Playing to Win
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,987
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,987
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Upping the Ante
Upping the Ante
Disclaimers and Summary: see chapter 1
Feedback: I can't possibly convey the amount of begging I'm capable of doing, or the pouting ;) Please Review!!!!
A/N: the story suddenly develops a plot, what?!, yeah, I know...
Giles woke near dawn, shivering. His plan the night before to have a drink or a dozen to wipe thoughts of the previous day’s conversations about Xander’s sexual activities out of his head having failed miserably. He had lain awake most of the night, pondering how lonely he had been lately, the only difference being that it had the melancholy awareness of whiskey. He sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more sleep that night, before he headed off to shower the whiskey and unsettling emotions off before the children invaded his home again.
*****
Xander stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stumbled to the bed, emotionally and physically exhausted. He was still frustrated to the point of almost physical pain, and all he wanted to do was sleep. However, his brain, like other areas of his anatomy lately, as usual, had other ideas. He lie is his bed, images creeping into his thoughts, images that had no business being there. Yet those images and fantasies seemed to be taking up shop and settling down for the duration. Xander groaned – he really needed to sleep; at least then he didn’t have to take responsibility for what his mind came up with or how his body betrayed him… Spike, it was all his fault, the bastard.
Ever since he had unwittingly made that insane bet with the vampire a couple of weeks ago, Xander had been pre-occupied with thoughts of him. So, now, not only did he have everyday, acceptable fantasies about Anya, his girlfriend, and illicit and somewhat thrillingly forbidden ones about Buffy (that he would never ever tell anyone about – except that Spike already knew somehow… the bastard), but he now had absolutely unacceptable desires for the evil dead… the bastard.
An hour later, he lay in bed, in a contest of wills with his hands. They wanted to ease down his body to ease his unfortunate side effect of thinking about Spike. He was losing.
”Mmmmm, Spike,” he moaned, defeated.
He wondered what Spike was doing.
The vampire in question was sprawled out on the sarcophagus in his crypt, planning his next move, when he could move that was. Who knew the slayer could be so demanding? he mused before answering himself with a self-satisfied grin, I did. He stretched, wincing as his strained muscles protested. Yeah, it had been a very good day. A good day indeed, except for that little episode where he thought he was going insane. He brought his hands up to rub his face thoughtfully. Something was definitely up; although, he thought wryly, certain parts of him might never be “up” again after his last little rendezvous with the slayer. He remembered his little bet with Xander – the boy didn’t know what he had coming. Well, look at that, maybe things were looking “up” after all. Spike smiled and reached for his plan in his duster pocket.
He wondered what Buffy was doing.
He really wondered what Xander was doing as he checked off the next number on his plan. Spike pondered for a moment before adding a new step, #9 - repeat as necessary. He was a bloody genius.
*****
”You’re an idiot,” Buffy told her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Her reflection was unmoved by this declaration except to stare forlornly back at her through the steamy bathroom. She had run out of the old factory that morning with a blinding headache after the last go-around, number five or 6 perhaps, and had unerringly gone home, to her house, rather than her dorm room. It was a partially unconscious effort to both avoid seeing Willow who would know something was up and also to retreat to the safety of her old room, even if her mom was gone for the week.
Buffy could not believe she had had sex, activities of the definy sey sexual, and mostly depraved, kind… with Spike. Yet, something still lingered, that feeling, that longing – now it was for two things she could never have, or even admit to wanting. Somehow, though, she had the feeling that Spike knew. There had been, interspersed with the lustful violence, an understanding made sharper by pain. And, the pain had been exquisite in its pursuit of pleasure. Now it had melted into the dull ache of completion.
*****
Xander collapsed in completion, panting onto sweaty covers imbued with his unwanted fantasies made into sticky, organic proof. The euphoria quickly lapsed into the familiar shame. At least I’m well-trained Xander thought, wryly, I’ve got the masturbation-induced humiliation perfected. Even worse, he still wanted more of what could only prove him more pathetic than he was already, lusting after his best friend, a loathed male vampire and his ex-girlfriend, in combinations that shocked and disgusted him even as they drove him to a frenzy of lonely gratification.
He wondered what Buffy was doing.
Sighing, he turned over and pretended to himself that he would fall asleep.
The next morning saw two very sorry, bedraggled looking humans, an entirely too perky witch, a smug vampire, despite being slightly singed, and a very disted wed watcher all gathered around the watcher’s living room.
”Buffy, I hate to say it, but you look awful!” Willow exclaimed in a voice obviously under the influence of a few too many mochas.
”Oh, I just didn’t sleep very well last night; I was out… patrolling, late, then I just couldn’t seem to get relaxed,” Buffy explained nervously.
