Title: The Lost Sausage
Warnings: M/M sex implied, pure comedy. Unbeta'd
Rating: NC17
Pairing: 100% S/X
Author: Naughty_Fae
Comments: Comment if you want to, though it would be nice to know someone is reading it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to someone who is not me. I write for fun not profit.
Note1: This is adapted and expanded from a joke sent to me by my dear friend Bmblbee
Note 2: My heartfelt thanks go out to Bmblbee, for holding my hand through the writing and posting process. *Hugs*
Timeline: Post chip, Anya never happened, Xander's in his apartment and has the same sweet personality he had in seasons 1 and 2.
Summary:
The boys fancy a drink but are strapped for cash then Spike has a brilliant idea. Be afraid, be very afraid!
Chapter 1/1
Rating: NC17 (For sexual themes.)
They stood facing each other at the cemetery gates. Spike puffed agitatedly on his cigarette. Xander folded his arms. "It's no good looking at me like that Spike, I haven't got any money!"
Spike's eyes narrowed. "I know you whelp you've probably got some loose change or summat in yer pockets."
"Spike," Xander sighed. "I haven't, I subbed you my last cent for blood."
Spike snorted. "Well if that bloody tight arsed Watcher gave me decent wages this wouldn't happen."
Xander dropped his arms and rolled his eyes. "Spike, you're a vampire, even though technically you can't hurt humans," He paused and narrowed his eyes. "the chip's still working isn't it?
"Yes!" Spike snapped.
"Ok, good, just checking." Xander relaxed. "You're lucky he gives you anything at all."
Spike stepped closer. "Oi! How'd you like to patrol alone?" He cocked his head and fixed Xander with a questioning look.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd like it fine, but it wouldn't be true. Xander shuffled and then huffed. "Look Spike fighting won't solve our problem. It's been a long day, what you say to coming back to the apartment.."
Spike's face brightened. "You've got beer?" He cut him off. "Why the Hell didn't you say so? Let's go." He brushed passed Xander duster swirling.
"Spike!" Spike turned. "I haven't got any beer, you drank the last and I don't get paid until tomorrow," Xander explained. "I just thought you might like to watch some cable."
Spike frowned. "What I'd like is a couple of pints of that piss water you Yanks call beer!!" Xander shook his head.
Spike stepped up to him. "Have you checked yer pockets?"
"Spike I haven.."
"Bollocks!" Spike tossed away his cigarette and began to pat Xander down. Xander squirmed and tried to knock Spike's hands away. "Spike stoppit! I haven't got any money!" Spike wriggled his hand into the front pocket of his pants. Both men stilled. Xander blinked at him. "Spike, that isn't money you've got hold of." He squeaked.
Spike grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "I know." He gave Xander's cock an affectionate squeeze, noted how it hardened and filed the information for later. He pulled his hand out and spun the boy round intent on rifling his back pockets.
Xander twisted away and turned holding his hands up in surrender, thanking God he wore baggy pants and was hopefully hiding the hard on he was now sporting. "Ok, alright! In the name of public decency, back off blondie, I'll search my own pockets."
Spike scented the air and grinned, then folded his arms and tapped his foot.
Xander searched through his pockets and emerged triumphant clutching a dollar and held it up. With the same speed he used for snagging the remote Spike snatched the dollar. "Now we're in business!" With a swirl of duster he stalked away. "Well, don't dawdle whelp!"
Xander ran after him. "Spike that's a dollar," He fell into step beside the blond. "It won't buy us any beer!" Spike cast him a sideways glance. "Watch and learn boy, watch and learn."
Xander had gone several steps passed the butcher's when he realized Spike had ducked inside. "What the?" He doubled back and peered through the window, Spike was buying something.
Spike emerged holding a long, fat, cooked sausage. "I have a plan." He grinned.
Xander had an overwhelming feeling of doom.
Xander followed Spike along the street. "I'm not going into any demon bars," He warned. "I had enough of that last time."
"Not going in any demon places, not Gay either." Spike scanned the street for a likely bar. "This'll only work in a human, straight place."
Xander got a feeling of imminent dread. "We get arrested and I'm going to insist they put you in an East facing cell!" He threatened.
Spike ignored him and dived into a bar called 'Jakes', Xander followed. Inside it was like any normal bar and quite busy. Spike pushed his way to the front and the bartender moved to serve them.
"What'll it be guys?"
"Two pints of piss water that passes for beer around here." Spike grinned. Xander rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry he's British." The bar tender nodded as if that explained everything and two mugs of beer appeared. They drank them and Spike ordered two more, then another. By the time he'd finished the third Xander had started to panic.
"Spike we can't pay for any of this, what are we gonna do?" He whispered urgently. "Trust me whelp." Xander knew all hope was lost.
Spike pulled the sausage from the inner sanctum of his duster. "See this?" Xander nodded uncertainly. "In a sec you drop to your knees, I'll unfasten my fly and push the sausage through, so it'll look like my todger." Xander's eyes bugged. "You latch on and suck for all your worth, shouldn't be long before we're asked to leave.... Xander?" Xander was stunned.
Spike liked to think it was the brilliance of his plan had Xander stunned into silence. Actually he was trying to work out the sentence for public indecency, lewd behavior, breech of the peace and terrorizing the general public, God knows he was terrorized.
"Whelp! Focus!" Spike snapped. Xander jumped and shook his head vehemently. "We'll be arrested, if we're lucky!"
Spike fixed him with a stony glare. "Do you want to spend the rest of the night washing glasses?" He hissed. Xander's eyes skittered round the bar.
To this day Xander never really knew why he agreed. Perhaps his brain had finally given up and left for a long vacation, but he sank to his knees, Spike unfastened his fly and Xander's mouth closed round the sausage and he sucked. Spike moved his hips for effect.
Thirty seconds later they were out on the street. Spike whooped and Xander had to reluctantly admit it worked.
By the sixth bar they'd got it down to a fine art and Xander had given up worrying about being arrested. Xander had got the licking, slurping and sucking off pat and Spike gave an Oscar winning performance thrusting, moaning and generally enjoying himself.
After the tenth bar, Xander could hardly stand and Spike couldn't support him. Spike was busily clinging to a lamppost and Xander slid down a wall and sat on the sidewalk. "I, I can't do this any more," He slurred. "I'm drunk, my knees won't work and my jaw aches."
Spike snorted. "Bloody Hell, how do yer think I feel?" He replied. "I can't even remember which pub I lost the sausage in!"