Spanley

Spanley is Spike, Xander and Wesley getting it on... ;-P

This is the first chapter of our just started project to write a fic in turns.

livejournal community:

www.livejournal.com/community/droolz_spanley for the fic

www.livejournal.com/community/spanleydroolerz for feedback
(everybody can post, even non-lj-user)

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Reviews here are very welcome too.

Now on to the first chapter:

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Spanley 01

1 by Druffine

It was his twentieth time on stage but still he was unsure. Some said that was his special charm. The timid and innocent looks from under dark long lashes paired with the, by now, professional moves made the greedy crowd go wild.

Each person in the darkness surrounding the stage swore after his show that they had seen his debut strip. They talked about the perfect moves perfectly in time to the perfect music which he must have practiced until exhaustion took over. They smiled like parents who witnessed the first few unsteady steps of their children when they talked about how shy and insecure he seemed to be about himself, about his body or his dance. Sometimes the young stripper pretended it was pride not lust clouding their eyes; that these people where proud of what he did.

No, twenty appearances in a club where the outside you presented was all that mattered wouldn’t make a life time of insulting and belittling disappear… but it helped. A lot. His confidence grew with every hard-on he inflicted, with every pair of hungry eyes and slightly parted lips.

Spike, the owner of the club must have seen something in him from the beginning.
When his car broke down and he came here for a drink to drown his frustration, when he suddenly spilled everything about his unlucky life and asked for a job, the blond appeared out of nowhere and guided him to the office.

“Barkeeper?” He heard himself ask again, lost in memories and saw Spike shake his head slowly. The blonde had come and stood in front of him, long slim fingers opened the top button of the too loose cargo pants and pulled out the screeching orange shirt, lifted it over his shoulder and let it strain against his neck. The tangled shirt forced him to stand very upright, a confident pose his face contradicted. Slim fingers had caressed his exposed chest, had played with stiff nipples and stroked over clenching abs…

“ALEX!” Joey’s voice, a loud hiss in his ear, ripped him from the beloved replay of memories. His colleague gestured frantically in the direction of the stage and the lights over it, telling him to get his ass out there immediately or his show would start without him. As if…

The dark haired man, nevertheless, ran through tarknarkness, smelling smoke, booze, sweat and perfume, mixed together in what would disgust others as the cheap pub smell. Not him though, because out there those people were his fans, were here to see him.

Silently he glided over the cool tiles of the stage, barefooted sure steps in the so familiar surroundings even when it was so dark that none of the waiting people could see him. He found his chair, straddled it, tight black jeans hugged his muscled ass, the dark green button up was nearly open, revealing his smooth chest and parts of well shaped abs and pecs. He rested his arms on the backrest of the chair, laid his forehead down on them.

Dark curls spilled over his forehead and he closed his eyes. Smiling to himself he enjoyed the excitement as it rose in him, when the first few bars of his music could be heard. The crowd went eerily silent and he felt delighted by the tense anticipation of these people, felt honoured by the gasp the crowd made when the first lights began to crawl over the reflecting tiles, throwing shadows and highlights in a chaotic but beautiful way all over him.

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