NOTHING
IS FOREVER 10
by
flaming
muse
"Where are you going?" Spike asked when Xander turned left outside of Cold
Comfort instead of right toward his apartment.
"Thought I'd take the long
way home," Xander replied, fastening up his coat against the chilly autumn
breeze. "Clear my head a bit after all of the celebrating. That
okay?"
Spike shrugged. When Xander started walking again, Spike hunched
his shoulders and followed without further comment.
They walked
side-by-side through the square, dodging clusters of costumed partiers, and
passed through one of the numerous black wrought-iron gates into Harvard Yard.
Despite the lights that lined the way, the space between the buildings was
relatively dark and still, and Xander let out a sigh of relief at the respite
from the tension of the party and the crowds in the square.
A quiet
moonlit stroll with a vampire. If there were a graveyard, it would be a perfect
Hallowe'en activity. Xander thought.
Emerging into the open from the
narrow path, he and Spike turned to stroll around the long oval framed by brick
and stone buildings. The tree-studded lawns were swarming with students in
various states of dress and inebriation. At least six different stereo systems
could be heard through the closed windows.
So much for
quiet.
As Spike and Xander passed one of the freshman dorms, a rather
unsteady and unconvincing boy in drag proceeded to get sick in the bushes
nearby.
"What are we doing here again?" Spike asked.
"Thought I'd
see what the smart kids are up to tonight."
"Vomiting, apparently," Spike
said. He wrinkled his nose and increased his pace.
"They're not so
different from the rest of us, I guess." Xander steered them along the outer
edges of the Yard and toward one of the closer gates. Drunken revelry wasn't all
that exciting to watch, even if the participants were supposedly the future of
the world.
"Yeah. You and a guy with perfect SATs and no girlfriend empty
both your stomachs one heave at a time."
"Not like I have a girlfriend,
either." Xander winced and searched for a new subject. "I wonder what my GPA
would have been if all those years of Scooby research had counted. Might've been
good enough to go here."
"Well, you did manage to survive. Counts for
something, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, but I lost an eye. That's got to lower my
grade."
"Or show determination in the face of a challenge. They probably
like that sort of thing."
"Extra credit for maiming?" Xander grinned,
steering them down a path back toward the square. "And I prevented a couple of
apocalypses, too. Maybe I could have gotten a scholarship."
"Saving the
world is its own reward, or so I've been told."
Xander stopped in the
shadow between two darkened buildings and turned to Spike.
"You never did
get thanked, did you?"
"Wasn't talking about me," Spike said quickly. He
shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot.
"Still, you should be
thanked. You did save the world and all of us. When Buffy told us, we were... we
were..." He struggled to think of a word that was big enough to encompass the
feelings inside of him.
"Surprised? Aghast? Did Rupert say 'Dear Lord'
and glare disapprovingly at the crater?"
"I was going to say humbled,
grateful, overwhelmed."
Spike shrugged.
"Did what I had to do.
Doesn't matter. Got a life here now. Shouldn't we be getting on?" He turned on
his heel and walked away.
Xander jogged down the path after Spike and
drew up beside him.
"I know what you mean," Xander said. "About having a
new life. I'm not the same Xander Harris as before, and you're not the same
Spike whatever-your-last-name-is."
Spike turned on him sharply, and his
face shifted into its demon form.
"I am the same Spike, and you'd
do best not to forget it."
"That's not what I meant," Xander said, calmly
meeting those golden eyes.
"Yeah?" Spike's features returned to their
familiar planes and angles.
"Not living in the past, especially our past,
is good. It's healthy. There's too much bad back there. Looking forward is
better."
Spike didn't reply and kept walking.
The way that their
strides somehow matched without any effort reminded Xander of nights in
Sunnydale. They hadn't gotten paired up much on patrol, because they had almost
always ended up insulting each other instead of looking for whatever it was they
were supposed to be killing, but when they were able to control their bickering
they had been a good team. There might've been a delay for a second or two
before saving the other from a pummeling, but ultimately they had done the job.
They weren't friends, but they could work together.
But what were they
now? They still weren't friends - Spike had been very clear about that - and
they weren't working together, yet here was Spike walking with him around
Cambridge. Xander had no idea why. It's not like the restaurant provided escorts
home for all of its patrons.
Xander knew that if he asked Spike would
only get more prickly. If he wanted to see Spike at all, in any way, he had to
let him make the first move and hope that whatever he did in response wouldn't
send the vampire running in the other direction. Again.
