NOTHING
IS FOREVER 7
by
flaming
muse
Spike watched from the hallway as Xander stomped into his
apartment and threw his keys on the small table by the door. They skidded across
the slick surface and fell to the floor with a clatter. Xander flinched but
didn't pause as shrugged off his coat and threw it over the arm of the
couch.
"See? Nothing sinister here besides you," Xander said. "Though
that cat in the stairwell could have been a serious threat if you weren't with
me."
It's not like it wasn't obvious to Spike that Xander was annoyed; he
was upset about being treated like he was vulnerable, but he was
vulnerable. That shriek of pain at Caleb's hands still rang in Spike's
ears, and despite Xander's best efforts at ignoring life's dangers Spike would
never forget that Xander was human and that humans could be easily
harmed.
That was part of the reason he didn't want anything to do with
them.
"Doesn't hurt to be careful." He leaned slightly inside and looked
around. The chaos of the move was gone, and the living room was basic and fairly
bland. There were no homey touches, which was surprising, but at least there
were no photographs. Spike wasn't sure he could handle photographs. "I see you
got tired of the - what did you call it? - tornado-chic."
"Yeah. It was
too hard to find anything. I've settled for urban contemporary, also known as
whatever wasn't too ugly in my price range," Xander said. He ran his hand along
the back of the couch and toyed with the edges of the cushions.
"Right,
then. I'm off," Spike said.
"Do you want to see the furniture now that
it's in place?" Xander asked, looking up. "I mean, you did help lug it in
here."
"Moving the couch out from in front of the door is an
improvement." Spike took a step inside. Just a quick look around. Then I'll
go, he told himself. Just being polite. God, I'm such a
wanker.
"I thought pointing it at the television was a good idea.
And, you know, actually having a television," Xander said.
Spike's
attention was caught by the wide-screen TV that took up much of one of the
narrow walls, and he wandered over to look at it more closely.
"Is your
sight going?" Spike asked with a smirk. "You're too vain to want glasses so you
need a telly the size of a cinema screen?"
Spike's brain caught up with
his mouth, and he winced.
"I'll have you know my eyesight's
twenty-twenty. Or should that be ten-ten? Anyway, you're just jealous," Xander
replied, seemingly unfazed. Spike relaxed slightly.
Xander began to sort
through a pile of mail on the kitchen counter. "Oh, hey, I've got something
that'll interest you."
"That right?" Spike asked. He had picked up the
sleek black remote and was running his thumb over the dozens of rubbery buttons
as he stared longingly at the television. Oh, yeah. Maybe I'll get one of
these. Not that there's much room for it, but who needs a bed when you've got
this baby?
"Come and see." Xander slid a blue envelope out of the
pile and held it out.
"What's this?" Spike asked, setting the remote back
on the coffee table. He reached out his hand to take the envelope and then
snatched it back as his eyes focused on the familiar looping handwriting. His
stomach lurched, and his ears started to ring. "No."
"It's from
Dawn."
"I bloody well know who it's from," Spike said. He backed away as
Xander walked forward with the letter.
"She sent me a picture of her
outside of her dorm. Don't you want to see?"
"No." Spike kept backing up.
No no no no nononononononono.
Perplexed, Xander stopped advancing
and dropped his arm down to his side. "Why not? I mean, you always really seemed
to care about her."
"My feelings are no fucking business of yours," Spike
snapped. Not having this conversation. Got to get out of here. Now. But
Xander was now between him and the door, and he really didn't want to have to
push him out of the way. Humans were too easily broken, and he wasn't sure he
could be gentle.
"Come on, Spike. I know you're soft-hearted beneath all
that leather," Xander said with a grin. "It won't be a surprise to me that you
love Dawn. You don't have to pretend you don't."
"Bugger off, Harris. You
don't know a damn thing."
Spike watched Xander think, and he tried to
edge toward the door. Seemingly without noticing, Xander shifted to stay in his
way.
"If you want, you can take it home and look at it there. You can
take the letter, too," he said, holding out the envelope again. "She's studying
-"
"I don't give a fuck about the letter or the picture." He turned away
to glare at the blank black screen of the television. See? I don't care. Let
me the fuck out of this bloody apartment!
"Spike, don't be
-"
Spike whirled on him and could smell Xander's sudden panic.
Panic and arousal. Now isn't that interesting?
"Sod
off!" Spike growled, shaking off that unwelcome train of thought. "I told you
before; I've put you lot behind me. I've got a long future ahead of me, and none
of you is in it. The past is the past. It's done. I don't care. I don't want to
know what's going on with any of you. So just leave me the fuck
alone!"
