Paring: Spander (of course)
Warnings: Bad language and explicit sexual m/m activity.
Summary: Xander is wrongly convicted of murder and sent
to Riverview Correctional Institution where Spike is a guard.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or products named in
this story and sadly, make no profit.
Thanks to the amazing Petxnd for the banner.
The next day found Spike anxious to come to work. He knew what he
should do and he was well aware of what Faith expected.
The shift commander had assigned C.O. Conway, a young first year
hire to assist as Spike's back up and that suited Spike just fine.
He knew there would be no questions, observation, or scrutiny. It would
thankfully be a respit from chit chatty conversation, at least for the next
couple days. Spike could lose himself in his thoughts and decide what to do.
One hour into shift, he knew. No decision could be made until he
spoke to Xander. Not for the inmates input, but to see if what had
happened between them yesterday had been a fluke. Possibly a
smidgen of residual sexual energy left over from his wild night of debauchery.
Possibly, like Ebenezer Scrooge, a bit of undigested beef.
Spike checked the night's schedule and plotted his opportunity.
After that, he played it cool.
When the restriction supper trays arrived, he had Conway disperse them.
When medical came to the housing unit to check injuries, he sent
Conway down to assist.
Spike stayed out of the cell hallway completely.
Finally, as late afternoon approached, he could hardly contain his
excitement. With an air of boredom he stood in the center of the
dayroom and made the announcement of.
"Line up for outside rec, Gentlemen. Television off, mouths shut, check
your hands. I want two straight lines and a clear count as you go
out the door."
He then took the lead, Conway in the rear, and the unit filed out into
the exercise yard. After about five minutes of assuring himself that
it would be a calm rec, Spike called Conway to the side.
"Hey, shit, I need you to watch the group for a minute. I left my
radio on the desk and you know what a no-no that is. Fuckin'
shift commander will have my arse on a platter if he catches me."
C.O. Conway nodded conspiratorially,
"Fuck, yeah, I got written up for that last week. No sweat, go get it."
Spike smiled sheepishly and headed back for the building.
Wasting no time he rushed back down the hallway, keys in hand and
onto the apparently empty housing unit. He bypassed the office and
made his way down the hall to cell #3.
Unlocking and opening the cell door, Spike found Xander standing
by his bed, head and arms resting against the frame of the top bunk.
When the steel door swung back, Xander spun around in surprise.
Spike put his finger to his lips as he stepped in. He knew the other two
restrictions were in their cell down the hall and sound bounced off the
walls like a domed cave.
Xander took one step closer, not sure why the C.O. was there or what
he wanted. He could hear the combined noise of both their breathing,
loud and ragged as Spike's feet moved again.
When they were finally nose to nose, Xander understood. He could
see the heat and passion in the guard's eyes and he knew the same look
was reflected in his.
All the whys any why nots escaped through the bars and flew free.
There was no cell block, no razor wire. They were no longer prisoner
and guard. They were two men who felt a driving urge for the lips
and hands and body of the other.
The word blew breathlessly out as though it had come form the
depths of Xander's lungs. Heat rushed through and between them
as they finally gave in and slammed their bodies and mouths together.
As the larger, heavier and more solid of the two, Xander stood
anchored as Spike tried to climb him like a chimp on a coconut tree.
His hands were everywhere. Clamped to the back of Xander's head
to prevent his lips from pulling away, down his back, touching and
mapping out the expanse of the convict's broad shoulders and back.
Working their way down, his fingers found and fumbled, feeling
the wonderful firm flesh of Xander's ass before slipping his thumbs
into the elastic waistband of the issued trousers and sliding to the
Finally, and without pause, Spike broke the kiss and started to tug
Xander's pants over his hips. When the realization of what Spike
was doing oozed into his brain, Xander was stunned.
"No. Spike, no. Jesus Fucking Christ, we can't. You can't"
Spike knew he was too far gone to stop and time was dangerously
short. Besides that, he wanted this. He needed this. Leaning in
quickly, to silence him, Spike again claimed the kiss puffed lips
as his hands efficiently unbuckled his own heavy uniform belt.
Releasing his heavy, rigid cock, Spike dropped to his knees in
front of the flabbergasted inmate. He pulled the state issued cotton
pants down along with the white, cheap underwear. Spike's nose
could detect traces of the laundry bleach smell triggered by the
moist heat of Xander's crotch and he inhaled deeply before
freeing the hard, anxious, beautiful cock.
Xander wanted to stop him. He knew they would both suffer the
consequences if caught, but the sight and promise of a warm mouth
and willing lips wrapped around a cock that had had no pleasure
other than his own had, was more than he could resist.
Spike moved quickly, wasting no time on words neither man needed.
His mouth claimed and pleased one cock as his hand worked the other.
Both men, aware of their setting, stayed silent, their bodies screaming
and singing with a wrenching, muscle twisting need.
Within minutes, Xander felt Spike's mouth gasp and shudder around him
and he allowed his body the release he had been holding back.
Slamming into him like a tsunami, the orgasm nearly knocked Xander off
his weak, wobbly knees as Spike licked and swallowed every bit.
Then, with the same speed and practiced skill, Spike redressed them
both, kissed Xander's lips with a sharp sour smelling breath, and
headed for the door.
"Look, I gotta go. I promise we will work this out somehow."
Spike rushed back for one last kiss as Xander laughed.
"You better brush your teeth."
Before Spike resecured the cell door and disappeared.
Down the hall, in cell #10, two listening sets of ears pulled back from
where they had been pressed against their cell door and they
shared a high five.
MoMac dropped down onto his bunk and scratched his balls.
"Well, well now. Ain't this interesting as fuck. We was right after all.
This whole situation just smells of money. I say we stick this info in our
back pockets, do that little job for the warden, then see how this plays
out. What you thinkin', Roy?"
"I'm thinkin' fuck the money. We got us a C.O. handin' out blow jobs,
I want one too."
Both men roared with laughter.