Helping Hand

***







Sunday morning came and went without comment or incident. Wesley woke up earlier than Lindsey did, with a slight headache, but after forcing down two Advil, a glass of water and some toast, he was feeling much better.







Lindsey woke about an hour after Wesley, and decided he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat or breakfast, and did nothing but flip the television on and lie back down on his bed.







Wesley noted his roommate’s choice in Sunday morning entertainment with approval, and shut his computer off in favour of sitting on his own bed and watching with him.







‘The Animaniacs’ ran until noon, at which point reruns of ‘My Secret Identity’ came on, and Wesley couldn’t watch anymore. He got up and left the room, not bothering to say anything to Lindsey on his way. It was obvious that his roommate didn’t want to talk, and right now that was okay with Wes.







He hadn’t planned on going anywhere specific, just to get out, get some air, get some time alone, and he found himself walking around the pond, enjoying the small slice of nature in the heart of their urban college campus.







He watched the geese and the ducks face off over small scraps of food that had been left behind by students who came here sometimes to toss bread and crackers around and watch the frenzy, and he was pleased to see that one of the smaller ducks had managed to wrangle himself some sustenance.







He sat down on a bench, shivering slightly in the chill of the wind, realising too late that he should have brought his jacket, but glad for the respite despite the cold. So he stuffed his hands in his pockets and tightened his body in on itself and watched the birds and the squirrels and the rabbits, and didn’t think.







Because really, he had nothing to think about. He just had to make sure that he and Lindsey left each other with enough space and eventually things would go back to normal. And he needed to make sure that he gave Spike his full attention, and going by the spectacular time they’d both had last night, that shouldn’t be hard.







He let his mind wander, to everything, nothing, and smiled as a chipmunk scurried past him looking for scraps. Which reminded him; he was hungry. And Lindsey probably was too. He decided to stop by the cafeteria on his way back and pick up a couple of sandwiches.







***







“What’s this?” Lindsey asked, as Wesley tossed his offering at Lindsey, and sat down at his desk to eat his own lunch.







“Turkey and Swiss,” he answered, barely looking up.







“I can see that.” He knew the exasperation was clear in his rugged voice, but he was having a hard time placing what was causing it. “I meant, what’s it for?”







Wesley looked up then, confused eyes focused on Lindsey as if he were an idiot. “For eating?” he offered.







“No, I… forget it.” Lindsey tossed the clip wrapped package on his bed beside him and turned his attention back to the television.







Wesley took pity. “Call it a peace offering.”







Lindsey said nothing, but fifteen minutes later he picked up the sandwich and started to nibble.







***







“So, uh. Do you want to help me practice today?”







Wesley’s head whipped around to Lindsey, baffled at he had asked that question when it seemed very clear that they weren’t going be doing that again.







Lindsey felt the gaze, but kept his lids half shut, head turned in the opposite direction. He knew that he wanted to get close to Wesley again, and he knew that Wes knew that, that Wes wanted the same thing, even if he wouldn’t admit it, but it wasn’t the only reason he was asking for help. “Don’t blow a gasket, man. I could really use the help, and you did offer.”







“Alright,” Wesley managed a tad uncertainly, and got back to his computing.







An hour later, when Lindsey slipped away to the gym for a little weight training before their session together, Wesley took the moment of privacy to give Spike a call, and thank him again for last night, seeing how Spike hadn’t telephoned him yet, and he found that he’d been expecting it.







The thought of the blond made him smile; he was looking forward to hearing his voice, perhaps make some plans for sometime soon, when they could be alone.







The smile slowly faded from Wesley’s face into a slight frown, as he let the phone ring four times before the answering service picked up. He didn’t leave a message.







***







After dropping Wesley off on Saturday night, Spike tried to convince himself that his now rampant erection was why he had gone straight to the one place he knew his needs would be met without hesitation. Or most of the reason, anyway.







He had done a pretty good job on the drive over, reasoning that if Wesley hadn’t gotten him all worked up and not followed through, that he wouldn’t be thinking of those broad shoulders that he loved to sink his teeth into from behind, that dark, shaggy mop that was the perfect length for gripping in his fingers to pull that beautiful mouth closer, those soulful eyes, that could never hide desire or annoyance or love.







