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The Things People Do	By : Kayla Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1961 -:- 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-The Things People Do
- 1
The Things People Do
by Kayla

Disclaimer: Joss is god. I am but a measly supplicant prostrating myself before him.

"And why does he have to come?"

Giles sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Buffy, I've already told you. Several times. He's going to try to help me decipher this text. I'm fairly certain it contains some information on Slayers, and might perhaps even be one of the lost Watcher journals."

"But you're smart, Giles. Why do you need his help?"

"Because I've tried to translate this already," he said, frustration apparent in his tone. "Unfortunately, I'm unfamiliar with the language it's written in. It almost resembles a form of Greek, but I can't quite manage to figure it out. And regardless of any feelings you might have about Mr. Wyndam-Price, he does happen to have a broad understanding of numerous languages."

Buffy scowled. "Do I have to be nice to him?"

"It would probably behoove us if you refrained from any outright forms of antipathy."

"Umm...that was a 'yes', wasn't it?"

"Er, yes."

With a displeased grunt, Buffy slouched down in her seat. "Fine. But if he even tries to get all 'uppity Watcher-boy' with me...� She smacked her fist into her palm in a meaningful gesture.

~~~~~~

Wesley slammed his pencil down and growled softly in frustration.

Buffy looked up and smirked. "No clue, huh?"

Wesley shook his head. "It not that. It's...I could swear this was Glagolitic, but the shapes of the symbols aren't right, and there are too many letters!" He rubbed his temples.

Giles hovered over his shoulder. "Are you certain that's the language?"

"It has to be. I can translate a few words here and there, but...� He shook his head. "You were right, though. From what I can piece together, this is most definitely one of the lost journals. See this?" He pointed at a series of symbols. "From what I can decipher, it's an account of the Slayer's testing. Um...� He and Giles both glanced nervously over at Buffy.

Buffy gave them a sickly sweet smile. "Oooh, that. Yes, I seem to remember being lied to and drugged and sent off to battle a psychopathic vampire. Funny how that sort of thing tends to stick in one's brain."

"Now Buffy, you know I--"

Buffy held up a hand. "Yeah, yeah. It's over and done. You...just get back to your fun translating session. Don't mind me." She went back to her nails, coating them carefully.

Giles cleared his throat and was about to speak again when the door to the magic shop opened with a jingle. He groaned. "Spike."

Spike smirked. "You know, I feel so loved when you say my name like that."

Giles glared.

Spike ignored him and sauntered over to the table where Buffy sat. He leaned against it casually. "So...Slayer. Up for a bit of a fight? Thought we could go out, find a few nasties to pound."

"Gee Spike," she answered, "why would I need to find any when you're always around?"

Spike clutched his chest. "You wound me," he said with mock pain.

"Whatever." She waved her nail polish brush in his general direction. "I'm busy, go away."

"What, you'd rather mess about with your nails than go have a good fight? C'mon, it'll get your heart pumpin'!"

"My heart is pumping just fine, thanks. And I notice I'm not the only one sporting a new coat of polish." She stared pointedly at Spike's own newly re-varnished nails.

Spike tucked his hands into his pockets. "Sod off," he grumbled. "You're just jealous because I make it look good."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Sure. That must be it." Sha her her head, she returned to her polishing.

Wesley closed the journal and stood, stretching. "This could take a while," he said to Giles. "Could I trouble you for something to drink?"

"Ah, of course." Giles led the way to the back room, where he had a pot of tea warming. He poured Wesley a cup, then took one for himself.

Wesley sipped the drink. "It's very good," he complimented.

"Imported," Giles explained. "Onemy fmy favorites from back home."

"Ah." Wesley took another sip. "So...� He glanced back toward the main room of the shop. "Why is Spike here?"

Giles shrugged. "He drops by on occasion to spar with Buffy, sometimes to assist on patrols."

"You trust him?"

"Hardly," Giles said wryly. "But he's harmless. Mostly."

Wesley nodded. "You do know what he did to Angel, don't you?"

Giles set his cup down. "Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I don't empathize with his plight."

"Ah, of course." They finished their tea in strained silence, then made their way back into the main room.

Giles just barely held back an unmanly yelp. "Spike!" He rushed across the room and grabbed the journal away from Spike, who had been doodling casually in the margins. He handed the volume back to Wesley, then launched into a lecture. "That is a very old and extremely precious book!" he shouted angrily at the startled vampire. "I will not have some...illiterate imbecile wreaking destruction on my property!"

"Look, I was just--"

"I don't want to hear it." Giles' voice was cold, and he leveled a deadly glare at Spike. "I think you should leave now," he said in a deceptively quiet tone.

Spike's jaw clenched hard. Pushing away from the table, he stood and brushed his hands down the sides of his jacket. "Have it your way, then," he told Giles. With a sneer, he stalked out of the shop, slamming the door shut behind him.

Giles watched him go, fuming about that one of his books, especially thi> bo> book, had been callously mistreated by the uncaring vampire. "What damage did he do?" he asked Wesley abruptly.

Wesley reverently placed the journal back on the table. Seating himself, he began to leaf carefully through the pages, stopping when he reached the pages Spike had been writing on. His eyes widened, and he straightened, scanning the page. "My god..." he breathed, running his finger down the aged paper.

Giles groaned. "Is it that bad?"

Wesley shook his head, his eyes still roving with stunned disbelief over the page.

"Wesley?" Hesitant to see the extent of the damage to the journal, Giles nevertheless peered over Wesley's shoulder.

"Of course," Wesley whispered. "It makes perfect sense."

Giles blinked. "Oh, good lord."

Buffy had been watching the scene with growing fascination, and now she coughed loudly. "Hey, did I miss something?" When she didn't get an answer, she thumped the table. "Hello? Are you awake over there?"

Dazed, Wesley looked up at her. "It, ah, it appears that--"

"He was translating it." Giles removed his glasses, wearily swiping a hand over his eyes.

Buffy stared at them. "So, you're saying...what were your words? Oh yeah, an 'illiterate imbecile' can read that book, and you two educated Watcher guys can't?" She snickered softly. "Ouch. Looks like someone is gonna have to eat some crow. Especially if you expect Spike to help after what you said."

Giles gave a nervous laugh. "You can't expect me to...Buffy, surely you can manage to convince him to--"

"Oh no." Buffy jumped out of her seat. "My nails are perfect, and I'm not chancing a chip in them just to crawl to Spike and apologize for something you said." She gave Giles a perfectly evil grin. "Suck it up, Giles. Be an adult. Do your own groveling." Before he could protest, Buffy had grabbed her bag and dashed out the door.

Giles replaced his glasses. With a chagrined look at Wesley, he opened his mouth.

"Don't bother," Wesley broke in before he could say anything. "I doubt he'd be willing to deal with you anyway. I'll go over and see if I can enlist his aid."

"Yes, quite. Er, thank you."

Wesley armed himself with a few stakes and other weapons, then walked to the door. He paused, then looked back at Giles. "Right. And where is it I'm going?"

