Paring: S/X with a side of W/G
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 planning 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 on none of the characters or products
used and named in this story and no profit is made.
Feedback: Much appreciated. It encourages me to continue.
Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner and her patience and
willingness to preread and comment on my stories.
Spike groaned and rolled over. He had no idea what the
exact time was but Too Fuckin' Early was a pretty good guess.
The morning light had just started to brighten the window
on the east side of the room and the fuckin' birds were
It was Sunday morning and one of his few days off.
He had hoped to sleep in, especially after getting home so
late last night, but something had wakened him after
what he knew had to have been less than four hours.
Of course if he had just gone to sleep after getting in bed last night
he might not be so tired this morning. He tried. He really did, but
everything had conspired against him.
First the sight of that freakishly huge cock swaying in his kitchen,
followed by the long chat with Wes at the kitchen table. Wes, who
felt oddly compelled to go into great detail about what amazing
things that gargantuan appendage could do.
It did give them a chance to come to an understanding and emphasise
there were no hard feelings on either side.
He was happy for Wes, he really was, he just didn't want to hear
about it in the extreme lengths that Wes wanted to give.
Then as a sort of top off he was treated to the sounds of Wes
enjoying one last ride on the merry-go-round of meat.
Who knew Wes would be such a talker.
Who knew one man could carry enough blood in his body to
fill a cock that size.
Who knew the small bed in Wes's single room could contain and
support such acrobatics.
At the sound of the first groan, Spike sat up in bed.
His room and Wes's separated by only one small apparently
badly constructed wall.
'Oh no, they wouldn't'
"Come on, Baby wrap those pink lips around it. Lets see how much
of it you can get in there. Oh, hell, my little Wessy still has his tonsils."
Spike snorted and his lips twitched. Wes had his tonsils?
Flipping onto his stomach, Spike held his pillow over his head and did
his best to ignore the sounds of raw nature that were getting increasingly
louder through the paper thin wall.
"Fuck! I ain't never had my balls sucked like that. My little Wessie
is a nut slut. Is that what you are? A nut slut?"
Lifting his head slightly, Spike couldn't help but wait for the answer.
"Weffy a nuff sluff"
Spike dropped back down. He couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry.
Still half hard at the memory of THE KISS, Spike did the only thing possible,
short of joining the Cock monster and the Nut Slut.
He rolled over on his back, reached for the oil, and took himself in hand.
Unbeknownst to Wes and Gunn, Spike had climbed aboard the carousel
and decided to ride along.
Gunn: "Oh, fuck, Baby your skin feels so good.
Spike pictured touching Xander's face. Running his hands over his cheeks
and brushing the soft hair out of his eyes.
Gunn: "Come here. I just want to hold you. We don't have to do
anything else. Did I wear you all out?" Gunn's deep voice rumbled
Spike remembered holding Xander in his arms. He felt real, solid and good.
Wes: "Just there, touch me there. Damn, your hands are so big, so hot."
Wes's voice was quiet, whispery, breathless.
Spike imagined the larger, rougher hands gripping his hips and pulling him
in close. He remembered the strength in Xander's fingers as he held Spike
Gunn: "Lift up for me, Baby. Let me see it. Let me touch it. Ah, so sweet,
so pink and sore. Did Daddy's big cock make that sweet little hole all
Spike shuddered. Damn lucky Wes. That Fuckin' Gunn sure could talk
a hell of a fuck.
Wes: (in a higher pitched pouty tone) "Yes, all sore. Can Daddy kiss
it and make it all............SHIT!"
Spike's eyes shot open and he arched his back. He quickly poured on
more oil and resumed his task, twisting his wrist on the upswipe and
lightly scratching his thumb over the head.
He pictured Xander's face so near his own. He remembered
the smell of the boy, the taste of his lips.
Gunn: "Please, Baby, roll over. Yea, up on your knees, fuck. Jesus, Wes.
Does that feel good? That's my good boy. Come on, you can take a little
bit more. Ohhh. God."
Wes: "Fuck, it's so deep. Wait, wait, don't move yet. God, that's so good."
Spike spread the oil on his fingers and jammed them into himself
rocking with the delicious burn of it. Despite his resolve not to, he
remembered the times Angel had done that. Pressed into him, filling
him and making him feel complete. Christ he missed that.
The air in the small house got heavy as the three men sucked all the oxygen
from the atmosphere. Conversation was reduced to one and two syllable
words, grunts, groans, and moans containing what could possibly have been
Latin, or German profanity.
Spike strained, listening to the metronome like regularity of Wes's bedsprings
and praying to God that his own were not squeaking in time.
Truth was even if he had known for sure they were, he was too far gone
to stop or care.
Wes crossed the finish line first with a pained sounding grunt and a
body part that slammed against the wall with a solid 'Thud!'
All three chanting "Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck yes!"
Following nose to nose in a photo finish was the stallion Gunn and
the riderless pony, Spike.
Gasping for breath, Spike's entire body went limper as each aftershock
quivered through his body till there were no functioning bones left.
He picked his dirty t-shirt off the floor and did a quick, half ass cleanup
before tossing it back down.
Now, totally relaxed, Spike dozed off to thoughts of sending the men in
the next room flowers and candy.
Considering his activities the night before, Spike had looked forward to
sleeping till noon, yet here he was just four short hours later and he
was again wide awake.
Looking around the room, Spike tried to figure out what had intruded
on his precious, much needed slumber, but he couldn't detect anything
out of place.
Laying back down, he had just rolled over when his sensitive ears picked
up the sound of low whispered voices.
"Come on, Baby, just give it a little kiss. Right there on the head. Look how
much it loves you. It's winking it's little eye at you. Go on, I promise we'll
be quiet. Yea, oh yea, fuck! Damn Wes where the fuck did you learn to do
that? I ain't never seen anybody do that with their tongue."
Spike flopped over on his back and scowled, wondering what the fuck
Wes could do with his tongue that he never did for Spike?
Regretfully, Spike realized he never gave Wes the opportunity to show off
his true tongue talents.
"Roll over, Baby, let me see what that sweet little hole looks like
in the morning."
Spike groaned and threw his hands over his ears, then after a few minutes
consideration, did the only thing possible.
He reached for the oil.