A low cough came from across the room.
”Spike, why are you here again?” Giles asked, impatiently, as he went upstairs.
“I’m going to go hunt for that talisman I picked up at that estate sale; it was supposed to be able to find lost things, and yes, Xander, I am well-aware of the irony of it being lost, but I hope it will be able to help us find out more about those missing girls.”
Buffy sighed as she rubbed her temples.
Willow looked at her a moment, debating, before blurting out, ”Ok, what’s wrong; you’re moping and rubbing your temples like you’ve turned into Giles and stole your very last tin of biscuits.”
"yeah," Xander said, "you've definitely got that 'someone killed my puppy and stole my lunch money' look."
”I’ve just got a headache, a bad one,” Buffy admitted.
”I have some Tylenol in my backpack,” Willow suggested as she dug throher her bag before triumphantly offering the bottle to Buffy.
Buffy just shook her head before replying, “Thanks, Will, but that doesn’t help; I tried it already this morning – many pills worth.” She moaned and went back to rubbing her head.
llowllow looked a little worried.
”How long have you had this headache, Buffy?” Willow queried as she went into research mode, already pulling out books from Giles’s shelf on medicine and mystical illness.
After much questioning and consultation of diagnostic flowcharts, Willow finally sat up with a victorious grin, before frowning slightly as she reread what was in front of her, and reread it again.
Xander jumped a bit from his dosing position on the couch. Spike had tired of adding ‘helpful’ hints and suggestions to Willow’s search and had opted instead to annoy Xander by simply looking at him, hotly, until Xander had turned over on the couch and feigned sleep to avoid dealing with the irritating vamp of his late night, and recently, daytime, fantasies.
Ignoring Spike, he scratched his chest and yawned, “So, whacha got, Wills?”
”Is it gonna make her head explode; is it a tumor?” Spike asked somewhat hopefully; he had to keep up appearances, after all.
”Well, actually, according to all of these books, and the internet, and PubMed…. and I could be wrong… very, very wrong; I could always research more” Willow started, “you seem to have Orgasmic Cephalgia,” she finished very quickly, almost inaudibly.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Willow continued, “It says here that it is a rare condition, a very severe headache with very specific characteristics, that only occurs when a woman has had a very intense orgasm.”
At that both Spike and Xander looked up with interest.
”If I may add…” Spike taunted, looking right at Buffy, gloating.
”I think you’ve done enough, really,” Buffy cut him off bitingly, before she realized what she had implied.
Spike grinned, leaned against the wall opposite of her, and hooked his fingers lightly around himself.
”Told ya I was the big bad, in all sorts of ways, eh pet?” Spike asked, cryptically.
Xander started putting 2 and 2 together, then took the square root, and still didn’t like the answer he got.
Willow was just a little turned on he fhe fact that Spike was blatantly hooking his fingers around himself in that way he did so well as she tried not to do the math, math that added up to something not to even be contemplated.
As Buffy stuttered an answer about Spike letting her get hit on the head last night while patrolling, her face bright red, Spike just smirked at them all, sparing a glance at the boy to see how he was handling this new piece of information.
l, Il, I always said I wished you a little death,” he said slyly, “and I always keep my promises…” he finished, looking at Xander intensely.
Then with a swish of his coat, that anyone who did not mind getting promptly eaten, headache or not, would say reminded them of Angel, Spike swooped out the door... only to run in smouldering with something other than sexual heat a few seconds later as he had forgotten it was still sunny out. With a snort and what passed for a sheepish grin on Spike, he sauntered to the couch, picked up a blanket and strode out the door once again, before darting to the sewers hastily.
All three occupants were left wondering how he could still look sexy with part of his hair on fire, and maybe a tiny bit guilty that they didn't say something.
However that was more than outweighed by their indignation that he made them feel that way to begin with.
The three of them just looked at each other, then looked away in mutual repression and forgetting non-verbal agreement. After all, that's what friends are for...
Meanwhile, Giles was upstairs, searching through drawers and his wardrobe, trying to find that talisman. He stood and looked around his bedroom, indulging in a sigh as he contemplated its empty bed. For a moment he could almost hear strains of La Boheme, resonate throughout the room. He closed his eyes and could smell the scent of roses, scattered around the room in a sadistic play of seduction. The room dimmed to the level of candlelight and the flicker of a dark-haired woman on the bed, eyes staring through him like glass. He blinked, and the room returned to its bright, stale state. Visibly shaken, Giles grabbed the talisman that had been sitting out in plain view on his dresser the whole time and left the room, his gaze lingering on the bed one last time. He stepped onto the stairs – put on his glasses like a mask and continued back downstairs.
