Xander's fingers cramped from gripping the arm rests of his seat in the movie theater.

He and Spike had gone to the dollar theater to see an action movie that wasn't out on video yet.

Because Spike had asked him out again. This time without William's intervention.

"Fancy a flick about blokes with big guns an' bigger explosions?"

Xander had and William called it good enough though Spike insisted this wasn't a date - just two blokes taking in a movie.

Which was great.

Except that they were in a dark theater.

Together.

In a dark and empty theater.

And now Xander knew what Spike felt like, what Spike tasted like - and hello, hormones!.

But it wasn't a date; last week had been a date. A really awkward date with a lot of not making eye contact that only got better when they got over the making of eye contact and went straight for the making of nookie and okay - Spike had made it clear this wasn't 'another soddin' date' and Xander didn't know whether that meant Spike would welcome getting frisky in the blackened chance of the movie theater darkness or punch him in the eye for getting fresh outside of the datey world of formalized opportunity.

So by the time the credits rolled, Xander was out a dollar, wishing he'd worn looser pants and completely clueless what the movie had been about.

So apparently non-dates were no less awkward than real dates.

Except that he hadn't spilled beer in his crotch this time. Though, quite frankly, a little cold beer to the crotch wouldn't go amiss at this point, because they were about to stand up - because who stayed to read all the credits on a movie like this and what the hell was a key grip anyway? - and once they stood up, Spike would know exactly what had been going through Xander's mind for the last two hours.

If only Xander could know what had been going through Spike's mind for the last two hours. Although if Spike had been thinking what Xander had been thinking, wouldn't Spike have stopped thinking and started doing? Wasn't Spike Mr. Action Guy? Mr. Want-Take-Have? He had been last time.

Whereas Xander seemed to be Mr. Want-Wait-Think-about-it-just-a-little-bit-more. Which was a much less sexy motto.

And they were walking now, out the front of the building and down the sidewalk, and Spike was just as cool as a cucumber, while Xander was about as hot and bothered as - well, whatever vegetable was hot and bothered.

And it was damned annoying was what it was. Because Xander was halfway to crazy from his own thoughts and so much sexual frustration that you'd think he wasn't actually getting any at home, though he was. Often.

But even if the two bodies looked the same, Xander's body knew they were different. And it wanted each. Wanted both. Wanted.

Looser pants for a start.

Wanted.

Spike.

*Fuck it.*

"Oi! Watch where you're goin' wanker!" Spike stumbled as Xander bumped into him - and kept bumping into him until Spike staggered into the alley way and Xander pinned him hard against a wall with a kiss that had more in common with wanttakehave than may I please, sir? "What," Spike panted when Xander let up for breath, eyes dark and hungry, "the fuck was that?"

Spike didn't give Xander time to answer. He got his hands into Xander's hair, grabbed and yanked him back into the kiss, shoved a knee between Xander's and ground against him. "Fuck fuck fuckin' tight bloody jeans." Words muttered and mumbled into the kiss, one hand leaving Xander's hair to fumble between them frantically to free a boner that -

*Thank god!* - matched Xander's.

"Thank God," Xander groaned against Spike's mouth. "And, hey, would it kill you to give a guy a sign?"

Xander pushed into Spike and it hurt and he was just about to release himself from his own tight jeans when he heard footsteps and voices. He angled to shield Spike's public indecency from view until they passed and receded, then dragged Spike deeper and darker into the shadows.

"What are you on about, mate?"

Xander tried to remember what he was "on about," but Spike's teeth in his neck weren't stimulating his memory - which was about the only part of Xander they weren't stimulating. Spike's neck fetish - ah, yes, he remembered it well. And, hey, he remembered what he was on about.

"Just saying," he gasped, "we - we could have been doing this a lot sooner if you weren't so - so damn cucumber like."

"Mind speakin' English, pet?"

"'Course not, Spike. Feel free."

"Oi. My English's bloody brilliant, you wanker."

