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Dancing About Architecture	By : mcee Category: > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 4638 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Dancing About Architecture
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
- 8-8/?
- 9-9/?
- 10-10/?
- 11-11/?
- 12-12/?
- 8
- 9
- 10
I spent the eight-minute cab ride fighting the very strong urge to hurl the cabby out of his seat and drive the goddamn car myself. We, of course, had to hit every single red light. By now I was expecting some kind of elaborate parade to pop out of nowhere and block the next four city blocks for a couple of hours. You know, just to irk me.

I sat back, hands patting my legs with idle frustration, and peered at the back of the driver's head. If this... this... *GUY* was in any way, shape or form the reason why I was in here instead of over there, there would be some kind of nasty retribution. Karma, baby. It's all about who you piss off.

Whine. If this had been a movie, I would've been there seconds after hanging up, thanks to a collaborative and violently overzealous taxi person, and/or clever editing. But as it was, I had time to come up with a billion different things I could say or do once I got to Spike's door. Which was to say - I had no clue what was going to happen. And maybe I was a little thrilled about that.

"WE'RE HERE."

I blinked confusedly at the driver's scowl and realised that in the midst of my being mad at the world, I'd gone off into my own little world with no car windows to show me we were now parked in front of Spike's building. Hey, look at that!

I threw what must've been an obscene amount of money in the general direction of the front seat and propelled myself out of the vehicle and onto the dirty sidewalk. The cab peeled off in a cloud of dust and a light spray of gravel, all of which settled nicely around me as I peered up the impressive building.

Predictably enough, now I couldn't move.

But that lasted about four seconds. Then I was sprinting past the doorman and skidding across the pristine lobby. I hit the elevator button a good dozen times, just to make sure. A decade later the door binged open, then closed, then open again, and this time I praised the good lord that Spike's door was right there in front of me. Can I get an Alleluia?

The door swung open as I reached for it and with a momentum I didn't realise I had, I stumbled into the apartment - and into Spike. Before I knew what was happening I had a warm mouth pressed against mine and we went from zero to full-fledged in whatever amount of time was no time at all. Hands clutched, tongues pushed, bodies curved into one another with clumsy, clingy need. I couldn't see, didn't want to open my eyes and risk losing that feeling of something spinning majestically out of control - or clicking into place, I wasn't sure which.

Blindly I felt my way up his arms, encountering only flesh, warm skin, shuddering muscles under my fingers, then cotton over firm shoulders. My brain paused just long enough to conjure up the image of Spike, William, Will, in a t-shirt and whatever else he wore when he slept alone. And that, that - I had to see.

I tried to pull away but his hand behind my head held onto me, fingers digging in the short hair there. The kiss broke messily and we both gasped for air against each other's lips.

"I'm not going anywhere, Will..." I whispered and he nodded, panting. Our gazes didn't meet, and I still felt a pang of regret for what I had done the night before. My hands on his arms moved to his neck, where I could feel his heart race. Then they slipped up to the sides of his face. My thumbs caressed his cheeks. I made him look at me, our foreheads touching. "I'm not leaving."

He nodded again and licked his lips, but I knew I had to do more than this. I wouldn't let myself off the hook this easily. He deserved more than that.

Our mouths met again, hotly. My lips parted his and just like that tongues slid against each other in that wet, silky warmth mouths have. I swung the door shut blindly and pushed Spike up against it. There was none of the awkwardness of our first kiss, with limbs in the way and the balance all wrong. I was amazed at how our bodies just leaned into each other, hands finding the right places to hold, cling, feel.

"Xander," he tried between breaths.

"Yeah."

"I don't mean to be too forward, but--"

"Bed."

"Yes."

"Absolutely." Then I felt like smiling, and I did. I must've been grinning, because he answered in kind, and although I was already gasping for air, this took my breath away.

He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me along, walking backwards close to me. I guessed the door off to the far left to be his bedroom, and I stole a few kisses on the way there.

Then my cel rang.

"Fuck."

"Leave it."

"Yeah." He went for my mouth again, but the damn thing kept ringing. I broke our kiss. "Argh. No. Hold on. She won't stop calling until I pick up." Completely unwilling to extricate myself from Spike's hold, I clumsily reached into my back pocket and fished out my cel, flipping it open with one hand. My eyes never left Spike.