“Was that Spike I just saw leave?" he asked.
Disclaimers and Summary: see chapter 1
Feedback: I can't possibly convey the amount of begging I'm capable of doing, or the pouting ;) Please Review!!!!
A/N: the story suddenly develops a plot, what?!, yeah, I know...
Giles woke near dawn, shivering. His plan the night before to have a drink or a dozen to wipe thoughts of the previous day’s conversations about Xander’s sexual activities out of his head having failed miserably. He had lain awake most of the night, pondering how lonely he had been lately, the only difference being that it had the melancholy awareness of whiskey. He sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more sleep that night, before he headed off to shower the whiskey and unsettling emotions off before the children invaded his home again.
*****
Xander stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stumbled to the bed, emotionally and physically exhausted. He was still frustrated to the point of almost physical pain, and all he wanted to do was sleep. However, his brain, like other areas of his anatomy lately, as usual, had other ideas. He lie is his bed, images creeping into his thoughts, images that had no business being there. Yet those images and fantasies seemed to be taking up shop and settling down for the duration. Xander groaned – he really needed to sleep; at least then he didn’t have to take responsibility for what his mind came up with or how his body betrayed him… Spike, it was all his fault, the bastard.
Ever since he had unwittingly made that insane bet with the vampire a couple of weeks ago, Xander had been pre-occupied with thoughts of him. So, now, not only did he have everyday, acceptable fantasies about Anya, his girlfriend, and illicit and somewhat thrillingly forbidden ones about Buffy (that he would never ever tell anyone about – except that Spike already knew somehow… the bastard), but he now had absolutely unacceptable desires for the evil dead… the bastard.
An hour later, he lay in bed, in a contest of wills with his hands. They wanted to ease down his body to ease his unfortunate side effect of thinking about Spike. He was losing.
”Mmmmm, Spike,” he moaned, defeated.
He wondered what Spike was doing.
The vampire in question was sprawled out on the sarcophagus in his crypt, planning his next move, when he could move that was. Who knew the slayer could be so demanding? he mused before answering himself with a self-satisfied grin, I did. He stretched, wincing as his strained muscles protested. Yeah, it had been a very good day. A good day indeed, except for that little episode where he thought he was going insane. He brought his hands up to rub his face thoughtfully. Something was definitely up; although, he thought wryly, certain parts of him might never be “up” again after his last little rendezvous with the slayer. He remembered his little bet with Xander – the boy didn’t know what he had coming. Well, look at that, maybe things were looking “up” after all. Spike smiled and reached for his plan in his duster pocket.
He wondered what Buffy was doing.
He really wondered what Xander was doing as he checked off the next number on his plan. Spike pondered for a moment before adding a new step, #9 - repeat as necessary. He was a bloody genius.
*****
”You’re an idiot,” Buffy told her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Her reflection was unmoved by this declaration except to stare forlornly back at her through the steamy bathroom. She had run out of the old factory that morning with a blinding headache after the last go-around, number five or 6 perhaps, and had unerringly gone home, to her house, rather than her dorm room. It was a partially unconscious effort to both avoid seeing Willow who would know something was up and also to retreat to the safety of her old room, even if her mom was gone for the week.
Buffy could not believe she had had sex, activities of the definy sey sexual, and mostly depraved, kind… with Spike. Yet, something still lingered, that feeling, that longing – now it was for two things she could never have, or even admit to wanting. Somehow, though, she had the feeling that Spike knew. There had been, interspersed with the lustful violence, an understanding made sharper by pain. And, the pain had been exquisite in its pursuit of pleasure. Now it had melted into the dull ache of completion.
*****
Xander collapsed in completion, panting onto sweaty covers imbued with his unwanted fantasies made into sticky, organic proof. The euphoria quickly lapsed into the familiar shame. At least I’m well-trained Xander thought, wryly, I’ve got the masturbation-induced humiliation perfected. Even worse, he still wanted more of what could only prove him more pathetic than he was already, lusting after his best friend, a loathed male vampire and his ex-girlfriend, in combinations that shocked and disgusted him even as they drove him to a frenzy of lonely gratification.
He wondered what Buffy was doing.
Sighing, he turned over and pretended to himself that he would fall asleep.
The next morning saw two very sorry, bedraggled looking humans, an entirely too perky witch, a smug vampire, despite being slightly singed, and a very disted wed watcher all gathered around the watcher’s living room.
”Buffy, I hate to say it, but you look awful!” Willow exclaimed in a voice obviously under the influence of a few too many mochas.
”Oh, I just didn’t sleep very well last night; I was out… patrolling, late, then I just couldn’t seem to get relaxed,” Buffy explained nervously.
A low cough came from across the room.