Xander's eye narrowed with growing anger, and he threw the
envelope onto the table. It slid and joined the keys on the floor, and Spike
clenched his hands into fists to keep from picking them up.
"Fine,"
Xander said. "It's your life or whatever. I get it. But if you want nothing to
do with me, then why the fuck are you here in my apartment? Why not just ignore
me? Why did you bother to walk me home if you don't care if I get killed? If
it's the guilt in your soul for whatever you've done in your past, I've got to
say just get over it. There's no point in being here if you're that unhappy
about it."
It was a fair question, and Spike had no fucking clue how to
answer it. Why was he spending any time with Xander? They couldn't be
friends, not with the Scoobies in the picture, and they didn't share anything
but a past Spike wanted to forget. Yet he couldn't just stand by and watch
Xander put himself in danger. Maybe it was the damn soul, but he just wasn't
callous enough for that sort of behavior, not anymore.
It was just basic
kindness. It wasn't that he cared at all about the man. He couldn't care for
him. He couldn't matter. It would all just end in misery, and he couldn't do it.
He couldn't.
I've got to fucking get out of here! Spike thought.
His mind raced, and he felt nearly as panicked as he had when he was trapped
back in the Initiative. What could he do to change the subject? What could he do
to get Xander away from the door?
Panic and arousal. Just play on your
strengths, mate. You've done it enough over the years. Just a little saunter and
a sexy grin. That'll take his mind off of everything.
"What do you
think I want from you?" Spike asked huskily. He prowled forward and drew
in close even as Xander took a step back.
Xander swallowed nervously, his
pupils dilating. Blood rushed to his cheeks, turning them bright
red.
"I... I... I don't know," Xander stammered. "I... I...
I..."
Spike grabbed Xander's upper arms and held him steady, ready to
distract him and then swing him away from the door.
"What are you -"
Xander began.
The sentence was cut off as Spike pressed his mouth to
Xander's and claimed it in a harsh kiss. There was nothing soft about it; after
Xander overcame his initial surprise, they devoured each other. Teeth nipped at
lips, tongues thrust and tangled, and hands twisted in hair. When Spike pressed
his body against Xander's, they both moaned deep in their throats, but at the
sound Xander jerked away and stumbled backwards.
Spike panted for air
that he didn't need, the taste of Xander still in his mouth and the heat from
his body still warming his skin. Xander stood and gaped at him.
Bloody
hell. Maybe I'll stay just a little while longer. There's more than one way to
change the subject.
*
Xander struggled to get his brain
working. He had been angry, and they had been arguing, and then they had been
kissing, and he couldn't remember how they connected the dots.
From a few
feet away, Spike watched him intently but expressionlessly, the ragged rise and
fall of his chest and the disarray of his hair the only indications of their
previous activity.
"What the hell was that?" Xander asked.
"It
was a kiss. Don't tell me you don't know; I've seen you do as much
before."
"But you just finished telling me how much you don't care, so
why the hell did you kiss me?"
"What does caring have to do with it?"
Spike asked. "I wanted you, and I kissed you."
"But..."
"I know
you're hardly disinterested," Spike said. "I can smell it, and I could feel it.
I've seen your gaze on me, and I've felt your lips on mine. Can you honestly say
you don't want me?"
The thought never crossed Xander's mind. Not want
Spike? He had never even considered that it was an option to have Spike,
but of course he wanted him. Even way before he had known that he was gay he had
wanted him, and hadn't that caused him countless uncomfortable nights? The
vampire oozed sexuality. How could anyone not want him?
"But you're
not..."
"This is simple, Xander. Do you want me? No emotions. No
promises. No commitment. Just us. Now. Yes or no?"
Xander took a deep
breath and looked at the vampire standing a few feet away. Spike was undeniably
gorgeous, and he was unquestionably sexy. Seeing him if he were a stranger would
have turned Xander on, but Spike, with his quirky sense of humor, his
snapping blue eyes, and his deep soulful self hidden beneath the layers of
leather and snark, was hot beyond description. Did Xander understand this new
Spike? No. Did he want to? More than anything. Did he want him? How could Spike
even need to ask? What was there to think about?
"Yes," Xander said. A
tingle in the back of his mind warned him that he had made the wrong choice, but
his brain wasn't functioning well enough to explain why. He'd probably kick
himself later, but now... now...
