bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

High Seas

High Seas

Author: BmblBee
Rating: Adult for language and sexual content
Paring: S/X
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters or products named
in this story, however the plot and words are her own.
Warning: Violence (nongraphic) and strong M/M sexual content.

Summary: OCD Spike is back! It has been a year since Xander and
Spike met in Rough Diamond and they have been living and working
together ever since. As an anniversary present, Xander takes a reluctant
Spike on a gay ocean cruise and everything, including murder, goes with

Appreciation to: Petxnd for her wonderful banner and patient preread
and to Silk_ Labyrinth for her beta. Any remaining boo-boos are the
result of the Bee's stubbornness.

Thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banner and the faithful friendship.

Spike tipped his head back and moaned in ecstasy as the gush of nearly
uncomfortably hot water cascaded down over him. What a wonderful surprise.
He had braced himself for a lukewarm rivulet of water to dribble from a
second-rate Home Depot shower head in a boxy stall the size of a shoe closet.
But this was actually very acceptable.

The shower walls were reasonably clean and the steam level achieved in the
bathroom was what Spike would estimate to be at least a 6.1. More than

Of course he would cheerfully suck the nuts on a lowland gorilla before
admitting it to Xander, but it did mean that survival during this week was
beginning to appear possible.

"Hey, sexy, want some company?"

Spike huffed at the intrusion on his space and privacy. At the same time, his
feet shuffled forward to make room.

"How many times must I tell you that showering is not a group sport, Xander.
But as long as you are in here, you might as well wash my back."

Xander grinned at the warm welcome. He lathered up his hands with their personal
moisturizing soap and he placed his palms on his lover's shoulders. Then, making
small circles, he worked his way down toward the sweet swell of ass. Spike
sighed and hunched forward as he enjoyed the attention.

"That was nice, wasn't it?"

Spike opened his eyes despite the water flooding down over his head. Surely
Xander wouldn't do it. Not now. Not after such a pleasant day.

"Um, yes, nice. Well, I believe I am done. If you would be so kind as to rinse
my back. Thoroughly. I think I will...."

"How many, Spike?"

Xander snickered as his question had the expected response. Immediately the
shoulder blades beneath his fingertips flexed and protruded as Spike's back went
ramrod straight. Still, he refused to turn around. He would NOT look into that
insufferable smirk on the brat's face.

"I have no idea what you are referring to. Now, move aside so I can...."

"Come on, baby. How many? You know you want to say it. You know the
number is spinning around in your....."

"SIXTY-EIGHT! All right? Sixty-eight. Bloody hell, Xander, you are the most

The rest of the rant was cut off as Xander gently twisted him around and gathered
him in his warm, wet embrace. The shower continued to rain down on them as
he pulled the slightly struggling man into his arms and lovingly kissed him.

Spike knew there was no malice in the teasing. He just couldn't understand why
Xander thought it so hilarious that part of Spike's OCD manifested itself in the form
of a small bean-counter that sat perched on a stool in the back of Spike's brain.

He was an efficient little bugger who kept a running tabulation of the strangest things.
Things that were of a repetitive nature. Things such as anal thrusts. Despite Spike's
enjoyment of sex, the bean-counter could at any point tell Xander exactly how
many in and outs had been recorded.

Xander found that extraordinarily funny. Spike did not. After a few moments of
enjoying the kiss, he pushed Xander back.

"Well, Mr. Monkey Pants, if you are through acting like a schoolyard bully, I
intend to get out of this second-rate, piss-poor shower and dress."

Xander again pulled him close and nibbled Spike's neck, ear and shoulder as he
kissed and bumped their half-hard erections together. He tried his best to stifle
his giggles.

"I'm sorry. You know I was just playing. Come on, don't be mad. Hey,
sixty-eight is pretty good. One more and we would have had a sixty-nine."

Spike snorted. Even he had to laugh at that one.

"Aahh! You are a total ass! Let me out of this shower! I am wrinkling like a
prune and I'm hungry. We are going out to dinner aren't we? Room service
is totally out of the question. There is no way to determine what could fall
into your food as they traipse through the hallways, swinging the trays around
and subjecting them to the elements."

Xander grinned wildly as his fingers quickly skittered over Spike's flesh,
rinsing the last remnants of soap from his skin.

"Are you kidding? Hell, yes, we are going out. I figured dinner first, then we
are heading down to the disco for some humpy bump on the dance floor. Just
think about it. A whole room full of hot, horny men grinding and movin' to the
music! It don't get no better than that! Now, get your wrinkled old pruny
butt out of here so I can shower, and when I get out, you better be dressed
and ready to go or I'll leave you behind. Then I'll order a hamburger to be
sent to our room by way of the bilge tanks, in the hands of the greasiest
deckhand I can find."

Spike stomped his foot in outrage. A move that resulted more in appearing like
a ducky splashing in a rain puddle than a grown man venting his fury. To make
matters worse, he was then soundly smacked on the bare arse and hustled from
the warmth of the water to stand, cold and shivering, in the center of the minuscule
bathroom. Grabbing two more clean towels, he huffed and left the room.

Xander frowned and scooted the noodle around on his plate.

"I can't believe we had to eat here again. This is were we had lunch, Spike. Do
you know that there are French restaurants and steak houses here on the ship?
We could be eating prime rib right now instead of fucking spaghetti."

Spike dabbed his napkin on his mouth and picked up his plastic fork. He had
dressed in record time and he had even left the cabin with his hair still damp.
He had made all the concessions one man should have to make.

"Yes, and we would have if I had been given time to check the kitchen facilities
of those establishments aforehand but I wasn't, was I? No. Everything had to
be done willy-nilly and candles burning. Luckily, I had judged this place
acceptable this afternoon or we would be eating protein bars brought from
home in our cabin for dinner. Now, if you want steak, then I suggest tomorrow
we make the rounds and inspect the cooking conditions of the evening's
prospective restaurants. Oh, and it isn't spaghetti. It's penne alfredo."

Xander shot his most evil stare toward his companion.

"Oh yeah? Well how would you like it if I shoved this penne up your ass?"

Spike smiled sweetly and rested his elbows on the table.

"Could you do it sixty-eight times?"

Xander dropped his fork and blinked. Spike had made a joke. Wasn't that
a joke? Sure it was. It was a genuine, twitter inducing, lip curling ha ha.
Xander wasn't sure how to react, so he did the only thing he could. He threw
his head back and barked out a laugh so sudden and unexpected that it startled
both the waiters and the other customers. When he finally was able to stop
howling, he dabbed the tears from his eyes and stared at his smug companion.

"You are a goddamn hoot, Spike. A genuine Jimmy Kimmel."

Spike slid a speck of parsley from atop his noodle and he shook it from the
prongs of his plastic fork.

"Yes, I dare say, I am."

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