Everybody Thinks: stand alone smut

Rating: Not NC17. Maybe SPF17.

Pairing: S/X

Concrit: always welcome

Disclaimer: Joss. Mutant Enemy. Grr. Arrg. Yadda yadda. Wish they'd done this on the show, but then it would have been PayPerView and I wouldn't have seen it.

Summary: Spike, duplicity, magic, and a bag from Binky's sex shop.

Warnings: Non-con of the "But, Spike, I don't wanna--oh, god, do that again!" variety, bondage, first time Xander, and possibly gratuitous use of the term "cock."

Note: The term "Spongebob Squareboxers" was given me by the lovely hellespont. (and would someone please tell me how to do the more common link to another lj user. I tried what the FAQ said and kept screwing up)

Note 2: Never wrote smut before. Boy is it fun!

Everybody Thinks

by
Skitterby

Spike had been acting weird. Weirder than average, Xander amended. It started with glances. They’d be sitting in the Magic Box pretending to listen to Giles lecture on the demon of the week, and Xander would look up to catch Spike making what could only be described as “googly eyes” at him.

Then things had progressed to touches. Innocent, accidental brushes of hands and thighs. Their banter had become stilted. Spike’s insults rang false. He became defensive at the strangest things. Like the time Buffy commented on all the time he insisted on spending with Xander, teasing that they were a couple. Spike had protested so much even Xander had begun to think they were seeing each other. Until he remembered that he would have noticed if he were boinking the evil undead.

Spike started insisting on patrolling with Xander. Nothing Xander said could dissuade him or convince the girls, since Buffy and Willow were both happy being paired off with their significant others. Then there was the time Spike took a serious wound--impalement by a three-foot spine--to save Xander.

So when Spike burst through his apartment door, smiling broadly and swinging a brightly colored shopping bag far too energetically, he felt a definite lurch of suspicion. And a small tsunami of embarrassment at being caught in his Spongebob Squareboxers.

“Hello, pet!” Spike sang out cheerily as he openly looked Xander over. And frowned at the boxers. “Really, Xan, that just won’t do. Lose the boxers. They’re ruining the mood.”

Xander spluttered. “Lose-- But-- Mood? What mood?”

“My mood,” Spike said with the tour-guide cheer he’d maintained since entering the apartment.

Xander sat up and flicked off the T.V. Cheery Spike demanded his full attention. “Yeah, about that,” he said. “Why are you in such a good mood? Because, I gotta say, with you a good mood usually means something bad has happened, is happening, or will happen in the near future. It’s a trend I’ve noticed.”

Spike laughed and plopped onto the sofa by Xander’s feet. “Nothing bad. I promise, this will be very, very good.”

Xander wasn’t buying it. “What, exactly, will be so good?” Then his eyes fell on the bag Spike carried. “Holy fuck! You went to Binky’s? And brought your purchases here? No way am I letting you play with whatever you bought here. Nuh-uh. Take your kinky sex toys and leave now.”

Spike-smirk. “Never said anything about them being kinky. Guess we know where your mind is.”

Heat seared across Xander’s cheeks. “I didn’t-- You don’t-- Get out, Spike.”

“You’re quite the blushing virgin, aren’t you? Priceless.”

“Out!”

“Make me.”

Xander surged forward, grabbing Spike’s arms and yanking hard. The vampire didn’t budge. When Xander tired and adjusted his grip, it was Spike’s turn to lunge. In a move so fast Xander couldn’t follow, he had the boy pinned to the sofa. “Smell good, pet. Can’t wait to taste.”

Xander, of course, struggled to get out from under Spike. He considered his position--nearly naked, pinned under a madly grinning vampire with a large bag from Sunnydale’s only sex shop--and struggled harder. Spike tightened his grip on Xander’s wrists until he whimpered. That hurt, damnit!

Then the fear hit. Spike hurt Xander. Spike did not go into painful convulsions from everybody’s favorite chip. Xander did what any man in his position would do: he panicked.

“Shh, now, pet. It’s okay. Not gonna hurt you. Much,” Spike crooned, switching his hold on Xander’s wrists to one hand and stroking the boy’s hair and cheek. “Calm down, love. Spike’ll take care of you.”

Forcing himself to breathe slowly, Xander managed to calm down enough brain cells to ask a question: “How?”

Spike did not need clarification. “Easy. Just explained to Red that you and I were madly in love and wanted to consummate our relationship, but that first time penetrative sex hurt a bit and the chip wouldn’t let me love you, even when my intention wasn’t to hurt.”