For a moment, Spike didn't move, but his
eyes darkened with desire. Xander felt arousal coiling in his gut, and his hands
began to tingle in anticipation of touching Spike again. Xander stepped forward
and met him halfway.
Fuck, yeah, Xander thought and shut away the
dissenting voice entirely.
Their kisses were wild from the start, all
tongues and teeth. Jaws aching from the tension, they drank each other as their
hands roamed. Spike's back was surprisingly slight beneath Xander's touch, but
the lean bands of muscle were hard and powerful. They rippled as Spike slid in
Xander's grasp and dragged his lips along the column of his neck.
Xander
groaned at the sensation of smooth teeth skating along his skin, and he pushed
Spike's coat off of his shoulders before tugging at his t-shirt. Spike's hands
were busy, too, one under Xander's waistband at the small of his back and the
other tangling in his hair.
"God, Spike," Xander hissed as the vampire's
tongue traced along his jugular, and the reality of the situation flooded him.
This was Spike. He was touching Spike. Those were Spike lips he was
kissing, and that was Spike's body he was maneuvering against the
wall.
In his more lucid moments, Xander could admit that he wanted Spike
to be around and that he wanted Spike to be happy. At that very minute, however,
all he desperately wanted was him.
Spike's breathy moan as
Xander's hands slid under his shirt went straight to Xander's groin. He pressed
in, trapping Spike against the wall and sliding a hand into his hair to force
his head to just the right position. Then he devoured his mouth as he ground
against him, sloppy kisses muffling grunts of pleasure. Spike fought for
dominance, but Xander managed to keep control, biting his way down Spike's neck
and clamping down even harder in response to the needy noises escaping from the
vampire's mouth.
"Fuck!" Spike whispered hoarsely as he tilted his head
further back and writhed beneath the onslaught. His hands fumbled at Xander's
belt, and Xander moved away slightly to allow him access.
It took Spike
two tries to unfasten Xander's chinos and slide them and his boxers down his
hips. Both men groaned as Spike explored the newly-exposed skin. Xander quickly
attacked Spike's fly, and they came together in a searing kiss as their hands
roved over straining flesh.
Steadying them both by wrapping his free hand
around Spike's slender hip, Xander began to stroke Spike's erection. The vampire
shuddered and returned the favor by sliding his fingers up Xander's shaft and
shifting to grip it tightly. They pressed their bodies together as much as
possible as they found their rhythm, panting and moaning with
pleasure.
When Xander started to nibble down Spike's neck again, the
vampire gasped, and his movements faltered. Licking his way along the sharp line
of Spike's jaw, Xander gathered both of their erections in his hand. The smooth
slide of skin and pre-come nearly finished him off, and he was glad for the
steadying grip of Spike's hand coming to rest over his. Spike pulled him closer
with pressure at the small of his back, and they watched themselves bring each
other off.
Pleasure rolled over Xander in waves, and when he met Spike's
eyes he could see the heavy arousal coursing through the vampire's body. That
beautiful face, slack with need and so close to his, was the final straw. He
felt his release spiral through his gut and explode outward in a fiery burst.
His entirely body pulsing with his orgasm, he fell against Spike as an answering
rush of cooler semen gushed over their linked hands.
Heads tucked into
each other's necks, they rocked together, gasping and sated, until their tremors
subsided.
"Fuck," Xander said breathlessly. He rolled his forehead
against Spike's shoulder.
"Yeah." Spike's voice was low.
Xander
lifted his head and nuzzled into the vampire's damp hair. It was Spike. He was
draped against Spike. He couldn't help but smile.
"So, want to see the
bedroom?" he asked with a laugh.
Spike stilled.
"Got to be off.
There's work to be done," Spike said. He began to disentangle himself from
Xander and looked unhappily at his semen-covered hand. Using his other hand to
close his jeans, he walked into the kitchen and turned on the
sink.
"Spike...," Xander said, fastening his own pants and watching him
from across the counter.
"It was nice, Harris. Worked like a
charm."
Spike dried his hands on the dishtowel and sauntered back into
the living room to pick up his stupid short leather coat from the
floor.
"You're just going to leave?"
"I've got things to do,"
Spike said.
"But -"
"Don't make this more than it is," he said and
walked out of the apartment without a backward glance.
Xander leaned
heavily against the counter and ran his non-sticky hand over his
face.
Back in Sunnydale, we couldn't get the guy to leave, but now I
can't get him to stay, Xander thought, the surge of pleasure at his orgasm
overwhelmed by the bitter swell of disappointment in his heart. Why do I get
the feeling I don't know this Spike at all?PART
8