He wasn’t completely kidding himself - if Wesley had invited him in, that’s where he’d be – but he couldn’t deny the near constant craving he’d had for something much more familiar that hadn’t diminished since the break-up.







After parking his car in the visitor’s lot he climbed up the two flights of dirty concrete steps and made his way down the hallway stopping in front of the door to the apartment that had once been a second home to him. It hurt, being there. It always did, but it hurt more not to, even though he never let it show.







He took a deep breath, cracked his neck, shook off his melancholy and knocked on the door. It took a minute or so, but the door was finally swung open wide and Spike grinned at the sleep rumpled man standing just inside the apartment. He was always so cute when he’d just woken up.







“Xander,” he greeted, tilting his head a bit and giving his ex-lover that smirk that he knew was way too sexy for his own good, and counting on it to get him in the door.







Xander turned his back on Spike and went straight to the kitchen, leaving the door open behind him, and Spike took that as an invitation. He entered, closing the door behind him and followed Xander into the cramped little kitchenette.







“Drink?” Xander offered, holding up a beer from the fridge. He handed one over at Spike’s nod and took one for himself before leaning back against the counter and sighing. “What are you doing here?”







Spike took a swig from his bottle before letting it fall to his side, fingers grasping the neck loosely, and took a step closer to Xander. “Missed you,” he said, dark lashes fluttering over his cheeks as he reached out and hooked one finger into the waistband of Xander’s track pants.







Unable to back up any further, Xander sidestepped to avoid Spike’s touch and lifted his own bottle to his lips, drinking half of it down in one go. Well, Spike thought, he’s either trying to catch a buzz so he doesn’t feel bad about goin’ through with this, or he’s trying to find the courage to tell me to the fuck off.







“What’s the matter?” Xander asked with derision. “Your new boy-toy still not giving it up?”







Spike flinched a little at that, and the slight expression of guilt that flashed across his face told Xander more than any answer Spike could have given. The sad thing was, it didn’t matter. Xander loved him, thought he always would, and it didn’t matter how much of a fuckwit Spike was, or how much he used him or how lonely he felt in the dark times between visits. As long as Spike came to him, Xander would accept him, because Xander knew that deep down, Spike loved him too.







Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve a certain amount of punishment after what he’d done.







Spike noticed the look of resigned acceptance on Xander’s face, and it broke his heart just a little bit more that he’d put it there, that someone who really did deserve better than what Spike was giving him was willing to settle for cold distant fucks, or worse, friendly ones, when he really deserved so much more.







Spike was using Xander, and they both knew it, but he’d loved him, completely, and just because the relationship had ended didn’t mean the feelings did. Spike really did still miss him, and of course he missed the sex, and even thought it killed them both a little bit every time they did this, Spike was selfish enough to put Xander through it anyway.







And Xander let him, because Spike knew he was holding out hope that they would get past this ‘apart’ phase, and Spike would realise how much he needed Xander, and they’d forgive each other and live happily ever after. Spike had a hard time believing the same thing. Especially now that Wesley was starting to show him that there were other people out there that could make him happy, but he thought it best not to share that with Xander just now.







Spike matched Xander’s evasive actions and pinned him to the counter, hands gripping the cold ceramic tile on either side of the taller, wider man. For all their size difference, it baffled Xander that Spike always came across so dominant. Must be the personality.







“Xan,” Spike said, and put his bottle down with a clink, taking advantage of the split second that Xander flinched to dart forward and suction his lips onto the other man’s.







Once presented with the incredible sensation of Spike’s soft, lush lips pressed against his own, Xander knew that any hope he ever had of telling Spike ‘no’ that night, had gone. And then Spike opened his mouth, and hesitantly pushed out his tongue to tease Xander’s lips apart, and Xander fell like jell-o into Spike’s embrace and opened his mouth fully to the kiss. On second thought, he had never had a chance in the first place.







When Spike felt Xander start to respond to his advances, felt his tongue push like slow honey against his own, felt the long column of his hardening penis pressing against his hip he discovered that he didn’t want to just turn Xander over, have his impersonal way with him in the sterile kitchen.







