The Offering 2
For the next week and a half, Xander was never left alone after dark. If Giles wasn´t available to drive him and Willow home, either Buffy or Angel, and often both, walked them home. It turned out, however, that Spike wasn´t the only problem they had to worry about on the Hellmouth. On the Friday ten days after Spike bit him–not that he was counting–Buffy came across the remains of a power circle while on patrol.
After Buffy reported the circle to Giles, he gathered Xander and Willow up and drove them home before heading over to the park so he could take a look at the circle himself. He was practically humming with excitement as he talked to himself about what this could possibly mean, and what volume of what text might contain clues to the purpose of the circle. They dropped Willow off first, and then Giles took Xander home. In his excitement to see the circle and begin researching it, he didn´t stay to see Xander into the house.
Xander watched Giles drive away and then turned up the walkway. He froze when he heard a sound from beneath the trees. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he was sure everyone on the block could hear it. He watched the shadows closely, his fingers clutching the stake in his jacket pocket. When nothing jumped out at him, he turned back towards the house, letting out a little shriek when he saw Spike standing in front of him, hands in his duster pockets, head tilted to the side.
"Wh–what are you doing here?" he asked, taking an automatic step backwards.
Spike smiled, and it reminded Xander of the way Tommy Corso used to smile just before he ripped the wings off flies. "Told you I´d be back, pet," he drawled. "Miss me?"
"No!" Xander yelped, frantically shaking his head ´no´, even as his body thrilled at the sight of the blond vampire.
"Been dreamin´ ´bout me, sweet boy?" Spike asked with a knowing smirk as he took a predatory step towards him.
"N–no," Xander squeaked, stumbling back a step.
"That right?" he asked, running his eyes up and down Xander´s body. "Haven´t thought ´bout me at all? No wet dreams, then?"
Heat suffused Xander´s body and he felt lightheaded as blood drained from his head and rushed to the surface of his skin. There was no way Spike could know about the dreams, he thought. No way he could know that every night since That Night Xander would lie awake remembering. Remembering his reaction to Spike´s bite, to the vampire´s groin rubbing against his, their erections pressing together. No way he could know that Xander woke up nearly every morning with semen cooling on his stomach as his insides knotted with disgust at his behavior.
"Leave me alone," he pleaded hoarsely. He´d given his reaction to Spike, That Night and nearly every night thereafter, a great deal of thought over the last week and a half. He´d come to the conclusion that he might possibly be attracted to the confidence Spike exuded, and maybe the excitement of the bad–boy image and the danger he represented, but assured himself that he was not attracted to Spike himself.
For one thing, he was a vampire. An undead, bloodsucking fiend. For another, he was male, and Xander was not attracted to men. Until now. So it *had* to be the confident–bad–boy–danger thing, of that, Xander was certain.
"Can´t do that, pet," Spike said, taking another step forward.
Xander wanted to run, but his feet seemed bolted to the cement. "Why?" he asked plaintively, the hand holding the stake trembling. He´d given himself a good talking–to just that morning, and though he knew he should be firm on the one hand, and making tracks for the house on the other, he couldn´t force himself to do either.
Spike just stared at him, as if he was considering what to say. "Lotsa reasons," he finally said. "Was just gonna kill you," he added. "Leave you for the Slayer to find. For Angelus."
"And n–n–now?" Xander asked, fear spiking through him at the vampire´s casual dismissal of his life.
Spike lowered his head, and then looked up at him through long lashes, and flashed him a grin. "Now," he said, "think I´m gonna keep you around for a bit."
Xander started to hyperventilate. "Wh–wh–why?" he asked. "N–not that I don´t think that´s a good idea," he quickly added. "Th–the keeping of me...a–alive, that is. Not that I want *you* to keep me... Eep!" he squealed as Spike suddenly grabbed him by the biceps, and easily lifted him off his feet and carried him into the shadows.
"P–p–put me down," Xander demanded, or tried to demand through the nervous stutter. He was surprised when Spike actually complied, until he realized that they´d arrived at the spot where Spike was bringing him in the first place. Xander immediately found both arms shoved behind his back, his wrists gripped tightly in one of Spike´s hands.
Spike took a step nearer to him, bringing their bodies together. Xander tried to shift away from him, but only managed to wedge himself more tightly between Spike and the tree behind him as Spike´s body sinuously followed his own body´s attempts to escape. When there was no more room to maneuver, Spike moved even closer, trapping him firmly against the tree, and began to undulate against him, their groins and chests sliding together.
