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estepheiaHere it is, the sequel to Pandora's Closet:
PAIRING: Spike/Xander
RATING: R
GENRE: Slash, a bit of angst and a bit of fluff (yup!)
SUMMARY: Set shortly after 'Pandora's Closet'
SPOILERS: Set S7, some time after "Him"
DEDICATION: for LadyCat
AN: Unbetaed. Will be followed by another PWP - hopefully soon.
Spike can’t sleep. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t want to. He’s lying on his narrow cot, on his belly, his face turned sideways. He’s still naked. His hard-on is trapped between his body and the mattress. He doesn’t move. All he does is breathe. In and out. In and out.
The closet has its own stale odor that carries memories of Xander’s old basement: slightly moldy with just a hint of fabric softener. Maybe that’s because of the three big cardboard boxes that reside behind the pile of unused fitness gear. They contain comic books and model spaceships and other treasures never unpacked since Xander moved out of the basement of doom.
In and out.
On top of the familiar closet smell there’s a more vibrant scent: human, male, healthy, sweaty. A very down-to-earth scent that is seasoned with hints of soap, shampoo and after shave – always the same brands for the past few years. Xander is conservative that way.
In and out.
It’s how a vampire commits places, people and events to memory. What Spike is really inhaling is the smell of sex. Unlike Xander he didn’t take a shower afterwards. Spike can still smell both his and Xander’s come clinging to his flesh. He can still taste Xander’s come in his mouth. He remembers the other man’s cock sliding in and out and is filled with longing.
Tomorrow, Xander will tell him it was a mistake and that they should both try to forget what happened.
If that’s what he wants – fine. Spike has no intention of ever forcing himself on anyone again. Vampires aren’t fast learners, but that’s a lesson he’s learnt: Not to go where he’s not wanted.
But he can always go back to the memory.
***
Xander can’t sleep, there are too many things on his mind. He’s lying on his back on his bed that’s much too big for just one person, arms folded underneath his head like a pillow. He’s wearing boxers and a T-shirt, standard bachelor sleep wear. He’s totally relaxed. Every now and then a feather-light tremor of pleasure courses through him, as his body remembers what it’s done, where it’s been. Every time this happens his semi-hard dick perks up slightly at the idea of an encore before softening again in lazy post-orgasmic contentment.
The moment of panic and king sized embarrassment already lies behind him. He managed to get out of Spike’s closet without screwing things up, saving the whole ‘Holy crap, what was that?’ for when he was under the shower washing his and Spike’s come off. Afterwards he made it past Spike’s open room with a nervous but non-committal ‘Gonna turn in’ and a slightly hurried ‘Night’ before shutting the bedroom door behind him.
The bedroom is quiet except for the sound of Xander’s own breathing. Outside, crickets are chirping. Occasionally a car drives past the condo, the only proof that Xander isn’t the only one still awake.
Xander listens.
Spike’s closet is on the other side of the wall. Xander wonders if Spike is asleep. He hasn’t come out, not to shower and not to leave. Which is weird because at this time of night the vamp is usually up and about, either roaming the streets for god knows what or holed up in his closet listening to The Stranglers or The Clash – the music just loud enough to seep through the plaster and the layers of drywall but too low to make out the words or individual tunes.
Xander listens.
‘Take me’ and ‘hold me’ – that’s what Spike said at the end, no longer arrogant, cocky or scary. Xander can almost hear him in his head. ‘Fuck me’ and ‘need you’ – the memory of the words and the unmasked desperation in Spike’s voice wash over him like an arid breeze and cause his breath to hitch and his dick to twitch.
Tomorrow everything will feel like a dream. Xander doesn’t know why, but he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t bring up what happened, then Spike won’t either. Tomorrow, in the harsh light of day, everything will be just like before. They’ll avoid each other, swap a few half-hearted insults and stay on their separate paths.
Xander wonders if Spike breathes when he sleeps.
* * *
There’s a soft knock at the door.
“Yeah?”
The door opens and Xander’s silhouette appears before dull moonlight. “Spike? Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Wasn’t sleeping.” Spike says gruffly. He’s still lying on his stomach, legs slightly spread apart. The sheet only reaches to his thighs.
Xander swallows. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Spike reaches for the light switch of the cheap lamp and floods the room with brightness. The artificial light makes him look even more washed out than normal.
He turns around and sits up, pulling the sheet up to his waist and for that Xander is thankful, because it’s much easier to talk without the distraction of full frontal Spike nudity.
“You’re here to tell me to forget it ever happened. And if I tell anyone you’ll stake me,” Spike says, sounding strangely worn out. He shrugs self-deprecatorily. “You can save yourself the trouble. Who’d I tell? No one ever talks to me anyway.”
“Is that what Buffy said? That she’d stake you?” Xander asks even though he swore to himself never to ask about any details regarding their relationship.
The brief flash of hurt in blue eyes answers his question, before Spike’s expression becomes more guarded. “Why are you still here? Right, I forgot. Probably want your stuff back.” Spike bends over the edge of the bed and pulls out the infamous little cardboard box.
