Suki Blue Fiction

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Chapter 23

 
Spike waited for Buffy and Willow to leave before he went back inside the mansion. He’d been pacing the main room when he’d caught the scent of blood, Buffy and Angel, and he’d slipped out quickly and watched as they trailed past, half carrying a very dopey looking Xander.

It had been almost too good to be true.

They’d only stayed for a minimal amount of time, during which Spike had nipped to the shops and back for supplies.

He stepped inside the mansion and inhaled deeply. Fresh blood. Not much, but enough to make his belly growl. He licked his lips and made his way upstairs.

“No.” Angel crossed his arms and blocked the top of the staircase.

Spike stopped three steps from the top. “What?! I haven’t done anything!”

“And you won’t be doing anything, either.”

“Oh, well, there’s logic for you.” Spike climbed two more steps and tried to barge his way past Angel.

“I said no.” Angel grabbed Spike’s arms and pushed him back. He didn’t let go.

“Put him in my room, did you?” Spike asked.

“My room.”

“Right. Any objections to me getting to my bloody room, then? Prat.”

Warily, Angel released his grasp on Spike’s arms and stepped aside.

“Ta, muchly.” Spike walked casually past and then diverted at the last second, making a heroic dive for Angel’s room.

Angel just about caught Spike’s coat-tail and he cursed softly as Spike shrugged out of the duster and smoothly slipped into the room.

“Give me strength,” Angel muttered. He leaned on the doorjamb and pierced Spike with a warning glare.

Spike barely spared him the moment it took to stick two fingers up. He wasn’t bothered at all. Let him stare all he wanted.

Spike was more than happy to admit that he’d made some shaky choices over the last century. There were times when the great William the Bloody had behaved like a village idiot. But Spike wasn’t actually an idiot and he couldn’t blame Angel for wanting to keep him away from Xander.

Spike was a holpless romantic, had been even when he was human. It was a trait that had never faded and never would. When he committed to someone, he didn’t let go easily. Drusilla had been hard work, but he’d loved her so much and would never have left her – not in a million years. He would never have left Angel or Darla either; they had left him, and Spike really couldn’t say that hadn’t hurt.

Spike was feeling those things again. The beat of Xander’s heart tugged at him even when he couldn’t hear it and even though he knew it was crazy, that it must be too soon, he let it pull at him and lull him into a soft blanket of warmth. It was a warmth that he needed so much to feel. Spike hated the cold.

“Be careful,” Angel warned from behind him.

Spike shot an irritated glare over his shoulder. “Not gonna fucking do nothing. Leave me alone.” He squatted down by the bed – eye level with a dozing Xander – and reached out to stroke Xander’s hair out of his eyes.

The other thing about Spike was that he was a little bit psychotic, a little bit enthusiastic and a little bit dangerous. And he always stepped over the line. That was why Angel hovered behind him. That was why Angel was not going to leave them alone together.

Angel was waiting for that step because he knew it was coming, like it always did.

But not this time, Spike thought. He’d prove that stupid git wrong.

Xander stirred and his eyes flickered open and shut, open and shut. They opened again and Xander squinted to focus.

“Hello again, luv,” Spike said.

“Hi, Spike.” Xander’s words were breathed more than spoken.

“How you feeling?” Spike asked. Angel walked around the bed and stood at the end. He seemed interested in the answer.

“Um, like I’ve been attacked by a vampire?” Xander rolled onto his side and blinked lazily. “I think the sidewalk attacked me, too.”

Spike sat on the bed and brushed Xander’s hair out of his eyes again. “Feel sick?”

“Kinda. Can I throw up on Angel’s bedspread if I have to?”

“’Course you can, pet.” They shared a conspiratorial grin just before Spike patted the bed. “Right. Sit up for a while.”

“No, I’m tired,” Xander complained.

“Really? Nice to meet you, Tired; my name is Sit the Fuck Up Before I Drag You Up. Gotta make sure you’re not about to cark it. Head injury and all that.”

Xander groaned and tried to sit up. “I hate you.”