They reached
Xander's apartment long before he could figure out a plan of action, but he knew
that he didn't want to let Spike leave. For the first time, Spike had actually
sought him out, even if it was just to walk him home, and Xander didn't want to
let that opportunity pass by. He couldn't grab him and kiss him senseless, but
he had to do something.
He unlocked the door to his building and took a
breath.
It's probably not worth me asking, but - "Do you want to
come up?"
Spike stood as still as a statue for a moment and then said,
"Yeah."
*
Xander opened the door to his apartment and ushered
Spike inside.
I've played this scene before, Spike thought as
Xander followed behind him and threw the deadbolt. He felt a twinge in his chest
and fought the urge to rub the spot that had started to ache earlier in the
evening when he had fixed Xander's eye patch. Same keys sliding across the
same table. Same toss of the coat onto the same couch. Same Xander looking
uncomfortable. What do I think is going to change? Should've just bloody gone
home.
"Can I offer you anything?" Xander asked the wall behind
Spike's shoulder.
"Now that you mention it, a pint of AB would go down a
treat. Those little quiches didn't fill me up."
Xander's eye widened in
panic, and he glanced back at his refrigerator.
"I don't have... I didn't
expect you to..."
"I was kidding. Don't you know how to take a joke
anymore?"
"Don't know how to do anything with you," Xander said
quietly.
Spike frowned and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his
coat.
So serious. He's not supposed to be serious.
"Did all
right the other night," Spike said, attempting humor again.
"It's
just..." Xander ran a hand through his hair but kept his focus on Spike as he
spoke. "This is strange. Us, I mean. Because you don't want to be friends, but
you're acting kind of friendly, and you're here and the other night was... and I
said I wouldn't freak out so I'd better stop talking."
Spike blinked and
watched Xander squirm under his gaze. This was the moment that he'd have to make
some sort of statement. He'd have to decide what was going on once and for
all.
The reasons for not getting involved with Xander remained: he was a
Scooby, he was human, and he was the sort who wanted to make connections and put
down roots.
On the other hand, Xander was more than attractive,
responsive, and eager. He seemed to be trying to put things right. One thing
that Spike had learned over the past two years was that life was too short, even
when you were immortal, to deny yourself what you wanted if it was willing to be
taken. There might never be another chance.
So what if he's Xander
Harris? It's not like the past can hurt me anymore, he knows I don't want to be
involved in the Scooby life, and he can't make me do anything that I don't want
to do. No connections, no pain, just pleasure. Why wouldn't I do
this?
But he had to be sure that Xander was on the same page. Spike
stepped closer, almost but not quite touching him, and took a deep
breath.
"What do you want, Xander?" he asked. "I'm not talking about the
future. I'm not talking about shiny cars and big promotions and little Harrises
on your knee. What do you want right now?
Xander's skin flushed with
arousal, and Spike could hear his pulse racing.
"Right
now?"
"Yeah."
Xander swallowed audibly and licked his
lips.
Say me. Say me. For once, say me.
"I... uh..." Xander
looked away and then back. He squared his shoulders. "Right now, I want to kiss
you."
Too bloody right.
"So what's stopping you?" Spike
asked.
His brow furrowed, Xander searched Spike's face and then reached
up to trace his fingers over Spike's cheek. Spike shuddered slightly at the
sensation and managed not to lean into the touch.
"Nothing," Xander
murmured, and closed the distance between them.
They slid together,
melting into each other as they exchanged long, greedy kisses. Their tongues
swirled and delved as their hands roamed, tugging out shirts from waistbands,
pushing Spike's jacket off of his shoulders, tangling in hair, pulling at hard
backs and buttocks to get even closer.
Spike forgot about his concerns,
forgot about the ache in his chest, and lost himself in the deep kisses and
eager caresses. He touched everywhere he could reach and plunged his tongue
further into Xander's mouth. It wasn't enough. It was never
enough.
Gasping for air and unsteady on his feet, Xander pulled away
slightly from the embrace but kept his arms firmly around Spike.
"I need
to... I need to...," he stammered, resting his forehead against
Spike's.
"Take off some clothes?" Spike suggested.
Xander laughed
breathlessly.
"I was going to say sit down, but that works."
"How
'bout both?"
"Couch? Bedroom?" Xander asked.
Spike could feel the
tension in Xander's body at that last question, and he stroked his back
soothingly beneath his shirt. He wasn't going to refuse this time.
"I
like room to work," Spike said. "Bedroom."
