All About Spike - Print Version
So Happy Together
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Some nights they
went dancing. Not with the group, just the two of them, lost in the middle
of the dance floor. They knew people in the crowds of course, hard not to in
such a small town. But they were ignored, unimportant, featureless faces and
indistinct sound melting into the border around them.
Xander still couldn’t
dance, but he’d lost the flailing awkwardness of adolescence, age and experience
giving him a hint of gracefulness. Anya molded her body to his, leading because
she always led, even when it was only because his hand was holding hers. And
he loved her for it, just as she loved that he let her. They ground together,
too lost in the feel of their bodies against each other to really pay attention
to the rhythm of the music. Everything around them, music, people, even the
smoke-thick air, all of it was unimportant compared to the thrust and sway of
their bodies, the smell of her sweat and the cold trickle down the back of his
But that those
things were there—ears to hear the dirty promises they whispered, eyes
to watch an erection grind into material damp with want—that made it even better.
It was why they came. . .
At least, it was
They danced until
they were sodden and breathless in desire, the ache of their muscles a pleasant
buzz underneath the constant want they felt for each other. Even after
three years, Xander still got hard just by looking at the woman he’d married,
and Anya’s demands hadn’t slowed down the slightest. Sometimes they made love,
and sometimes they just rutted, but every time between them was always good.
Always as hot and frenetic as the first time.
Anya turned coyly
in his arms, flashing almost-bare breasts to the watching crowd. The immediate
possessive growl made her smile, eyes meeting her husband’s because she was
his. He knew it, she knew it, hell they all knew it, too, but that didn’t
mean the game was less fun. Just that hint of flesh no eyes but Xander’s should
see, and he was grabbing her close, pressing the exposed skin into his soaked
shirt, covering her completely. She laughed into his neck, rewarding his jealousy
by slithering wantonly in his arms. Xander held her even tighter, locking her
body as best as he could, her hips rocking into his spread legs.
“I have a surprise
for you,” Anya whispered—well, shouted—squirming away before Xander caught her
arm again. “In the bathroom.”
Xander didn’t respond,
but Anya’s clever little hands were burrowing against him, waiting for the jump
of excitement that echoed burning black eyes. She smiled, pleased, when she
felt it, rolling her hand until Xander’s head fell back, mouth lolling as he
sucked in air.
“Go to the bathroom,”
she told him. “I’ll be there soon.”
loved the way it always took him a few minutes to regain breath enough to speak,
the effort not so much a testament to her skill, but the power she had over
him. The power he let her have. “Miss you.”
“I’m standing right
here, how can you miss me?” But she was grinning in return, hands sliding up
and around his waist to grab onto his buttocks. “Go, Xander. You’ll like it.”
Rising on her toes, Anya licked his lower lip. “Promise.”
The bathroom was
always dirty and smelled foul, but they’d had good times there, too, so Xander
did as he was asked, fighting through the crowd to barrel into the right room.
They’d done it in the wrong room, too, but that got them annoyed girls and purse-beatings,
so not often. But the right room. . . was empty. Xander blinked, surprised
that there wasn’t a single person in the room. He even ducked down to check
underneath the stalls, just in case. Nothing. The men’s room didn’t get the
lines the ladies’ room did, true, but there was usually someone in here.
Which meant. . .
Cool hands wrapped
around his wrists, pulling his arms tight behind his back. He struggled, instincts
overriding the lust, until a curt order made him go lax. Maybe even snuggle
against a chest smaller than his own, since there was no one there to see.
“Ah, ah,” he was
told, lips tickling his ear. “Come in here, all defenseless, struttin’ around
like you own the place? Better be careful, pet, somebody might try to eat you.”
A sharp tug meant his captor was considering it. Xander moaned, arching into
the pull. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”
His arms abruptly
released, Xander found himself pushed over one of the sinks, pants already around
his knees. No underwear, of course—he wasn’t a fast learner, but some things
were just too easy to ignore. His captor murmured soft compliments and insults,
harsh and gentle at the same time as strong hands worked his ass.