"No," Xander whimpered. He didn´t want this. He didn´t want Spike to touch him, not because the thought horrified him, but because he was afraid of his body´s traitorous reaction. And that did horrify him. "Please, no."
Spike ignored him, curled his fingers in his hair, and tilted his head to the right. Xander felt a frightening sense of deja vu as Spike began to sniff and lick the suddenly too–sensitive skin of his neck. "No," he moaned. "No, stop, please..."
Spike´s mouth began to move up his neck to his ear as their bodies rubbed together. Xander bucked, trying to shove Spike away from him. "Oh, yeah," Spike groaned in his ear, cool breath tickling him. "Do that again, pet."
"No!" Xander cried, starting to struggle in earnest. "Let me go, you undead...thing, you!"
Spike dragged his tongue along Xander´s jaw. The boy tasted so bloody good, and he smelled delicious. He´d been in a near–constant state of arousal since he last sampled Xander´s blood ten days ago–not that he was counting– and neither shaggin´ Dru nor putting his plan to become Master of Sunnydale into motion had been enough to relieve his desire for the boy.
He´d been frustrated that Xander had been kept away from him for ten long nights; he yearned to renew the bite, taste him again. When the Watcher drove away before the boy had gotten into the house, he´d nearly howled his delight. He´d immediately grown hard with anticipation, and the way Xander was squirming against him now, he wasn´t going to last much longer.
"You wound me, pet," Spike mocked, and then forcefully covered Xander´s lips with his own. The brunette stiffened and opened his mouth to scream. Spike took advantage and slipped his tongue inside. He explored every surface, reveling in the taste of him. Chocolate...and need. If possible, Spike got harder as the boy´s need fed his own. He kissed him hard, knowing he was probably bruising his mouth, and not caring.
By the time Spike pulled back, Xander was making little involuntary noises of pleasure deep in his throat, and his body had started to press back when Spike rubbed against him. "Oh, pet, you *are* a treasure, aren´t you?" he groaned into Xander´s ear before lowering his lips to his neck and licking the small scars, preparing the boy for his bite.
"No," Xander tried one more time to stop Spike, and then cried out with pain as the fangs sank into his skin. He cried out again as Spike began to pull on his blood, though not a cry of pain this time. Spike let go of his wrists, and both hands immediately grabbed for Spike, holding on to his duster for dear life as the draw of blood out of his body caused his knees to go weak. A tingle shot to his belly, and there was a tug on his groin.
Spike cupped Xander´s buttock and pulled him in close, grinding their bodies together harder, faster, as he drank the boy´s blood. The scent of Xander´s arousal perfumed the night air and drove him wild. He sucked, and humped, and clutched desperately at the boy as his own desire mounted until he was sure he would explode.
Xander´s ears were filled with the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, his blood pumping through his body, his breath rasping in his throat. The sound was deafening, and he thought he might pass out. And then Spike sucked on his neck one last time and everything fell silent. He stiffened, and opened his mouth to scream, then his body erupted and his mind splintered.
Spike quickly but carefully pulled his fangs out of Xander´s neck and covered his mouth, absorbing his cry of release. As the boy came, shuddering against him, Spike´s body tightened, and he roared his own climax into Xander´s mouth.
When Xander regained his senses he slowly lifted his head and looked around. He was on his knees beneath the tree, his body still trembling in the aftermath of his orgasm. And he was alone. His eyes burned with shame. He pressed them closed, but felt a tear slip out anyway and run down his cheek. How could he have let himself be caught by Spike again?
Worse yet, how could his body have betrayed him so thoroughly? Even now he ached for the vampire´s touch. He lifted a quivering hand to his neck and touched the bite. He moaned at the contact, and remembered Spike licking him after their orgasms. Licking him...and promising to return. Xander had managed to say one word, ´no´. Another tear fell and his humiliation grew, because he knew it had been a lie. And he knew that Spike knew it also.
Xander staggered to his feet, and stumbled into the house and up to his room. He removed his clothes and threw them into the hamper, and then brushed his teeth. He could still taste blood in his mouth, could still feel the rough bark of the tree against his skin. He took a shower to bathe the semen off his belly, watching the water wash it away and wishing he could just as easily wash his mortification and embarrassment away. He climbed out of the shower and dried off, then forced himself to look in the mirror.