Xander untangled himself
slightly and guided them along the hallway with a hand on Spike's arm. Spike
stood in the doorway as Xander set the room to rights, turning on a bedside lamp
and tossing clothes off of the deep blue comforter.
Spike could see that
Xander was nervous, but the man didn't pause for a second after he was done. He
strode over to Spike, slid his hands around his waist, and kissed him hard.
Spike let himself be pushed against the doorframe and be devoured, happy to be
desired and enjoyed, but Xander broke off quickly.
"So I got what I
wanted," Xander said, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Spike's neck. "What do
you want?"
Now there's the ten million dollar question, Spike
thought but pushed it aside. It wasn't time for reflection. It was time for
action.
"You. Naked. On the bed," he said, and watched Xander's pupil
flare. Spike groaned as Xander ground against him once before backing
away.
Without breaking eye contact, Xander slowly unbuttoned his shirt
and slipped off his shoes and socks. He let the shirt slide from his muscular
arms and then flicked open the button of his chinos before skimming his pants
down his legs.
Spike closed his eyes for a second to regain the ability
to speak. The sight of Xander, slim and strong, undeniably aroused and dressed
only in his silky maroon boxers was almost too much.
"I said naked,"
Spike said hoarsely, his body aching with need as Xander hooked his fingers in
the waistband of his boxers and slid them down his body.
Xander climbed
onto the bed and propped himself against the pillows. Spike could hear his heart
pounding, but he was a man, not a boy any longer, and he didn't cover himself or
turn away as Spike drank in the sight of him. Tight muscles, flushed skin,
twitching erection; he was better-looking than Spike had
imagined.
"You're overdressed," Xander said, grinning only slightly
nervously and brushing his hair out of his face. "And over there."
Spike
stripped with a century's worth of practice and slid up that hot body. Xander
arched beneath him, immediately responsive to every touch, and wrapped his arms
around Spike as they shared deep, wide-mouthed kisses. Hands ran over flesh, and
they moaned together as their erections brushed and strained against each
other.
Xander grabbed Spike's buttocks and pulled him tighter, and Spike
felt the world recede as he focused only on the hot body under him, on eager
mouths and hands and cocks and breaths. He didn't want to pull away even for a
moment, and he lost himself as they kissed, touched, grabbed, clutched, thrust.
Their movements became faster and fiercer, and Spike had to drag his hands from
Xander's body to prop himself against the mattress for better
leverage.
"Want to fuck you," Spike panted into Xander's mouth as their
erections slid slickly together. "Want to be in you."
"Yes," Xander
hissed and kissed him harder. "Want you. Spike. Please. Gonna come. God, want
you."
The acquiescence and the enthusiasm undid Spike as much as the
sparks of pleasure that burst through him as Xander bucked and gripped Spike's
hips even more tightly. As much as Spike wanted to bury himself in that warmth
he couldn't have moved away if his soul had depended on it. He was too close,
spinning toward the edge against his will. Instead he dove deeper into Xander's
mouth, ground harder against him, and cried Xander's name as the orgasm was torn
from his body. Xander arched, clutching Spike's arms, and sticky heat splashed
between them before Spike's world faded entirely to white.
A few of
Xander's slowing heartbeats later, Spike took a deep breath and managed to roll
sideways to collapse on his back.
"That's some body you have there," he
said.
Xander laughed raggedly, covering his eyes with an arm and panting
for breath.
"Not bad yourself," he said, grinning.
"Impressed
now?" Spike asked.
"Ask me when my brain isn't melted." Xander let his
hand flop down on his chest, and he frowned. "Ugh. Sticky."
Xander
reached down to the floor and pulled up a shirt. He turned to wipe off Spike's
stomach before attending to himself, and then he tossed the shirt on the floor.
Sinking back onto the bed and curling on his side toward Spike, he traced his
fingers over Spike's bicep. His eyelid began to droop.
"Thanks," said
Spike. He felt the ache in his chest returning, and he fought to keep himself
from twitching away from Xander's grasp.
"Any time," Xander said muzzily.
He pushed at the sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and adjusted his eye
patch.
"Doesn't bother me if you want to take it off, you
know."
Spike reached out a hand toward the patch, but Xander tensed and
turned his face into the pillow.
"'M fine," Xander
mumbled.
Right, then, Spike thought, feeling a chill in his gut
despite the warm body so close to his.
Staring at the ceiling and
unconsciously rubbing the skin over his heart, Spike stayed silent and listened
to Xander drift into sleep.PART
11
