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Chapter 27

Xander became aware of the cooling water and kicked the drain open. With a sigh, he drained his beer and stood up. As he dried off with a soft, clean towel, he thought about the hot springs and how he would dry Anthony off after they’d soaked. The towels there were little better than cheap, stained hotel grade rags. He dropped the wet towel on the floor and grabbed up a dry one, the lube, and the other toy.

He tossed the towel on the bed and opened another beer. Ah, beer. Not as strong as the fermented whatever they would get once in a while after games, but smooth and plentiful. He drained the second beer and threw himself on the bed. “Mattresses. That’s another good benefit of civilization,” Xander giggled to himself. He picked up the phallic, pale flesh colored dildo and contemplated it. “Flesh colored,” he scoffed. “Depends on whose flesh. And it’s certainly not life sized.”

Xander finished off the second beer and lay back with his eye closed. One hand made its way to the scar high on his leg and traced it.


Xander awoke from his post-orgasmic nap to find Anthony still draped across his body. The vampire felt him awaken and propped himself up on one elbow. “Hey, sleepy,” Anthony said softly, and brushed a stray hair form Xander’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”

Xander chuckled and wrapped his arms around Anthony’s narrow body. It was no problem for him to grasp his own elbows. “You know me too well.”

“You have to let me go so I can get your food.”

“Humm,” Xander considered. “Sexy vampire bod or food.”

“I have a special treat, and I will come back.”

“Well, in that case…” Xander kissed the center of his chest and let him go, stretching on the comfortable bed.

Anthony returned from the other room with a covered tray. “If sir would sit up, please.”

Xander blushed a little at this powerful man waiting on him, playing the role of servant he’d held as a human. Xander saw the fond expression he wore and played along. He leaned up against the wall and rubbed his hands together. “What goodies do you have for me this night, my good man?”

Anthony sat a tray on the bed and whipped aside a cloth to reveal a fresh red apple, a piece of chocolate and a small dish with a lid. “If you will allow me?” Anthony picked up the apple and a knife and deftly cut out a slice. He held it up and took the lid off the dish. “And the highlight…”

A piece of honeycomb, thick with honey lay on the dish. Xander grinned hugely. The honey in Africa made American honey taste like sugar water. Anthony dipped the apple slice in the honey and fed it to his lover. Xander ate the treat bite by bite from Anthony’s hands and sucked the last traces of honey off Anthony’s fingers.

“You like that?” Anthony asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Anthony. Hummm. We’re out of food and there’s some honey left.”

“We can save it for later.” Anthony moved to set the tray aside.

“I think I can find a use for some of it,” Xander said wickedly.

“Do you now?” Anthony smiled. “Let me wash up and I will return.”

When Anthony came back, Xander pressed him to the bed. He smiled at the hardening brown cock before him. Carefully, he dipped two fingers into the honey and drizzled it over him. “Like caramel on a chocolate sundae,” Xander murmured before licking off the stickiness. Soon, he drew the hard cock deep in his mouth and played with the foreskin, slipping his tongue under and around it as he worked the shaft with his hand.  Shortly, Anthony moaned and spent in Xander’s mouth.

He chuckled. “Come up here, you wicked human.”

Xander gladly obeyed and lay in his lover’s arms. Anthony ran his fingers through his hair as he often did. “It would be a shame to weight these beautiful locks down with gems.”

“I don’t want to be in the killing matches, Anthony.”

“I know. I know. While I will keep you from it as long as I can, I fear it may be forced on you one day.” Xander shuddered and Anthony held him tight. “Let’s not talk of such dark things. How do you feel?” He tilted Xander’s head up and looked him in the eye.

“Rested, fed, a little stretched,” he chuckled. “And loved. I love you Anthony,” he thought silently.

“Good. I would very much like to claim you, Alexander Harris.”

“I would very much like for you to do that,” he said, adopting Anthony’s formal speech.

Anthony poured oil into his palm, then slicked his cock which was once again hard. Then he kissed Xander deeply, savoring the sweetness of apple, chocolate, and honey mingled with the bitterness of his cum. Soon, he moved to Xander’s throat and rested his lips there, tonguing the pulse. Xander arched his neck and moaned as he pressed his broad hands to Anthony’s narrow back.

He continued his unhurried progress, licking and kissing his way to Xander’s dripping cock. His boy was hard and wanting. Anthony could not resist sneaking a taste of Xander’s pre-cum. making him gasp. “I don’t want you coming just yet,” Anthony said softly.

“When can I?” Xander asked, looking down at his lover where he lay between his legs.

Anthony smiled and allowed his face to turn to that of the demon’s. “After I bite you.” Xander shuddered and nodded, wanting and needing to know what it would feel like.

Anthony opened is mouth wide, letting Xander see his teeth with all their sharp points, and bit deep in Xander’s leg.


Unintentionally, Xander scratched at the scar with one hand as he worked his cock with the other. Anthony had bitten him a number of times after that, but it was never as powerful an event.


