Two's Company
Part 7.
Xander slammed his front door behind him by kicking his heel back as hard as he could, instantly regretting it as the bang resounded in his pounding head. He dropped his keys on the table, and watched as they slid off and hit the floor. Of course they did. It had just been that sort of day. He shrugged off his jacket and let it lie where it fell. The couch looked tempting, but he was starving. He checked the fridge, just to see if any delicious food and a cold beer had miraculously appeared. No. Still the same dubious smelling remains of takeaway Chinese that had been there yesterday. Typical. No *nice*, unexplained things ever happened to him.
He flicked on the kettle and spooned the last of the coffee into his favourite mug. As he turned to grab the kettle his elbow caught the mug and sent it crashing to the floor, where it broke.
"Oh fucking *perfect*!" He gave the mess a kick for good measure, missed and banged his toe on the wall.
Hobbling away spitting curses, he slumped on the couch and massaged his head that was aching so badly he felt slightly sick. It didn't actually help, but it was the kind of thing you were supposed to do when you had a headache. He couldn't see the remote, and he couldn't be bothered getting up to switch the TV on. He was supposed to have finished work hours ago, thus giving him time to go shopping for food, but a problem had been discovered with the foundation of the work they'd done so far on site. They'd all had to work through lunch and stay late as they dismantled it and started again, which hadn't put anyone in a sweet temper. None of the right tools had been to hand for any of the jobs, so he'd had to stop and search continually for the right gear. Wood had splintered, nails had bent, tempers had been lost, and the day had finished with him accidentally being smacked across the face with a plank of wood. He wasn't seriously hurt, apart from his pride, but his nose was throbbing and likely to bruise. It hadn't improved his mood, which was now as black as the Bronze after an earthquake.
The phone pealed out and Xander winced irritably at the invasive sound. For lack of anything better to do, he picked it up.
"What?" he snarled.
"Hello mate," Spike greeted him cheerily. "You sound like you're about to beat someone to a bloody pulp. What's going on?"
"Just me wishing I could get a seconds peace," Xander snapped, his bad mood unreasonably stoked by Spike's casual good humour. "And no, before you ask I don't want to go to the movies, or the Bronze or do anything other than stay in and stare at the wall."
"All right!" Spike responded defensively, an annoyed edge to his voice. "Who stuck the stake up your arse?"
Xander scowled, his skin and hair prickly with anger and indignation at Spike's tone. Couldn't Spike tell he needed some *sympathy* here? "Bad day in work, not of course that you'd know anything about that, since you don't work. No, you just mooch off me instead - your own personal cash machine. Well whatever you had planned to spend *my* money on tonight you can forget it, 'cos the bank's closed, pal!"
"Oi! Is it my bloody fault I occasionally get a bit short of the readies? You try findin' a job when you're a vampire that's had his fangs clipped! And I don't know what the hell has got your knickers in a knot, but don't take it out on me 'cos you've had a rotten day!"
//*Knickers*?// For some reason the knowledge that if he wasn't in such a snit he would find that amusing, made him feel worse than ever. Xander closed his eyes in the vain attempt to soothe his pounding head, and suddenly he couldn't muster up the energy to keep fighting. "Yeah whatever, Spike, I'll speak to you later."
"No, wait," Spike said, obviously making an attempt to get a grip on his temper. This mature, considerate behaviour irritated Xander beyond belief. "Look, I can come round with some beers and -"
"No. Thanks," Xander added as an afterthought. There was an uncertain silence from Spike's end of the phone that made Xander feel both cross and sourly satisfied. "Look I've got to go, I'll call you tomorrow. Bye."
