A Road Covered With Blood
Aug. 2nd, 2007 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Xander/Spike
Rating: NC-17 overall
A/N: Quotes in this chapter from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost, and I like my body when it is with your body by ee cummings.
A/N II: X-posted todarker_spike for challenge reasons, posted here for my memories
Xander stirred in the dark, awake but unwilling to move. For starters, he was actually comfortable and that hadn't happened since he'd started this fun a minute thrill ride. Also, he had no idea where he was and that was always a good reason to stay still. No sense in just jumping into death when you can creep in an inch at a time.
An analogy that might not have sounded half so perverted if he wasn't currently pressed smack up against a very firm, cool body. From the scent, and complete lack of noise, it was Spike. That in itself wasn't scary. Hell, after you've had a guy's dick in your mouth, nothing about him is ever remotely frightening. Well, maybe a few things, Xander thought grudgingly.
He remembered passing out cold in the van. He did not remember moving after that. Considering he was on a journey through time, space, and dimensions heretofore unseen, he was betting he'd shifted again. Not something most people would sleep through, but he'd been damn tired.
Might as well get up and face the new, possibly bizarre reality, Xander thought. Even in his head that sounded suspiciously like pouting. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to lay here, cuddled with Spike and just let everything go to Hell.
He sighed in resignation. Spike and Hell, two very good reasons to shift his lazy ass and get on with this stupid quest. Angelus had called him a white knight, and while Xander had never claimed the title, it was starting to feel more and more appropriate.
“You okay?” Spike's voice, harsh with sleep, exploded in the silent darkness.
“Yeah,” Xander whispered back. “Just...thinking.”
Spike shifted slightly at that, and Xander reflexively tightened his arms. He didn't want the blonde turning around, boring into him with those sharp eyes. He just wanted to be; be still, be silent, hold this confusing new Spike close and pretend for a minute that no harsh words had ever passed between them. Somewhere in between wanting to save Spike and kissing him, he'd developed a craving for the vampire. He wanted Spike's time, his attention, his company. He wanted everything to slow down so he could catch his breath and think.
“Right,” Spike said in an affectionate sounding voice, “while you're at it, why not wish for a million dollars and a pony?”
So, he'd said that last bit out loud. And wasn't that just the craptastic icing on his shit cake? Tell the soul who’s stuck between Hell and Earth that you’re feeling just a bit down, and would he mind if you stopped trying to rescue him just for a minute? Great, just great…
“Yeah,” Xander said again. “I’ll be sure to add that to my list.”
Spike snorted softly, and then said, “Is any of this real?”
Of all the things Spike could say at that moment, from comments about the weather to innuendos of what two blokes could do in a dark room, that was absolutely positively the last thing Xander expected. He lay there, curled around Spike and buried his face in the soft folds at the back of Spike’s neck. What could he say?
“I don’t know,” Xander finally admitted. “I think it’s as real as we want it to be.”
Spike nodded at that bit of complete bullshit, stray hairs tickling Xander’s nose. Xander could feel Spike’s fingers tracing nonsense patterns on his hand, little loops and swirls that meant nothing. Nothing but the sensation of flesh on flesh, making them both real.
“I’ve got memories,” Spike told him. “Memories of a cage, blinding white and burning my eyes; memories of soldiers and doctors and pain. “
“I know,” Xander said soothingly, grabbing for those nimble fingers and stilling them. “I know.”
“I was never there.” Spike’s voice was halting, uncertain. “ I never was but I remember. I remember so many things, Xan. I can see the Slayer and she’s…dead an’ alive, angry an’ singing.”
It was Xander’s turn to nod. He had the same confused memories, the same dizzying sense of being so many different people. Times when he understood with perfect clarity who he was and what he needed to do, and other times like now, when he was suspended in a heat haze of ignorance.
“So many things,” Spike went on lazily. “Who am I, Xander?”
“I can’t explain myself,” Xander quoted dreamily, “ because I’m not myself, you see.”
Spike laughed, a low peal that sounded sweet and painful in Xander’s ears. He listened hard, drinking in the sound to fix it in his unstable memory. He was forgetting things and he didn’t want to forget this, the sound of Spike laughing in his arms.
“Down the bloody rabbit hole,” Spike chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right. Nothing would what is was, because everything would be what it isn’t.”
“Have we reached contrariwise yet,” Xander asked, a little desperate now.
“Don’t think so,” Spike answered thoughtfully. “Got a ways to go to get to contrariwise, mate. Miles and miles…”
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,” Xander mused dreamily. “I read that so many times, after you died. Promises to keep and I knew that you’d understand. Do you?”
Spike shrugged, his body contorting in Xander’s hold. Xander could only nuzzle deeper, trying to stop time. Not for good, not for long, just enough to let him pull Spike inside him. Inside where he could keep him safe, take him along so he’d never lose him.