Xander goggled. “She’d never fall for that!”

Smug bastardly grin. “Ate it up like honey. Oohed and ahhed and said she knew all along and that we make a lovely couple. Told me to tell you that you owe her for not telling her sooner. And threatened me with a shovel.”

“No!” Xander insisted. “She wouldn’t set you loose on the public just so we could have sex. And we’re not having sex!”

Spike leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Not the public, just you.”

Xander thumped his head against the sofa cushion, which was unfortunately too soft to knock him unconscious. “Oh, God,” he muttered.

And then he squeaked when cool hands found his boxers and ripped them off. And then ripped them up. Apparently Spike really didn’t like Spongebob. Spike leered at what he had uncovered and grabbed Xander’s hands--briefly freed for the sake of destroying the offending garment--from where they attempted to preserve some modicum of modesty. Spike licked his lips. Oh, God.

Strong hands on his hips, soft thumbs tracing patterns in the creases between legs and torso. “Now, are you going to be a good lad and walk to the bedroom, or do I need to carry you?”

“Go to Hell, Spike.”

“Thought you’d say that.”

And then Xander found himself cheek to cheek with Spike’s ass as he was thrown over the blonde’s shoulder. An arm wrapped around his legs prevented him from kicking out. He didn’t know where Spike’s other hand was until he heard the rustle of the paper bag. Even then he couldn’t place the snap he heard.

Couldn’t place it until slick, cold fingers touched him there. He tensed immediately, feeling the wet fingers wiggle against his cheeks. And then the tingling warmth started. What the hell was that?

“Know I don’t have any body temperature, so I got the warming stuff for you. Doesn’t come in any fancy flavors, though.” Xander whimpered.

One finger forced its way in before Spike started walking. In and out and in and out, the finger pumped. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel odd and uncomfortable, and the thought that the finger was only the beginning and that Spike intended to put other, probably larger things in his ass really freaked him out. So did the paper bag he felt swinging scratchily against his legs. What else was in there? It was an awfully large bag of stuff Spike no doubt intended to use on him.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Spike had worked a second finger into Xander, and that one actually burned a little. Xander whimpered against his will, earning a soft croon from Spike.

“Hush, now, love. Said this was gonna be good, didn’t I?” Spike soothed as he withdrew his fingers--sigh of relief--and gently stroked a butt cheek.

Xander found himself eased onto the bed. “You--you won’t get away with this,” he said. “If you kill me, they’ll know it was you. And if you don’t, I’ll tell Buffy. Either way, they stake you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to leave town then, won’t I?” Spike said. His tone spoke of nothing but confidence. He set the bag down so it tickled Xander’s leg hairs. Then he slid his duster off and tossed it to the corner. Followed by his red over shirt. Followed by his black t-shirt. Followed by his boots. Followed by his--gulp--pants. There were no boxers, or briefs for that matter, to follow.

Xander could do nothing but lay on the bed, tense and trembling, and stare at his fate. His compact and well-muscled fate. His very male fate. He tried to say something, he didn’t know what, but only managed a few kittenish noises that manly men should not be able to make.

Spike grabbed himself and stroked a few times while giving Xander a look the boy had once seen on Willow's face while looking at the most expensive computer in the store. A look he himself reserved for the el Presidente platter at Pedro’s Mexican Restaurant.

As if on cue, Spike licked his lips. “Delicious, pet.”

Spike released himself and stroked his hand down Xander’s chest. Tweaked a nipple. And the touch was enough to snap Xander back into action. He grabbed Spike’s wrist and bent it sideways. Spike growled and then used his free hand to pull Xander’s hands away. Damn his vampire strength!

“Now, now. Thought you’d try something like that,” Spike said. He dug through the bag with one hand and then rolled Xander and pulled his arms behind him. Soft leather buckled around each wrist and then Spike’s hands were gone. He let Xander test the restraints and realize there was no way he was getting out of them before rolling him onto his back.

Spike frowned at his groin and tsked. “Why, Xander, you don’t seem interested. We’ll have to fix that.”

“Never happen,” Xander spat.

Spike just gave him the smug grin of a creature who had over one hundred years sexual experience, didn’t have to breathe, and survived by his ability to suck. From the moment a lukewarm tongue rasped across a nipple, Xander didn’t stand a chance.

Oh, God. Xander could feel every single one of Spike’s taste buds as he licked that nipple, sucked on it, and blew cool breath across it. The traitorous nub hardened and begged for more. Spike moved to the other nipple and pinched the first, teasingly, and then harder, and then hard enough to make Xander yelp.