“Nice an’ ready
for me, aren’t you? Watchin’ you out there, pressed up against your girl, all
tight muscles and mmmm,” long lick up his exposed spine, “soft skin. An’ me,
stuck back here, just waitin’ till it’s my turn to get you. That’s it, pet,
push back at me now.”
Two slick fingers
were worming into his body, filling and stretching and just barely grazing that
one spot deep inside. He moaned and whimpered, hips working to try and get
the fingers, now three, in deeper, on that one place that felt so damned good.
But each movement was anticipated, fingers sliding away right before he could
get them where he wanted. “Please,” he begged, knowing that anyone outside
could hear the plea, instantly understanding that someone inside was getting
sucked or fucked, and that only made it better. “Please.”
“Not yet, dirty
boy. It’s early yet, girls aren’t supposed to be here for another half hour
Xander’s head snapped
up, wide eyes reflected in the grungy mirror, searching for the invisible figure
behind him. “What?” he squeaked. “The who?”
“The girls,” he
was told, a hand on his neck forcing his head back down, holding him while he
wriggled. A denim-covered erection pressed into his hip, rubbing distractingly
while the fingers inside him continued to move. “Thought we’d invite them to
Lust washed over
him, velvet-dark depths keeping him pliant as he was twisted again, shoved to
his knees, thumb on his jaw to force it open and accept a thick cock. Xander
closed his lips, sucking hard, tongue zeroing in the sensitive spot at the underside
of the head. Hands were buried into his hair, “Hot, so fuckin’ hot,” pressing
his head down faster than he wanted, making him choke just a little, “That’s
it, pet, take me all in,” before pulling him back up. Xander let himself be
tugged and pulled, lips and tongue working all the while, knowing that he’d
be kept there until his ‘captor’ was ready.
Anya’s voice was dim, his left ear almost completely covered by a flat palm,
the surf-sound of his own blood echoing back inside, but he could always recognize
that satisfied tone. “You talked to the management, Spike?”
“Yeah, oh yeah,
baby, you know just what I like. Harder, luv, with teeth—fuck, yeah.”
sucking Spike’s cock for a minute. Now,” she said when Xander paused, mouth
still filled but unmoving, eyes rolling to look at her. “Spike. Did you talk
to the management?”
Spike was trembling
on his tongue, hips jerking in tiny movements. Xander couldn’t see his face
without looking away from Anya—something he knew better than to do—but he could
hear the frustrated annoyance loud and clear. “Yes, you inconsiderate woman,
I talked to the soddin’ management. Ten minutes, tops. If there’s no crowd.”
“Oh, good. That
means we’ll be walked in on.” Smiling happily, Anya dug into her purse for
a large white cloth—towel? “Prop him up, please,” she instructed.
“Good thing we
like bossy women, mate,” Spike told him, tugging him off his cock with a pop
and hauling him upright. Xander’s hands were placed on the gritty tiled walls,
legs kicked out and spread wide, with his hips canted backwards: spread open
and totally defenseless. “There now. Pet, did you bring the cuffs?”
Anya laid the towel
at Xander’s feet, fussily ensuring that her knees would be protected the whole
time. Her back was covered with Xander’s jacket, just in case she might brush
up against the wall—it was okay for him to touch it, but not her.
She looked up at
Spike’s question, eyes sliding past Xander as if he were as unimportant as the
sink next to them. “I thought you had them.”
“No, you said,
you were gonna bring ’em. How’m I supposed to chain him up to the pipes
without cuffs?” Spike thumped Xander’s splayed hands. “He’s gonna move!”
“No, he’s not.
He’ll be good.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Yes, he will!”
to this was cute, and all, but Xander was standing between two almost-fully
clothed people, naked from waist to mid-calf, cock hanging out and twitching
randomly while they argued around him. Not fun.
He coughed experimentally.
“Not that I have any idea what you’re talking about,” he said, eyes planted
on the ceiling so he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of a reaction, “but
I’m not going to move. And the cuffs are still at home, I saw them before I
met Anya here.”
