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.
Hard Time is based on a story idea from Ladyvirgo.
Thanks to the amazing Petxnd for the banner.
The morning of the seventh day had been highly anticipated by every
inmate in Riverview Correctional. It was the end of the long, tortuous
lockdown and the resumption of their seminormal life.
Xander was especially agitated. He had heard nothing from Wesley or
Spike and it was driving him crazy. He needed to see Spike. To assure
himself that the man he loved was whole and safe and his curiosity and
hopes were riding on Wesley's back. Did he find Jesse? Could he prove
Jesse was alive?
Looking out the small window, Xander estimated the time to be around
4 am. Needing to talk, he was ready to shake his celly awake when,
unexpectedly, his cell door lock opened and the door swung wide with
C.O. Riley standing there holding his prized Uncle Bill radio. Riley shoved
it into Xander's hands.
"Pack your shit, Harris."
Xander blinked, then felt a cold rush. He was being moved to another
Riley just shrugged.
"So you don't want to go home?"
"HOME? WHAT? FUCK YES!!"
"You got 5 minutes. I'll leave your cell door open. Come up front when
With no further explaination, C.O. Riley turned and walked away.
Not pausing to question the order and afraid examining it might be a jinx,
Xander rushed around the cell only to realize that the radio was the only
thing worth taking. He owned nothing else.
Oz rubbed his eyes and stared at his best friend.
"So, you're leaving?"
Xander's joy was tempered with sorrow at leaving Oz behind. Xander
knew if it hadn't been for his cell mate, he would have lost his mind
or worst during that first horrible month.
"Looks like. Damn, Oz...."
Oz shrugged. He was a product of the system and he knew this was the
way it worked. You came in alone and you served your own time.
"No sweat. So where you going? You still got a home?"
Xander shook his head and laughed.
"Nope. I lost my apartment and my job. I got nothing, but you know
what? I couldn't care less. I'll hitchhike in to town and sleep under a
bridge if I have to. At least I'll be free."
Oz hopped down off his bunk and hugged the man, remembering the
feel of him in his arms. This was the hard part. Where they would
promise to write, to stay in touch, and for a short time they would,
Oz sniffed and pushed his friend toward the door.
"Look, you better get your ass moving."
Xander nodded and started to leave. At the last minute he turned and
shoved the radio in Oz's hands.
"Here, Uncle Bill would want you to have it. Just don't tell Catfish.
You know how jealous he gets."
Oz's eyes lit up.
"Damn straight he is. Thanks!"
And it was just that simple. A few more signed forms at the front desk.
A small state envelope containing $58.00, and he was shown the front
door. With tears in his eyes, Xander stepped out into the first light of a
He stood on the steps and he took a deep breath of something he thought
he would never smell again. Freedom.
"You gonna stand there all day?"
Xander's attention was snapped to the car parked at the side lot and the
man leaning against it. Dressed in a tight black t-shirt and loose, torn at
the knees jeans, it occurred to Xander that he had never seen Spike
out of uniform. Other than naked.
Casually, as if he had all the time in the world, Xander shoved his hands
in his state issued pant pockets and he walked over to him, staring at
the heavy cast on his arm.
"Couldn't be better. You need a lift somewhere?"
Xander shrugged happily.
"Got no place to go."
Spike stepped in closer.
"Kinda thought you might go home with me."
Xander tipped his head in the direction of the mammoth, secure building
"Might not look too good for you to be seen with me."
Spike smiled that dazzling smile that made Xander's knees weak, his
heart warm and his cock hard enough to chisel oak.
"What can they do? You're an innocent man, Xander. A free, over
21 and sexy as hell man. So, what do you say? Want to come with?"
"Yeah. Sure. I think that might work. Besides, you will need someone
to take care of you. Feed you. Bathe you. Undress you. Tuck you in
at night, all tight and deep."
Spike sighed and nodded happily before tossing Xander the keys.
"You drive, arm still twinges a might."
It seemed a logical excuse and within minutes they were out on the highway
and headed south.
"You'll have to tell me which way we're going."
Spike scooted over on the seat and, to Xander's surprise, lowered
his head in to Xander's lap.
"Just stay on this road for 10 more miles."
And he unzipped Xander's cheap blue inmate pants.
"Whoa! What the fuck are you doing?"
"What I've wanted to do for weeks. Taste you again, smell you, feel you.
I figure it will take about 15 minutes to get home and 5 minutes to get
you off. Now if you don't mind, I'm a bit busy here so you just drive
and let me take care of my business."
Xander couldn't think of one good objection, so he smiled and lifted his
hips slightly as his cock was already starting to fill and grow. Spike felt
it jerk in his hand as soon as his fingers wrapped around it and freed it from
the confines of the rough cotton pants.
Xander thought briefly about Spike's cast and the fact that he had only
one usable hand, but guilt just wasn't a sustainable emotion as he tried to
focus on the road ahead. He didn't even care if he was headed in the right
direction. All he cared about was the warm breath and the cool fingers
getting closer to his heated flesh. When he combined that with the fresh
air of freedom and a sensation in his heart that was warm as sunshine,
Xander knew he had too many blessings to count.
"Christ, Spike, I've dreamed about this. Not necessarily blow job this,
but being with you, this. I was afraid to believe it would really ever happen."
Spike mumbled something indiscernible that was as close to an agreement
as either man needed.
Xander kept one hand on the wheel and the other on the soft blond curls,
pushing down, encouragingly. Spike complied by licking a long slow
swipe across the moist knob causing Xander to grunt and jerk forward.
Spike moaned. He had dreamt of this too. Gently he held the beautiful
rock hard cock in his hand and rubbed his cheek on the shaft, inhaling
the damp, musty smell of sweaty balls and cheap institutional fabric.
Spike whispered, his lips brushing across the swollen, leaking head
before he dropped his face straight down, stopping only when the
rigid cock head hit the back of his throat.
Xander swerved into the left lane. Luckily the early morning traffic was still
light. Quickly, he got the car under control. His whole body joined in the
pace of rocking in time with the suction that worked his cock. His leg muscles
weakened with the strain and his face grimaced. His voice was breathless
and his speech incoherent.
"Oh, oh, yeah, damn."
Spike used every trick he knew. He swallowed, sucked, licked and flicked
his tongue over the bundle of nerves that quivered just under the head.
His usable hand slipped inside Xander's pants and massaged his balls till
he felt them draw up sharply.
Xander couldn't have delayed the moment if he tried and truth was,
he didn't want too. Clutching the wheel in an iron grip of the suggested
10 and 2, he slammed his hips up as the rush of hot semen spurted
straight up and down Spike's throat.
The car slid across two lanes and onto the berm kicking up a shower of
dirt and gravel. He hit the brakes, skidding to a stop and flopping back
limply in the seat. With a grin, Spike raised up, wiped his chin, and looked
out the window.
"Well, well, we're making good time. We're almost home."