“Taste good,” Spike murmured. “Like salt and butter.” He snuffled Xander’s neck and licked up the thick artery there, pausing to dart his multi-textured tongue into Xander’s ear. “So alive. So sweet. Want to eat you all up,” he breathed into his ear, making him shiver.

And then the mouth was gone. Spike straddled him and sat back on his heels. Cocked his head to the side as if deciding what to do next. Grabbed both nipples and twisted.

“Ah!”

And rubbed.

Gasp. Pant. “I hate you.”

And pulled.

Xander decided he also hated his cock, as it apparently didn’t care that this was Spike who was molesting him, and sat up in the hopes that those nice fingers might offer it some of the attention they were lavishing on his nipples.

Spike smirked. “Much better,” he said. “But not good enough. Wonder what would happen if I …” He licked his lips.

Traitor-cock jerked and swelled a little more.

Xander screwed his eyes shut, knowing what was coming and refusing to witness it.

“Uh-uh. Open your eyes.”

Hell no.

Fingers twisted his nipples.

Nuh-uh.

Hard.

Okay, okay! He opened his eyes and was immediately rewarded by a cool mouth engulfing his cock. And sucking. A tongue ran up the underside of his penis and teased the spot just under the head. His hands, crushed under the small of his back, scrabbled uselessly at the comforter as he tried to buck up into that mouth, only to have Spike move with him, preventing him from sliding in any further.

The fingers on his nipples twisted and pulled and rubbed in tandem with the tongue on his cock. And then they twisted viciously as--oh sweet Jesus, I guess a gag reflex would get in the way of swallowing spurts of blood. Yeah, that.

One hand left a nipple--no, come back!--and cupped his balls--never mind, Mr. Hand. You obviously know what you’re doing. Carry on--and rolled them. A finger slid back a bit and stroked the bit of skin behind his balls and he arched up and, on the thump back to the bed, impaled himself on the sneaky digit.

All the while, Spike’s thumb stroked back and forth over his balls and his other hand teased his nipples and his tongue did things like swirl around his cock and press into the slit at its head. Gotta love that multi-tasking.

Fever-heat prickled across his skin and coiled deep in his belly until he thought he might spontaneously combust. And then he bucked hard and a hand yanked his balls while another wrapped tightly around the base of his cock and if that wasn’t proof that Spike was evil, nothing was.

He wanted to cry.

“Shh, now. Wanna be in you when you come. Feel you spasming all around me, nice and tight and hot.” Spike’s words, tickling the inside of his ear, made him shiver. “I let go, you gonna be able to restrain yourself?”

In retrospect, Xander so should have lied. But, like the fool he was, he shook his head no.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ve got something to help you.” And before Xander realized what Spike was doing or what that weird strip of leather was, Spike had the Instrument of Evil wrapped tightly around the base of his cock and balls.

“I hate you.”

“Keep saying that and I’ll think you mean it,” Spike simpered. Then he slapped a thigh. “Now roll over.”

Xander’s surviving brain cells had by now rallied enough to form an outraged mob that decided to refuse to do what Spike said just because he could suck like a damned industrial vacuum. Of course, Spike, being a vampire what with the super-strength and all, merely flipped him over as easily as he might have handled a rag doll.

Strong, non-girly hands grabbed his ass cheeks and squeezed while thumbs that felt really large--large like in that movie Even Cowgirls Get the Blues--caressed and pressed his opening. His opening did its very best to stay closed.

“Mm, so pretty like this. All trussed up just for me. Like a present, you are.” Another squeeze. “You a screamer, Xan?”

“No,” he lied, thinking of the busybody next door who would call the police if he just screamed and why hadn’t he thought of that before? He immediately opened his mouth to call for help, but before he could make a sound something soft wedged between his teeth and over his tongue. “Mph!”

“Oh, pet, if you could only see yourself. Red silk like blood on your cheeks. Lovely,” Spike breathed.

Xander tried to curse against the gag. He tried to sit up, but a hand on his back and an ass on his thighs stopped him. He watched helplessly as Spike snagged two pillows and eased them under his hips so his ass stuck up in the air, obscenely vulnerable.

And then Spike shifted so Xander’s legs were spread wide with him in between them and Xander realized that yes, he could feel more exposed.

The now-familiar snap and slurp of lube set him tensing and then struggling, hips bucking, toes scrabbling for purchase, and hands clawing uselessly at nothing. One strong hand pressed against his lower back prevented him from actually making any progress.

