By Jane Davitt
Sequel to Predatory Acts
Xander froze, still blinded by fabric. “Don’t stop,” said Spike. “Take it off. Take all of it off. I want to look at you.” His fingers began to move against Xander’s skin, cool and supple, exploring and caressing. Xander remembered the bruises those fingers had left on his arms, bruises that had taken days to fade completely. He had measured Spike’s pleasure with his pain, each mark driven into his flesh by climaxes too intense to leave room for control. He couldn’t find it in him to blame Spike; his own teeth had drawn blood, his nails had dug deep. The wounds Spike made just lasted longer – and they hadn’t all faded.
As soon as he fought free of his shirt, he reached for the button on his jeans. Spike slid further down the bed so that his head was level with Xander’s hands and looked up expectantly, like a cat looking to be fed. Xander laughed, his fingers stilling. He was so hard that unzipping was something to be done very carefully but he made it even slower than he needed to until Spike growled a warning. The sound sent a shiver through him and his hands jerked away, as though the metal of the zip had flared white-hot. Spike glanced up again, surprise giving way to approval, and used one hand to delicately fold back the jeans so that he could reach Xander’s cock. He studied the boxer shorts that were all that covered it, and then ignored them, licking and mouthing through them until the thin fabric clung damply to the hardened flesh. Xander gasped for air that seemed to have left the room, his hips jerking and thrusting upwards helplessly. He was wondering how Spike managed to stay so calm when his hand fell against the sleeked back hair, moving down to grip the back of Spike’s neck. The combination of caress and control seemed to shatter the vampire’s fragile composure, and as Xander watched, he hooked his fingers into the shorts and tore them open.
Xander had memories of being held in place by nothing more than an accepted dare as Spike spent an hour teasing him to a climax with tongue and mouth and fingers. He had begged, writhed and screamed for mercy and enjoyed every minute of it. Now he was discovering that when he put his mind to it, Spike could produce the same effect in under thirty seconds. Spike was too aroused to bother with technique. If he wanted the taste of Xander in his mouth and on his hands as soon as possible, he got it. Xander came in silence, too caught up in pleasure to be capable of sound, shuddering as Spike released him from the cool prison of his mouth.
Spike’s face replaced the ceiling as he moved on top of Xander and filled his vision. His face was so blank of expression that Xander felt a chill run through him until he saw the lips tremble and Spike’s teeth bite down savagely to still the quiver. Xander realised that Spike was on the edge of losing control and seemed to be terrified by the prospect. He decided, with motives that included kindness, though it was far down the list, to give him a little push. Holding Spike’s wild eyes with his own, he dragged his thumb nails down Spike’s back, pulling the blood to the surface in two wavering lines. Spike arched his back and cried out as Xander’s hands cupped his ass, spreading him open and holding him like that for an endless moment before letting his fingers drift between and inside. Spike surged against Xander, his cock frantically seeking enough friction to trigger his release - finding it and coming, in less time than Xander had taken.
Spike let his head fall against Xander’s shoulder and lay still, unspeaking. The curve of his shoulders was eloquent enough. Xander waited a moment and then said, “Spike? Are you O.K? Because some of us need to breathe and you’re a dead weight. Umm. Didn’t mean it like that. Well, maybe a little. Listen to me. I’m babbling.”
“Yes. You are. Shut the fuck up.”
Spike peeled himself off Xander and lay back, moodily mopping up his wet stomach with what Xander couldn’t help but notice was his shirt. “Uh, that’s ...oh, never mind.”
Spike wasn’t showing any signs of leaving but Xander felt uneasy as the silence continued. Tentatively he reached over and touched Spike’s shoulder. “Spike?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“Is that right.”
“We can play this game of answering a question with another all night but you know, I think sleeping sounds like more fun. I can dream that this was a nightmare. Won’t tell you to get back in the chair but don’t hog the covers and the no biting rule still applies.”
“Why are you acting as if nothing happened?” Spike said. He sounded bewildered and Xander frowned.
“I’m not. Plenty happened and I’m lying in a damp patch to prove it. I just don’t know how I feel about it right now and – oh shit, yes. I’m doing a great job of messing it all up for the second time, aren’t I? Sorry. This isn’t easy for me, you know.”