Without waiting for an answer he hung up, but the moment the call had disconnected he felt worse than ever, his prickly annoyance ebbing to make room for the even less pleasant clench of guilt. He'd childishly taken his filthy mood out on Spike and behaved like an asshole when Spike hadn't done anything wrong, and had in fact been trying to help. //I shouldn't feel bad// he thought irritably. //It's true, I don't want to go out, and he *does* mooch off me.//
It was no good. Guilt had settled in for a good long sulk with him, and there was a small ashamed knot in his chest that he knew wouldn't go away until he had apologised. //Spike can take it// he reassured himself, slipping from the peaks of indignation to the valley of feeble excuses. //Everyone's entitled to have a bad day and be in a bad mood now and then, I mean what does he expect, I'm not perfect.//
He sighed glumly and stared at the phone, willing Spike to call again but it stubbornly refused to ring. He briefly toyed with the idea of going round to see him, but honestly didn't have the energy. //I'll go tomorrow// he promised himself. //And I'll buy him some of that expensive beer he likes.// Trying to quiet his conscience with promises of bribery he located the remote under the cushion and flicked on a mindless quiz show, keeping the sound low.
About half an hour later a knock on his door startled him out of his half-dazed staring at the TV. He levered himself out of his chair, grimly promising himself that if this was a door-to-door salesman he would make him cry, but when he opened the door it was to a familiar black-leather clad form that made his stomach give a happy jolt.
"Spike!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Yeah," Spike said looking a little uncomfortable. "Look I know you want to be alone, but-"
"No, I'm glad you're here," Xander said quickly. "Listen, I'm sorry about before, I was just in a really bad mood, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
Spike gave him a relieved smile and a tiny shrug. "'S'all right. I've got something that might help."
Xander raised his eyebrows slightly. "Oh?"
"Yeah," his smile turned slightly wry. "And you don't have to pay for it."
Xander winced. "I really am sor-"
"Skip it, c'mon."
Xander hesitated. Spike's method of cheering him up was probably going to involve dragging him to a bar and getting good and hammered. While he appreciated the gesture, he really wasn't feeling up to it. "Um, Spike I don't want to be rude, but I really am kinda beat ..."
"Don't worry, this'll perk you up," Spike said with a glint in his eye.
Xander caved. "Okay," he sighed. Pausing briefly to zap the TV he followed Spike out into the night and turned automatically into the direction of the Bronze. However Spike stopped by a gleaming motorbike. Xander's eyes widened.
"Okay - Spike, it's not that I don't appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but as gifts go this is a little over the top -"
"It's not for you, you prat," Spike snorted as he easily swung his leg astride, sitting on it as naturally as if he'd grown out of the saddle. "It's not even mine. It's ... on loan for the night, thought you'd enjoy a ride." He handed Xander a black helmet. "Put this on, and get on."
Xander stared at Spike in amazement.
"How did you know ..."
Spike gave him an amused smile. "I've seen the way you look at them."
It was true, although he had sadly long since accepted that he just wasn't the motorbike type, they had always given him a little-boy thrill, a fantasy about being the kind of guy who rode one. They were so sleek, so fast, so *cool*. His cousin had bought one a few years back and Xander's heart had felt like it would burst with jealousy, especially since the bastard had never even given him a ride. He'd said Xander was too uncoordinated and clumsy, and would make them fall off.
And now Spike was sitting astride the sleekest, coolest looking bike Xander had ever seen, waiting for him to get on.
"Well come on," Spike said impatiently as Xander didn't move.
"Did I mention that my balance isn't the best?" Xander stalled, revolving the helmet in his hands nervously.
"Your balance is fine," Spike scoffed. "C'mon, it's easy."
//Yeah, for you// Xander thought. Spike was just the kind of guy who rode a motorbike like he'd been born to do it. But he was waiting, drumming his fingers impatiently, and it was nice of him to go to all this trouble. And he *had* always wanted to try it ... With mingled excitement and nerves he slipped the helmet on and awkwardly got on the bike, resting his hand on Spike's shoulder for balance as he settled in the seat behind Spike.
"What do I hold onto?" he asked, hoping his nerves didn't show in his voice.
"Me," Spike replied.
"Oh. Right." He tentatively slid his arms around Spike's waist as Spike started the engine up. Xander felt a noticeable tremor go through Spike as the bike roared into life. His nerves increased as he noticed that normal safety rules apparently didn't apply to Spike, who wasn't wearing a helmet.
"Um, Spike? What happens if -"
"Don't worry about it, pet," Spike interrupted. "The thing about a bike is not to try and think too much and force it to happen. You just feel it, then it all comes as easy as breathing. Ready?"