Spike reached out to help him. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But I might later. You may wanna check back with me.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Ow,” Xander complained. He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead and sighed dramatically. “Why is it always me that ends up with the gushing head wound?”

An amused smile flashed across Spike’s face as he snagged the first aid box that Angel was bringing over. He cranked open the lid with a loud pop and rifled around inside it.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m starting to get the feeling you’re a mite accident prone. Correct?”

Xander sighed again, dropping his hands onto his lap when Spike ripped open a packet of gauze and dabbed some antiseptic onto it. He sat still and only winced a little when Spike wiped it over the small cut at his hairline.

“Sorry, pet. Stings a bit, eh?”

“Like a bitch,” Xander said, his eyes closing again and his head tilting back to rest against the wall.

“Wake up,” Spike immediately demanded.

Xander jolted awake and rubbed at his eyes. “Really tired, here,” he said.

“I know, luv. Gotta stay awake, though, yeah? Just for a bit longer.” Spike threw the wipe onto the floor and scrabbled inside the box for a band aid.

“You’ll just have to keep me entertained, then, won’t you?” Xander grinned a devilish grin and Spike waggled his eyebrows in return.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Angel cleared his throat.

“What?” Spike asked.

“You can’t stay here,” Angel said.

“Fuck you. I can and I’m going to.”

“Spike, get out. Xander will be fine with me.”

“Oh, the hell I will,” Xander cut in. He looked wide awake now, much to Spike’s satisfaction. “Spike stays.”

“He could hurt you, Xander.”

And he was right, Spike thought, perfectly and absolutely right. He could hurt Xander. He could kill him or turn him or torture him. But he wasn’t going to.

But why should Angel ever believe that?

“I know that,” Xander replied irritably. “I’m not stupid. Do I look stupid? Uh, actually, don’t bother answering that.”

“He’s right, Xan,” Spike said. “I could hurt you.” He traced an invisible pattern over Xander’s thigh with a finger.

“Hey, whose side are you on?”

“Mine. I could hurt you. I could kill you, if I wanted, but-”

“You don’t want, blah, blah,” Xander interrupted.

Spike grinned again. “Exactly.”

“See? I know you so well already.”

“Want to get to know me a little more, luv?” Spike asked with a leer.

Angel made cutting motions with both hands. “Okay, that’s enough. This has to stop now.”

“Don’t think so, mate.” Spike wasn’t bothering to look at Angel. He was much more interested in the boy lounging on the bed next to him, blushing appealingly and smelling like want and a little bit of blood.

“This isn’t going to happen. Spike, leave.”

“No. This is my boy and I’m not leaving.”

“Yours?” Angel asked, probably just to check he’d heard right. “Xander isn’t a possession. He’s a human being – a breakable human being who just happens to be the Slayer’s best friend. Don’t fuck with him, Spike, or you’ll bring her down on the both of us.”

“Scared of your girlfriend, are you?”

Angel hesitated before he spoke. “No. But you should be.”

“Not a chance. Killed two Slayers already, remember?”

“Hey.” Xander lightly swatted him.

“Sorry, pet.”

“Friend, remember? No killing or maiming of.”

“And you think Spike can stick to that?” Angel asked. “Xander, what are you thinking? You know how dangerous this is.”

“Yeah, I do – born and raised on a Hellmouth. So that also means I can handle myself and make my own decisions about whether I want to hang out with the dead. And that sounded much better in my head.”

Spike smirked while Angel simply pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Look, just give it a rest, Peaches. Drop it, yeah? Give us both some bloody peace.”

Angel dropped his hand to his side. “I’m not leaving you alone with him, Spike.”

Spike could feel his patience seriously beginning to slip. He was well aware of why Angel was being the way he was and, really, it was a good thing. It meant that Angel was willing to look out for Xander; it meant that Xander was protected.

It was just that Xander didn’t actually need protecting from him.

“Well, I’m not leaving him alone with you, either,” Spike shot back. “Why should I trust you?”

Xander held his head again. “Oh, jeez.”

“It’s been years since I’ve tasted human blood,” Angel said. “How about you?”