He looked the same. He wondered how you couldn´t tell by looking at him that he was different. Weak. Disgusting. Perverted. He´d gotten off on a vampire bite. He´d had wet dreams about said vampire for over a week. He was sick. He turned his head slowly and looked at the bite on his neck. There was no way he could hide it–and then his friends would know that he was a vile and repulsive thing.
Xander pulled on a pair of boxers, climbed into bed, and let tears of self–pity and fear wet his pillow as he cried himself to sleep. In the morning, he once more woke with dried semen on his belly. He took another shower, trying to make himself feel clean again, and then dressed. He passed the kitchen on his way out the door, the thought of food making his stomach rebel.
He walked slowly down the street. He´d thought very hard about what he had to do, but knowing it was the right thing didn´t make it any easier. He climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell, then wiped wet palms on his pants. When the door opened to show Willow´s bright, cheerful face Xander nearly started crying again. As it was, he must have looked awful, because Willow stopped smiling and her happy expression turned to one of concern.
"Xander? What´s wrong?" she asked worriedly, reaching for him.
Xander grasped her hands. "You have to do me a favor," he said. "From now on, don´t invite me into your house, okay?" he asked desperately, though it wasn´t really a question.
"Xander, what..."
"Just *promise* me!" he said, shaking her arms. "Promise me you won´t trust me."
"Xander, you´re scaring me! What..."
Xander steeled himself for her reaction, and then turned his head and showed her the fresh bite. Willow pulled one hand free and reached out to touch his neck.
"Oh, Xander," she whispered sadly.
"Promise," he rasped. "I don´t know... I don´t want anything to happen to you, and I don´t know what Spike has planned, so, please, please, promise me."
"I promise, Xander, I promise! Oh, God, come in here!" she cried, and pulled him into the house.
"Willow, that was dangerous," he rebuked her brokenly through his tears.
"It´s daylight, Xander," Willow reminded him. "Now come here and sit down. Tell me what happened." Willow led him to the living room and they sat on the couch. She held his hands while Xander haltingly told her how Spike had waylaid him outside his house the night before, after Giles dropped him off.
"We can´t tell Giles," he said. "He´s already upset, he´d never forgive himself if he knew..."
"We have to tell him something," Willow said, examining his neck more closely. "Unless we go shopping and buy you a bunch of turtlenecks, he´s gonna see the bite."
"Maybe it´ll be healed by Monday," Xander said hopefully.
Willow didn´t look convinced. "Maybe," she said. "We should tell someone," she worried.
Xander hesitated. "There´s more," he said, barely able to get the words out.
"What?" Willow asked, her brow furrowing.
He closed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn´t tell her. Not with her sitting right there, holding his hands. He stood up and walked across the room, nervously running his fingers through his hair. He leaned his forehead against the window and stood looking out at the street where kids were riding their bikes and fathers were mowing their lawns. Just another day on the Hellmouth.
"It´s embarrassing," he said, his breath creating fog on the window that immediately evaporated. "I´m so...a–ashamed."
"Xander, I love you," Willow said, and he could hear the tears in her voice. "You can tell me anything."
"Th–the first time he bit me," Xander began, still staring out the window, afraid that if he looked at her he wouldn´t be able to speak, "it, uh, well, made me hard. The bite did. After that I had dreams about him biting me. You know, wet dreams," he said quickly. "And last night, when he bit me, I, uh, he made me... I had an orgasm," he admitted in a strangled whisper.
"You did?" Willow squeaked. "Just from the bite?" she asked in disbelief.
"Well," he said thoughtfully. "There was some...rubbing...but mostly from the bite."
"I–it didn´t hurt?" she asked.
"At first," Xander said. "It hurt at first, and then it...didn´t." His voice broke, and he looked down at the floor, miserable. "Do you hate me?"
"No! Xander, I don´t hate you!" Willow stood up and rushed around the couch. "Why would you think I´d hate you?"
"Because I´m sick a–and disgusting," he said, and could no longer hold the tears back. "Don´t tell anybody, please don´t tell anybody," he sobbed as Willow pulled him into her arms, the tears streaming down his face and wetting her shirt as he buried his face against her shoulder. "I couldn´t bear it if..."
"I won´t, Xander," she promised. "I won´t. I love you. It´ll be all right. We´ll make it all right."
Xander didn´t reply as she soothed him, letting her think that he believed her. But he knew better. Nothing would ever be all right again.