"Uh ..."
"Good, lets go."
Xander's arms tightened reflexively around Spike as the bike began to move, picking up speed quickly. He clenched his eyes closed, a pained grimace on his face as the wind whipped past his tense, terrified body. His fingers gripped the leather of Spike's coat so tightly they ached, yet he held the rest of his body back rigidly, keeping a little distance between them, not wanting Spike to think he was a clinging wimp. He was acutely aware that they were racing along the road with *nothing* to protect them if they crashed, and spent the first few minutes of his fantasy come to life wishing fervently it was over and he had his feet back on the sweet, safe ground.
However as they rode on and didn't crash, despite his rigid form, he began to sense from the vibrations and Spike's movements when the bike was slowing, speeding, making a turn, and it wasn't so scary when he knew what was coming. Although he still held on tightly to Spike, the tense set to his shoulders eased, and he began to relish the wind roaring past him that had somehow blown his headache away. As he relaxed he opened his eyes, and suddenly, all at once he slipped into the rhythm, automatically leaning into the turn Spike made without even thinking about it, letting his body press easily against Spike's. Xander heard Spike shout something encouraging back to him, but it was lost in the wind, it didn't matter. Suddenly he felt as light as air, his heart swelling with happiness. He whooped as they picked up even more speed and flew down the streets, inhaling the scent of Spike's leather coat, the thrum of the bike underneath him feeling like an extension of himself. He was flying, free. Spike was right, this was easy, this was *wonderful* and he could do it! He was A Guy Who Rode A Motorbike!
The tang of fresh sea air told Xander they were near the beach, and soon - too soon - Spike slowed the bike and shuddered to a stop. For a moment Xander remained in his seat, his arms around Spike, still grinning, still caught up in the sensation, then reluctantly he took off his helmet and stood, moving off the bike and coming back to earth.
"That was amazing," Xander said reverently.
"Yeah," Spike gave the bike an affectionate pat as he swung himself off and pulled a bag and a blanket out of the cubby space under Xander's seat. "She's a beaut," he gave Xander an appraising look, a slight smile hovering on his mouth. "And you're a natural. What the hell were you worrying about balance for?"
Xander blushed. "Well, I hadn't done it before."
Spike shrugged. "It's like everything. You've got to give it a go first. You never know what you might end up liking."
Xander nodded. Spike was looking at him with odd intensity, he looked like he was about to say something else, then just tossed the blanket at him. "C'mon."
He set off down the beach, and Xander fell into step with him. There was a beach party not far away, he could hear the hum of voices and music, and see the fire, but Spike headed in the other direction. They passed a few smooching couples, but soon it was deserted. No-one really came this far down late at night. This was Sunnydale after all. Of course one of the good things about hanging out with Spike was he was more than capable of handling anything that tried to bare its teeth at them. It was a bit of a girly thing to think, but Xander always felt so *safe* around Spike.
Spike walked purposefully along until he found a spot that apparently met with his approval. Xander laid out the blanket and spread himself out on it as Spike busied himself with the bag. A can of beer landed with a heavy thump on Xander's stomach.
"Oof!" Xander protested, but without any real heat. "Y'know if this was anything but beer I'd throw it back at you. Hard. At your head."
"Oh yeah?" Spike said unimpressed.
"Well we already know it couldn't do any damage."
"How about if it's ... Doritos?" A pack of said munchies landed on Xander's chest.
"Okay - beer and Doritos - but nothing else."
"Oh, really?" Spike's grin had now officially reached the definition 'smug beyond all reason' as something else pretty heavy landed on Xander's chest.
"Ow! You - oh, *Spike*," Xander stared at the jar of chocolate spread, touched to his heart.
"Yeah, I've noticed you dip Doritos in that. Just don't let me see it okay?"
"This from the man that dunks onion rings in blood?" Xander teased, even as he unscrewed the lid, his mouth watering. He dipped his finger in, scooping up some chocolate and licked it off happily. He caught Spike watching his finger slip into his mouth, a look of hunger on his face and held the jar out. "Want some?"
Spike turned away so Xander couldn't see his face, busying himself with pulling something else out of the bag. "No."