“Ah,” two voices
said, and like a switch, the arguing stopped. Xander had three more breaths
to remind them of what they were supposed to be doing—and then warm hands
were stroking his shaft, two not-as-warm fingers once again pressing inside
“Oh, god,” he told
the ceiling, closing his eyes and trying to keep his mind within his skull.
Spike’s cock slowly
slid into him, just as Anya eased her mouth from tip to base—perfectly synchronized
and steady and incredible. It felt like Anya was sucking Spike off, instead
of him, or Spike was fucking her through Xander, or maybe he was fucking
himself, all wet and tight and stretched and full. . . Sensations skittered
through his body, electric sparks that left him trembling and breathless and
he couldn’t fall, not with the two of them surrounding him, and that was good
because Xander wasn’t sure his knees were working.
They held totally
still for a moment, all three trembling with the effort of not moving, letting
themselves just feel. Not what, but who, and why, and that was almost
better than what. That one perfect moment that had nothing to do with sex,
or maybe everything, and it just felt so fucking right. Just whole and
full and filling and connected, and for a second, Xander wished they never had
to move from this position again.
But then Spike
was wrapping his arms around Xander’s waist, a bear-hug that could’ve been sweet
if he didn’t know that it was more about limiting Xander’s mobility, forcing
them to do the work and him to hold almost completely still, than affection.
Even though it was affectionate, too, with random designs tattooed into his
hips and sides from Spike’s fingers and Anya painting her own patterns on his
thighs and ass. It never mattered that he was the biggest of the three, not
when they were like this. They were surrounding him, covering him, and he basked
in the attention.
Anya set the pace,
hair lashing his thighs as she bobbed up and down on Xander’s cock. Spike matched
her, rolling forward as she pulled back to gulp air, sliding out while she swallowed
him down. The twin sensations of being taken both ways made Xander clutch at
the wall, fingers white and trembling from digging into cracked tile, forcing
himself to stay upright while pressure behind and below built tantalizingly
And then they started
“Look at him, pet,
all flushed and needy for us.” Spike’s lips were cold and soft against his
ear, his voice buzzing at the base of Xander’s skull, dark and just dangerous
enough to make Xander stiffen in pleasure-laced fear. “So beautiful like that,
Anya agreed, the
words muffled by her full mouth, vibrations traveling through Xander’s skin
to lodge in his spine. Her eyes were glassy from the florescent lights, but
Xander could still see lust and love and irrepressible mischief there, the same
combination he’d see in Spike’s, if he could. They loved doing this to him,
demons—even if one of them wasn’t any longer—jaded from decades amusing themselves,
surrounding the poor mortal boy and teasing him until he cried and begged for
too. Do that thing—yeah, with your tongue. Love watching him jump like that,
all tense and shy, like you’ve never done it before. Like that, yeah? Such
a pretty pet. Want her to do it again?” Spike dropped a sucking kiss on Xander’s
shoulder, below the silvery mark no one but the three of them ever noticed.
“Good boy, you are. My turn to do somethin’, then. Reward you for stayin’
so quiet, so good, god pet, you’re so good.”
Spike was a wordsmith
at porn, equally talented at speaking as he was at doing, but he could never
last long when he was inside Xander. The heat would get to him, or the way
Xander would clench at just the right moment, robbing Spike of his precious
words until he was babbling out endearments and insults equally. And when that
happened Anya took over, her precise language startling against Spike’s more
flowery prose, telling them in clinical detail just what she wanted them to
do next and how they made her feel and how good they were to her, giving her
all the orgasms she could ever want.
Xander bit his
lip hard, knowing that he was going to scream soon. Anya was talking,
or trying to, mouth still surrounding his cock, lips and tongue vibrating with
every muffled word. Spike was still babbling behind him, speeding up without
checking to see if Anya would match him, slamming into Xander’s ass again and
again. There would be bruises there tomorrow, from sharp, pointed hips and
strong fingers digging into his skin. Xander arched into each thrust, loving
the strength of Spike fucking him, the way Anya changed her rhythm to match
Spike’s new one, providing a balance for Spike to pound into them both.