He wanted it to be more, to be what they used to have, and he gentled his own kiss to match what he was being given and his touches turned desperate, trailing his hands over every single non-erogenous zone that Xander had, just to have a contact with him that had nothing to do with sex, for the first time in over a month.







“I,” Spike panted, pulling back from a kiss that took more than his breath away. He cupped the side of Xander’s head in his palm and looked deep into his eyes, hoping to convey what he was feeling for once, instead of trying to hide it.







“I’m seeing someone. Yeah.” Xander knew that. “But this has nothing to do with that. I swear to you, Xan,” and they both knew it lowered Xander’s resistance to almost laughable levels when Spike said his name that way, “whatever happens tonight, it’s just about us.”







The last word, ‘us’, gave Xander hope, as Spike knew it would, but he didn’t let himself get hung up on the fact that it was false. He was indulging in a bit of that fantasy himself, sometimes, and felt like the bubble could go on a while longer before it popped and left them shattered.







Xander didn’t put up any more protest, letting Spike touch him and mould him as he would, loving everything that the blond could imagine doing. A hand reached into his pants, and tongue delved into his ear, and Xander was so overcome with sensation and emotion that the next thing he was fully aware of, was laying naked on his bed, with Spike standing above him, topless and working tight jeans down narrow legs.







Spike slid his pants down around his ankles and kicked out of them still looking down at Xander with pure want, and he was almost overcome by the urge to tell Xander that he loved and forgave him and wanted them to try again. But as he stretched out an arm to let his fingers rake over a muscled calve and up a quivering thigh, he was reminded of what Wesley looked like in this same position, and he knew that this thing with Xander would have to end soon.







That didn’t stop him from taking advantage of now, though, and he slowly, seductively climbed on top of Xander, situating himself between splayed thighs, working fingers and tongue and teeth over every inch of skin available to him.







Spike poured every last inkling of a feeling he’d ever had for Xander into the seduction, telling himself it was for the brunet’s benefit, and it wasn’t long before hearts were breaking all over again, and the need for joining was paramount.







Xander had known the second that Spike started to see someone else, knew the very moment he developed actually feelings for that boy, knew even though Spike didn’t see it yet, that that other boy wasn’t what he really needed, but it was times like these, when Spike was treating Xander like he was only other person on the planet, that he didn’t care.







It didn’t take much persuading on either part before Xander was pulling his legs up and Spike was nestling his needy, engorged cock up against Xander’s perfectly fitted crack. It wasn’t as tight as he imagined Wesley’s to be, but it was flawlessly moulded to the shape of his own hard prick, and he could stab in again and again without much fear of causing pain.







He looked down into Xander’s open and vulnerable face, and might have let his mouth form the word ‘love’, but he didn’t think so, as his erection breached the hot, welcoming entrance, and brought the two needy bodies finally together.







Spike allowed his body to blanket Xander’s, resting his smooth cheek against Xander’s stubble-covered one, and moved slowly in and out of his hole, relishing the feel of the silky tightness encasing his throbbing member, and so fuckin’ pleased not be wearing a rubber. He knew he should be, now that he was sleeping with someone else, but the feeling of Xander’s bare walls clenching down on him was much too good to pass up for something so trivial as health.







Even as he revelled in the feeling of barebacking Xander, Spike mentally planned for his next encounter with Wesley, when he knew he would have to use protection, regardless of how good the alternative felt, and dug his fingers hard into Xander’s magnificent shoulders in irritation that his attention had drifted.







Xander bucked up harder at the twinge of sharp pain that Spike’s nails caused, and his breath caught in his throat as Spike slipped impossibly deeper. Xander’s pants and mewls and random mumblings served as an aphrodisiac for Spike, as he lost himself in everything and against his better judgements believed in happy endings once again. They hadn’t done it face to face in a while, and Spike tried to downplay the significance of this act by looking anywhere but into Xander’s eyes.







It wasn’t long before Spike’s balls tightened and drew closer to his body and he felt that amazing tickle start that always signalled one hell of fantastic orgasm. He could tell Xander was close too, by the increased squeakiness in his moans, and the way he was trying to rub himself off against Spike’s belly. He sped up his thrusts slightly, chasing the high he knew was just around the corner.







