hell you want."

Xander stiffened at Spike's tone. "I know what the hell I want. I'm just…getting what I want is another matter. And it doesn't help that you're being such a prick about the whole thing…"

Xander's eyes widened at Spike's unexpected rejoinder, but then he burst out laughing. It broke the tension, and a moment later, still shaking his head and chuckling, he started unbuttoning his shirt.

When Xander woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he'd fallen asleep with the lights on. Luckily, the aspirin seemed to have done the trick and the brightness no longer threatened to cause his head to implode.

The second thing he noticed was that Spike was sleeping beside him on the bed, and had kicked off the blanket and sheet. He was on his back, and his pale body was entirely revealed, his muscles clearly defined even in complete relaxation. His abdomen and chest, in particular, were nearly hypnotic in their perfection.

He glanced up at Spike's face to see if he was still asleep. Yep. His head rested comfortably on the pillow, his eyes closed, his face as relaxed as his body. With all the gel washed out, Spike's hair had dried into soft, rumpled curls, and Xander wanted to touch it, to find out if it was as soft as it looked.

Not wanting to wake Spike, he reached up a tentative hand and very lightly stroked the blond locks, finding them even silkier than he'd thought. He grinned to himself, amused at how young Spike looked without his slicked hair and big-bad attitude. He looked almost like an entirely different person. More vulnerable. More approachable. Less obnoxious.

Both times they'd been in the shower, they'd both been naked, but Xander hadn't really gotten to take a good long look at Spike's body. He'd always been a bit…distracted. So he took this opportunity to really stare in a way that would have embarrassed him if Spike was awake. Spike's body was so different from his: paler, slimmer, the muscles more sharply defined, the skin so much smoother. Xander knew how strong Spike was, but that strength seemed graceful and lithe, like a cat. He felt like a big hulking lunk in comparison.

When his gaze traveled down to Spike's groin, he became even more curious, and scooted down for a closer look at the cock that lay soft against Spike's upper thigh.

He'd never seen a penis this close up before. Heck, if I could get my face this close to my own dick, I definitely would have taken advantage of it. Probably wouldn't have left my bedroom at all during junior year. And, anyway, Spike wasn't circumcised, so it looked pretty different from the only cock Xander'd had intimate acquaintance with.

The foreskin was really strange-looking. Sort of like a little sock made out of skin. It barely extended over the tip of the penis. Xander tilted his head and peered in the hole formed by the edges of the foreskin, peering curiously at the soft cock hidden inside.

While he'd been looking, his own cock had been slowly stirring and rising. He was half-hard when he started thinking about the dreams he'd been having about Spike, started remembering the stuff Spike had said in the closet. In no time, his cock was all the way hard.

All alone like this, with no audience, not even Spike watching him, Xander felt considerably less embarrassed and less inhibited. Shooting glances up at Spike's sleeping face, he gently lifted the vampire's soft cock in his hand. There was no reaction. Spike was apparently a pretty heavy sleeper. Licking his lips nervously, Xander hesitated for a moment, and then leaned over and took Spike's cock into his mouth.

He sucked curiously, enjoying the feel of the soft skin in his mouth, then poked his tongue gently inside the foreskin to touch the smooth cockhead inside. Sucking more and exploring the texture of the skin with his tongue, Xander noticed the dick beginning to twitch and grow in his mouth. He glanced again up at Spike's face to see whether he was waking up, but his eyes were still closed, his expression peaceful.

His own cock was now aching, and so Xander moved his hips slightly, rubbing himself against the bed while he continued to lick and suck the cock in his mouth. He was now watching Spike's face continually, finding that seeing him made the act even more exciting. Eventually, Spike's cock had grown so large in his mouth that he couldn't hold it all, and so he held the base with his hand and slid his mouth up and down.

Spike had begun to tense and shift his weight, his hips thrusting slightly upward on Xander's down strokes. He was breathing now, too, occasionally making quiet mm'ing sounds in the back of his throat. Xander sucked harder, getting even more turned on as he realized that Spike was waking up, wondering what Spike would do when he realized what was happening.

