Touched (Part 1 of 8) Completed

(Characters: Not mine, Joss' - I'm just playin' with 'em)


Xander had given himself time to lose the thoughts and images playing in his mind, before he followed Spike out and headed for the parking lot in front of his motel. He could see the vampire had some new pants on, and that he was dragging a shirt out of the trunk of his car. Moonlight and shadows highlighted the narrowness of Spike’s waist and revealed alabaster skin stretched taut over muscle.

Heat burned Xander’s cheeks. Maybe he should just run away. He didn’t want to meet those accusing eyes. Or eyes that would make fun of him. Worse. Maybe Spike would think he was a perv. And he was.

“I know you’re there,” the vampire drawled without turning around, as he shrugged his tee-shirt on. “Try not to enjoy the view, yeah.”

Shit! Double shit! He couldn’t tell what mood Spike was in. Mad? Jeering? Teasing? Did he not get that any of those weren’t a good idea? “Don’t know what to say. I wasn’t trying to get you naked, I really wasn’t... I mean especially in front of all those people–“ he snapped his mouth shut as the vampire’s face swung toward him. Dumb idea reminding him of the audience...

Spike stalked toward him, stopping in front of his face. “You don’t scare me Harris, so don’t flatter yourself. I’m getting you home no matter how many tricks you pull. And then you can explain to Buffy why it is you belong here in... Texas.” He snatched the keys out of Xander’s hand and headed for the motel room. “Fetch the bag. You owe me that much.”

When the vampire didn’t fall flat on his ass, the car didn’t start up and try to run him over, and the motel appeared to remain standing, Xander let out the breath he’d been holding. If only nothing else would happen.

Black duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he followed Spike inside. It was late. Closer to the morning than he’d thought.

An hour passed. Mostly with him trying to engage Spike in conversation, but the vampire merely grunted an answer or two, preferring to watched television sprawled on the bed. When he stood up in a liquid movement, pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a chair, Xander blinked in surprise. “Wha... what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The sound of a zipper cut the air. “What?”

The blood rushed to Xander’s groin. He swallowed hard, staring at the object of his desire. The guy just did not get it.

“You already saw me with less and I’m not sleeping in my jeans.” Without looking at the boy, Spike slipped inside the double bed. Eyes closed, he snapped. “Turn off the bloodly lights and telly.”

Xander instantly obeyed, which was a bad thing. Now the t.v. was off, and all he had to look at was Spike’s dark silhouette... in his bed...the way he’d imagined so many times. Laying stiff as a board on the far edge of the bed, Xander’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Any other night, he’d just reach inside his sweat pants and squeeze himself while images of Spike crowding him, pushing him down against the mattress, taking him fast and furious against the wall or on the floor, raged inside his head. But now he was hard and heavy, and there was no relief in sight.

Every little move Spike made in his sleep had Xander burning hotter, growing harder. Everything he focused on was dangerous. Spike’s hand... long smooth fingers. He’d bet they’d feel good on his body, or wrapped around his shaft. He sucked in a breath. No. He had to stop thinking like this... stop imagining Spike making him beg to get fucked. Clenching and unclenching his fist around the corner of his pillow, unable to look away from temptation, he prayed for sleep.

*

Everything in the room rattled and shook. Spike’s eyes flew open. Did they have earthquakes in Texas? Before he could finish that line of thought, he was lifted clear off the bed, rolled over in mid-air and landed on top of Xander. “What the–“

“Mmm, let’s do it again, Spike...” Xander murmured, sleepily opening his eyes.

“What?!?” Spike’s question was crisp. Sharp. Like the crack of a whip.

“What?!?” Now wide awake, the horror of what was happening hit Xander. “Spike...”

Frowning, Spike tried to get off the boy. The frown grew deeper, as he braced against the sinking mattress and tried harder, only managing to bring their bodies in closer contact as he cursed loudly. “You’re like bloody fly paper.”

“I’m sorry,” Xander slightly panted, fighting the urge to lift his pelvis up to emulate the way Spike had picked him up and drawn him close in the dream. “Oh God...” There was no hiding his hard-on pressed against Spike’s hip. “Oh God...” now he felt Spike pressing into his hip. Heat surged through him.

“Get off me you bloody git... er... let me get off... “ Spike stopped struggling. “Xander. Xander, look at me. Stop it, whatever you’re doing... whatever you’re imagining...”