But then Anya slipped
one hand around to find Spike’s swinging balls, her other hand already rolling
and playing with Xander’s. She worked them both, grinning around Xander’s cock
when the pounding began on the doors. Pulling off, she looked up at Xander.
“You should really come now. Since I hear Buffy outside.”
It was just teasing,
it had to be just teasing, but there was still the remote chance that
she wasn’t teasing and that really was Buffy’s voice mixing with the increasingly
agitated sounds outside. The thrill of being caught, not just him and Anya
who’d been caught many times before, but all three of them, sent an extra
thrill racing through his body, just as Anya knew it would. And then he lost
the battle with his voice when Anya took him back deep inside just as Spike
shouted and tried to shove him into the wall, and Xander let out the scream
that had been building since he first went into the bathroom, not caring at
all that the whole fucking Bronze could probably hear him because he
was coming, and Anya was swallowing, and there was cool liquid filling him.
Spike was dead
weight on his back, still buried with in him, panting harshly. Anya’s head
was resting on his hip, her own panting telling Xander that she’d come when
he had, a trick he’d never understood but definitely appreciated, since he really
doubted that either he or Spike had enough brain cells left to be considerate.
The angry shouting outside meant that he had yelled loud enough for people
to figure out why the door was locked, and pretty soon they were going to break
the door off its hinges to get in. His hands felt glued to the damned tile
and he knew it was going to hurt from wrist to elbow when he finally moved them.
But none of that
was important, except for the two heads resting against him, breath gusting
over skin that goose-bumped in reaction.
“We should leave
now,” Anya murmured, using Xander’s hips to haul herself upright. She opened
her mouth to continue when a magically-enhanced voice powered through the door.
“Xander and Anya
Harris if you two are in there I am going to kick your asses!”
Not Buffy. Willow.
Spike started giggling
first, snorting as he put himself and then Xander to rights. Anya, as she folded
up the dirty towel, was doing a better job of stifling hers, but Xander knew
they were there. And both of them set off his guffaws, leaning heavily
on Spike and trusting supernatural strength to get him out of the bathroom and
back into the Bronze proper.
They endured the
glares and shouted comments easily, still laughing whenever they looked at each
other, sobering slightly when Willow stepped in front of them, hands planted
on her hips. Xander had to bite his lip from commenting on how much like Giles
she looked. Only stuffier.
“You two nearly
caused a riot out here, did you think of that? But no, you never do. Just
about Anya’s orgasms and Xander, you aren’t any better and I know you
know how to be and—Spike?”
mid-shout as she finally saw just who Xander was leaning against. He probably
shouldn’t have been leaning, but there was jelly where he knees were supposed
to be, and sometimes the thrill of not-getting-caught was just plain exhausting.
Besides, he didn’t need to defend Spike, the motor-mouth perfectly capable of
taking care of himself.
“Oh, like you haven’t
thought of watching?”
Flushing and spluttering,
it took nearly a solid minute before Willow stopped trying to defend herself
and asked, “What were you doing there!”
Spike shrugged. “Back window’s loose in the mens, so I hopped in. Saw them
two goin’ at it like rabbits, so I bolted the door. Nice show, Harris.” Spike
leered, subtly shifting so that it looked like Xander was standing more or less
on his own feet.
“We’re going home
now,” Xander said, taking pity on Willow. If she flushed any harder she’d be
the color of her hair—pre-Miss Clairol days. “See ya tomorrow.”
He didn’t like
ignoring Willow, but he was tired and Anya would be ready for round two pretty
soon, which meant that Spike would put on a show until Xander felt ready to
join in again. Grinning in anticipation, he waved to Willow and followed his
lovers out of the Bronze towards his car.
He’d just turned
the engine one when he heard Willow calling from the street, “Wait a minute!
Why is Spike going with you?!”