It was Spike’s turn to frown. “I’m talking about me having the self control of a bloody kid. Spoiling it for you like that. I’m not usually...well, am I? Was I? Oh, God. It’s the chip! I can’t kill and it’s making me come too fast!”
Xander stared at him, mouth hanging open for three full seconds before howling with laughter. “Spike – you, oh that’s just too funny. What about me? Between us we both came in less time than it takes me to brush my teeth but so what? It was good.”
“You don’t count,” said Spike, not unkindly, but as one stating an obvious fact. “You’re human.” He looked at Xander, eyes pleading. “Tell me I was better before?”
Xander considered the possibilities inherent in that plea. Revenge. It was within his grasp. So was Spike’s body though and he knew first hand which was tastier served cold.
“Want some statistics do you?” he asked offhandedly. “Something to compare to current performance?”
“Well, I don’t know – what statistics? Are you trying to tell me you kept _notes_?”
Spike’s voice squeaked with outraged disbelief and Xander bit back another chuckle. “Not exactly. Just had a long time to think it all over.” Like every night and a large part of the day for an endless succession of weeks and months. “Let’s see. We were in that room for a total of fourteen hours over two nights. Asleep for some of it of course. You came nine times, I came seven. Average time from commencement of foreplay to ejaculation was –”
“Xander! Shut up.”
“Won’t. Let me see, yeah, about 13 minutes twenty five seconds. Positions used, well, were there any we didn’t try? Don’t think so. Want diagrams? I can sketch them if you like.” He waited for Spike’s defeated shake of the head and then reached out and gently patted his shoulder. “It’s not about time, Spike. It’s not about performance. It’s about ... connecting. We had fun. I probably made it into more than it was because it was my first time, but still –”
“’First time’? With a vampire? With a bloke?” Spike watched the blush spread over Xander’s face and grinned, self esteem restored. “I was your first anyone?”
“Yes. I was only sixteen!”
Spike looked at him appraisingly, the smile fading. “So you were.” His voice was soft as he asked, “Was I – nice to you?”
Xander looked at him. “You were – are – an evil vampire. What do you think?”
Spike’s eyes flickered. Shame or regret, Xander wondered? Probably not but he didn’t look happy either. “I think I hurt you.”
Xander thought back to the bathroom tile smooth and cold against his face as he watched Spike walk away from him. “You could have. There was one point, when I was possessed and you were angry with me, you nearly forced me to – but you didn’t. After that you did nothing to me I didn’t want you to do.” He pulled Spike to him, his face serious, his arms wrapped around the tense body beside him. “Nothing. And believe me, we did just about everything.”
Spike shrugged. “Have to take your word for that, won’t I?” His eyes darkened as he studied Xander. “So what did I teach you?” He ran one finger along Xander’s collar bone and then cupped his shoulder. Pushing against it, he sent Xander to his back and looked down at him. “What did the big, bad vampire teach you to do, hmm? And have you forgotten any of it? Better not have.”
Xander listened to his voice, silky and insinuating, impossible to ignore, and felt his cock stir to life again. “Shouldn’t we talk about this, think about what we’re doing?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we – oh God, do that again!”
Spike arched an innocent eyebrow. “What, this? I don’t have your advantages, see. I don’t know what you like, so I’m going to have to find out all over again.”
“I like that.”
“Thought you wanted to talk.”
“Later’s good. And it will be bloody later, too.” Xander was barely able to speak over the buzzing in his ears as Spike’s fingers wandered his body, but he managed to raise a questioning eyebrow. Spike bared his teeth in what might have passed for a smile in the dark. “Going to improve that average. You come too fast and I’ll rip your balls off.” He glanced down and looked disappointed. “That was a joke, you know. Give me something to work with here.”
“Oh, you’re just asking for it now.”
Xander pushed Spike away, reached into the drawer of the night table and tossed a small bottle at Spike. “No. Now I’m asking.”
Spike looked down. “Unscented? Not very adventurous.”
“I’m all out of wild cherry.”
Xander’s voice sounded odd and Spike glanced at him. “Is that a joke I’m supposed to get?”
Xander opened his mouth and shut it again. “Doesn’t matter.”
Spike looked down at the lube and several excellent places to apply it and then back up at Xander’s shadowed face. The bottle landed on the floor and Spike had Xander in his arms before the first tears fell.
Continued in Chapter Three