“Didn’t know you liked poetry,” Spike murmured, acquiescing to Xander’s silent plea for closer closer closer. “Tell me your favorite, then.”
“I like my body,” Xander whispered, hand pressed flat to Spike’s stomach. “When it is with your body. It is so quite a new thing. I read that and I thought of you. Wondered how it would feel, my body with your body.”
A whisper of cloth and Xander’s hand was moving downwards, following the thin line of hair on Spike’s belly. Spike’s back arched, and he pushed into the fingers Xander clasped around his erection. Xander breathed in, feeling the shock of connection.
“More,” Spike commanded him, and Xander’s fingers twitched, eager to comply.
“I like your body,” Xander whispered, the words carried on short puffs of air. “I like its hows.”
Xander glided up and down the rigid shaft of Spike’s cock, tugging and teasing the firm flesh. He wanted to turn Spike over, to see the blonde’s face but he didn’t. This wasn’t, Xander thought, about seeing. It was about feeling.
“More,” Spike repeated, but his voice was shaking. His body, pulled taut, vibrated and Xander wanted to ease that tension. Give Spike something to add to his collection of screwed up memories and half-forgotten life.
“I like slowly stroking the shocking fuzz of your electric fur,” Xander told him pleadingly, “and what is it comes over parting flesh.”
Xander moved faster now, his own body aching to finish. He remembered this feeling, knew it intimately. The more more now demands of a body that filled your head with cotton and dragged you along in its wake.
“And possibly,” Xander moaned, rocking his pelvis against Spike,” I like the thrill of under me you quite so new.”
Spike trembled, pushing his cock through the tunnel of Xander’s fist and the ungh ungh sound that resonated in this throat rumbled down Xander’s spine and straight to his dick. He felt the tepid splash of Spike’s orgasm on his fingers, and Xander thrust forward again, his own release tumbling hard on the heels of his lover’s.
They lay there, both panting and wide-eyed in the darkness. The knock at the door roused only a grumble from both men.
“Xander,” Cordelia called out, “get your ass in gear.”
And as the world came rushing back and the light spilled in from the hallway, Xander thought he heard a carousel in the distance. Well, he bitched to himself as he sat up, isn’t that what life’s all about? Painted wooden horses and shiny brass rings, here I come….
Rating: NC-17 overall
A/N: Quotes in this chapter from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost, and I like my body when it is with your body by ee cummings.
A/N II: X-posted to
darker_spike for challenge reasons, posted here for my memoriesXander stirred in the dark, awake but unwilling to move. For starters, he was actually comfortable and that hadn't happened since he'd started this fun a minute thrill ride. Also, he had no idea where he was and that was always a good reason to stay still. No sense in just jumping into death when you can creep in an inch at a time.
An analogy that might not have sounded half so perverted if he wasn't currently pressed smack up against a very firm, cool body. From the scent, and complete lack of noise, it was Spike. That in itself wasn't scary. Hell, after you've had a guy's dick in your mouth, nothing about him is ever remotely frightening. Well, maybe a few things, Xander thought grudgingly.
He remembered passing out cold in the van. He did not remember moving after that. Considering he was on a journey through time, space, and dimensions heretofore unseen, he was betting he'd shifted again. Not something most people would sleep through, but he'd been damn tired.
Might as well get up and face the new, possibly bizarre reality, Xander thought. Even in his head that sounded suspiciously like pouting. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to lay here, cuddled with Spike and just let everything go to Hell.
He sighed in resignation. Spike and Hell, two very good reasons to shift his lazy ass and get on with this stupid quest. Angelus had called him a white knight, and while Xander had never claimed the title, it was starting to feel more and more appropriate.
“You okay?” Spike's voice, harsh with sleep, exploded in the silent darkness.
“Yeah,” Xander whispered back. “Just...thinking.”
Spike shifted slightly at that, and Xander reflexively tightened his arms. He didn't want the blonde turning around, boring into him with those sharp eyes. He just wanted to be; be still, be silent, hold this confusing new Spike close and pretend for a minute that no harsh words had ever passed between them. Somewhere in between wanting to save Spike and kissing him, he'd developed a craving for the vampire. He wanted Spike's time, his attention, his company. He wanted everything to slow down so he could catch his breath and think.
“Right,” Spike said in an affectionate sounding voice, “while you're at it, why not wish for a million dollars and a pony?”
So, he'd said that last bit out loud. And wasn't that just the craptastic icing on his shit cake? Tell the soul who’s stuck between Hell and Earth that you’re feeling just a bit down, and would he mind if you stopped trying to rescue him just for a minute? Great, just great…
“Yeah,” Xander said again. “I’ll be sure to add that to my list.”
Spike snorted softly, and then said, “Is any of this real?”