Xander was about to respond with something witty and cutting like; 'you liar', but stopped when Spike freed a tiny portable radio from the bag and switched it on.
"Music too? Wow, I'm impressed."
Spike passed him the radio. "You choose."
"Jeez, that makes a change," Xander said wryly. Spike had a habit of taking over music, or the TV, swaggering in, sprawling on the couch and asking redundantly 'You watchin' this?' with his finger already poised on the remote.
Xander fiddled with the dial, hitting some soft ballad, then flying past to some rock music that sounded more Spike's sort of thing, but somehow didn't really fit in with the surroundings, or the relaxed mood. He went back to the ballad, looking at Spike, daring him to laugh, but Spike didn't even seem to notice, as he leant back on his hands, gazing around him and enjoying the view.
Xander sighed contentedly as he gazed around, it really was a lovely night, cool and clear, with a blanket of stars twinkling above, and the moon reflecting brightly on the ocean. The last vestiges of tension vanished, and he shot Spike a brilliant smile. This had been such a good idea.
***
//This was an incredibly bad idea// Spike thought helplessly. Not that Xander didn't seem to be enjoying it - he was relaxed, and happy, all traces of a bad mood had long since vanished. Oh, yes, on the 'cheering up Xander' front the night had been a huge success, but Spike himself was so tense he physically hurt. He looked around with despairing eyes - when he'd first hit on this idea, he'd just thought a motorbike ride followed by some fresh, sea air would be a nice change of scene. They'd sink a few beers, chat and generally cheer Xander up. Now he realised the whole thing could be his undoing. Having Xander pressed so close to him on the bike, their bodies moving together so naturally, had stoked a fire that he'd been trying his damn best to dampen down. He could have regained his self-control if they'd been anywhere else, but the setting of sea and stars was disastrously romantic; he'd unconsciously set up a seduction scene.
And on the subject of unconscious seduction, there was the master right next to him. Effortlessly making Spike feel hot and anxious, tight with longing, and all he was doing was just *lying* there! How did Xander *do* this to him? Maybe three times a week he went to a class and struck poses, while some woman in a Miss Whiplash outfit nodded and took notes and said things like; 'Yes, yes - that's *quite* good Xander, but remember keep it natural, your body must scream 'ravish me' while your eyes must look totally innocent and unaware.'
Because Xander *was* unaware - all this time and there had been nothing - not one moment to make Spike think Xander wanted him as anything more than a friend. Nobody had been looking more eagerly than Spike for that one moment. It just wasn't there. He kept telling himself to be thankful for what he had; Xander's friendship, and sometimes he could even mock himself; William the Bloody, slayer of Slayer's, the vampire who could make girls damp with just a twitch of his eyebrow, crazy for Xander Harris, just an ordinary straight-as-a-ruler guy who didn't even notice him in that way. How ironic. How funny.
And then there were moments like this, when he couldn't pretend.
It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all. This wasn't a passing crush, he'd fallen head-over-heels in love, and the more time he spent with Xander, the more it hurt. Friendship, sweet as it was, was pale and unsatisfactory compared to the vibrant wealth of emotion pent-up in his heart. He wanted everything. Wanted to be Xander's long-term, monogamous, possibly *slightly* possessive boyfriend. To be the one Xander lived with, fought with, laughed with, celebrated anniversaries with, woke up with.
Slept with.
God, how he wanted Xander. Wanted him. Wanted him. *Wanted* him. Wanted him so badly he was trembling, his stomach hollow, his groin heavy. Wanted to roll over and kiss him, strip him, have him laid out under him, naked and hard and *his*. Wanted to use his hands and mouth on that body he'd only caressed with his eyes. Wanted to slide in and feel the hot curving sensation of being buried inside him, hear the noises he'd make in the throes, as they made love, right here, right now, under the stars, by the sea. Wanted to have him over and over and over until they were both crying with release and this relentless burning ache inside his stomach, and heart and cock was sated and silent, and he couldn't. Because Xander didn't want him.