“Believe it or not, that’s not why I’m here,” Xander tells him. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, do you?”
“Well, yeah,” Spike tells him with a slightly muted smirk. He holds up his little finger, counting upwards: “Vampire.” Ring finger: “Tried to kill you lot.” Middle finger: “That thing with Anya.” Index pinky: “Buffy. Four reasons why you hate my guts.” Spike drops his hand but then changes his mind and sticks out his thumb: “And you’re not gay. How am I doing?”
Xander surprises Spike by sitting down on the edge of the cot. He holds up his hand, fingers spread out, holding Spike’s gaze. “Not gay? After what happened I’m not so sure. Let’s just go with ‘open-minded’ for now, okay?” There. He’s said it. That wasn’t so difficult, was it? He bends the thumb. The next reason is much more difficult to let go of. “Buffy? She didn’t stake you so I guess I’m not getting the whole picture here. Maybe I never will. Her call.” At that he bends the index finger. “Anya? As much as I hate to admit it, but I managed to sink that ship all on my own.” The middle finger. “The trying to kill us? Willow got a lot closer to killing us all than you ever did.” Xander bends the ring finger. There’s only one finger left, the little pinky. Xander wiggles with it. “And that vampire thing?” He shrugs. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Spike watches the whole countdown looking completely dumbfounded, then his eyes narrow with suspicion. “You feelin’ alright? You been replaced by a pod person? Popped some happy pills?”
Xander pats his legs, arms and torso, the way he usually checks for injuries after a fight and grins. “Nope, as far as I can tell it’s the real me,” he replies. His heart is beating rapidly and he knows he’s flushing with nervousness and desire. This is a severe case of cold feet, yet he meets Spike’s scrutiny evenly.
Spike’s naked chest is rising and falling and his nostrils are flaring. He can smell the boy’s—man’s arousal. Doesn’t mean he has a buggerin’ clue what’s going on in Xander’s head or what’s going to happen next.
For a moment they are both silent, reaching for words, the right words. Insults are easy - a dozen to a dime. But having an actual conversation?
“Do you want to?” Xander finally asks. “I mean, forget about what happened?”
Spike doesn’t answer at once. Just stares at him, with hungry eyes. Then he stubbornly raises his chin. “No I don’t.”
“Good,” Xander says and leans forward. His lips brush lightly over Spike’s. Then he pulls back and gets to his feet. “I gotta go to work tomorrow morning. So I better start catching some zees now. But if you wanna join me – the bed’s big enough for two.”
A few minutes later they are both fast asleep.
PAIRING: Spike/Xander
RATING: R
GENRE: Slash, a bit of angst and a bit of fluff (yup!)
SUMMARY: Set shortly after 'Pandora's Closet'
SPOILERS: Set S7, some time after "Him"
DEDICATION: for LadyCat
AN: Unbetaed. Will be followed by another PWP - hopefully soon.
Spike can’t sleep. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t want to. He’s lying on his narrow cot, on his belly, his face turned sideways. He’s still naked. His hard-on is trapped between his body and the mattress. He doesn’t move. All he does is breathe. In and out. In and out.
The closet has its own stale odor that carries memories of Xander’s old basement: slightly moldy with just a hint of fabric softener. Maybe that’s because of the three big cardboard boxes that reside behind the pile of unused fitness gear. They contain comic books and model spaceships and other treasures never unpacked since Xander moved out of the basement of doom.
In and out.
On top of the familiar closet smell there’s a more vibrant scent: human, male, healthy, sweaty. A very down-to-earth scent that is seasoned with hints of soap, shampoo and after shave – always the same brands for the past few years. Xander is conservative that way.
In and out.
It’s how a vampire commits places, people and events to memory. What Spike is really inhaling is the smell of sex. Unlike Xander he didn’t take a shower afterwards. Spike can still smell both his and Xander’s come clinging to his flesh. He can still taste Xander’s come in his mouth. He remembers the other man’s cock sliding in and out and is filled with longing.
Tomorrow, Xander will tell him it was a mistake and that they should both try to forget what happened.
If that’s what he wants – fine. Spike has no intention of ever forcing himself on anyone again. Vampires aren’t fast learners, but that’s a lesson he’s learnt: Not to go where he’s not wanted.
But he can always go back to the memory.
***
Xander can’t sleep, there are too many things on his mind. He’s lying on his back on his bed that’s much too big for just one person, arms folded underneath his head like a pillow. He’s wearing boxers and a T-shirt, standard bachelor sleep wear. He’s totally relaxed. Every now and then a feather-light tremor of pleasure courses through him, as his body remembers what it’s done, where it’s been. Every time this happens his semi-hard dick perks up slightly at the idea of an encore before softening again in lazy post-orgasmic contentment.
The moment of panic and king sized embarrassment already lies behind him. He managed to get out of Spike’s closet without screwing things up, saving the whole ‘Holy crap, what was that?’ for when he was under the shower washing his and Spike’s come off. Afterwards he made it past Spike’s open room with a nervous but non-committal ‘Gonna turn in’ and a slightly hurried ‘Night’ before shutting the bedroom door behind him.