Of all the things Spike could say at that moment, from comments about the weather to innuendos of what two blokes could do in a dark room, that was absolutely positively the last thing Xander expected. He lay there, curled around Spike and buried his face in the soft folds at the back of Spike’s neck. What could he say?
“I don’t know,” Xander finally admitted. “I think it’s as real as we want it to be.”
Spike nodded at that bit of complete bullshit, stray hairs tickling Xander’s nose. Xander could feel Spike’s fingers tracing nonsense patterns on his hand, little loops and swirls that meant nothing. Nothing but the sensation of flesh on flesh, making them both real.
“I’ve got memories,” Spike told him. “Memories of a cage, blinding white and burning my eyes; memories of soldiers and doctors and pain. “
“I know,” Xander said soothingly, grabbing for those nimble fingers and stilling them. “I know.”
“I was never there.” Spike’s voice was halting, uncertain. “ I never was but I remember. I remember so many things, Xan. I can see the Slayer and she’s…dead an’ alive, angry an’ singing.”
It was Xander’s turn to nod. He had the same confused memories, the same dizzying sense of being so many different people. Times when he understood with perfect clarity who he was and what he needed to do, and other times like now, when he was suspended in a heat haze of ignorance.
“So many things,” Spike went on lazily. “Who am I, Xander?”
“I can’t explain myself,” Xander quoted dreamily, “ because I’m not myself, you see.”
Spike laughed, a low peal that sounded sweet and painful in Xander’s ears. He listened hard, drinking in the sound to fix it in his unstable memory. He was forgetting things and he didn’t want to forget this, the sound of Spike laughing in his arms.
“Down the bloody rabbit hole,” Spike chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right. Nothing would what is was, because everything would be what it isn’t.”
“Have we reached contrariwise yet,” Xander asked, a little desperate now.
“Don’t think so,” Spike answered thoughtfully. “Got a ways to go to get to contrariwise, mate. Miles and miles…”
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,” Xander mused dreamily. “I read that so many times, after you died. Promises to keep and I knew that you’d understand. Do you?”
Spike shrugged, his body contorting in Xander’s hold. Xander could only nuzzle deeper, trying to stop time. Not for good, not for long, just enough to let him pull Spike inside him. Inside where he could keep him safe, take him along so he’d never lose him.
“Didn’t know you liked poetry,” Spike murmured, acquiescing to Xander’s silent plea for closer closer closer. “Tell me your favorite, then.”
“I like my body,” Xander whispered, hand pressed flat to Spike’s stomach. “When it is with your body. It is so quite a new thing. I read that and I thought of you. Wondered how it would feel, my body with your body.”
A whisper of cloth and Xander’s hand was moving downwards, following the thin line of hair on Spike’s belly. Spike’s back arched, and he pushed into the fingers Xander clasped around his erection. Xander breathed in, feeling the shock of connection.
“More,” Spike commanded him, and Xander’s fingers twitched, eager to comply.
“I like your body,” Xander whispered, the words carried on short puffs of air. “I like its hows.”
Xander glided up and down the rigid shaft of Spike’s cock, tugging and teasing the firm flesh. He wanted to turn Spike over, to see the blonde’s face but he didn’t. This wasn’t, Xander thought, about seeing. It was about feeling.
“More,” Spike repeated, but his voice was shaking. His body, pulled taut, vibrated and Xander wanted to ease that tension. Give Spike something to add to his collection of screwed up memories and half-forgotten life.
“I like slowly stroking the shocking fuzz of your electric fur,” Xander told him pleadingly, “and what is it comes over parting flesh.”
Xander moved faster now, his own body aching to finish. He remembered this feeling, knew it intimately. The more more now demands of a body that filled your head with cotton and dragged you along in its wake.
“And possibly,” Xander moaned, rocking his pelvis against Spike,” I like the thrill of under me you quite so new.”
Spike trembled, pushing his cock through the tunnel of Xander’s fist and the ungh ungh sound that resonated in this throat rumbled down Xander’s spine and straight to his dick. He felt the tepid splash of Spike’s orgasm on his fingers, and Xander thrust forward again, his own release tumbling hard on the heels of his lover’s.
They lay there, both panting and wide-eyed in the darkness. The knock at the door roused only a grumble from both men.
“Xander,” Cordelia called out, “get your ass in gear.”
And as the world came rushing back and the light spilled in from the hallway, Xander thought he heard a carousel in the distance. Well, he bitched to himself as he sat up, isn’t that what life’s all about? Painted wooden horses and shiny brass rings, here I come….
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on 2007-08-03 02:55 am (UTC)lush and poetic.
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on 2007-08-04 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-08-03 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
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on 2007-08-03 09:39 am (UTC)no subject
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on 2007-12-20 01:31 am (UTC)