Rating: NC-17
Warnings: vampiric bloodplay
Author: Trekker
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Fandom: Buffy
Lately, he'd been a bit more aware of what it really meant to have a lover who was immortal. It had been such a non-issue all those years ago, the last thing on his mind. There had been so many other things, like the undead thing, and the formerly evil thing, and the whole mess of Buffy issues, on both sides of... whatever it had been back then.
Or maybe he was just having an early mid-life crisis.
Would a crisis at thirty-five qualify as early? He furrowed his brow at his reflection and considered it. And then wondered if the fact that he was a demon hunter should be factored into his calculations of the middle point of his life, since, well, it did kind of cut back on the average life expectancy.
And while he was pondering, he couldn't help but note that, yup, that was definitely another grey hair.
He sighed and finished washing his hands and walked out of the bathroom, and just at that moment, Spike bustled through the door with the typical accompanying hurricane of Spike-ish energy. Which, today, hung around the vampire like a storm cloud.
So, yeah. Immortal, unaging lovers.
"Little ingrates," Spike was saying, "Don't even know what it means to be a Slayer anymore. They just take it for granted."
Spike slammed the axe he was carrying back onto its hook with more force than was strictly necessary.
"Yeah," Xander said, "Kids these days. Young whippersnappers."
And it occurred to him suddenly that Spike had probably been around when that word *hadn't* only been used ironically, if there was such a time. So had Anya, for that matter, but she'd been mortal. Spike would still be Spike a hundred years from now, if everything went right.
He couldn't seem to look away when Spike pulled his nightly mug of blood from the microwave.
Immortal, unaging, vampire lover.
***
Not that he hadn't been *aware* that Spike was a vampire. There was the whole no-heartbeat, cold body thing. And the no breathing thing, which was really just... wonderful. But that night, for some reason, when Spike crawled into bed, damp and warm from the shower and feeling almost alive as he settled down beside Xander, it was all Xander could think about.
He rolled up over Spike, who blinked up at him.
"Problem?"
"Nah," Xander said. He bent his head down to kiss him, savored the cool tongue that pushed up against his own. At first it had been odd and a bit unpleasant, but he'd decided that vampires were like fine coffee... an acquired taste. The kind that once you'd learned to love, nothing else was ever good enough.
Or maybe that was just Spike.
Spike, who looked drowsy and relaxed and content as Xander pulled back a bit.
"Mmm," Spike said, "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"
"Spike--" he said, but then, he had to stop. The thoughts he'd been having all day swirled in a confused mire in his mind, and it made him a little dizzy.
Spike smiled then, a slow, sly smile. A predator's smile.
"Oh, I think someone's having wicked thoughts," he said.
And, god, Xander was too old to blush. Spike's finger felt cooler
than usual against his heated cheek.
"Go on, then," Spike said, "Tell ol' Uncle Spike what's going on in that pretty head of yours."
Then suddenly, Xander was on his back, with a slim bundle of pure, lean muscle pinning him down. Laughing blue eyes looking down into his. And then Spike was leaning in, and nuzzling his ear, and then nuzzling down, down, until his lips and tongue were teasing Xander's throat.
Xander's breath left him in a harsh rush, and he was suddenly hard, suddenly squirming, and pushing his hips up.
Spike pulled back, sharply.
"Xander--"
Xander wriggled, and now all those lovely endorphins and such were pulsing through him, and it was dark, and hey, this was Spike, who technically could qualify as his oldest friend at this point, if you counted those years he was technically the enemy, so it was so much easier to say it.
To say, "Bite me?"
"God, Xan," Spike said, and then he was out of the bed, and across the room, and hanging against the wall.
Not what he'd been going for.
Xander sat up and the sheet fell down around his crossed legs. The air of the room was cool on his bare torso, and he could just make Spike out in the dark. He was a pale shadow across the room, just a hint of streetlight making it through the curtains and catching on his skin.
"Spike--"
"Why?" Spike said. "Tell me why."
He didn't know what to say to that, because he wasn't sure. Not exactly. So, he just started talking. Sometimes, that used to work for Willow.
"I don't know, exactly. I mean, I just... I just want it, you know? Maybe it's cause... I think..."
Then it hit him, as he glanced away, and found himself looking into the mirror where Spike wasn't.
"Because I love you, Spike. And... ok, I know it's been a long time, but I think, just recently, I've really finally started to figure that out. Figure you out. I love *you*, Spike. You, the immortal, undead, vampire guy. I love you. All of you. And... that's part of you."
This got nothing but silence from Spike, and Xander couldn't see well enough in the dark. But then, just as he was drawing a breath to say more, Spike seemed to shake himself.
"Oh," he said. "Uh. Oh."
But still, he stayed over there, when Xander really wanted him over here.
Then, Spike said, "You don't have to, you know. I don't... I don't need--"
And that, Xander could answer.