"What do you want, Sarah."

"Stop it."

"What?"

"What you're doing right now. Cut it out."

"How do you DO that."

"I don't want you gallivanting around and catching cooties."

"Gallivanting?"

"Cooties."

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think our boy cooties kinda cancel each other out in this case."

"Hm. You're right."

Spike nibbed at my bottom lip and our tongues touched again. I heard Sarah say something else, but it was a faraway sound. I managed to bring the phone back to my ear. "Look, m'kinda busy here, Sarah..."

"Right. With all the sex. Go have it. I'm gonna stay here and, you know, do laundry or something."

"Atta girl. Do Matt's while you're at it, will ya?"

"Ew!"

"Cooties?"

"The size of cats."

I sank into Spike's kiss, mumbling. "Alright, I'm done talking to you now. Later." I flipped the phone shut and threw it on the nearby couch.

Spike herded me into his bright bedroom, fingers working at the buttons of my shirt. I looked at him again, this time much more calmly. He wasn't looking at me, but I was struck once again by how truly beautiful he was. The slight flush of lust across his cheeks made pale blonde freckles stand out. I wanted to touch him all over, undress him and run my hand everywhere, feel the warm curves, the softened muscles, see where else I could make the sprinkled skin rise up and meet my mouth, my skin, me. We stood so close, cheeks almost touching now, and his ragged breath caressed my ear, tickling gently. Painfully arousing. His mouth brushed against my cheek. I squeezed his arms again, closing my eyes.

I laughed, a little, because it felt new, and it shouldn't have. "Spike--"

"Will."

"Wha?"

"Will. I'm not Spike anymore. You... you didn't like Spike," he whispered.

"It's not that I--"

"It's okay."

I didn't say anything. Maybe he was right.

"Spike wouldn't do this. Not like this. This... this is me." He slipped both hands into my opened shirt, and the sudden, craved skin-on-skin made me shiver.

My hand ran along the curve of his spine, over his t-shirt, distracted. "Will, I--" His tongue flicked into my ear. My knees buckled. "Oh god."

Will held onto me as I spoke and I felt the mattress hit the back of my knees. Then he was over me, and I'd imagined it would be the other way around, but it wasn't, and it felt just right. We crawled up the bed and I pulled at his t-shirt until it came off. His leg parted mine and straining arousals met, making both of us stop in our tracks, panting. Propped up on his elbows on each side of me, Will looked down at me amidst a mess of blond curls. The bright morning light made everything - hair, eyes, lips, chest softly heaving - look impossibly warm andl anl and immediate. And I needed to make sure.

"Will, you--"

"Yeah."

He leaned in and kissed my neck, and the sensitive spot right underneath my jaw. I forgot what I wanted to ask. I was breathing against his neck and my fingers drummed an impatient little rhythm on his shoulder blade. He faced me and kissed my lips, and it felt like my first time, but for him. Awkwardly he reached down between us and cupped my erection through my jeans - and although the touch was almost too calculated, too nervous, I could feel the genuine need in it, and I bucked helplessly into his hand. I opened my mouth to ask again, but he spoke first, against my mouth.

"I haven't done this in lifetimes." It sounded more apologetic than pitiful, and I searched that part of my mind I used to store arcane trivia in for that particular piece of Spike lore.

Oh.

"Angelus." The word spilled out of my lips, meant as a question, but not quite sounding like one.

He was studying me, quiet. He nodded absently. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah," I breathed out, not really caring whether it had been centuries ago or last night. It didn't matter.

"And it wasn't... It wasn't this."

"I know." Then something occurred to me. "Do you want me to top?" I hated how the word came out of my mouth, anti-climactic and stale. But mostly, I hated that I wasn't new at it. I wanted the shared awkwardness, the anticipation of the new and different. But I was a 28 year old guy with a relatively active sex life, and I could do this with my eyes closed.

And that single thought terrified me.

My touch on his shoulder became a tight hold as I let my mind think up all the ways I was screwing this up. But Will leaned on an elbow and reached up to run his fingers through the loose curls that fell obstinately on my brow. He just grinned.

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Dancing About Architecture