When Spike opened his eyes, he almost immediately looked down, catching Xander's gaze, his lips parting on a surprised breath. Then his hands came up to gently rest on Xander's head, not pressing, but only smoothing his hair and cupping his skull as Xander continued his explorations.

Watching the shifting expressions on Spike's face, Xander continued to slide his mouth up and down on the vampire's hard dick. It was turning him on a lot more than he'd ever imagined, especially now that Spike was awake and watching. He occasionally stopped to explore the head with his tongue, curiously tasting the pre-come that was oozing out now. It tasted pretty much the same as his own did. He tried to remember all the things he'd liked when Anya'd given him head, so that he could try them on Spike.

When Xander stroked his hand up and down the wet shaft while sucking on the head, Spike groaned, his eyes closing, his head falling back on the bed. Spike's hips lifted again in small urgent thrusts, his fingers tangling in Xander's hair. Thinking about what he liked himself, Xander brought his other hand up to gently fondle Spike's balls while he continued sucking, sliding his mouth up and down again.

Xander wasn't sure what Spike meant, and he knew his own balls were far too sensitive for any rougher handling, so – rather than risk causing pain – he just kept doing what he'd been doing, figuring Spike would be more specific if he wanted something different.

Yep. Only a few second later, Spike repeated, "Harder. Squeeze my balls harder." Xander nearly winced at the thought. But if that's what Spike liked…

Xander increased the pressure with his hand, but only slightly, not sure how far he was supposed to go. "Yeah," growled Spike. "Like that. Keep moving your hand. Feel 'em." Xander stroked his hand across the hairy skin, stopping to squeeze gently once in a while. The cock in his mouth seemed to get even larger, even harder, and it was leaking a lot more pre-come now. Spike's balls started getting tight and drawing up, and Xander knew he was getting close to coming.

But then Spike's hands on his head pulled him up, and Xander asked, "What's wrong? I thought you were liking…"

Spike was panting. "Don't want to come, pet. Not right now. Not yet. Want to fuck you first."

"There lube around here somewhere?" Spike asked. Xander's cock twitched again. He nodded and gestured toward the bedside table, starting to move toward it. But Spike scooted across the bed and opened the drawer himself. Xander blushed.

"Oh ho!" cried Spike merrily, pulling out a thin black dildo. "Somebody's been experimenting, eh?"

"Hey, nothing to be ashamed of. Probably make things a lot easier, truth be told. Got yourself all nice and ready for my cock." Spike dropped the dildo back into the drawer and took out a plastic tube of lubricant. Then he crawled on hands and knees toward Xander, smirking the whole way.

"That what you were thinking of when you were using that toy? My cock? All hard inside you, making you come? You think about me when you came?"

Spike encouraged Xander to rise up to kneeling, so that they faced each other on the bed, both on their knees, chest to chest, face to face, groin to groin. Spike squirted a bit of lube into his left hand and reached down between them to slick Xander's cock, squeezing it deliciously. "Mmm. Hard. Got you all hot and bothered, did it? Sucking my cock?" Xander nodded helplessly, knowing that Spike could tell it was true, anyway. The boner kind of gave him away. "Want to hear you say it," Spike purred.

"I…I liked sucking your cock," Xander replied hesitantly, still a little embarrassed.

"What'd you like about it?" Spike stroked Xander's cock a bit faster, squeezing a bit harder, and Xander moaned in reaction, his hands coming to rest on Spike's shoulders to steady himself. Spike repeated himself, "What'd you like about sucking my cock, pet?"

"You were so hard…in my mouth…and your pre-come…it tasted good…and I liked how you thrust up at me…and the noises you made…" Xander broke off uncertainly. Was he saying what Spike wanted to hear?

"There's a good lad. Tell me more." Spike took his hands off Xander's cock briefly to squeeze more lube, and then his right hand was on Xander's dick while his left hand moved around behind, and began gently stroking the sensitive skin of Xander's asshole.

Xander groaned quietly and spread his legs a bit. Then he said distractedly, "I'm not a 'lad'. I'm 21."

