Spike liked to watch him. Xander still didn’t understand why, but the longer they were in this crazy relationship, the more he believed it – Spike would be perfectly happy to stare at him for hours.
In the beginning, he was incredibly self-conscious.
“You’re staring at me again.”
Spike blinked as he focused on Xander’s face. “What?”
“Stop staring.” He crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously. “You’re staring again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Xander stared back at Spike, examining him thoroughly. One leg was buried under the wrinkled sheets, but the other was bare from Spike’s toes up to his hipbone, long and lean, the sculptured muscles standing out as he flexed his body in a stretch. The sheet shifted as he moved, showing a glimpse of finely chiseled abs, his pale skin flawless and smooth. Now that’s a body worth staring at.
Spike stretched again, the sheet pulling down to show the honey-gold trail of hair that led down to his cock, which remained teasingly out of sight. When Xander finally tore his eyes away, and slid them up to Spike’s face, the sultry smirk he found there let him know that Spike had no qualms about showing off his body. But with a body like that, why should he?
With a sigh, Xander gave up trying to make Spike feel uncomfortable, and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his rough, workman’s hand up the inside of Spike’s thigh, the hum of Spike’s approval buzzing over Xander’s skin. He leaned down, taking Spike’s mouth, relishing the fact that he had permission to touch Spike like that. He was so lucky.
Once Spike started teaching him self-defense and fighting techniques, he began to feel more comfortable in his body. Not that he hadn’t gained a lot of strength and dexterity working construction, but he’d felt more confident on a girder fifty feet in the air than he had in a graveyard. He’d faced the sad fact years ago: he was much more likely to die in a cemetery than falling off a half-built building.
But since Spike started training him, he’d had to add two new rows of notches on his lucky stake and that did wonders for his self-esteem. He’d never be capable of taking on Spike or Buffy without suffering ignoble defeat, but his backup was more backupy than it used to be, and he became much more helpful on patrol.
That was about the time that Spike introduced him to what turned out to be one of their favorite games.
“Spread your legs for me, love.”
Xander looked up from his spot at the bottom of the bed. “Hey! You got to be all dictatory last time, it’s my turn to play god today.”
“It was my idea. If I want to ‘play god’, then I’ll do it.” Spike had that whole ‘more superior than thou’ attitude going for him tonight. “If you want to order me around, you’ll have to start the game before me, won’t you?”
“Damn, I hate it when you use logic. I hereby ban logic from our bedroom.” He’d have stomped his foot, but he was sitting on the bed, so it probably wouldn’t have been very impressive.
Besides, he liked the idea of telling Spike what to do in the bed, but he didn’t have any problems with letting Spike decide what to do, either. He’d ended up riding Spike’s cock last night, and that had been one hell of a wild ride. Spike had run his hands all over Xander’s body, talking the whole time about how much he loved his heat, his strong muscles, and the wiry hair on his chest. When Spike told him that he had an amazing body, he could almost believe it.
“Slip the sheet off, then, and spread those lovely thighs for me.”
“Hey! Those are manly thighs, thank you,” he protested. “Lovely is for women.”
“Oh, no. You’re lovely, every inch of you.” Spike ran a hand across his own chest, circling and rubbing his nipples as he licked his lips. “I love to watch you, Xander. When you were building that weapons rack for the Slayer last night, it was all I could do to keep myself from throwing you up against the damn thing and taking you, right there in front of everyone.”
Xander swallowed, dry-mouthed, imagining how difficult it must have been for Spike to hold back, but knowing that Spike liked the wait. He said it sweetened the moment that he finally got to touch.
These words meant so much to Xander. Spike seldom spoke like this. He smirked and joked, making the girls squeal when he used the coarse sexual language that they ought to be used to by now. But he only spoke like this when he and Xander were in bed, and the longer they stayed together, the more often he talked.
Xander had practically forgotten the game. God spoke, and Xander obeyed, running his hands over his chest, his stomach, up and down his thighs. He held his balls in his hand, and massaged them, the palm of his other hand running over the crown of his hard cock. Spike surprised him when he shuddered; Xander hadn’t even started to stroke himself yet.
“Your hands are so capable and strong. Watching you work with the wood, deft and so sure of yourself…” Spike’s words faded as Xander gripped himself and began to run one hand slowly up and down his cock. Spike simply sat there against the headboard, staring at Xander’s hands as they worked.