“I’m imagining you...”

Spike felt his pelvis get slammed into Xander. “I get the picture... now stop imagining that.”

Xander’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t... I can’t...”

“Well I’m not bloody shagging you on command. What happens next?” Spike demanded.

“We wait... things get better. We get stuck for a while and then.... it goes away...”

“You moved your leg.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Okay, I did. But you moved against me... I can’t help... oh God...uh oh...”

“Uh oh, what?” The thin material of the boxer shorts Spike had on disappeared. “Oh.”

All Xander wanted was for his sweats to disappear. For this serious Spike to turn into the Spike from his dreams. Hot. Needing him. Demanding. Hungry. Aggressive. He closed his eyes. “Talk to me. Keep my mind off it.”

“How long will it last?”

“I don’t know... different every time.”

“You and Giles?”

“Ewww no.... although...”

“Although?” It was bloody odd to be having a conversation like this, with his nose pressed close to Xander’s cheek and his body positioned as if he was going to ride the boy. “Don’t tell me he was glued here first. Why am I always second...”

“You actually complaining?”

“No.”

“Okay... he was glued, but not like this.”

“Right then, tell me about it.”

It was difficult to talk. To explain what happened when the watcher came for him, when all Xander could think of was how good Spike felt on top of him. How much better it would feel if he just rubbed .... but no... that was off limits. “Okay...” he hissed, letting out a determined breath. “We’d traveled about sixty miles...”

“Oh that’s not bad...”

“In three days, because things kept happening. I’d see a town and wonder what it was like, and bam... the tires would go out. All four of them. Or the radiator would overheat... or...

[flashback]

“Xander do you think it’s wise for you to go out?”

Xander gave a loud sigh, looking at all the books the Watcher had spread around the motel room. “Yeah Giles, I need to go out. Unlike you, I can’t keep spending day after day with my nose pressed between–“

Howling sounds from Giles cut Xander off as he turned to see an album sized book slammed shut around Gile’s nose. “Oh my God... oh my God Giles, are you okay?” he started to tug at the book, but stopped when the howling got louder. “Shit...”

Xander looked up at the ceiling and waved his hand around. “Ala cazam! Abra cadabra! What was done, will be undone!” this time he stamped his foot.

“Nya mmmhmhmmm”

“I know it didn’t work. I don’t know how it’s supposed to work.” Xander helplessly dropped into a chair and watched Giles do the same while supporting the book with his hands. Sat across from him for hours on end until the spell wore off and the book finally dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Good lord, I’m bleeding,” Giled dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it to his nose. “It might be good if you said as little as possible over the next few days until we get you home. Then we can look into whether there are ways to speed up the process of your coming into your powers.”

“I’m sorry Giles...” hanging his head, but unable to look at the watcher for an instant more, Xander left to get that drink and a bit of much needed entertainment to make him forget a long string of blush-worthy moments.

If he’d hoped to avoid the watcher until the next morning, his hopes were dashed. Around midnight, he’d had to phone Giles to come get him. He’d wished for a wallet full of money to be able to tip the entertainment... and ended up with the reverse. Now he had no money to pay for his drinks. Could things get any more embarrassing?

Giles tiredly walked into The Stag fully expecting the blare of music, the despicable fog of smoke, sweating bodies and too much drink. What he hadn’t expected were the half naked costumed men gyrating on the stage. It was a bloody strip bar... Xander hadn’t meant it was “on the strip...” Taking a second look at the all male audience, Giles suddenly felt like a hunted animal. And well he should, the wolfish looks scared him more than a vampire ever had.

Cautious not to touch anyone or draw any more attention than absolutely necessary, he threaded his way through the tables and found Xander. “What’s the damage?”

Xander dragged his gaze away from the ‘policeman’ who’d just torn his pants off and was sporting a large sheriff’s badge where it counted. Embarrassed by Giles’ presence, he whispered the amount, then added a bit defensively, “it’s artistic... not easy doing that, you know.”

Counting the bills out quickly, Giles dropped them on the table and tried hard not to look at the stage. “I’m sure calling it an art is a bit of an overstatement. Now... are you ready to leave?”

“You saying it’s easy? They have to practice,” Xander started following the older man. “You think you could do it?”