"God, I want to, Spike. I've wanted it for years. I probably wanted it a little even back when you were tied up in my basement."
"Oh."
A pause, and then, "Ok, then."
And then, Spike *left.*
"Uh, Spike? Kinda *in here*," Xander called.
"Be right there, pet," Spike's voice came from the bathroom.
Then he was. There. Well, actually, he was stalking across the bedroom, and then crawling up the bed, and over Xander, driving him down onto his back. Out of the corner of his eye, Xander saw Spike put something aside, but before he could ask what it was, Spike was down on him, kissing him, trapping him with his weight and working his hips against him.
Xander grunted and forgot about anything beyond that kiss, and that cock, hard against his own through the blankets, and that hand that was stroking his arm. He wrapped his arms around Spike and held him.
His breath stopped as Spike wriggled loose and slid down. But those cool lips only fluttered briefly over his pulse point, and then Spike was sliding down further, tugging the blanket away as he went, lapping a path that detoured over nipples and ribs and navel and finally ended at Xander's cock.
For a moment, he was almost disappointed. Then, he thought, *Hello? Earth to Xander? Blow job happening here!* and he just went with the moment.
God, that not-breathing thing was great.
He lost himself in the feeling of that slick mouth. That tongue that knew just where to flick and rub and curl. That crackly dry hair under his fingers.
Babbled incoherent praise and pushed his hips up. Then said, "Spi--gah--gonna--"
And Spike pulled off just long enough to say, "Yes," and then he went back down, fast and deep and sucking hard, and Xander lost it completely and came.
Then he lay there, panting, as Spike went for the lube and then came back and slid those long elegant fingers inside him. Xander sighed and moaned and moved with Spike's rhythm.
"God, you're something else, Xander," Spike said. "Gorgeous. You're like sunshine, baby. Soft and warm."
Fingers pressing slow and deep, not touching that spot, just soothing pleasure.
"Sometimes, it just amazes me that I can touch you. That it doesn't burn to put my skin on yours. You're so good, you know?"
Spike pulled out and crawled up over him again, laid down on top of him, so they were chest to chest. Xander drew his legs up, threw one around Spike's back and tugged him closer. Spike groaned, then said, "But, god, I can touch you. Love touching you. I lay over you like this and I feel your heartbeat and I feel alive."
*You lay here like this and I feel immortal,* Xander thought, and then Spike nudged his hips forward, reached down, and guided himself inside. They both groaned.
Long, slow strokes. Pleasure and heat and sweat.
"Xan. Fuck, Xander," Spike whispered. His lips were against Xander's ear. He followed the words with a kiss that made Xander shudder. Shiver. So good. Yeah. Just like that, every thrust pushing his mind just a little bit further from his body, 'til it seemed he was drifting on a tether outside himself, nothing left of him but sensation.
He rolled his head back and to the side, and Spike's chin bumped against the ridge of muscle in his throat. Cool tongue lapped at his skin, eager, and then words cooled the wetness, "You sure?"
"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, Spike, please."
He could feel the change. Hard demonic features against his jaw. Lips still working against his flesh.
He whimpered. Needed. Yes.
"Xander." The word soft, almost desperate, and then something hard and sharp grazed him. He flinched, and he was getting hard again. Teeth pressed down, pain, and then they were gone, Spike was nearly gone, was up on his arms over him, only touching him where their bodies were joined.
Still moving inside him, but when Xander looked, the demon was hiding again. Human blue eyes were looking down at him.
"Please," Xander said.
"Love you, Xan," Spike said, and then changed, and then ducked down, and then--
It hurt. It hurt so much. For an eternity, all he could feel was the pain. Had no idea it would hurt that much, it always looked so quick and easy, but it was teeth pressing down, parting flesh, tearing into him.
He gasped, and maybe cried out, and saw darkness and red.
And then it wasn't pain. It was Spike, inside him, moving inside him, teeth inside him, tongue moving against him, coaxing his blood to flow. He was dizzy. High, and this--
This was true closeness. Like he'd never imagined. Spike was pressed against him, not a molecule of air between them, moving, and making sounds of pleasure and want. Xander pressed his hand against Spike's back, and slid it up 'til he found the nape of Spike's neck. Held him close.
He could feel his heart pounding, the air in his lungs. Hear the soft sounds of Spike's tongue.
Everything brighter, sharper.
A long moment of perfection.
And then Spike was pulling away, and Xander was limp on the sheets, and everything was a bit fuzzy, then, as though packed in cotton. He felt it only vaguely, when Spike pressed gauze to his throat and taped it in place and snuggled up to him.
"You all right?"
So much better than all right, but all he could do was nod a little.
Spike kissed him, and there was a hint of metallic on his lips. Xander lifted up, lapped at it.
"Easy, love," Spike said.
And, yeah, probably good to take it easy. Spike kissed him one more time, and Xander noticed: he was warm, even inside.
The End