~~~~~~

Spike jerked slightly at the banging that echoed through his crypt. He frowned. "Bugger off!" he called. He wasn't surprised, though, to hear the door grate open. He stared sullenly at the wall as he listened to his unwanted guest close the door again and cross the floor. After a few moments of nothing but quiet breathing breaking the silence, Spike snarled. Twisting his head around, he glared at the visiting ex-watcher. "What, you get tossed, too?" he asked rudely. "Sorry, mate, I don't take in strays."

Wesley cocked an eyebrow. "Actually, no." He walked over to the heavy coffin, dusting it off casually before hoisting himself up and sitting on top of it. He studied the vampire closely. "Rupert was, perhaps, a bit hasty in his...attack on you," he offered.

Spike snorted. "Like I give a fuck? What, you think I'm all wounded over here? Cryin' my eyes out like some chit who just found out she was up the duff? Please." He turned back to the wall, his fingers plucking compulsively at the frayed arm of his chair.

"I came to ask if you could help," Wesley said quietly. "It appears you can translate that journal we've been struggling over, and we'd appreciate your input."

With a derogatory laugh, Spike looked over at him again. "Nice speech," he said sarcastically. "Too bad I'm not buying a word of that gash."

Wesley blinked, thrown by this reaction. "I beg your--"

"Beg all you want, but you an' I both know that ol' Rupes sent you here to plead his case. You give me one good reason I should help out." He folded his arms and stared expectantly at Wesley.