“Grab yourself,” Spike panted, hoarsely into Xander’s ear, before pulling back just enough to give the brunet room to obey.







Xander did, without hesitation, and he hardly managed to get off half a dozen stokes of his hand swiftly across his needy cock before he screamed and shut his eyes, and jerked relentlessly against Spike, pulling himself through completion, jetting warm, creamy spunk out between them, over his hand and stomach.







At the first spasm of Xander’s amazing ass around him, Spike couldn’t hold back anymore, not that he’d been trying to, and he was shooting his own load into the familiar welcoming passage, with thoughts of ‘home’ and ‘belonging’.







Spike collapsed down, and Xanders’s arms wound around him, attempting, if futilely, to stick Spike to him for all eternity, the physical evidence of their joining leaking and slick and sticky between them, serving as an eternal adhesive.







Spike’s body seemed to like that idea, even if his brain didn’t, and as he worked himself free of Xander he groaned loudly, and his eyes rolled back, and he wondered, again, why this had to stop.







Later, he didn’t have a hard time thinking. He’d end it later. And he nuzzled down into Xander’s warmth, and contented himself in the illusions of love and forever that no-one else had ever given him, and let his body drift on comfortable tides.







***







“I’m sorry,” Xander said, long minutes later, when they were both soft and drowsy. He wriggled his ass down a little, trying to catch the tip of Spike’s flaccid penis between his cheeks and tease it to interest, because if Spike’s penis was interested, that boded all the better for Xander.







“God, Spike, you know I’m sorry.” Spike did. Xander hadn’t missed an opportunity since they had split to let him know, to try to get the blond to forgive him, and get them back to the way they were. But Spike wasn’t convinced it could happen that way.







“Please baby,” he pleaded, giving up on Spike’s cock and working him to his side, snuggling up against him shamelessly. He kissed him, hard and demanding at first, but it quickly turned light and imploring. He trailed a hand across Spike’s compactly muscled chest, playing delicately over hard nipples, reminding them both of at least the physical reasons that Spike should give him another chance. “Please take me back.”







Spike closed his eyes against the desperation, suspecting that he couldn’t ever refuse Xander if he turned that gut-clenching tone and those heart-wrenching eyes on him. Xander always did this, when Spike gave him the chance, and as much as Spike wanted to take him up on it, he couldn’t help but think of that horrid night, five weeks ago, when he had walked out on Xander hoping it would stick, but knowing it wouldn’t.







He was at the library late that night, and probably should have just gone home after, gotten some sleep and been ready for class the next day, but he hadn’t spent much time with Xander in a while, his studies and Xander’s work in construction getting in the way, so he’d decided to forgo sleep and pay his boyfriend a visit.







Little did he know his lover already had a visitor.







He had opened the door to Xander’s apartment, smile on his face, hand at his belt, ready to drop trou on the count of three and give the brunet what they’d both been missing. But when he’d entered the apartment he’d been greeted to sight of his true love, sitting on the living room couch, balls deep inside the throat of some sandy haired, chino wearing son of a bitch.







He’d looked at Xander over the head of the other man, hurt warring with anger for dominance on his face for what seemed like hours, but must have only been seconds, and apparently the little slut on the floor didn’t seem to notice, because soon Xander was making those unmistakable faces of impending orgasm as Spike watched, but didn’t bother to wait for the finish before he turned and left, vowing never to be that sucker again.







“I’ll never to it again. You know that. You know it was a mistake.” The brunet continued to beg Spike’s forgiveness, as he’d done every time they were together, and Spike believed him, like he always did.







“I know, pet,” Spike told him, with more concern than he’d shown since they split. “I believe you. Just… It’s too late. Not gonna change anything.” Even as he said it, he desperately hoped it wasn’t true, but he needed to prepare himself for the inevitability. It was funny, he thought, that Xander would be the more miserable one of the two over the split, when it was Spike who had had his heart stomped on so egregiously.







Xander buried a sob in Spike’s neck, and the blond felt the twinge of a tear form in his own eye before he swallowed it back. “I’m sorry too,” he quietly admitted, folding his arms around Xander’s tense form, and kissed him, a comforting sort of kiss, on the top of his head, holding him tight until he relaxed. “I… Let’s get some sleep.”