The pain was sharp at first, then the tide of his blood was pulled to Anthony’s mouth and a dizzying euphoria took it’s place. Xander closed his eye and let himself go, trusting Anthony to not kill him, to take him from the brink and keep him safe.

 Anthony wrapped his hand around Xander’s cock, making him come with just two practiced tugs. He forced himself to take no more than four swallows of Xander’s rich blood. It was so thick and powerful, it was an effort to shake off the demon and please his partner. He crawled up the bed and wrapped Xander’s body in his arms. “Xander. I want to take you again. I want you to feel the heat your blood gives me within you.”

“Anthony,” Xander whispered. “Fuck me, master.”

“I am not your master, Xander. Just your lover.” Anthony tipped more oil onto his cock and wasted no time pressing it into the still-ready body of his lover.


Xander picked up the slicked phallus and pushed it in roughly all at once as Anthony had mounted him that day. The sudden, shocky pain sent him into orgasm even as he had come a second time that day.


Anthony buried himself deep with one thrust, Xander’s blood making his body hot and his senses boil. It was an effort to not shift to game face, as Xander called it, throw himself on his trusting lover, and drain the rest of his blood. Instead, he pounded roughly into Xander and came hard, spilling deep in. The sight of Xander’s cock spurting again without being touched made his heart swell.

Anthony pulled himself out reluctantly and grabbed up a bandage he’d made ready. He allowed himself to lick the would clean before casting a minor healing spell to stop the bleeding. He pressed the bandage in place and rolled Xander on his side. The groggy human was smiling stupidly. Anthony remembered how his sire had claimed him and the euphoria of blood loss it brought. He curled up behind Xander and drew up a blanket tight around them both.

“Sleep now, Xander. I will watch over you and feed you again when you awaken.”


Xander rolled away from the towel and curled up with his back to the room. He stared unseeing at the dresser as the blanket partly obscured his good eye. “Oh, Anthony. Why didn’t I say what I felt that night? Why didn’t you?” Tears ran from his eye and the sealed, empty socket itched as it did when he cried. You had to cry quietly so no one would know when you did. It was a lesson he’d learned as a child that had served him well in the tunnels.

He heard a door close somewhere in the house and pulled himself together. He had no idea how much time had passed or when Spike would come up. Part of him regretted inviting the vampire. He roughly wiped the cum from his body and hand. Then he took a swipe at  the scar he’d made bleed again. It was something he never meant to do, but found it had happened again and again. Mechanically, he collected the towel and toy and made his way to the bathroom, drying his tears with a clean corner of the towel. He washed himself and everything, then stuffed the evidence away in the back of a drawer. 

Still no vampire and the house was quiet. He opened another beer, drank deeply, and stared at the DVD collection. Perhaps some distraction from the past would do him some good. His hand twitched toward Star Trek season two, then fell to his side. Remembering dialog and plot points of the original series had been part of what had kept him sane in the early days. Before Anthony. Some after. Now he found he didn’t want to know what he’d gotten wrong. His eye fell on a stack of CD’s and he thought of Oz coming to his rescue. There was his balm. Patsy Cline. The music of misery.

As she sang sweetly to him of loneliness and tears, he sat on the reading chair and looked out at the yard. A window was such a luxury. Everything in his life was a luxury now, except being back in it. Poor Buffy. No wonder she’d acted so crazy back then. He found his hand was resting on the scar again and Xander tucked that hand behind his head as he drained the beer. It had felt good to masturbate and to let off some tension. He let himself think of Anthony’s body and the way he’d claimed him again.

When Xander realized the flesh visualized as he came was porcelain white and not chocolate brown, he put it down to memories of the pleasers he’d hired, and drank another beer.


As is the nature of sequels, each Spiderman movie got progressively worse and viewers went to bed until Oz, Gunn, and Spike were the only ones left. They were playing a half-hearted drinking game where the rules kept changing. When his friends started for the third time about the benefits of having sticky fingers and sex against a wall, Spike slipped out of the dark room.

He went to the kitchen to raid his stash of beer from the cupboard, only to find it depleted. The guys in the movie room had been drinking domestic beer, so… Spike frowned and took the stairs two at a  time.

He didn’t have to put his ear to the door to hear Patsy Cline playing. Spike gently knocked. He heard Xander groan and knocked again louder. “Stop that noise! Go torture someone else. I’ve been good.”

Spike opened the door and took in the scene. Xander lay sprawled on the rug under the ceiling fan. He was naked, with his hair wild around him. Beer bottles, chocolate wrappers, and the yellow rings of Funyuns were scattered on the rug around him. Spike scented blood, and rushed in to make sure Xander hadn’t hurt himself.

“Hey, Bleachball! Where you been?” Xander asked stupidly.

Xander shifted, and Spike could see the scar on his leg had been scratched and a tiny trail of dried blood smeared out from it. “I’ve been watching movies, mate. Looks like you’ve had your own one-man frat party.”

Xander giggled. “Frat party would be fun. There’d be more than one man. But I don’t like frat guys. I like ‘um more… bumpy.” Xander grabbed Spike’s leg and blinked up at him. “Can you be bumpy for me, Spike?”