Spike stayed silent for a while, unsure that any declaration of time would make Xander feel better and, for a split second, in a moment of madness, Spike wished he’d never killed at all - ever. “We’ve been meeting up for a while, Angel,” he said eventually, “and I’ve not hurt him yet.”

“Yet,” Angel repeated.

“Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean. If I was going to kill him or whatever I would have done it by now, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed. “But instead he’s bought me lemonade and saved my life twice. He’s not the average vampire. You expect me to give you a chance, Angel, but why should I when you won’t give Spike one?”

Angel laughed ruefully. “You forget how well I know Spike. I know his games and I know his tricks. And I know how much he hates me.”

“So? What’s that got to do with me?” Xander asked.

Angel locked eyes with Xander and Spike felt himself go very cold – ice cold, like he was being dipped in the Arctic Ocean.

“Wouldn’t it be a great way to get back at me?” Angel asked. He stopped and waited for a response.

“What would?” Xander looked puzzled and Spike felt that familiar feeling of dread.

“Leaving your dead body on my bed,” Angel said callously. “Just how would I explain that to Buffy?”

Xander looked quickly at Spike and then back to Angel. There was doubt creeping across his features. “Spike wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Really? What, too elaborate? All those weeks of coaxing and sweet-talking; all that charm and those baby blue eyes asking you to trust him; all that prep just to get you here – you don’t think Spike would ever go to those sorts of lengths? He saved you, didn’t he?” Angel didn’t wait for a response. “How do you know he didn’t pay those minions to attack you just so he could save you, just so he could get you here, just so he could kill you? Are you honestly naive enough to believe that Spike has never done anything like that?”

“You are so full of shit, Angel! I’ve never done anything like that!”

“Bullshit!”

“Fuck you!”

“You’re a demon, Spike. You don’t know how to be human!”

“I’m a damn sight more human than you’ll ever be, you fucking wanker!”

“Stop it!!” Xander clutched at his head and screwed his eyes up against the pain. “Just…stop it. Both of you. Time out, please.”

“You alright, luv?” The wait for Xander to look at him was agonising and Spike was sure he would rather be pecked to death by a Blue Tit than see distrust in Xander’s eyes.

“No,” Xander said. “Not really.” He looked up from his slouched position and for a few seconds Spike couldn’t read anything in his expression. “Why do I trust you?”

“Eh?”

“Why?” Xander repeated. “Why do I trust you?”

Spike shook his head slowly.

“Everything is screaming at me that I shouldn’t. And I know what Angel is saying makes sense. I mean, I hate vampires. I’m gonna take a stand and say they’re not good. So why do I trust you? Why do I trust you when the one I should trust I just want to sucker punch - and I’m so gonna once I’ve got my superpowers. So, why?”

Spike shrugged and put an arm around Xander’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “I have no idea, luv. Not a clue. But…you know Angel is a wanker, right? I wouldn’t do any of that stuff to you.”

Xander nodded. “I believe you.”

Angel held his arms out to the side and dropped them again in exasperation. “The whole world has gone completely mad. And I’m still not leaving you two alone.”

“Do what you want,” Spike said, barely acknowledging Angel with an irritated glance.

“On the positive side,” Xander said, “I don’t feel sleepy anymore.”

“No? Good. How about dizzy, achy, faint?”

“Yeah, all of that. Plus a burning need for chocolate and Advil – not necessarily in that order.”

“Right. Gotcha.” Spike got up and scooped up his duster from the floor. He fished around in several pockets until he found what he was looking for. “Here we go, then.” From the left pocket Spike produced a small bag. It rustled loudly as he opened it and pulled out a box of hot chocolate and a box of Advil. “Got these when I spotted your mates bringing you in. Go put the kettle on, shall I?”

The smile Spike got was well worth the humiliation of purchasing rather than stealing from the local store. He felt warm again and he smiled back. “Stay there if you want,” he said to Angel, his expression turning from pleased to glowering. “Just don’t fucking touch.” He turned his back and left the room.

Not that Angel would touch. At least, not anymore. Spike was staking a claim and Angel was just going to have to get used to it.

