Fiction ; "But...!"

"BUT...!"

"But that's just plain rude, Rupert, shifting me elsewhere like an old jam jar being moved aside for a new tin of baked beans."

"It's no good, Spike.  No amount of your purple prose and extremely questionable allegory can or will change the situation.  A friend is coming to visit and you have to go."

" '...can or will change the situation'.  You're a sad bastard, you know that?  And she may be visiting but are you up to making sure that she'll be coming?"

The griping went on but Xander tuned it out. Everyone had seemed to have forgotten that he was the one in the firing line. He was the one who had to take on the role of unwilling host to a psychotic vampire who he was sure would kill him in his sleep, chip or no chip. Even worse, to his young and un-worldly mind was the undeniable fact that he found the vampire intensely and erotically desirable. It had nothing to do with eating bugs or thralls, he hastened to assure himself. He wasn't burdened with deep dark desires of the undead kind, it was just that he fancied the hell out a gorgeous looking un-dead man who, he felt sure could sate all his deepest, darkest desires with one flick of that wicked tongue or one thrust of those skinny hips. Xander was lost in his alliterative desires and the last place he could find safety was at home if he had to share with Spike.

*****************

"But we're outdoors now, Harris. I've had to go without for days with Rupert "Anal" Giles and his bloody second-hand smoke embargo. As if he doesn't indulge whenever he feels like a drag." Spike petulantly kicked a stone across Xander's foot and watched it skitter clatteringly along in front of them before bouncing off a gate post and shuddering to a halt.

"Yes, and I'm outdoors with you and I'll be the one breathing the second-hand smoke, so don't."

"Oh, fuck off, Harris." Spike pulled a cigarette from the packet and, halting under a street lamp, turned against the breeze to light it. The stance was so studied and at the same time so natural it was impossible to tell by looking if Spike knew just how evocative the pose was. Then, white hair limned with moonlight and lamplight he turned to Xander and just smirked, lifting an eyebrow. Oh, he knew alright; had probably spent decades practising to get it just right, thought Xander despondently.

Although he wouldn't admit it, the soft breeze lifted the smoke up and away from them both and all that was left was a pleasant, aromatic tang that was no sooner there than it was gone. Far more noticeable was the scent of summer flowers lying heavily on the night air and, with the security of having a master vampire by his side, Xander realised that he was enjoying the walk. There was no particular place to go, no particular menace to be averted, no chatting about shoes and clothes sales and the latest make-up along with discussions on how to kill disgusting looking demons. Except that they were going home. THEY were going home. Spike was going to be sleeping in Xander's basement for at least a week and possibly longer, if Giles's friend extended her stay.

It was ironic that, now that he would have the vampire in what was, effectively, his bedroom, he would no longer be able to indulge in the bedroomy pastimes that would otherwise occur while he was thinking about Spike. From now on there would be no thinking about Spike's being in his bedroom - just Spike's being in his bedroom. Xander groaned and, mirroring Spike's early action, kicked a stone, hard.

Spike did the eyebrow lift, "That was rather vicious, Harris. I hope that wasn't supposed to be my head." He looked at Xander, "Or my own stones for that matter," he added.

Xander flushed. Of course, Spike had to mention bits of his anatomy that Xander had been trying hard not to think about all night. What was he, a mind-reader, now? The Harrises' household loomed above them, and Xander didn't bother trying to formulate an answer. "Now, then house rules..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know 'em all same as at Rupert's but with having to keep quiet as well in case Mummy and Daddy come investigating. I hope I get a key, I'm not having you treating me like a ten-year old." Spike's monologue carried on while they entered the basement. In his own defence, Xander ignored it al, just interrupting now and again to point out salient areas and appliances of his living area

"But that's bloody absurd; I'm not sleeping there. What the fuck do you think I am, a soddin' cat? I want a proper bed. I had a bed at Rupert's - eventually - and I want a bed here."

"There is only one bed here, Spike and that is mine. It is not, nor will it be yours and believe me you will not be here long enough for eventually to happen so make do and shut up."

Xander spent some time pottering around while Spike watched television, his running commentary often having Xander laughing out loud however begrudgingly. "How long will it take to get cable in here, then Harris? I can't put up with this bilge for a week."

