nasty shrew
NC-17 Spike/Xander
Xander's known Spike three days when he quits his job as a courier to go on tour with the band.
Warnings for drug use
See Disclaimer of Ownership here
Chapter Two
"Fuck you!" two simple words, thrown at him more times than he could count. Two words spat, hissed, screamed, yelled - and Xander had taken it every time, gritting his teeth, riding it out. His father's anger was always brief flashes, followed by drink and a merry round of 'throw up on the ugly couch and pass out'.
His dad had never lived up to the drunks in the movies - never beat Xander within an inch of his life with a vodka bottle, never backed him into corners and stared at him with a dirtywrongbloodsweat leer, the patented look of the 'sick fuck'. Nope, his dad was a coward who would start fights he couldn't finish. A loser who would stumble into Xander's room with blood on his chin and a black eye, screaming filth at his child because his wife had threatened to leave him and he'd lost his fourth job that month.
For Xander the phrase 'fuck you', said with a noticeable slur, had never had good connotations.
"What the hell are you doing?" he laughed, odd mix of fear and amusement in his chest as he watched Spike standing on the roof of the tour bus, a bottle of Jack clutched in his hand, screaming 'fuck you' to a sky that didn't remotely care.
"I'm talking to God! Bit of a rude bastard - hasn't answered me yet!" Spike called down, grinning like demon, like a fallen angel. A real fallen angel; angry, raw, dangerous - a flame dancing in a world of darkness. Xander wondered what deity he'd pissed off to end up with the role as the moth.
"Spike, you'll hurt yourself! Come back inside the hotel - the guys will be wondering where you are!" he warned, because he was being practical and people were staring, which, with Spike was sort of unavoidable but Xander was a goddamn square, uninteresting bystander - he wasn't used to attention. He didn't like it.
"I'm communing with God!" Spike yelled, throwing his head back, letting a roar shudder through his body.
"You're drunk!" he snapped, eyes flicking nervously towards the security guard who was walking towards them. He was overweight and approaching 50, grey hair and red face. It was unreasonable that Xander should be scared of him - he could outrun the guy without breaking a sweat. He could get a taxi, drive home to LA and never look back ... wait until he got old and crumbly and tell people about those six crazy days he spent with an even crazier rock singer. He could let this stupid whirlwind fuck whirlwind, this was a tornado romance die this second and save himself from inevitable heartbreak, like any intelligent person would.
"Up here, luv! Climb up here and snog me - then we can go back to hotel and fuck like well behaved bunnies," Spike said, spreading his arms and tilting his head so his white hair caught the light of the moon.
"No," Xander said, new plan set in his brain, the plan of the intelligent individual. To turn on his heel, blow a kiss and live the rest of his life remembering those mad few days when Xander Harris was able to pretend he was more important than he actually was.
"Come on! Live! Tell God we don't care if he thinks we're freaks! Tell 'im we don't give a damn!" he shouted, flashing the birdie at the sky and grabbing his crotch, laughing all the while.
Xander had never claimed to be intelligent.
"Christ, Spike," he hissed, already clambering onto the roof of the bus, furtive glances at the security guard, huffing and puffing as he tried to quicken his jog towards them from across the grounds.
"No. M'not Christ - Adam, maybe, 'cause I've had my share of silly cows who fucked things up for me by taking a bite of the bleeding apple," Spike chuckled, setting the bottle down and unsteadily walking towards Xander to pull him up. In the process, they stumbled backwards; causing Spike to sit on the roof with a thud and take Xander with him, so that he ended up lying between Spike's legs, lips inches apart.
Xander suspected the secutiry guard was probably only about a minute away, red face flushed with disgust, plump hands tightening on the radio control, righteous downhome fury at the fags kissing on the roof of a bus like they had a right to be there. He didn't give a damn.
"Tell me lies," Spike gasped, lips red and swollen as he pulled back from Xander's mouth, grey eyes pleading for something Xander didn't know how to give.
"Huh?" he asked, instantly wincing because he knew he should know what was going on here, someone cooler probably would, but he'd never been cool, always been the dorky idiot who wasn't even funny enough to get the class clown label.
Spike frowned, jaw clenched as he pulled back further, the soft lining of his coat rubbing against Xander's stomach, reminding him of the leather and smoke filling his senses as he was fucked slowly, deliberate mouth crushing against his, world around them a blur as they moved with the heartbeat of a creature Xander couldn't identify.
Xander considered that this was a really cruel time to start asking anything of him that involved coherent thought.
"You hated it didn't you? It was shite. I know it was shite - I was off on the third verse and Faith's drumming sounded like she was bludgeoning a sheep ..."
"Are you talking about that song you just recorded?" he asked, the click in his brain almost audible, echoing in the small closet that Spike had tugged him. There into bleach in his hair and bleach on the shelves, blue rubber floor squeaking with Xander's sneakers and clunking with Spike's boots as they necked like teenagers. But now they were talking and Xander was trying, unsucessfully, to concentrate. "Are you shitting me? That song was amazing - anthem for our lost generation or something," he said, words rushed, slightly desperate as Spike's hands pushed against his trousers, worry dissolving, replaced by something more carnal and familiar.
"Keeping you," he muttered. It felt like they were in a vacuum - no sound, no air, only touch and the palpable heat that thrummed and caressed until their clothes were on the floor. Xander was fucked in a supply closet and the track was named 'Anthem for our Lost Generation'.
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