Spike stood unmoving and pushed down the snarky, but true replies that he could make all kinds of things bumpy for him. Instead, he sighed. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

“Oh! Action!”

“Hardly. How did you manage to get more food on the carpet than in your mouth?” Spike asked as he bent to grab Xander’s arms and a crispy snack crunched under his boot.

“Bag exploded. I’m out of practice.” Spike pulled Xander to his feet and the man wrapped his arms around him. Spike stared back into the honest brown eye that was suddenly close to his. “And why did I ever think those tasted good, anyway?” Xander whispered confidentially.

“I don’t know why you eat half the things you do,” Spike said and hauled Xander to the bed.

“This from a guy who dunks cookies in blood.”

“That’s right, mock a guy’s handicaps.”

Xander sat heavily on the bed and looked blearily up at Spike as he brushed snack bits from his back. “I never thought of you as handicapped, Spike. Even chipped, you had it going on.”

“Sure. Right.” Spike pulled the covers back and tipped Xander over.

“Really. You always kept your ‘big bad’ going on. Wanna join me, Spike?” Xander asked coyly. “Blankets are warm.”

Spike tossed the covers over Xander and went to turn off the stereo. “Not so much, Xander.”

Xander sighed and wrapped himself up in the blankets. Spike watched his friend curl up and snuggle in. He switched off all the lights but a lamp and quietly started picking up the beer bottles before Xander tripped over them in the night.

“Hey, Spike,” Xander said long after Spike thought he was asleep.

“Yeah, mate?”

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere,” Xander said, his voice muffled. “I don’t want to leave my bed and I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“I’ll put up the do not disturb sign.”

“I have one of those?”

“Yeah. And your door has a lock, too.”

“Really? Damn. Do that, then. Both of them.”

Spike shook his head in amusement, “Should I lock the door as I leave?”

Xander sat up. “No. No. You stay.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to anybody.”

Xander clutched the blanket like a frightened three year old. “You’re not them. You’re you.”

“Okay. I think I follow.” Spike hung out the sign and locked the door. He looked over to Xander, who continued to watch him. Spike crossed to the mini fridge and got out a bottle of water. He opened it and sat on the edge of the bed. “Here, drink this.”

Xander took the bottle, but continued to look at Spike. “You’re the only one who understands.”

“Probably so. Drink."

Xander absently took a big swallow. “Water. I love this plastic taste.”

“Only the best. Finish it. You’re going to be sick enough tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” Xander drained the bottle and threw it on the floor. “Do you care enough to hold my hair when I barf?”

“We’ll see. Go to sleep now, Xander.”

Xander laid down and kept watching as Spike cleaned up. “Spike?” he said after a while.


“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Yeah. I got no where to go.” He stood beside the bed until Xander was deeply asleep. He could only sort of understand what the man had been through, and hoped he wouldn’t let him down.

Spike picked up what he could of the fake onion flavored snacks. The heavy smell of them clouded his senses, and he didn’t think Xander would appreciate them in the morning. He dropped them in the toilet and flushed them away. Xander’s wristbands lay on the counter. He must have taken them off before getting in the bath. Curious what Jen had added, he picked them up and looked inside. Next to the glyph for freedom was a symbol that could only be a railroad spike. The vampire shook his head. Whatever white magic the woman worked, she certainly was observant. He put the bands back, turned, picked up the towel Xander had left on the floor, and lifted the lid on the clothes hamper to drop it in. An unexpected scent cocktail of Xander’s sweat, cum, blood, and tears, hit him and he instantly grew hard.

“Christ,” Spike cursed. He closed the lid and sat on it. He didn’t want to go there. There was nothing about Xander that wasn’t attractive, but Spike couldn’t go there. It wasn’t right to take advantage of him. A big part of Spike wanted to give in, to comfort Xander in any way he asked, but that wasn’t the best way to build a relationship. Spike paused and stared at the empty mirror. “Relationship? Who said anything about a relationship?” he murmured. Spike closed his eyes and let the pieces fall into place. Why wouldn’t it work, eventually? Hell, Xander had taken a male vampire lover in Africa, so why wouldn’t he take one now? Hadn’t the man flirted with him in half a dozen ways? Of course, he may have just been needing to make himself feel attractive after all he’d been through. So he was back to the fine line between making Xander fell less like a monster and more like an attractive human being. Damn it, Spike would just have to occasionally claim his own alone time.

Spike stood and opened the hamper again. He pulled out the towel and let the scents wash over him. With a tug, he popped the buttons on his fly and pushed his jeans to his hips. With his eyes closed, imagining he’d given in, licked the bleeding scar, and nuzzled the heavy sac, he pulled his hard cock to completion and added his own fluids to the towel.

He spent the rest of the night on the comfy reading chair alternately watching Xander sleep and staring out at the moonlit yard.

On to Chapter 28

For more on the strange snack that are Funyuns: http://www.fritolay.com/fl/flstore/cgi-bin/products_funyuns.htm

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