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He lived in the dark basement now, not because he had to, but because he liked it. He never had to listen to his parents arguing again. The last sounds he'd heard from them were their screams as he drained them.

His lover sat back in the recliner, his shirt open, fly unbuttoned, a cigarette dangling idly from his hand, as Xander worked him with his mouth. He didn't feel much confidence in his method ... Spike seemed bored. He came anyway, and Xander wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"So, what now?" Spike asked. "Your turn, I reckon?"

"Something like that." Xander ran his hand over Spike's smooth, hard chest. "You have such a beautiful body. You know what I want to do with it?"

"Got some notion."

"When I was a little boy, my parents ignored Halloween. Just like they ignored me, unless dad needed a punching bag." Xander pulled the object from the back pocket of the jeans on the floor. "We never had a jack o'lantern. I always wanted to carve a pumpkin, but dad said they were a waste of money."

"That a fact?" Spike grasped hold of Xander's wrist. "So what're you gonna do with that? Make us play 'carve the pumpkin'?"

Xander fingered the knife. "Something like that."

His eyes were heavy with desire, and a touch of cruelty, as he pulled his hand away from Spike's. "Pumpkin."

Spike raised an eyebrow, then leaned back into the chair. Xander pressed the sharp blade against Spike's abdomen, and the blonde flinched, just for a moment, as he felt the knife cut him. He made a slow, shallow incision and blood welled up from the wound. Xander dipped his head to Spike's stomach and ran his tongue across the red beads, licking them up and swallowing them down. His eyes met Spike's, who pulled him up by the hair and caught his mouth in a rough kiss.

"More," he said.

Xander made another cut, and another, as Spike writhed with pleasure.

Xander threw the knife aside and straddled him, taking him deep inside.

Collapsed together in the big arm chair, Spike whispered against his lover, "You're a sick fuck. You know that?"

"Yeah. But I'm your sick fuck."

"Now what?" Spike eyed the blood stained knife lying beside the chair.

"Your turn?"

"Maybe later," Xander smiled. "First, I was thinking we could go over to my friend Willow's and play trick or treat."