Xander was jumpy, on edge. He started every time the phone went. Spike had called him almost everyday over the past three weeks. Sometimes three times a day. Sometimes early in the morning or late at night or anytime it suited Spike. Days of silence would go by and then the jangling would start again. Spike phoned him at home, at work, on his cell phone – how he got the number, goddess only knew – and e-mailed him on top of all the above.

 

Spike hadn’t seen anything of the house yet, but Xander sent him electronic pictures of the foundations and plans for the landscaped garden. Well, damn if the jerk said he didn’t 'like it'.  Xander would have to bloody change the shape of the main living room and Spike wanted a go-kart race track added to the plans at this late stage!

 

And the landscape gardener Xander had hired? He would have to start over because the 'whole thing is wonky', Xander could still hear Spike's whining tones ringing in his ears. Fucking diva! If he had wanted Spike before, what Xander wanted now was to dust the bastard.

 

Dinner with some friends straight from work, a couple of drinks and he was wearily heading homeward. He blinked at Spike curled on up on his sofa watching TV, wordlessly went upstairs and came back down. Xander was showered, dressed for bed in sweats and went about locking the doors and switching the lights off in his barefeet and bare torso. He dumped a blanket onto Spike’s head, scooped up the mug of congealed blood on the table and ambled to the kitchen.

 

“Oi…!” Spike glared at him, "gimme back my dinner!"

“Don’t start, Junior, not tonight,” Xander softly warned. It was Spike’s turn to blink as Xander padded up to bed.

 

*    *    *    *

 

Coffee, Xander sniffed coming down stairs at noon the next day, and bacon, he leaned a hip against the kitchen island, and Spike at the stainless steel range, flipping eggs. Shirtless and shoeless, like Xander. Except Xander had very decent sweats on and Spike had body paint masquerading as a pair of jeans.

 

Xander dragged his eyes up from Spikes heels, over his legs and the so sweet curve of his ass, onto the sculpted ivory perfection of his back, narrow waist and whipcord triceps. And the hair, not bleached blond anymore, but honey gold with a tendency to curl. Xander’s cock twitched, yelling ‘good morning!’ and he quickly slid his eyes away as Spike turned round. He filled a mug with coffee and took a tentative sip before raising his eyes.

 

“Still here?” Xander asked casually.

Spike’s eyes flickered to the sunlight streaming in through the windows and back to Xander.

“How did you get in, anyway? I’d like to nail that entrance shut,” Xander mumbled.

 

Spike’s eyebrow shot up. He smiled, pressing the tip of his tongue against his teeth and looked Xander over. Spike's eyes ate up the mussed dark hair, the still sleepy brown eyes and the expanse of warm tanned skin. His eyes lingered on Xander's muscled arms and torso, and on the large, square hands gently caressing the work top. Spike wasn’t smiling anymore. He was salivating in the fashion of a bloody Pavlov hound.

 

“Allow me, pet, to nail that particular entrance,” he drawled.

“This is my house…I get to do the nailing,” Xander shot right back.

 

Spike was saved from answering by the ping of the microwave. He turned away, liberated a mug of blood, strolled past Xander and sprawled onto the sofa. Spike sipped his breakfast, gaze steadfastly trained on the human. There was wanting, like, 'I think I could do with a cuppa' and there was wanting like, 'ye gods, give me SOMETHING, any little thing to take the edge off this yearning!'. Spike was trapped in the arid landscape of the latter.

 

Sill feeling victorious over his quip, Xander smiled, snagging a slice of toast and pulling the Saturday morning paper towards him. The vampire was momentarily forgotten as he poured over the paper, munched through the heap of toast and downed another mug of coffee. The whole thing, Spike being here, an unwanted-please!-guest in his home, was so familiar that Xander didn’t dwell on it much. Spike making him breakfast gave him a minor case of wiggings though, maybe the coffee was poisoned…

 

Xander started and gasped as a pair of cool hands stroked his bare back from shoulder to the small of his back and up again. Need flashed through him and went straight to his groin. He started to turn round, but Spike’s strong hands kept him where he was, that and a soft growlly noise. Xander threw his head back when Spike rubbed his chest against his back, licking and sucking at a spot between his shoulder blades. A hand slid round to Xander’s front, found his peaked nipple and flicked at it. Xander gurgled.

