Twelve Hours 7
When it started, Spike´s cock actually sliding slow slowslow into of him, Xander inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut.
It hurt, kind of, that dull insistent press. Hurt in a way that didn´t come with much pain, whether that made sense or not. But it felt wrong and weird in a way that sent a shock through his brain, made him feel like he´d woken all at once from a nap taken by accident, groggy, sweat–slick, and overheated.
Then Spike moved forward.
Xander´s fingers came around the width of the metal bar he held onto so fast that he felt the surprise sharpness of his nails digging in quickly to his palms, no doubt leaving half–moon reminders for him to see later.
"Shhh, shhhh," Spike soothed, and Xander focused on that sound. "Be all right in a minute, I promise you."
In answer Xander gave a jerky nod of his head, and tried not to whimper when he felt Spike´s hipbones start to meet his skin.
"There," Spike said. He stroked his fingers along Xander´s back, over the material of his t–shirt and then under it, and Xander shivered. "All the way there, and in just a moment, you´ll get what you came for."
"Came for," Xander repeated, and for some reason, he pictured the view of his closet as he´d stood in front of it earlier that night, trying to fool himself into thinking he wasn´t nervous as he picked out what to wear.
"Shhh, shhh," Spike said again, and Xander rested his forehead against the cool metal despite the scrape of the paint flaking off the bar.
"All right," Spike whispered, and Xander licked his lips.
It was different as Spike drew back and then pushed forward again. Still odd, still uncomfortable, but instead of the sense of push and force, there was a stuttering slide in. It made Xander gnaw on his lip, but in determination more than anything else.
"Relax," Spike said low.
"Oh," Xander said aloud. His jaw went slack, though how he´d managed that he wasn´t sure. Whatever it was, it spread through his body like a string pulled taut had been eased of its pressure, making his shoulders drop, his torso stretch. As the last of it unfurled along his muscles, he tilted his hips up as an experiment, and with that Spike was easing in further than he´d been before. "Oh," he said again, more of a breathy sound this time.
"Fuck yes," Spike hissed.
This time when Spike pulled out then rolled his hips forward, Xander moved in time, drawing himself in then lifting and working his hips back. A few not–on–purpose syncopated beats to their actions, and then they were moving at a steady pace with one another.
"That´s right, fuck yourself on me," Spike crooned, and Xander cried out as he jutted his hips back. It threw him off, the quick–time lurch of his body in answer, but it felt so good that he didn´t much care, and so he did it again.
"Bloody hell, yes. That´s it. You want this so much, so much, love. And you´ll want it even more when I´m done with you."
Xander was glad of the bar more than ever now, as he used it to leverage himself and hold himself up while Spike settled into a quick, fast pace. "Oh, oh," he repeated. There weren´t better words for it.
"Like it like this?" Spike panted, as though reading Xander´s thoughts. "Can´t imagine you´d make a fuss about it being a bit quick and dirty, what with being ready to go in an alley, but..."
"I like it," Xander rasped out. It was all he could manage.
Then Spike rolled his hips a different way, started a twist and push that was like a brand new flavor of amazing, and Xander gave a short, high cry. A series of thrusts later, and he was crying out on every stroke.
They both heard the back door from the club creak open, though only Xander froze. Spike slowed, but he kept up the arc of motion, longer and deeper as footsteps echoed and the act of something being heaved into a dumpster gave off a distinct smish of a noise.
Anther swinging creak of the door. Another set of footsteps.
"Hey, hurry it up," a man called out.
"Damn it. Hold on a second. You hear something?" the first man asked.
A throat cleared.
"Guess it´s just . . ." The sentence trailed off.
"Probably rats," the other said cheerfully.
Spike´s hand went over Xander´s mouth, and Xander bit back a moan.
"Some guy jumps you, mugs you on your way home, you tell me tomorrow it was rats," the first retorted.
Spike´s fingers tightened, and Xander held himself more still for a moment until he realized it was almost the gesture equivalent of Spike snorting.
"No one´s going to mug me," the other guy said in an indignant voice. From there the two of them kept speaking, a back–and–forth squabble that became a low hum.
"Now, pet," Spike whispered. He was draped over Xander, and the words in Xander´s ear were suddenly the only thing Xander could pay attention to. "You´ll have to be quiet, now, won´t you? No more of those pretty cries, not while we´re out here." While he spoke, he started rolling his hips forward again, a little faster now, and Xander whimpered against Spike´s fingers so he wouldn´t make any revealing sounds.
Spike leaned back again, so that he was standing upright while he thrust forward, taking his hand with him to squeeze Xander´s hips. Xander breathed out a sigh of relief as the men in the other part of the alley continued talking, thanked whatever random impulses had made Spike choose a spot that was at least partly obscured.
Then Spike shoved up Xander´s t–shirt and pressed down on the small of Xander´s back as he started to snap his hips forward. The concentration of weight made Xander bow his back, and the effort to keep quiet made everything around him merge into a dull roar, as though his ears were blocked.
Spike´s other hand wrapped around Xander´s prick, and Xander tried to make the thrust of his hips back express his gratitude.
"Fine," one of the men said to the other in what was obviously the kicker to a rousing debate, and they slammed back into the club, clanging the door behind them.
Xander muttered something, and Spike gave him a warning growl.
"Might come back, yeah?"
So when Spike started to drive into him hard and then harder, Xander swallowed all his grunts, tried to dampen the harsh sounds of his breathing, and as Spike slammed forward with a volley of thrusts, finally came with a silent cry.
