Paring: S/X with a side of W/G - S/W in this chapter.
Summary: Xander is drifting, looking for a purpose in life.
One that finally comes clear when he spots a certain
hairdresser by the name of Mr. William. Xander
immediately begins planing and plotting to win over
this scrumptious man. Of course nothing worth having
ever comes easily.
Genre: Comedy, romance. HaU
Warnings: The usual bad language as well as graphic m/m sexual
activities. Also warned of hints of poultry perversions.
Disclaimer: I own or have claim to none of the characters
used in this story and there is no profit made.
Feedback & concrit: Very appreciated and encourages continued writing.
Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner and her patience and
willingness to preread and comment on my stories.
The whole house was dark and silent. All but one small corner
where a man sat at a desk, head down and concentration
unwavering. The only sound was the tap tap tap of the
numbers he punched rapidly on the desk top calculator.
"Spike? Honey, it's nearly one o'clock. Come on to bed."
The naked man standing in the doorway scratched his short dark hair
Spike never took his eyes off the spread sheets he had laid out in
front of him and continued to crunch numbers that simply
refused to cooperate.
"Yeah, in a minute Wes. I just wanted to run these numbers one
more time. I'm missing something on interest with that last CD
and I'm thinking rollover."
Wesley slithered up behind him and wrapped his arms around Spike's
back, kissing his neck and nibbling his earlobe.
"Come on, Baby I can give you a roll over you can really show
some interest in."
Spike kept working, showing no physical response as he answered
the man who was plastered to his back.
"What's the matter? Your account losing interest in Mr. Gunn?"
Spike felt the body against him stiffen and pull away.
"I told you there was nothing going on. Jesus, Spike, why do you
always have to act so suspicious? Gunn and I work together.
Period. End of story. And the worst part is, I think you know that.
But then that's your pattern isn't it? Whenever you feel like you
are getting too involved with someone you find a reason to end it.
Isn't that what happened with your last ex, Angel?
Well, I'm not your reason and neither is Gunn."
Spike took off his glasses and straightened up his painfully hunched
back. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he sighed.
Wes had no idea what really happened with Angel and he had
no intention of discussing old news.
"I'm sorry Wes. You're right. I guess I am just a little phobic
when it comes to commitment. It's just that, you know, right now
my focus is on getting my finances straight. I'll never be anywhere
just working for some two bit chain in a mall. I need my own shop
to really make a name for myself. Really be someone."
Wes crouched down to face his boyfriend.
"You are someone and you will own your shop, Spike, but
just for tonight why not put the dream on the back burner and
come to bed. You are wound up tighter than the spring
on a cheap pocket watch. Let's see if I can't work out a few of
those tight knots in your back and maybe redirect a bit of that
blood flow to other areas."
Wes waggled his eyebrows and winked in such an exaggerated
manner that Spike had to laugh. Dropping his glasses to the desk,
Spike jumped to his feet and, before Wes could object, scooped
his boyfriend up, throwing him over his shoulder fireman style,
carried him off to the bedroom.
Tumbling to the bed, both men, already naked, began their set routine.
Lying on their sides facing each other they would rub and scratch each
other's back. Hands would roam, touching, tweaking caressing as they
worked their way down.
They seldom kissed, Spike's choice. It seemed so much more intimate
than the actual sex that it made him twitchy.
The only variety came next when they would either 69, sucking each
other to completion, or reach for the lube and, coating cocks and hands,
stroke themselves and the other to orgasm.
There had only been three times in their months together that Wes
had been able to get Spike drunk enough to encourage him to fuck.
The next morning had seen Wes giddy with satisfaction and Spike a
regretful hangover along with the feeling he had been deceived.
He refused to discuss the matter further.
10 minutes and it was over. Exhausted, Spike slept, snoring softly.
Wes laid wide awake beside him. Watching his lover's peaceful
sleeping face broke his heart.
Wes wanted commitment.
He wanted wild sexual nights and romantic kissy faced days.
He wanted companionship, vacations, and adventure.
None of that was going to happen with Spike.
Spike was strength and predictability. Financial sacrifice for future
stability. He was reasonable, confident, and restrained. Able to
do whatever he needed to to advance his career.
Even as far as playing the role of "Mr. William"
What scared Wes the most was the fear that Spike was becoming
To Wes, that all added up to boring.
Wes smiled as he watched Spike's innocent baby face while he slept.
He knew he wouldn't leave. He loved Spike and a heart in love
could always hold out hope for change.
If he just stood by his man and proved his love and devotion, Spike's
defenses would break down and he would let loose. At just 23 he
was too damn young to act like an old man.
He knew what had turned his sweet Spike into the obsessive
creature he now was. It was that fucking bastard Angel.
Angel had had the Spike that Wes wanted. Young, carefree, sexually
experimental and totally devoted. Then the bastard took Spike's money,
broke his heart, and let Spike catch him in a hot tub riding the cock of
Rupert Giles, Spike's step-father.
It was all an admission Spike had made one night after too many
bottles of wine that Wes didn't think Spike even remembered.
Spike didn't rember that during one of those druken nights he had
told Wes all about it. Cried over it.
Spike didn't remember but Wes did.
In one short afternoon he had lost everything. His family, his lover,
his home and his security. But most importantly, his self confidence.
So, cash broke and heart broke he had ended up living out of his car
for two months till he could work double shifts and save enough
money for a small rental cottage.
It had devastated him.
Wes had met him just months later through an advertisement for
a roommate to share expenses. Within two weeks they were also
sharing a bed and, at least in Wes's mind, a life together.
Wes sighed and scooted down in the bed. He rolled over and pulled
the covers up around his chin.
When Spike felt him turn and knew he was no longer facing him,
he opened his eyes.
Feigning sleep after sex was easier and much preferred to the
task of talking, which Wes seemed to want to do endlessly.
Spike knew the relationship was on it's last leg, hell it was probably
down to a toe or two, and he also recognized it was mostly his
fault. He would hate to see Wes leave, after all a roommate paying
half the bills had really helped Spike get back on his feet, but it was time.
Wes wanted what Spike couldn't give.
The funny part was, he knew Wes was fucking his
collegue at the college where he worked. He had overheard
them flirting on the phone. He had seen the e-mails in Wes's
secret e-mail account. He had found the crusted stains on
the seats of Wes's boxers when he did the laundry.
Oddly, though, was he wasn't all that upset.
Truth be told, that was probably his fault too. Wes wanted fucked.
He wanted to feel that cock shoved up his ass and pounded into
him till he screamed out his orgasm into the pillow.
Yeah, Spike remembered. He wasn't THAT drunk.
It was just too hard. It brought back too many painful memories
of a love that ripped him apart and left him unable to ever trust
No, Spike liked Wes, but he didn't love him and wouldn't miss
him when he was gone.
Spike scooted to his side of the bed, curled up, and went to sleep
thinking about the bottom line on his interest account.