Spike boiled the kettle and poured a packet of the chocolate into the mug he was going to ear-mark as Xander’s.

He wasn’t going to think about it now. Xander needed him and the squabbling was going to stop. They could all fight like cat and dog tomorrow but, for now, Xander needed some quiet non-sleeping time. Angel could just bloody well sit in the corner and sulk about it. Spike really wasn’t bothered.

**

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with…‘a’.”

Xander let his head fall back against Spike’s shoulder. “No, you can’t use that letter again.”

“Why not?!”

“Because the answer is always ‘Angel’. It’s an easy guess.”

Spike took Xander’s nearly empty mug of cold hot chocolate and put it on the nightstand. “What are you complaining about, then? Should be pleased.”

“If you want me to stay awake then you need to challenge me, and while I totally appreciate the comedy value of the answer always being ‘Angel’ and the satisfaction value that Angel finds it increasingly annoying every time, I would still prefer to actually play the game properly.”

While Spike was quiet, apparently contemplating this sudden turn of events, Xander shifted in his arms. Half sitting and half sprawling across the bed, Xander had never felt quite this comfortable. It had been a long time since someone had held him; his own mother hadn’t hugged him properly for years.

It felt nice – Spike’s arms wrapped around him, petting, stroking and touching. There was nothing sexual in it at all. It just felt…

“The answer isn’t Angel,” Spike eventually said.

“Are you sure?” Xander looked over at Angel. There were two lamps on in the room: one on the nightstand nearest Spike and one in the far right corner where Angel sat reading a book. It made the room look glowy and cosy and Xander wondered if Spike and Angel felt as relaxed as he did. He suspected Angel did not. Ever since Spike had started his crazy I-spy game, Angel’s eyebrows had gotten lower and lower and his forehead had gotten larger and larger. Xander wondered if Angel would be all forehead if Spike kept the game up much longer.

“Positive. I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘a’.” Spike nestled in a little, like he was in for a long wait.

“Uh…” Xander looked around the room as Spike’s fingertips stroked the back of his hand. “There isn’t anything beginning with an ‘a’.” He yawned and Spike squeezed him.

“Yeah, there is.”

“Abacus,” Xander guessed, knowing full well he couldn’t see anything of the sort.

Spike snorted like pig, making Xander smile broadly. “Surprisingly, no. Guess again, luv.”

“Um, arm? Angel’s arm?”

The eyebrows lowered further and Spike had probably noticed this phenomenon too because he could feel Spike’s body shaking with silent laughter. “Nope. Nearly, though.”

“I got it!” Xander stabbed his finger across the room. “Angel’s chair!”

“Correct!”

Angel dropped his book to his knees with an annoyed thump. “How is that beginning with an ‘a’?”

Xander shrugged and Spike said, “Because your name begins with an ‘a’, gimboid.”

“Yes,” Angel said with an impatient tone, “but where did the ‘c’ for chair come from?”

Spike and Xander exchanged a puzzled look. “There is no ‘c’,” Xander said. “It’s your chair therefore it is an ‘a’ – for Angel’s chair,” he enunciated.

Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Pillock.”

“Right, my turn,” Xander said. He pressed his lips together and let his eyes dart around the room. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with…‘a’.”

Angel shut his book with a frustrated snap and quickly rose to his feet. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m leaving. Spike, if I find his dead body on my bed when I get back I will be both extremely angry and grateful.”

The door slammed behind him and Spike cocked his head and listened. “Well, that took longer than I expected,” Spike said when Angel was obviously out of ear shot.

Xander suddenly felt a little nervous: they were alone; they were on a bed; Spike’s arms were around him; Spike’s lips were at his temple.

Okay, so Xander was more than a little nervous. He was scared – excited scared. His hands were trembling and Spike covered them with his own.

“Do you think he’ll be back?” Xander asked.

“Not yet. We’ve got time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for this.”

As Spike’s hand touched his jaw, Xander turned in his arms and let Spike kiss him. It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d kissed but somehow it did feel different. This was so slow and careful and Xander got a feeling similar to the one you get when you are cherished. He opened his mouth and as Spike’s tongue slid against his he became instantly hard.