He’d done this in the past – watched Xander masturbate. Xander had always thought Spike was staring at his cock; he had a very good cock, thick and well-formed; more than one person had complimented him on it. It was a surprise to realize that he was just as impressed with Xander’s hands.
It didn’t take long for Spike to join in, his pale fingers running over his cock with the confidence of over a century of practice. Xander wondered if he’d ever be that skilled at anything, let alone masturbation, although he had to admit, his teenage hormones had given him plenty of practice in the last six or seven years.
Xander came first, closing his eyes against the stars that shot through his vision. He’d never come this hard with any other lover, but with Spike, it felt like his brain whited out, blurring his sight and making him tingle all over. When Spike ordered Xander to suck him off, it took him a moment or two to recognize the words as English. They lay together afterwards, Xander still breathing heavily, and Spike running his fingers through Xander’s hair.
“Bravo, love,” Spike murmured. “It’s hard to believe you’ve only been working on that a few years. You’ll soon be a master of the skill.”
Xander sniggered. “A master masturbator?”
Spike shifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I was referring to your cock sucking talents, but I’m extremely impressed with your masturbatory techniques as well.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead he stretched languorously, showing off the body that he was finally beginning to accept that Spike found desirable. He grinned as Spike was quickly distracted, running his hand along Xander’s side in obvious admiration. If Spike kept talking like that, Xander was going to start believing him.
He began to feel more comfortable with Spike’s eyes on him, enjoying the feeling of being appreciated for more than what he could do for other people. He found ways to show off in front of him, reaching up for something on a high shelf, letting his shirt ride up so that a sliver of his flat stomach gave Spike a teasing glance at what he could look at, but not touch. Not yet, anyway. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his hands clasped behind his head, and watched Spike’s eyes follow the line of his body.
The amazing part was that the more comfortable he became with his body, the more people took notice. Not Spike – other people, and wasn’t that a kick in the pants. Giles congratulated him on his form when he and Spike sparred in the back room. True, Spike had flattened him in under five minutes, even when he’d been taking it easy on Xander, but he’d held up a hell of a lot better than Giles had obviously expected. He was impressed, and it took a lot to impress Giles. Later, Buffy admired his ability to take out a vamp that, a couple of years ago, would have had him yelling for help.
That night, Xander was still floating on the praise and admiration of his friends as he watched Spike take off his clothes, tossing them around the room the way the strippers had when he’d worked down in Oxnard. Spike lay nude on their bed, watching him with lust and love in his eyes, and Xander had a thought – there was something he could show to Spike that he’d promised himself he’d never share with anyone. But he knew how much Spike loved to watch him, and how much he enjoyed being watched by Spike. He wanted to do something for him, in thanks for all Spike had done for him.
“Well, love? You going to stand there all night?” Spike asked.
“I guess I could,” he answered, “but I have something else in mind.”
“Oh?” Spike was obviously curious.
Xander wiggled his eyebrows with a smirk, and walked over to the radio, flipping channels until he ran across something kind of soft and sexy. He didn’t know the song, but it would do. He toed off his shoes, making sure to get his socks off, too, and walked to the middle of the room, taking center stage like he never would have considered doing in the past. Then he started to dance.
He’d danced with Spike before, when they traveled to L.A. for an occasional weekend off. But he’d usually been dancing back to chest with Spike when he danced like this. He still felt a little self-conscious, so he closed his eyes, remembering how it felt to have Spike’s hands on him. How much he liked it when Spike stared at him with admiration and appreciation, how much it turned him on to know that Spike loved his body.
He ran his hands across his chest, and down his sides, and when he came back up, he unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. When he heard Spike start to breathe, Xander opened his eyes and gasped at the open hunger he saw on Spike’s face. It was easy after that.
The music changed then, to something a little more up-tempo, and he had to scrounge around in his head to come up with some of the moves the dancers had taught him when they’d learned that he was going to be taking over for one of the injured strippers for the night. He swung his hips, and shimmied, and used his shirt like a boa, sliding it across his skin. Turning, he swished his shirt across his back, showing off the well-developed shoulder muscles that Spike loved to run his hands over.