Spike extracted himself from the warm bed for as long as it took to grab his pants from the floor, and reached into the pocket to shut off his cell. He didn’t want any interruptions in the peace that he hoped to find. He didn’t feel too bad about everything he’d done that night, having the nagging suspicion that Wesley wasn’t being 100% faithful himself, but he hoped that it was down to his trust issues, and not Wesley’s fidelity.







Trying not to feel like too much of a hypocrite, he climbed back in, and wrapped his long limbs around Xander’s frame, pulling tightly on the pliant body, and they dozed surprisingly easily against each other, dreaming of the memories of days past.







***







The next afternoon, after a lazy morning of slow, sweet lovemaking, and a long, dirty shower, Spike found himself nestled into the sofa, Xander behind him, arms wrapped tightly around Spike’s wiry frame, both men completely unconcerned that they knew that this thing between them had to end.







They both pretended to be engrossed in the football game, Spike’s body jerking in feigned irritation when his team lost the ball to cover the fact that he was only trying to grind his body in any way possible against the other man, and Xander disguising his groans of pleasure at pushing his hour-long erection into Spike’s back as those of aggravation when the other team scored.







Neither made a move to take things to an overly sexual level, happy to just be in each other’s company, and it was times like these that Spike remembered why he had once loved Alexander Harris, and made him wonder why he had ever let someone so amazing get loose, and end up on the ass end of random quickies, wanting and begging to be worth more.







Spike tried to ignore thoughts like that, for the moment at least, and settled into the couch, and the embrace, and didn’t hear the phone call he was currently missing because he hadn’t turned his cell back on.







***







Wesley had not been very helpful to Lindsey at wrestling practice Sunday afternoon. Once Wes had inevitably won the first round, and had Lindsey hard and panting underneath him after the second, Wesley didn’t so much as make a move toward anything even remotely sexual, and really, that would have been bad enough.







But Wesley seemed to have his mind so far off the game that Lindsey almost had to try to lose. Almost, but not quite. He still had some work to do, and he was partially grateful for that. In terms of his scholastic career, and future prosperousness it was not a good thing, but in terms of his relationship with Wes, it definitely was.







After all the uncertain sexual tension between them lately, both resolved and not, he did not want to be in the position of being the aggressor in any kind of further dalliance. Oh, he had aggression, and he wanted to work it out, but the whole thing with Spike seemed to be throwing off his game.







If Wesley initiated some kind of sexual activity, then his conscience was clear, but if he was the one tempting Wesley into his ass, or inviting himself into Wes’s, it felt dirty, and not in a way that he was comfortable with. It felt like he was interfering with a couple, and if Spike could make Wesley happy, then Lindsey should really just fuck off, shouldn’t he?







So why was he so disappointed when at that pivotal moment, when Wes had been so close to him, when they had felt each other’s heart beats, and puffs of breath and outlines of stiff cocks, that Wesley had merely blinked, and choked off a groan, and stood up straight, offering Lindsey a hand.







Wesley blinked again as he stood, and looked out at his hand, reaching down to Lindsey on the mat, and didn’t quite understand how they had gotten into this situation. He had tackled Lindsey, covered his body with his own, and with the mindless behaviour born of habit and circumstance he had pressed in further to take what he wanted.







It wasn’t until he felt the other man’s answering jerking hips and questing fingers that he came back to himself and realised what he was doing, and realised he shouldn’t be. He couldn’t deny the physical attraction that existed between himself and Lindsey, didn’t really want to, but he could stop himself acting on it, and he would, because Wesley was not the cheating kind. He found himself honestly hoping that things would work out with Spike, and there was no way that was going to happen if he continued to let Lindsey tempt him.







Lindsey tried to keep his face even, emotionless, as Wesley helped him up.







“Thanks,” he offered, not meeting Wesley’s eyes, and the only answer he received was a nod, witnessed in his peripheral vision, and Wesley turned and walked away, leaving him standing dumbly in the empty gymnasium, wondering what had just happened.







For two people who slept less than two meters apart, they did a fairly outstanding job of avoiding each other for the next day and a half.







And Spike still didn’t call.







TBC