 

Spike’s other hand travelled south and crept under the elastic bands of sweats and boxers. He gripped then slowly jacked Xander’s leaking erection. Xander ground his teeth and was breathing harshly. Spike leisurely swiped his thumb over the bulbous head, pre-cum sensually slicking the movement. Xander whimpered. The sensations of Spike stimulating his nipples, sucking and nipping at his back and slowly jerking him off washed over Xander. And what kind of disturbed individual was he that the soft, rumbling growls Spike was giving off made him hornier than hell? They coursed out of Spike’s chest, into Xander’s back and down to his aching cock. Spike ground his erection into his ass and Xander let the words fall from his lips.

 

“Good?” Spike rumbled in response to Xander's mangled version of English.

“Yeah Spike…Spike, so good Spike, so good…!”

 

Spike’s canines dropped and he lightly grazed the sharpened tips across Xander’s heated back.

 

“Oh fuck Spike!” Xander yelled, leaning back. He was trembling and quivering and was drawing in huge, almost sobbed gulps of air.

 

Spike wanted to make Xander feel good, to make him shoot his brains through his cock. Spike wanted Xander to keep saying those things that were setting him at a slow, delicious boil. Which was why he – idiot master vampire – roughly turned Xander around, shoved the sweats down and folded to his knees. Canines retracted, Spike lavished the weeping cock with long licks from root to tip. Xander tangled his fingers in the soft, golden hair and stared breathlessly at the erotic sight of Spike leisurely taking him in.

 

“Yes Spike…hmm…Oh!” Xander chanted, mindless.

 

Spike bobbed his head, Xander thrust and gurgled. Spike felt Xander’s balls tighten against his chin and held Xander’s hips still. He swallowed. And again.

 

“Oh! Holy! Fuck!” Xander shouted, emptying into Spike’s mouth. Xander’s climax rocked him, he leaned back against the island, carding gentle, shaky fingers through Spike’s hair. “Oh wow,” he breathed. “Wow, wow Spike…fucking wow.”

 

Spike released the flaccid cock, rearranged Xander’s clothing and gracefully rose, trailing his face up Xander’s stomach and torso and leaving a moist track on the smooth, tan skin.

“Yeah, wow,” Spike agreed, still rock hard.

 

Xander was not a selfish lover; he smiled down at Spike’s crotch and reached out. Spike smartly side-stepped his grasping hands and shook his head ever so slightly. Xander unwisely ignored him, too fuzzy brained to perceive the rejection.

 

“Come on, Spike,” he invaded the vampire’s space and lowered his head, hands grasping Spike’s shoulders. Spike evaded the mouth and reared back, breaking Xander’s hold.

“What?” Xander asked, hurt and confused.

“Signed up for a shag, not bloody post-coital mushiness, Harris. I’m not a girl,” Spike coldly explained. He glanced up the stairs, “bathroom?”

 

So they were back to Harris, were they? Xander nodded, his eyes narrowed and a lump constricted his throat. He flopped back against the island, watching Spike take the stairs three at a time. Xander didn’t know what to think, but he knew he shouldn’t be feeling used; he’d just come in the guy’s mouth, right?

 

Spike stood under the warm spray, viciously doing to himself what he had leisurely done to Xander. Bloody stupid, that, getting on his knees for the whelp. And what were humans like, eh? A vampire sucks them off and still it’s not enough. They demand kisses and cuddles. What did Harris think, that they would now share soft, intimate moonlit kisses? The boy was a ponce, if ever he had met one. A  pouf; gay, bent…luscious, so fucking responsive and warm and the eyes…oh the melting, smoking, heated brown eyes. The way Xander arched and panted and chanted, the way he just gave, it was fucking gorgeous, beautiful. Spike clamped down on his groan and shuddered under the warm shower spray.