The bedroom is quiet except for the sound of Xander’s own breathing. Outside, crickets are chirping. Occasionally a car drives past the condo, the only proof that Xander isn’t the only one still awake.
Xander listens.
Spike’s closet is on the other side of the wall. Xander wonders if Spike is asleep. He hasn’t come out, not to shower and not to leave. Which is weird because at this time of night the vamp is usually up and about, either roaming the streets for god knows what or holed up in his closet listening to The Stranglers or The Clash – the music just loud enough to seep through the plaster and the layers of drywall but too low to make out the words or individual tunes.
Xander listens.
‘Take me’ and ‘hold me’ – that’s what Spike said at the end, no longer arrogant, cocky or scary. Xander can almost hear him in his head. ‘Fuck me’ and ‘need you’ – the memory of the words and the unmasked desperation in Spike’s voice wash over him like an arid breeze and cause his breath to hitch and his dick to twitch.
Tomorrow everything will feel like a dream. Xander doesn’t know why, but he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t bring up what happened, then Spike won’t either. Tomorrow, in the harsh light of day, everything will be just like before. They’ll avoid each other, swap a few half-hearted insults and stay on their separate paths.
Xander wonders if Spike breathes when he sleeps.
* * *
There’s a soft knock at the door.
“Yeah?”
The door opens and Xander’s silhouette appears before dull moonlight. “Spike? Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Wasn’t sleeping.” Spike says gruffly. He’s still lying on his stomach, legs slightly spread apart. The sheet only reaches to his thighs.
Xander swallows. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Spike reaches for the light switch of the cheap lamp and floods the room with brightness. The artificial light makes him look even more washed out than normal.
He turns around and sits up, pulling the sheet up to his waist and for that Xander is thankful, because it’s much easier to talk without the distraction of full frontal Spike nudity.
“You’re here to tell me to forget it ever happened. And if I tell anyone you’ll stake me,” Spike says, sounding strangely worn out. He shrugs self-deprecatorily. “You can save yourself the trouble. Who’d I tell? No one ever talks to me anyway.”
“Is that what Buffy said? That she’d stake you?” Xander asks even though he swore to himself never to ask about any details regarding their relationship.
The brief flash of hurt in blue eyes answers his question, before Spike’s expression becomes more guarded. “Why are you still here? Right, I forgot. Probably want your stuff back.” Spike bends over the edge of the bed and pulls out the infamous little cardboard box.
“Believe it or not, that’s not why I’m here,” Xander tells him. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, do you?”
“Well, yeah,” Spike tells him with a slightly muted smirk. He holds up his little finger, counting upwards: “Vampire.” Ring finger: “Tried to kill you lot.” Middle finger: “That thing with Anya.” Index pinky: “Buffy. Four reasons why you hate my guts.” Spike drops his hand but then changes his mind and sticks out his thumb: “And you’re not gay. How am I doing?”
Xander surprises Spike by sitting down on the edge of the cot. He holds up his hand, fingers spread out, holding Spike’s gaze. “Not gay? After what happened I’m not so sure. Let’s just go with ‘open-minded’ for now, okay?” There. He’s said it. That wasn’t so difficult, was it? He bends the thumb. The next reason is much more difficult to let go of. “Buffy? She didn’t stake you so I guess I’m not getting the whole picture here. Maybe I never will. Her call.” At that he bends the index finger. “Anya? As much as I hate to admit it, but I managed to sink that ship all on my own.” The middle finger. “The trying to kill us? Willow got a lot closer to killing us all than you ever did.” Xander bends the ring finger. There’s only one finger left, the little pinky. Xander wiggles with it. “And that vampire thing?” He shrugs. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Spike watches the whole countdown looking completely dumbfounded, then his eyes narrow with suspicion. “You feelin’ alright? You been replaced by a pod person? Popped some happy pills?”
Xander pats his legs, arms and torso, the way he usually checks for injuries after a fight and grins. “Nope, as far as I can tell it’s the real me,” he replies. His heart is beating rapidly and he knows he’s flushing with nervousness and desire. This is a severe case of cold feet, yet he meets Spike’s scrutiny evenly.
Spike’s naked chest is rising and falling and his nostrils are flaring. He can smell the boy’s—man’s arousal. Doesn’t mean he has a buggerin’ clue what’s going on in Xander’s head or what’s going to happen next.
For a moment they are both silent, reaching for words, the right words. Insults are easy - a dozen to a dime. But having an actual conversation?
“Do you want to?” Xander finally asks. “I mean, forget about what happened?”
Spike doesn’t answer at once. Just stares at him, with hungry eyes. Then he stubbornly raises his chin. “No I don’t.”
“Good,” Xander says and leans forward. His lips brush lightly over Spike’s. Then he pulls back and gets to his feet. “I gotta go to work tomorrow morning. So I better start catching some zees now. But if you wanna join me – the bed’s big enough for two.”
A few minutes later they are both fast asleep.