And then the Fingers were back. One and then two and then a third that made him gasp against his gag. It hurt. It hurt a lot and his eyes stung as he tried to squirm away from the invading digits. He tried to beg, anything if Spike would stop, but the gag prevented him from doing anything other than whimpering and grunting.

It was enough though. Spike stilled his fingers and pressed his chest to Xander’s back, stroking his head with his non-pervy-invasive hand. “Shh. It’s okay. Just relax.”

Relax! Easy for Spike to say. He didn’t have fingers where fingers should never go.

“I’ve got you,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to the nape of Xander’s neck. “It’s gonna feel so good, I promise.” He kept whispering soft words into Xander’s ear and stroking his hair and cheek while the other hand started to move again. He pumped his fingers in and out and twisted them around and moved them apart to stretch Xander even more.

After a while, the burning eased away into a tingly warmth. Xander found himself relaxing into the soft petting and even relaxing around Spike’s fingers. When they withdrew, he felt empty.

And then something much larger pressed against his hole and relaxation skittered away, the coward, leaving him all alone with Spike’s cock about to skewer him like a shish kabob and maybe if he hyperventilated he could just sorta sleep through this. He tried, but the damn gag made breathing too difficult for hyperventilation to be an option.

“Relax, Xander.” Spike kissed the nape of his neck again and then grabbed his hips and held him still as he pushed in, slowly splitting Xander into a million pieces. He didn’t know if the white he saw was his sheets or pain. There was no way he’d survive this. It wasn’t possible. And then the pain lessened a little as Spike pushed the head of his cock completely inside and paused.

“Doing all right, there?”

Xander whimpered and tried to blink away his tears before deciding that even if boys didn’t cry, boys didn’t get fucked up the ass, so these were extenuating circumstances. He sniffled.

An arm snaked around his torso and a hand stroked his chest. “Shh, now. Don’t cry. Gets better. Just hurts because it’s your first time and you’re so tense.”

Xander pressed his face against the mattress and squeezed his eyes shut. The hairs on the back of his neck waved in Spike’s sigh. “Just relax, love.” And then he was moving again, slow, shallow thrusts that dug him in a little deeper each time.

It seemed to take forever, but Spike had told the truth: it did get better. Just like with the fingers, the pain gave way to a pleasant heat and Xander couldn’t help but thrust back into Spike.

“That’s right, pet. Move with me. Just like that.” Spike kept talking to him even as he shifted his hips as though looking for something. Xander couldn’t imagine what that was until he pressed against something inside of him that sent bolts of electricity straight to his balls.

He bucked hard and Spike chuckled. “Like that, do you?” Xander could only grunt his agreement. “Want me to do it some more?” Xander keened and bucked his hips, praying Spike would catch the message. “If you insist.”

Vampiric speed meant Spike could thrust against his prostate about six times a second. Xander couldn’t thrust back that quickly; he could only lie there and take it. Which he did. Happily.

“Wanna come, love?”

Xander practically screamed into the gag. What kind of stupid question was that?

He felt Spike chuckle against his back and just tried to hump the pillows harder. A merciful hand slid down to his groin and then the Evil Cockring of Doom was gone and he experienced a full-body spasm as though someone had hit him with a defibrillator and exploded all over himself and his pillow.

Spike tensed above him and then his insides were inundated with Spike’s come. Spike’s come. Strangely enough, that thought did not inspire panic. And he was too relaxed to wonder why.

Spike pulled out of him with a slurp that he found more arousing than was probably normal, and sat up. Xander’s back immediately chilled as cool air hit slick sweat. Nimble fingers--so very nimble, and he should know--worked the leather cuffs off his wrists, which immediately flopped to the mattress like landed fish. The gag went next.

The bed shifted as Spike stood up. “I’ll just be going then. Don’t want to be around when you tell Buffy and she decides to stake me.”

“Huh? What? Why would I do that?” Xander asked, trying to blink his brain back to function.

“You said I’d never get away with taking your sweet cherry arse--though not in so many words--and that you’d tell Buffy and send her after me, remember?”

Xander swore he could hear Spike’s smirk. He tried to roll his eyes, but moving even that much was too much trouble. “Stay.”

“I don’t know,” Spike mused. “Don’t wanna get all dusty.”

“Stay,” Xander said more firmly. “You haven’t shown me everything from the bag yet.”

“Well, when you put it like that …” Spike pulled the sticky pillows out from under him, rolled him onto his side, pulled up the blanket from the foot of the bed, and cuddled up behind him.

A thought hit Xander. “What are we gonna tell the girls?”

“Don’t worry,” Spike murmured. “Everybody already thinks we’re a couple.”

The End