He tried to clamp down on the surge of desire but he couldn't - all he could do was clamp down on *himself*. Frozen with tension and anxiety. Terrified of doing anything that might upset Xander, and ruin their friendship, yet wanting him so much he could hardly contain himself, couldn't relax, could barely look at him for more than two seconds. What the hell had he been thinking, bringing him here with the moonlight, and the stars, and the sea, and romantic music...
"This is so nice," Xander said contentedly.
"Good," Spike replied, staring steadfastly ahead as his hands clenched in the folds of the blanket. "I was a bit worried on the way here, I remembered you saying sunbathing was boring."
"Yeah, but there's a lot of difference between sunbathing with the guys and ... well I guess you'd call it 'moonbathing' with you."
"A good difference?" Spike asked, cursing himself for a fool as he begged for a scrap.
Xander gave him a playful kick. "What do you think?"
"I don't think you're bored," Spike answered giving him a fleeting look, trying to sound light-hearted, as he spoke through a dry throat.
"No, I can honestly say Spike, no matter what we're doing, being bored with you has *never* been a problem."
//How can he not *know*?// Spike thought desperately as he stared blankly at the sea. //How can we be here - like this - with me *feeling* like this, and he doesn't know?// But Xander didn't - it was apparent in his easy, teasing manner, in his relaxed posture. Spike glanced at Xander, so close to him on the blanket, separated only by inches. His stomach clenched, he felt tortured, taunted by something he wanted so badly, that was so close, yet always out of his reach.
Xander was lying back, propped up on his elbows, watching the sea, and even as Spike watched Xander dropped his head back to look up at the stars, revealing the long, sleek line of his neck and the hollow of his throat.
Spike swallowed, and although a tiny voice in his head was yelling at him to get a grip he couldn't force himself to pull his eyes away. Couldn't help noticing that Xander's neck was just the right angle for someone to press kisses down, to flick their tongue out and taste the skin at the fluttering pulse. That someone could straddle Xander's hips and grind down if they wanted to. Someone could pull Xander's T-shirt up and off - could suck on his nipples, and kiss down his chest and stomach, down from his navel to his ...
Spike snapped his gaze away, as he realised to his horror he was getting hard, and no wonder, gazing at Xander who was spread out on the blanket like a poster-child for 'Waiting to be Ravished'. He quickly dragged his duster over his groin, biting his lip savagely. He either needed to be alone for a while, which wasn't really possible, or take a cold shower.
Spike's eyes fell on the sea. He managed to stand, keeping his duster swirling around him. "'M going for a swim."
"What?" Xander asked, surprised. "Spike it'll be cold! It's dark, who knows what's lurking ..."
Spike shook his head, ignoring Xander's, admittedly valid, points and headed determinedly down the beach, toeing off his boots and socks, dropping his duster, and T-shirt, then, making sure his back was to Xander, finally his jeans. He waded into the chilly water, the cold waves smacking against his bare skin helping to rid him of all the confusing, searingly hot images chasing around in his head. The want didn't vanish, but it did go back underground, lodging somewhere in the pit of his belly, and tightly across his chest, ensuring that he would be able to treat Xander like he was just a friend when he got out. He wondered wistfully if Xander had watched him strip off and wade into the sea, but doubted it. He splashed his face with the cool salty water, binding his feelings tightly with self control, promising himself a good fight later, a stiff drink, and an extra long fantasy with his hand once he got home, he just had to keep it together now...
"Hey, Spike!"
Spike turned to see Xander standing at the waters edge. "You're nuts, y'know that!"
Spike managed a grin. "A guys gotta do-" he slammed to a stop as he noticed Xander was barefoot.
"Yeah, apparently a guy does," Xander grinned. Then he pulled off his T-shirt. Spike drew in a sharp breath, he couldn't have moved if his life had depended on it. Xander unfastened his pants and let them drop, stepping out of them. Spike was motionless, couldn't speak, his eyes wide, looking at the long line of Xander's legs, the pale glow of his skin, the pattern formed on his chest by muscles and nipples. Xander hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers ... then paused and looked up. Spike snapped his gaze away a split second before their eyes met, turning and looking the opposite way, not daring to look back until he could be sure Xander was safely covered.
"Aaaggh! It's *freezing*!" Xander roared as he advanced into the sea.