"Not - gonna have anything left to wank if you don't help me get these buttons open." And who the hell had invented tight button fly jeans anyway?

Somebody who didn't get any and didn't want anyone else getting any.

And thank god he didn't have to care about his fertility rate or whatever the hell straight guys cared about and - oh! - Spike was really good with button fly jeans and -

Xander moaned, sagged and found himself turned and slammed against the wall, Spike's hand around his dick and cock digging into his hip and teeth in his neck and wasn't Xander on top just a minute ago and hey - he didn't care as long as Spike didn't stop.

This was a theme.

Xander recognized a theme.

Xander liked themes.

They suggested there'd be repeat performances and more and variations and things.

Spike was proving creative in his variations and Xander was starting to wonder if Spike was double-jointed. And was there such a thing as triple-jointed? Because -

"Fuck, that's good."

"Can say that again." The movement of Spike's thumb over the head of Xander's cock made the words an order, like pulling the string on a talking doll. A very naughty talking doll.

"Fuck, that's sooo good."

And Xander could feel Spike's wicked grin against his neck, then the return of Spike's wicked teeth. And clearly, there was no good twin. They were both evil. Evil, wicked, sinful indulgences, leading him into all manner of temptation.

*Resistance is futile* said the Borg voice in Xander's head. He decided to listen.

"Next - " Xander gasped as Spike's teeth moved from his nipple, biting through the cotton of the tee shirt that still covered his chest. "Next date, less thinking, more doing."

"Not a soddin' date," Spike muttered as he moved to bite the other nipple.

Xander gasped again. "So not my point."

"'M not like Will."

"Believe me, I've noticed."

"Don't need flowers."

"Good. Can't afford them."

"Don't need lessons either," Spike said and slithered to his knees, replaced thumb with mouth and blew Xander's mind and other parts of Xander too and then those evil evil good good good hands were back and *Oh fuck. Oh god. When did he have time to get lube?* and then *Oh god, I'm being done with stolen lube!*.

And stolen slick or not, Spike's slippery fingers were good things, wonderful things. Things that should be insured for their miraculous prostate-finding abilities that made Xander lurch, jerk against Spike's hold and come down his throat hard enough to see entire galaxies of stars.

Then Spike was turning him and hello, Mr. Wall! Mr. Nice Wall who held Xander upright and felt nice and cool on his cheek. Then behind him, a soft crackle that had Xander's dick stirring and trying to sit up like a well-trained dog because it knew that sound even if Xander's brain was currently lost somewhere down Spike's throat and -

*No! Bad fingers. Get back in here, fingers! And - *

"Ohhhh fuck, Spike!"

Spike was big - felt big - bigger than he looked and he didn't look small and Xander thought he might be a size queen because with every thrust that rocked him up on his toes and scraped his cheek against the alley wall, all he could think was more more more! and whimper in a way that would be so embarrassing if he was the kinda guy who put pride over pleasure.

And this was so pleasure and Spike's fingers were gonna bruise his hips and that was fine - finey McFine - and anyway William would kiss them better and hello Little Xander! Welcome back to today's episode of Xander and the Evil Twins!

Complete with soundtrack of Spike's grunts and soft curses in that sexy accent that only made Xander harder 'cause they said 'want you' even when it sounded more like 'fuckin' tight - ah yeah, like that, Xan!' to his ears. And right about then, Spike's dick was about the best friend Xander's ass ever had and his dick thought Spike was pretty cool too because this time, the fingers stripping it raw were slick and warm and Xander was so not gonna last and something went supernova inside his skull and Spike bit him and oh fuck that only made it better and how the hell was he gonna explain it to Faith when he called her from jail at two in the morning after getting picked up for public indecency with Spike?

Because - body limp and boneless, limbs tingling, flopping together onto a pile of boxes in a messy, sated tangle of lips and tongues and shaky hands - Xander was pretty sure they'd be doing this again.