"Compared to me, you're still a tot." A smooth, slick finger slipped inside Xander, and he groaned again.

Xander breathed unsteadily, "You usually do this with 'tots'?" The finger was moving inside him now, making it difficult to think. He closed his eyes, panting quietly.

That caught Xander's attention. He opened his eyes again, looking into Spike's steady gaze. "Really? But you have…before…"

"Vamp's gotta have some secrets, don't he?" Spike's hand on Xander's cock had slowed to only the slightest, slowest movement, but it still felt incredible. The finger in his ass continued to move slowly, opening him up, making him want more. A second finger slipped inside. His eyes fluttered closed again…he couldn't help it.

His eyes shut, Xander tried to clear his mind, try to focus on the conversation. "At least don't call me a kid. It sounds all…freaky pedophile guy."

Xander frowned slightly, opening his eyes. Yep. Spike was smirking. It was kind of irritating. "I don't know. I'm a man…call me something…manly."

"A man, eh?" Spike abruptly released Xander, his slick fingers all leaving Xander's body, and Spike turned over onto his stomach, raising his ass invitingly and throwing over his shoulder, "Give us a poke, then, manly man."

Spike shrugged carelessly. "Yeah, but I've got nothing to prove. Sounds like we can't say the same for you."

Okay, this was getting annoying. "Hey, Mr. I've Got Nothing To Prove, big liar guy, what was all that stuff before about how nobody wants you around? Sounds like you have something to prove, too."

Spike grinned. "Anything I needed proved was taken care of when you begged, so I'm set…"

Sitting up, Spike raised an eyebrow. "Hell, if you want it that bad…" He grinned.

Putting his hands on Xander, he maneuvered him until he was kneeling on hands and knees in the center of the bed. Spike knelt behind him and pushed his legs apart a bit, then reached through to stroke Xander's flagging cock, which immediately hardened again.

Xander felt terribly exposed in this position, with Spike behind him where he couldn't see.

"Lord, but you've a lovely bum!" Spike said, gently biting Xander's right butt-cheek. Xander jerked in surprise, trying to turn to look. "No. You stay still. We'll have you ready in a jiff."

And then the two fingers were in his ass again, and Xander groaned aloud, his head dropping to hang toward the bed. When, after a few minutes of that, Spike slipped a third finger inside, Xander started breathing heavily, his cock throbbing without even having been touched. "Christ…you're so tight. You're gonna love this. Think you're ready?"

Xander nodded jerkily. "Yeah. Please?" He'd never felt this turned on in his entire life. It was like every nerve ending in his body was focused on Spike, on how Spike was touching his ass, on wanting to have Spike inside him. He instinctively arched his back, raising his butt a little higher.

And then the fingers were gone, and Spike was doing something – probably putting lube on his cock – and then a hand was on his hip, and something smooth and slick and big was pressing against him, against his hole, beginning to stretch him open. Spike pushed on Xander's hip, angling him foward slightly, following him with his own body, but his cock was still hovering there, just barely pressing against the opening. "Now you lean back, pet. Push yourself back onto me."

Xander slowly pushed back toward where he'd been before, but this time there was a cock in the way, and it didn't move. He moved back onto it, impaling himself so very slowly, and it was big, a lot bigger than the dildo, but it didn't really hurt, not much, not in a bad way, not as long as he went slow. He rocked forward and back in tiny movements, and each time it slid in a bit further, making him groan every time.

Spike's voice was intense, maybe even shaking a bit, when he panted, "That's right, pet. Get used to it. Get used to my cock. Been wantin' me to fuck you, yeah? Been using that toy, pretending it's me? It's the real thing now, pet."

Both Spike's hands were on Xander's hips now, but he wasn't trying to move him. He was just letting Xander move back onto him at his own pace, though the hands occasionally tightened their grip when Xander slid back to take a bit more. It wasn't long before Spike's cock was entirely inside Xander's body, and they both paused, breathing.

Spike's first few thrusts were slow, careful, testing whether Xander was really ready. But when Xander just eagerly pushed back to meet him, Spike held his hips tightly and began to thrust a bit faster, pushing himself deep into the boy's body with every stroke.