"Sissy," Spike called back, glancing up and seeing to his sort-of-relief that Xander was now chest-deep in the water. He smiled despite himself at the disgruntled expression on Xander's face, and with a pang, dismissed the idea of trying to sneak a peak or cop a feel. The easy trust Xander displayed in him nowadays was too special to abuse. He wanted to deserve it, not take advantage of it. He sighed. God, he was so whipped.
"Who's a sissy?" Xander challenged, launching himself at Spike and grabbing his shoulders, pushing him backwards. Spike fell back into the water, momentarily going under, and emerged, spluttering furiously.
"Hey!" Spike protested as Xander sniggered at him, and suddenly everything felt okay again. They were together, they were friends, and they were happy. If friendship was all that was on offer, then he'd be the best friend going. The very damn best. Of course that was no reason to let him off for the dunking ... Spike smiled dangerously, and Xander, who recognised the smile, promptly began to back off.
"Now, Spike, it was just a joke... don't overreact now... oooh, quick look over there! Aggggghhh Spi-" but the rest was lost in an outraged burble as Xander got a faceful of salt-water. He shook his head to get the water away, and watched him warily, eyes bright as they circled each other in the water. Xander flicked a tiny splatter of water at him. Spike raised an eyebrow. This meant war.
He launched himself at Xander, who was waiting for him and everything became a little confused for a few minutes as they did battle with water as ammunition. It was lucky he didn't need to breathe as they dunked each other over and over. Xander was at a disadvantage on that point, but he more than made up for it by splashing huge waves of water into Spike's face. Salt water was in his eyes, his throat, his ears, and Spike didn't care, they were both roaring with laughter. He foolishly turned his back for a moment, to try and rub salt water out of his eyes, and Xander grabbed him from behind, trying to dunk him under. Spike managed to twist in his arms and face him, laughing as he managed to dunk Xander instead.
Xander thrashed furiously, still clinging to him, trying to pull him under too and Spike let him up, chuckling. They were so close Spike could feel their chests drag against each other as Xander broke the surface coughing for air but grinning. Spike stopped laughing. Water was streaming down Xander's chest, tracing patterns over his skin, and dark hard nipples. One of Spike's hands was still resting on Xander's hip under the water, the other was on his shoulder. His skin was chilled and smooth. Spike swallowed. Xander was rubbing at his eyes, blinking at the sting of the salt. He squinted at Spike through reddened eyes, and gave him a smile. Spike's stomach gave a terrified lurch, but he couldn't stop himself, couldn't, not with Xander so close, under his hands, making a mockery of all his good intentions. His mouth felt parched, desperate for just one taste ...
"Woah!" Xander said holding his hands up as Spike suddenly moved closer, freezing him in the movement. Spike snapped back to his senses, feeling sick with horror.
"Xander - I didn't ..."
But Xander was grinning, still completely at ease. "No! No more water fights, okay?"
"Oh," Spike stammered, vaguely realising he was luckier than he had any right to be, and Xander had misunderstood his intentions. "Yes. I mean, no, fine. No more fighting."
Xander ducked out from under Spike's hand, slipping away easily and launching himself into the backstroke, and kicking his feet playfully in Spike's direction and sending droplets of cool water over his face. "Sorry!" he called back, not sounding in the least apologetic.
"Watch it, you," Spike said croakily, but it was mere token protesting. He still felt a little sick, shaking with relief and loss in the aftermath of what he'd almost done.
Xander floated lazily in the water, and Spike was careful to keep his distance, and his eyes averted in case madness took over once again. He was experiencing a serious impulse control problem tonight.
"I've never done this before," Xander said dreamily.
"Oh?" Spike answered with no clear idea of what he was saying. "Me either."
"Surprising," Xander commented. "I always had the impression you'd been pretty much everywhere, and done everything."
"Oh," Spike focussed. "Well yeah, I have, and I've done this before," he said, with no trace of bragging, just stating a fact. "But doin' it with you, that makes it different."
"So, there's *nothing* we could do that you haven't already done?" Xander asked curiously.