With a sigh, Wesley reached into a pocket. "How much do you want?"

Spike smirked and settled back. "Now you're talking my language." He gazed thoughtfullythe the ceiling. "You boys probably want me to go through the whole book, I suppose? Hmm, that's bound to take a while. Maybe even more than one night. I mean, I'm pretty rusty and all, and it's not exactly a common language." He shook his head. "No, I don't think a few quid is quite going to cut it."

"Then what do you want?"

Spike eyed Wesley, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Blood," he whispered in a husky voice.

"Blood?" Wesley frowned. "Can't you just use the money to buy your own? That's what you usually do, I assume."

Spinortnorted. "Bagged stuff; it's disgusting. No, I want something...fresher." He got out of his chair and moved to stand in front of Wesley, cocking his head as he considered the other man.

Eyes wide, Wesley sat up straight. "I think not," he responded icily.

With a shrug, Spike walked over to the hole in the floor and started to climb down the ladder. "Suit yourself," he said in a disinterested voice. "That's my price. Lemme know if you change your mind."

Uncertainly, Wesley watched at the vampire disappeared into the tunnels beneath the crypt. He slid down off the coffin and took a step toward the door. Grimacing, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. With a muttered curse, he turned and followed Spike down the ladder.

"Well, fancy meetin' you here, mate." Spike grinned triumphantly as the ex-Watcher stood by the ladder, hands stuffed in his pockets. "So, reconsidered already, did you?"

"I--no."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, that sounded very convincing. Care to try again?"

"Spike, if you for one moment think I'm going to open a vein for you, you--"

"Did I say that? Funny, I don't recall ever saying that." He lay back on the bed, arrogant smirk fixed firmly in place.

That made Wesley pause in stupefaction. "I don't--what are you talking about?"

"Easy. I've been hankerin' for some nice human blood, you've got plenty to spare, and if you want my help, you're gonna have to let me bite you."

Wesley sputtered. "You can't be serious! You-you...you can't even bite anyone! How do you propose to -- this is insane!"

"Correction." Spike leaned up on his elbow. "I can't hurt humans. Nothin' to say I can't bite 'em." He lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, don't tell me you Watcher blokes actually believe all that nonsense you spout about vampires and such? That's just...pathetic."

"Excuse me?"

Spike shook his head, sighing. "Are you sayin' that you've never heard tell of humans who whore themselves out to vamps 'cause they crave the bite so much?"

"Well, no, not as--"

"Look, I'll spell it out for you. Yes, vampires like to hurt their victims; it makes the blood nice and spicy. The fear, agony, despair...it's delicious." A wistful look crossed his face. "That's not to say it's the only way we can feed. Trouble is, it takes a willing human to make it work, and when it does...� He licked his lips. "You've never felt anything so intense. So...god, so bloody good!"

Wesley stared at him wide-eyed. "I don't believe you," he whispered.

"Aw, can't hurt to try it. Well, not you anyway. C'mon," he said in a wheedling tone, "lemme have a nibble. If you don't like it...well, I'll be able to figure that out on my own." He tapped the side of his head.

"I don't..." He shook himself and made as if to go back up the ladder.

Laying back again, Spike crossed his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. "Funny thing," he mentioned casually. "You'll never guess what kind of tests that Watcher subjected his Slayer to. My, he was a naughty man."

Wesley's breath caught, and he took an involuntary step toward Spike. "What? What did yoad?ad?"

Spike just stared at him.

Wesley straightened, eyes narrowing. "Fine," he said abruptly. "Do it then. But if you don't hold up your end of the bargain, I'll take Rupert's suggestion on how to deal with you."

Spike's eyes lit up with delight. "Well then," he said, sitting up and rubbing his hands together briskly. "Let's do this. Take off your shirt."

"I--what?"

"What, am I speaking Fyarl now? Take. Off. Your. Shirt."

"Why? Can't you just...?"

Spike let out a groan. "Oh, come on! Would you rather try to explain any suspicious bloodstains to your pals?"

Wesley's hands hovered nervously over his shirt. After a long moment of consideration, he pulled the shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

Spike grinned. "Much better. Come here." He patted the bed next to him.

Taking a deep breath, Wesley slowly walked over to the bed and sat down, perching on the very edge of the mattress. "Would you just get on with it?"