”Spike, why are you here again?” Giles asked, impatiently, as he went upstairs.
“I’m going to go hunt for that talisman I picked up at that estate sale; it was supposed to be able to find lost things, and yes, Xander, I am well-aware of the irony of it being lost, but I hope it will be able to help us find out more about those missing girls.”
Buffy sighed as she rubbed her temples.
Willow looked at her a moment, debating, before blurting out, ”Ok, what’s wrong; you’re moping and rubbing your temples like you’ve turned into Giles and stole your very last tin of biscuits.”
"yeah," Xander said, "you've definitely got that 'someone killed my puppy and stole my lunch money' look."
”I’ve just got a headache, a bad one,” Buffy admitted.
”I have some Tylenol in my backpack,” Willow suggested as she dug throher her bag before triumphantly offering the bottle to Buffy.
Buffy just shook her head before replying, “Thanks, Will, but that doesn’t help; I tried it already this morning – many pills worth.” She moaned and went back to rubbing her head.
llowllow looked a little worried.
”How long have you had this headache, Buffy?” Willow queried as she went into research mode, already pulling out books from Giles’s shelf on medicine and mystical illness.
After much questioning and consultation of diagnostic flowcharts, Willow finally sat up with a victorious grin, before frowning slightly as she reread what was in front of her, and reread it again.
Xander jumped a bit from his dosing position on the couch. Spike had tired of adding ‘helpful’ hints and suggestions to Willow’s search and had opted instead to annoy Xander by simply looking at him, hotly, until Xander had turned over on the couch and feigned sleep to avoid dealing with the irritating vamp of his late night, and recently, daytime, fantasies.
Ignoring Spike, he scratched his chest and yawned, “So, whacha got, Wills?”
”Is it gonna make her head explode; is it a tumor?” Spike asked somewhat hopefully; he had to keep up appearances, after all.
”Well, actually, according to all of these books, and the internet, and PubMed…. and I could be wrong… very, very wrong; I could always research more” Willow started, “you seem to have Orgasmic Cephalgia,” she finished very quickly, almost inaudibly.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Willow continued, “It says here that it is a rare condition, a very severe headache with very specific characteristics, that only occurs when a woman has had a very intense orgasm.”
At that both Spike and Xander looked up with interest.
”If I may add…” Spike taunted, looking right at Buffy, gloating.
”I think you’ve done enough, really,” Buffy cut him off bitingly, before she realized what she had implied.
Spike grinned, leaned against the wall opposite of her, and hooked his fingers lightly around himself.
”Told ya I was the big bad, in all sorts of ways, eh pet?” Spike asked, cryptically.
Xander started putting 2 and 2 together, then took the square root, and still didn’t like the answer he got.
Willow was just a little turned on he fhe fact that Spike was blatantly hooking his fingers around himself in that way he did so well as she tried not to do the math, math that added up to something not to even be contemplated.
As Buffy stuttered an answer about Spike letting her get hit on the head last night while patrolling, her face bright red, Spike just smirked at them all, sparing a glance at the boy to see how he was handling this new piece of information.
l, Il, I always said I wished you a little death,” he said slyly, “and I always keep my promises…” he finished, looking at Xander intensely.
Then with a swish of his coat, that anyone who did not mind getting promptly eaten, headache or not, would say reminded them of Angel, Spike swooped out the door... only to run in smouldering with something other than sexual heat a few seconds later as he had forgotten it was still sunny out. With a snort and what passed for a sheepish grin on Spike, he sauntered to the couch, picked up a blanket and strode out the door once again, before darting to the sewers hastily.
All three occupants were left wondering how he could still look sexy with part of his hair on fire, and maybe a tiny bit guilty that they didn't say something.
However that was more than outweighed by their indignation that he made them feel that way to begin with.
The three of them just looked at each other, then looked away in mutual repression and forgetting non-verbal agreement. After all, that's what friends are for...
Meanwhile, Giles was upstairs, searching through drawers and his wardrobe, trying to find that talisman. He stood and looked around his bedroom, indulging in a sigh as he contemplated its empty bed. For a moment he could almost hear strains of La Boheme, resonate throughout the room. He closed his eyes and could smell the scent of roses, scattered around the room in a sadistic play of seduction. The room dimmed to the level of candlelight and the flicker of a dark-haired woman on the bed, eyes staring through him like glass. He blinked, and the room returned to its bright, stale state. Visibly shaken, Giles grabbed the talisman that had been sitting out in plain view on his dresser the whole time and left the room, his gaze lingering on the bed one last time. He stepped onto the stairs – put on his glasses like a mask and continued back downstairs.
“Was that Spike I just saw leave?" he asked.