The hot jumble of images that had driven him into the water flooded back, and even the cold water didn't seem to be helping to calm him anymore. "There are a few things," Spike said hesitantly.
"Like?" Xander pressed.
"Things you don't want to do," Spike said shortly. Before Xander-the-Curious could ask any more questions he cleared his throat, and hurried on. "So what happened today that pissed you off so much? Anyone you want me to kill for you?"
Xander sounded like he was smiling when he spoke. "Tempting, but no. It was just a load of crap that doesn't even matter anymore."
"Good."
Beside him Xander shivered. "I'm gonna have to get out. Next time we do this lets do it in August, 'kay?"
//Never, never, never are we doing this again.// Spike silently swore. It was more than flesh and blood could stand. "Yeah, sure thing mate."
"You coming?" Xander asked.
"Umm, right behind you," Spike hedged, needing another few moments alone to compose himself.
"Okay." Xander swam, then waded out of the water up to the beach. Spike tried not to look, he honestly did, but Xander was far enough away that he wouldn't do something stupid, and he had bugger-all else ... As though his head was being tugged on a string he looked up. Xander was standing on the beach with his back to Spike. Spike's mouth parted slightly, his chest aching as he gazed at the long line of Xander's back, flowing down into the firm curves of his ass, and then Xander stepped into his boxers, turning slightly as he pulled them up, and Spike could see - oh - everything. His mind was a camera, recording the images - the taut, pale skin of Xander's thighs, the pattern of hair over his groin, his heavy, perfect cock. He was beautiful. A small, yearning sound caught in the back of Spike's throat. Xander pulled on his jeans and fastened them, then grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it over his head as he began to make his way back up the beach.
Spike stood alone in the dark water, shivering as desire pooled heavily in his groin. Trying to make it stop, waiting for it to ebb and flow away with the tide, and to be able to gather himself together enough to wade back out of the sea.
***
This time when he got back onto the bike Xander enjoyed every second of it, though it may have had something to do with the fact he was so physically relaxed his body felt like it was about to melt. He clasped his arms around Spike, and let himself press against him, vaguely noticing how well his larger form fit against Spike's slighter form, yet Spike was still strong enough to lean heavily on. Spike came across as being all pointy and sharp, but he wasn't. He felt solid and comfortable, like a favourite pillow. Something comforting to embrace after a bloody awful day. Xander tucked his chin on Spike's shoulder. He could smell the fresh sea salt lingering on Spike's skin in the curve of his neck. It had washed off the aroma of smoke and copper and leather that usually clung to Spike and idly the thought drifted into Xander's head that right now Spike must have the scent of the ocean all over him. For some reason the thought brought a picture into his mind of Spike standing waist deep in the sea, water trickling down his hair and over his pale, naked chest, a look of amused outrage on his face. The way he'd looked right after Xander had pulled off a quality dunking move on him. Xander closed his eyes, smiling.
They reached his apartment all too quickly and he handed back his helmet and got off the bike with reluctance, feeling an odd pang of loss. He stumbled a little and Spike reached out, grabbing his wrist quickly and steadying him.
"Careful there, mate."
"Thanks - I'm kinda beat."
Spike nodded. "Yeah, well you trot off to bed, I've gotta get this back before the owner reports it ... uh ... that is ..."
"Oh did you say something?" Xander asked innocently. "I didn't hear you."
They smiled at each other, then with a lurch of shock Xander realised Spike still had hold of him, his thumb was absent-mindedly rubbing lightly over his skin at the inside of his wrist. Xander glanced down, Spike followed his gaze and inhaled sharply, dropping his wrist like it was a hot coal. Xander quickly shoved his hands in his pockets, not wanting to embarrass Spike, when he obviously hadn't realised what he'd been doing. There was a slight, tingling feeling on his wrist where Spike had been stroking. Maybe due to residue sea-salt.
He nodded back towards his apartment. "Well I'd better go - listen, thanks for tonight Spike, really. It was great."
Spike shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "No problem. Just a few beers and a motorbike ride really."
"Well, whatever it was it really helped. Thanks Spike, you're a pal."
Spike nodded. "I am," he said wryly, as he started up the bike. "Aren't I."
Concluded in the last part
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