Xander had finally given in to Spike's charms (and tongue), agreeing somewhere in between babbled cries of 'oh fuckyesSpike!' and 'moremoremore!' to a full week away from work, responsibilities, and Sunnydale. Together. Only the two of them.

In theory.

Because Spike hadn't thought to accidentally leave Xander's bloody cell phone at home.

The sodding buggering bloody fucking cell phone that rang every fifteen minutes.

It wasn't as if Xander wanted to ignore him, he knew, but the bloody white knight complex kept him answering the sodding thing with an 'I'll keep it short. I promise.'

Xander held up a finger.

Spike held up two fingers, and folded his arms, staring at the wall. It wasn't time off from work if work bloody well came with a bloke.

He was giving Xander exactly two more phone calls before the cell phone met with an unfortunate end.

Which it would have by now if Xander wasn't so fucking proud of his work, his promotions, his ruddy apartment. And Spike was proud of Xander, so he put up with it.

For another two phone calls.

Xander hung up.

"Finally!"

"Yes, finally." Xander set the cell phone down, laughing and crawling over Spike on the couch, warm, and hard, and *thank god* still hard that way too as he ground down over Spike's rapidly renewing erection. "You," Xander said between kisses, "are a saint," another kiss that muffled a protest from Spike at being compared to a saint, "for putting up with my work." His tongue was warm and slick and just hard enough dipping and twisting past Spike's lips, fucking his mouth in a way that made him want to open himself wide, hold his knees up around his ears and beg and-

'Friends In Low Places' began to play in tinny electronic tones.

"Fucking hell! No!" Spike made a wild grab for the phone, but unbalanced as he was, Xander's broad hand planted on the center of his chest shoved him down and he thumped back onto the couch, legs splayed wide, glaring at Xander as he answered the phone.

"Harris." Xander's hand on Spike's chest began to stroke, which would have been the dog's bollocks as far as Spike was concerned if it weren't for Sam or Dave or Fred or whichever boring co-worker was on the phone this time.

Spike sighed, closed his eyes, and entertained himself with all of the truly inventive ways he could get rid of Xander's cell phone - until he caught himself singing along under his breath 'Cause I've got friends in low places, Where the whiskey drowns, And the beer chases my blues away-'

*Bugger this!*

He needed a smoke.

Spike struggled to sit up, only to have Xander sit on his stomach heavily enough to drive his unneeded breath from his chest. Xander moved off his stomach to settle between his legs, and Spike lifted his face to tell Xander just what he could do with that cell phone - then froze. Pinned in place by the look of absolute lust in Xander's eyes that was so thoroughly at odds with his calm and professional voice talking about-

*Drywall. He's talking about fucking drywall, and looking like he wants to-*

Two fingers thrust dry into Spike, making him throw his head back with the soft click of an airless groan, eyes widening in disbelief as Xander shifted, pinned his left leg down, and drew Spike's right over his shoulder, silent now, as he listened to the man on the other end.

Xander tucked the phone between his ear and Spike's knee, pressing his free hand to Spike's mouth, and then a finger to his own lips for silence. His other fingers wiggled in Spike for emphasis until Spike nodded, uncoordinated - breathing as the two fingers breached him dry and fast, the sharp pain traveling up his spine in a bolt of *god, fuck! Yes!*. Then, Xander pressed - two fingers in, thumb out, rubbing against his perineum until Spike squirmed, panting with the effort of staying silent.

*Xander, Xander, Xander-*

Spike twisted, trying to get moreharder and Xander pinched thumb to fingers, sparkles igniting behind Spike's eyelids. His mouth opened wide, silent, wanting as his mind flashed to the first time Xander had tried this trick, cock down Spike's throat, rough and careless in a way that would have suffocated a human and only made Spike harder, needier. His tongue worked the air, memory igniting the sensation of Xander's hard flesh in his mouth, mapping every vein and curve in memory and his cock pulsed, dripped - cool slickness onto his belly with a breathy whimper.

Warm fingers swept across his stomach, slick now and work roughened, tasting of salt-copper slick as they pressed to his bottom lip, and then in, dipping in and out with a rhythm Spike's body remembered. He curled his tongue around Xander's fingers, sucking them hungrily of every drop of his own flavor, seeking - needing - Xander's underneath, and bucking his hips up hard, legs wide and wanton, and he could stay on the fucking phone if he kept-

The fingers buried in Spike's ass curled, tried to thrust, but they both muffled groans in frustration at the tight friction, skin scudding and bumping over skin as Xander pulled out.

"Huh? No. Thin walls here, Rick," Xander said in a voice so normal, even Spike wouldn't have been able to tell Xander was naked, hard, and dripping, two fingers fucking wetly between Spike's lips, eyes fixed so hungrily on Spike's stretched hole that he felt the muscles twitch and wink in need to be filled.

Xander's fingers slipped from between Spike's lips, tracing them, hot and cold, until Spike focused on him, and Xander silently mouthed the word 'lube' at him, and flicked his eyes back down to where his fingers had taken up drifting, back and forth along the crease of hip and thigh, belly and balls, never quite touching the straining flesh of Spike's cock that shuddered and bobbled under the scrutiny.

'Now,' Xander mouthed, and Spike stretched, wriggling until he could grab the lube on the end table, fumbling the cap open and gasping at the gush of cold slick over his balls and Xander's fingers - biting down on his own tongue to stay silent when those fingers began working into him again, fast now - almost faster than his body could keep up with, wriggling and thrusting on waves of slick.

One, two, quick and easy, three with a twist that made Spike see stars.

Four with a burn that had Spike raising his arm to his mouth and biting into the flesh of his forearm, eyes rolled back in his head as he jammed his body down onto those invading fingers to the casual drone of Xander's 'uh huh's and 'yeah's on the phone.

Five brought tears of disbelief to Spike's eyes and he snapped his head up to stare at Xander, shuddering all over as he felt the sturdy thumb breach his hole, tucked into the curve of Xander's broad hand, shallow thrusts - slow in and out, stretching, stretching-

And Spike's fangs sank into his arm, the sharp slicing an icy counterpoint to the heat.

Xander pushed and slid in, powerful muscles clamping hungrily around his wrist when Spike arched, impaled and shaking on Xander's hand, shaking his head back and forth desperately as he felt the fingers curl within him.

*Godgodgodgodgod!*

Good and burning and tight and then Xander thrust, battering against his prostate, stretching his walls and ass until all he was was those nerves and Xander - and Spike threw his head back with a roar. His body became absolutely rigid as the orgasm ripped through him, shredding him from the inside out as that strong tan fist moved in him, twisting and taking until there was nothing left and Spike collapsed, sticky, slick, spent - whimpered as those fingers slid out of him with an obscenely wet sound and smoothed over the come coating his belly and chest, making Spike's muscles gleam.

Spike shivered under the attentions, eyelashes fluttering, licking at the blood seeping from his bitten lip with vague, uncoordinated movements until Xander's hands stopped.

Weakly, he lifted his head to find Xander watching him with a lusty grin, cell phone clasped against his own groin, rubbing over the fabric of his hotel robe that tented blatantly over an erection that stood nearly vertical against Xander's belly.

Slowly - deliberately - Xander turned the phone so that Spike could see it, holding it still until dazed eyes managed to focus on the display.

The phone was off.

Xander dropped it onto the coffee table with a wicked smirk, and stretched, leaning back against the opposite arm of the couch and letting his robe fall open over his erection. He trailed his hand over his cock, swiping a finger over the dampened tip and raising it to his lips, licking with satisfaction. "Rick hung up after the first 'uh huh'."