"I can't afford cable and it would take longer than a week - this is Sunnydale, remember? Thanks to certain un-dead residents many service suppliers won't come out even in the day unless they have money paid in advance and an armed guard."

Spike humphed in disgust and looked about for something else to complain about. There was a lot and he grumbled non stop until Xander told him to shut up and get ready for bed. "I've got to get to work in the morning and I need my sleep so get off the couch which is MY bed - refer to earlier conversation - and let me turn in. Which means that I tie you up cos I don't trust you as far as I can throw you cos, being the skinny little runt that you are, that would be quite a way.

"But that's..."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, or maybe I will see how far I can throw you."

Spike amazingly shut up, even as Xander was tying him to the chair, seething quietly about how this child could do what he wanted while he, a master vampire was incapable of even defending himself. Physically, at least. A slow smile twisted his lips and he lay down on the orange horror that was to be his bed.

Xander had opened up the couch and made up his bed. Stripped down to boxers he relaxed under the sheet and prepared for sleep while worrying like hell about dreaming. What if he talked in his sleep, what if he talked about Spike? What if one of his cockstands erupted into a wet dream and he came calling Spike's name? What if....

"But that's not fair. You've stripped down and you expect me to be able to sleep with all my clothes on, including my coat?"

Xander got up and stood over Spike. "You expect me to let you get up so as you can take your clothes off?"

"But it's hot in here. And you want me to sleep and not be watching you all night, don't you? Don't want me wide awake and studying your every move and moan now do you?"

Xander groaned and undid the knots. Spike was right, damn him. And besides which, how bad could it be to have the chance to see that tight wide chest covered in nothing but skin? Too late he realised he had been speaking directly to Fate. "You get to keep your jeans on though, okay?"

Spike stood up and slipped off his leather coat and hung it neatly on the back of the chair. He sat back down and undid his boots and Xander still stood there, mesmerised by the fine-boned, white feet until Spike started to pull off his T-shirt. Very slowly.

Xander's mouth dried and his cock stirred against his thigh as he watched as Spike teased him in the most blatantly erotic way: he slipped a couple of fingers into the waist of his jeans and, moving them around under the T's black cotton he slowly loosened the fabric all around. The speed at which he pulled the shirt up his chest was slower than a glacier and, as if as chilled, when his nipple finally came into view they were hard and pebbled and the sexiest things Xander had ever seen.

Unlike his care with the coat, Spike carelessly threw the shirt aside then, eyes boring into those of Xander, he started to undo the button of his jeans.

"No!" Xander's yelp was loud in the silence and brought him back to earth. What was he doing letting the vampire hypnotise him with a skanky strip-tease routine? Spike grinned and carried on, button by button... Xander was hypnotised again and although his mouth fell open he was unable to get a word out his brain having lost the ability of speech completely. He thought there were a few moans and possibly a groan or two but, effectively, he was lost.

A few threads of hair appeared between the panels of the denim and Xander realised that Spike was not going to be stripping down to his boxers - he was going to be stripping down to nothing. He stood there, glassy-eyed as Spike slowly pulled his jeans over slim hips and a sinfully rounded backside, each globe a perfect handful. With a little shimmy, the jeans hit the ground and Spike stood there bare-arse fucking naked without a care in the world. He shook himself a little as if to clear the last feeling of clothes wrapped around his body.

Xander was frozen to the spot, mouth still open, staring at Spike's cockstand in all it's unadorned glory, shadowed in the moonlight but clearly visible. The foreskin was almost at the point of sliding back off the swollen head and a clear drop of pre-cum was oozing from the slightly gaping slit.

Xander found his feet, fell over them and found himself lying on his bed still gaping at his unwanted house-guest. Un-wanted like hell. At this moment Xander couldn't think of anything he wanted more. His visitor was totally aware of Xander's feelings and it was with greatly enjoyed malice that Spike grabbed a blanket, setttled down on his horrible, uncomfortable chair and went happily to sleep leaving Xander to moan and groan about a naked Spike so close at hand throughout his dreams all night.