“Good Lord, I wouldn’t be caught dead–“

Beams of light shone into Giles’ eyes. He raised his hand up, trying to shade his eyes and see. But what he saw gave him a start. He was on the wrong side of the stage. On it, to be exact. Looking down, his jaw dropped open. Gone were his gray flannels with perfectly starched creases, replaced by brown suede chaps... and nothing else. Not only did he feel the cold air caress his legs and backside, but he suddenly noticed a slight discomfort between his cheeks. Flossy underwear... that’s what he had on.

The blood shot up to his temples. Panicked, he took a step to leave the stage, but his body was uncooperative. That step lead to another, then another. Each move was a slinky slide to the side, followed by the involuntary rotating motions of his hips, which resulted in screams from the audience. Whether they were shouting for more, or for him to get off the stage was unclear.

Xander. He tried to fix the youth with a quelling look, but Xander was looking everywhere but at him.

A part of Giles died as he lost his strenuous battle against his body and slowly turned his backside to the audience. Eyes closed, he allowed his body to move in ways he hadn’t thought possible, for there was nothing he could do. When the music stopped, so did the enchantment his body was under.

Practically jumping off the stage, he beat away the sweaty hands that offered to tuck disgusting bills into his waist and God knew where else. He was out the front door at the same time as Xander. “A mere half hour ago, I was in my jammy’s, ensconced in bed, with a good book,” he said in a too controlled voice.

“I...ah...sorry.” Lame lame lame. That was what he was stuck saying every other hour. He was surprised Giles hadn’t ditched him yet. He should. If he knew what was good for him.

“Yes well... we’re never speaking of this again.” The slapping of the leather chaps against his skin had Giles clenching his jaw. The thought of walking past reception and giving them a glimpse of his backside was already giving him a strong case of heartburn.

Xander couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. “For an old man... gotta say, not a bad ass.”

“Not that you’ve noticed.” If there was a slight spring in Giles’ step, it wasn’t intentional.

“Nope... not that I’d notice.”

“You’re not telling anyone.”

“Nope... not a soul.”

[present]

“You’re bloody kidding me. And Rupert stayed after that?” The watcher earned some new found respect from Spike, who’d completely forgotten his own predicament. “Can’t wait to ask him about it.”

“You promised not to tell!” Xander protested.

“Under duress.”

“What duress.”

“Got me glued ... that’s imprisonment.” Moving his leg, Spike discovered he was free. “Now... about this dream of yours, what was it all about?”

“No...no no no... not a good idea, unless you want to be glued to me.” Xander had to throw it out there. Let the suggestion hang between them.

Spike scraped his teeth along Xander’s neck, then looked down at the boy, their mouths separated only by inches. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Heart pounding against his chest, Xander nodded. “Yes.” He was going to get kissed, he was. He knew it. Spike had that look... where his eyes got all laser-like and intense, where it made you feel like you were the center of his world.

Spike ghosted his mouth over Xanders and immediately rolled off. “Well too bad, I pick my own bed mates, yeah?”

“Spike!” Xander jackknifed into a sitting position. “Don’t you get it? You can’t play these games with me... not now.”

“Not playing, pet. Not the sort who likes to be forced into anything, yeah? Taking a shower,” he announced, walking into the small bathroom.

“Well talk about mixed messages! I mean is that a yeah... you’d be interested if it weren’t for the magic... or no, you’d never be interested in... in me and that was just payback?” The sound of rushing water was all the answer Xander got. “Dammit.”

He let out a breath and rolled over to the night stand. Last time he’d rummaged around, he’d seen some book someone had left. Not that he was actually going to read it, but it would be a good prop when Mr. Unaffected came out of the shower... a way to stop himself from looking at the guy. He lifted the book up and saw it was a romance novel with an extremely handsome bare chested man in leather pants stared coolly back at him with laser blue eyes. He was actually staring at the girl who was laughing and had probably thrown him into the lake behind them, since he was all wet and shiny.

Xander groaned out loud...

The bathroom door was tugged open so hard it came off its hinges. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!?” Spike yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Holy batman, Spike... you look... oh, this is bad. I know, that was bad.” Xander bit his lip and tried not to lust after the vampire with murder in his eyes. And no wonder. Wet leather pants clinging to him couldn’t be comfortable. But the picture he made.... Oh the hotness!


(If you enjoyed this or have concrit, let me know. I adore feedback ::nods::)