Spike laid them down and that was the moment he knew he would give Spike anything he wanted. He would give him everything, and as Spike palmed him through his cargos, he just hoped that Spike wouldn’t want too much.

Xander whimpered at the touch and moved his hand to the bulge in Spike’s jeans. Spike’s response – arching, groaning and “yes” - made Xander’s dick jump. He pressed against Spike’s palm and barely had time to realise that fuckgodohyeah he wanted Spike to get him off and he didn’t care if Angel came back in the middle of it before Spike had undone his pants and pulled out his cock.

“You want this, baby?” Spike whispered. “Want me to do this for you?”

Of course, he had a choice. Spike wasn’t going to take. He wouldn’t ever take from Xander.

“Tell me you want this, Xan. Tell me you want my hand on your cock.”

Xander looked down and his dick jumped again at the sight of Spike’s hand wrapped around him. He licked his lips and then cried out as a thumb swept over the head of his cock. “God, yes. Please. Please.”

The only hand that had ever been on his cock was his own, and the sensation of it being someone else’s was completely heady. It was kind of like his own but…backwards?

Spike was still pressing and slowly moving his hips against Xander’s hand and suddenly Xander felt a burning need to touch him, to know what it felt like to touch another man that way.

Spike seemed to read his mind and, with his free hand, popped the buttons on his jeans, his cock almost springing free. When Xander touched it, tentatively at first, Spike closed his eyes and cursed. “That’s it, pet. Touch me. Fuck, that feels good.”

Xander wasn’t sure if Spike was lying or not – he certainly looked as though he was enjoying himself – but Xander also didn’t entirely care. Why would he when his own cock was feeling so good and so fucking perfect?

Spike kissed him again and this time there was much more heat to it. It was deep and a little bit desperate and Xander knew he was whimpering and groaning but it didn’t matter because Spike was making the same noises and his hips were thrusting just as fast.

“Spike…Spike…I – oh my god,” Xander said between kisses. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He was sixteen; he wasn’t supposed to last and he felt no shame as that beautiful pleasure swirled around his groin in warning. “Spike…I’m gonna – soon.”

“Then do me faster, yeah? I’m close, too, baby. Wanna come with you.”

Xander couldn’t quite believe he was capable of provoking such a reaction from someone as beautiful as Spike.

“That’s it. That’s my good boy. That’s…fuck, yeah. Faster. Fuck.”

Oh god, Spike was so gorgeous. He was so beautiful. He was the most beautiful man Xander had ever seen and as Xander’s orgasm took him hard he silently thanked all the gods that he was gay and so was Spike.

It was official: nothing could beat a guy’s hand on your cock – absolutely nothing.

“Come for me, Spike,” Xander said, and as Spike did just that – noisily – Xander remained convinced that hand jobs were the way forward for everyone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck and…” Spike said.

“Fuck?”

Spike chuckled. “Yep. How did you guess?”

Spike rolled onto his back and pulled Xander with him. He was breathless and his chest was heaving, and Xander decided he really needed to ask him about that considering the whole ‘no breath’ thing. He also decided that now was not the time to be wondering about such things. Now was the time to bask with no brain.

“Pet,” Spike said. “That was bloody brilliant.”

Xander grinned at him, too wasted to be embarrassed. “It was great. Better than.”

“Yeah? Like that, then?” At Xander’s happy, slow nod, Spike continued. “Sorry about…well, jumping you. Been waiting a while for that.”

“Waiting for an orgasm or waiting for me?”

Spike cuddled him closer, despite the stickiness. “For you, of course. Have an orgasm every night. Only have to think of you and all the things I want to do to you.”

“Good things?”

“Bloody good things.”

Xander smiled sleepily at him. “Yay.”

Spike’s lips touched his again and kissed him gently. Xander closed his eyes and vaguely kissed back. “Can I sleep now?” he mumbled when Spike was done. He felt Spike shift on the bed and then something, probably the throw from the end of the bed, was pulled over him. He was cuddled again and kissed one last time.

“G’night, luv.”


TBC…