There’s a lot to be
said for air conditioning. It sucks all the humidity out of the air and makes
the cold crisp and sharp. Sometimes it burns the inside of Spike’s nose it’s so
dry. Burrowing under the blankets is a good defense – the vampire as den animal,
curling in around a pillow that still smells like Xander. The moment the human
slips out of the bed, Spike finds the exact position the warm body held and fits
himself into it like a corpse inside the chalk outline at a murder scene.
The warmth eventually fades – his body can’t hold heat, but he stays awake to savor it until the last tiny tendrils dissipate, leaving him cool and alone. He sleeps too much at night now, so his mornings are often spent riding the edge between sleep and wakefulness, hovering in that hazy place where movements are slow and thoughts are disjointed. He surfs the waves of dreams, dropping in and flickering out at random, and he rarely remembers anything specific, waking with vague feelings of half-forgotten emotions.
It’s hot outside. He opens the blinds from the protective shelter of the doorway and lets the sun shine in on the sofa. After a few hours he closes them again and hurries to fall and stretch his body out on the sun-warmed fabric – more like a cat than he’d ever admit. He misses the smell of sunshine. Luckily, Xander brings that home with him.
Spike can hear Xander’s heartbeat – the boy is standing outside the door like he always does. The vampire can smell sweat and sunshine, dirt and construction debris. Xander always waits outside the door for a moment, delaying the sensation of the cool air that awaits. Spike loves this hedonistic streak – he has it himself. The stab of denial makes the reward sweeter. Most humans don’t get that, but his Xander does. The thought makes him shiver and pull the sheets a little closer.
Xander’s inside now, undressing in the kitchen, so Spike arranges himself for effect. He knows it; Xander knows it – neither cares. It’s another form of foreplay, another little denial. Spike can feel Xander’s eyes on him, so he lies perfectly still. To move would break the spell, and Spike knows how he wants this to play out – breaking the spell is not an option.
Xander’s in the shower, so Spike reaches out to the bed table and removes a battered tube. He holds it for a moment and smiles, then flips it open and quickly prepares himself. The tube is replaced, and he arranges his body as before, except that one leg is bent a little further. The shower turns off, and Spike schools his features into the slack pose of sleep.
Xander grabs the bottom of the sheets and starts to slide them away from Spike’s body. In a lightning-fast move, the vampire is bracketed in heat and the head of Xander’s cock is pressing into him, breaching him, inside. They both exhale loudly and freeze until Spike’s body clenches once around Xander’s cock, both fighting and welcoming the intrusion. In one smooth motion, Spike turns fully onto his belly and Xander pushes down, filling and stretching him. Spike bucks back and claws at the sheets. Xander doesn’t give him time to adjust, just takes and takes, and it’s perfect.
It can’t last; it won’t. It doesn’t. Without a touch or coherent thought, the vampire’s cock fills and then empties onto the dark sheets in long, almost painful pulses. Without a sound Xander slams inside and fills Spike to bursting with his hot, slick release. They lie together for long moments, and Spike tries to absorb the heat that is inside him and around him. Xander lifts up, and Spike tries desperately to suppress the sound; the whimper he can’t help making as Xander’s heat is withdrawn. Warmth and weight fall away then, and Spike feels the cool air flow over his body and shivers lightly.