He stuck out his ass, showing off his wares, then he unzipped his jeans, and slowly slid them down, thankful that he’d worn his boxer briefs that day, since they were a lot sexier than just boxers. He stepped out of the jeans, and had to turn around, because he could hear the familiar sounds of flesh on flesh that told him Spike was definitely enjoying the show. It was hard not to beam proudly, but he kept as much of his pride to himself as he could, since he still had a bit of show left in him.
Not too much left, thank goodness, because as soon as he saw Spike licking his lips as he jerked off to Xander’s performance, his cock sprang to life. He had to struggle not to reach down and grab himself, but he wanted to finish this with a bit of flare, and coming in his underwear wouldn’t do. He flexed his body, starting at the top, his hands running down over his chest and ribs, his tight stomach trembling with the effort not to move too fast. Then he rolled his hips, his heavy cock and balls swaying within the confines of his boxers, the clingy material showing off his already hard cock.
Spike’s mouth was hanging open, his chest heaving with unnecessary breaths, and inside his mind, Xander shouted, “Score!” Oh yeah. He was the man. Spike shuddered, closing his mouth, and let go of his cock, grabbing the lube off the nightstand. Xander froze for a moment when Spike spread his thighs wide, and started lubing himself. It was an amazing sight. But Spike’s eyes never left Xander’s body, so he started to move again, his hips swaying to the sound of Spike’s moans.
He didn’t have a pole to dance with, so he slid a couple of steps over to a bedside chair and started to thrust his hips against it sinuously, struggling to keep his movements light, because if he didn’t, he’d probably knock it over, he was so very turned on.
When Spike spoke, his voice was breathy. He held out one lube-smeared hand, and pleaded with Xander, “Now, love. Please!”
Xander couldn’t hold back any longer. He was across the room and standing directly in front of Spike in just one moment, staring down at Spike’s shaking hand as he hastily smeared lube on Xander’s cock. He wondered where his boxers had gone, but not for long – he was too busy burying himself inside Spike to think of minor details like that.
He’d apparently used up all his sensuous and smooth credentials earlier, but obviously that wasn’t a problem with Spike. He just shouted loudly, wrapped his legs around Xander’s thighs, and pulled him closer, urging him on, his hands clenched tightly on Xander’s ass. It felt more like rutting than anything else, but it was perfect in its way, and when Spike came, digging his nails into Xander’s strong shoulders, it wasn’t long before Xander followed, his orgasm draining him as he gasped into Spike’s neck.
“Fucking hell!” Spike moaned as his legs slid down to the mattress. “That was superlative!”
Xander assumed that was a compliment, although it wasn’t one he knew. “The dance, or the fuck?” he asked, unsure how his little routine could compare with a fuck like that one.
Spike’s simple declaration pleased Xander, and he grinned lopsidedly as he rolled off Spike, and landed on the bed with an “Ouf!”
He had to take two or three deep breaths before he could get enough air for more than two or three words at a time. He could feel his body complaining – clearly he didn’t use the same muscles stripping that he used in construction. “My muscles ache. I’d forgotten how much work that was.”
Spike rolled over and leaned up on his elbow, one eyebrow arched. “So the rumors were true. You’ve done this before, have you?”
“Damn that Buffy!” Xander growled. “She’s got a big mouth.”
“Well you obviously didn’t show her your artistry, or she never would have giggled when she mentioned it.” Spike’s subtle smile was easy to read. He liked that Xander hadn’t shared that with her.
“Artistry.” Xander laughed at that, pulling Spike’s face close, so he could kiss that smug smile.
When they finally parted, Spike reminded Xander of where they’d been in the conversation. “Yes, artistry. And it’s just for me.”
“That it is. No one has seen me strip since that fateful night in Oxnard that shall never be mentioned again.” He ran his fingers down Spike’s cheek. “I saved that just for you.”
“There will be an encore,” Spike declared grandly.
“Yes, God,” he acknowledged. “But not tonight!” Xander wasn’t capable of doing that twice in one night – at least not without training a few muscles, first.
“Perhaps not, but there will be a repeat performance.” Spike was obviously not going to give up on that. “More than one, I would say.”
“Should we put a dance poll in the middle of the bedroom?” Xander joked.
The calculating look in Spike’s eye surprised him, but it made him proud. If Spike wasn’t careful, all this praise was going to go to his head. But he loved it, and he loved Spike for making him realize he was worthy of the praise.
Xander eyed the room curiously. If he braced it top and bottom, it might be strong enough for a pole that could hold up a 160 pound man...