Xander gave a slight twist to his hips each time he met Spike's thrust, grinding back against him, and the movement made them both gasp. This time it was Xander who muttered, "Harder!" and Spike who obliged, holding Xander's hips so tight that his fingers would probably leave bruises. But Xander didn't notice. All his attention was on Spike's cock pumping inside him, feeling even better than he'd imagined, filling him up and stroking him on the inside the way his hands had stroked his cock on the outside.

He felt like he was getting close to coming, even without a hand on his cock. He wished he had a free hand to pull on his dick, though, because he knew from his masturbation experiments that the combination of sensations would make everything even more intense.

He'd no sooner thought that than he felt Spike rest one hand on the small of his back and reach the other hand down and around, wrapping his fingers around Xander's cock and squeezing. Xander bucked, moaning low, feeling himself speeding toward orgasm as Spike continued stroking him inside and out.

"Oh god, Spike," he groaned. "I'm gonna come." He was pushing his hips back to meet Spike's with a slap with each thrust, wanting to feel everything as intensely as possible before it was over. "Oh god," he moaned. "Oh my god."

And then he couldn't say anything, because Spike's hand was fast on his dick, and Spike's cock was hard in his ass, and fireworks were going off somewhere, because he was exploding, and it was the best orgasm he'd ever had. He was entirely lost in it, couldn't make a sound, frozen in absolute pleasure. For a moment, he thought he might lose consciousness. His legs shook, and he nearly fell over, but instead he weakly collapsed his face and arms onto the bed, where he lay dimly aware of Spike's continued, furious thrusting into his still- raised ass.

Spike's muscles were straining, his legs trembling against the insides of Xander's thighs, as he rammed himself over and over into Xander's ass, his low moans growing louder until at last he came with a loud gutteral cry – Ahhhh! – his hands clutching Xander's hips hard, hard enough to hurt, pulling them to him roughly for the final few thrusts until he was spent.

When Spike released his hold on Xander's hips, they both flopped to the bed, lying panting and limp beside each other. Xander thought Spike's eyes looked a bit dazed. Maybe he hadn't known how good it would be, either.

After a few moments, Spike panted, "Well, that was a bit of all right." Xander looked at him uncertainly, but when Spike grinned they both burst out laughing.

"I think I need another shower. But I don't know if I could stand up," Xander admitted.

But Spike's hands were on him again, Spike's arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. "Sleep for a while first, yeah? Can have a wash later." Xander lay his head against Spike's shoulder and put an arm around his waist. It felt surprisingly comfortable.

"You know, you're a really heavy sleeper," Xander said. "I was…uh…sucking you a long time before you woke up."

Spike snorted in amusement. "Was a bit knackered. Some drunk git was snoring in my crypt all day."

Xander raised his head up to stare at Spike's face in shock. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my name."

Spike pressed Xander's head back down to rest on his shoulder again. "Bollocks. Call you 'Harris' all the time."

"My first name, moron," Xander grumbled, not really feeling particularly grumbly.

Xander rolled his eyes, then shifted position slightly, settling against Spike. When he'd just started to drift off, Spike asked, "So what was that earlier about me not hobnobbing with the bricklayers' wives at the annual yuletide soiree?"

"Suppose you would be, with the thorough rogering I gave you. You know, now that I think on it, the chip never fired. Wonder why. I know some of that must've hurt you a bit."

"Spike, you're the one who said we should get some sleep." Xander was blushing again.

Spike rolled his eyes and relaxed against the bed, and against Xander. "Right. We can talk about the rogering – and the pain – when we wake up."

Xander just shook his head and sighed, beginning to give up on getting any sleep with Spike around.

"Sleep, Xander." – Xander grinned at Spike's use of his name again – "Need to be well-rested for all the buggery I've got planned. Not to mention we've still got an occupied Army base to investigate. Come to think on it, there's this closet we could hide in…"

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Closeted

by Kimberly A

Copyright © 2004

kimberly_a@livejournal.com