"What, a vamp can't be comfy when he's eating? For god's sake, man, would you just lay down here! And take the shoes off, I don't want you tracking dirt all over my sheets."

"You're wearing shoes," Wesley pointed out with a scowl.

"It's my bed, innit?" He drummed his fingers impatiently on his thigh.

With a resigned sigh, Wesley toed his shoes off and lay down rigidly next to Spike.

Spike chuckled softly. "Trust me, pet. You're gonna love this." He scooted closer, lowering his head to Wesley's neck. He inhaled deeply, then licked the patch of skin where he would bite. He smiled as the man shivered, his breath hitching.

Wesley closed his eyes, hardly believing that he was allowing this to take place. He gasped softly as a cool tongue slid over his flesh. Then, a pair of lips fastened on a spot just above his collarbone. He could feel Spike start to suck on him, and he let out a moan. A soft cry forced its way out of him when he felt the vampire's fangs gently pierce his skin.

Spike was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations. The warm, trembling human under him, the intoxicating blood filling his mouth, the arousal that came from being able to feed on a mostly willing partner.

Wesley shifted restlessly, his hands moving up to clutch at Spike's head, holding him in place. His stomach tightened, and he felt a surge of desire ripple through him. He wanted...

Spike savored each mouthful before swallowing. He'd almost forgotten how this felt, and the act was making him unbelievably horny. He gathered Wesley to him, slipping one of his legs between the other man's and grinding his erection against Wesley's hip.

Wesley gasped and bucked up. He didn't understand it, but he felt intensely...alive. Complete. He whimpered in distress when Spike pulled back from him.

Spike licked the drops of blood off his mouth as he stared down at Wesley. The man's eyes were almost black with lust, and the sight sent a thrill of victory through Spike. "Pet," he whispered, and thrust against Wesley again.

"Oh god...please..." Wesley's head tossed back and forth as he tried to yank Spike back down.

"Shhh, I'll take care of you." Carefully, not wanting to spook the man out of his lust-induced haze, Spike tugged at his pants. It took a minute, but he succeeded in unfastening them and pulling them off. Wesley's undergarments followed, and then Spike paused to take in the sight of the naked human spread out for him. "Oh, yeah," he breathed. He shrugged out of his own shirt and kicked his boots off, then bent down.

Wesley arched his back when Spike pushed his legs apart and fastened his mouth on his inner thigh. Again he experienced the odd sensation of fangs penetrating flesh, and then he was once more turned almost inside-out by the rush of pure, undiluted need and desire that accompanied the act. He was so overwhelmed by the intensity of what he felt that he didn't notice the saliva-slick er eer easing its way inside him.

Spike pushed inside the blazing heat of the man he was feeding from. The tightness almost made him want to cum then and there, but he struggled to maintain control. He knew there was no way Wesley was going to be able to take him painlessly with just the aid of blood and spit. Reluctantly, he removed his fangs from the man's thigh and leaned over the edge of the bed. He rummaged under it frantically before managing to find a bottle of something that would hopefully help.

He scowled at the peach-scented lotion that he'd unearthed. Then he shrugged. He was quick to slither out of his pants, pour out a handful of the lotion, and get his mouth back on Wesley before the man could come back to his senses and bolt. He teased his slippery fingers into the shadowed cleft, probing against the ring of muscle there.

Wesley let out a long groan when the fingers forged their way into his body. He spread his legs wider, thrusting up against Spike's mouth.

Spike used another finger to stretch the muscle enough to accommodate him, pushing in deep and searching for just the right spot. Wesley's shout confirmed that he'd found it, and he took the opportunity to slide up the man's body and align himself properly.

Wesley automatically parted his lips to allow entrance to the tongue that was teasing over them. As Spike kissed him deeply, he felt the vampire's erection prodding relentlessly against his opening. He canted his hips up, gasping into Spike's mouth as he was impaled on the long, cool length of flesh.

Spike broke the kiss as he began to thrust. The heat surrounding him was overwhelming, and he started to pant frhe she sheer eroticism of it. Once more, he dropped his head to Wesley's neck, sliding his fangs into the previous marks and drawing another mouthful of blood.

Wesley tilted his head back, wrapping his legs around Spike as the vampire built up speed until he was pounding into him. He felt as if he was on fire, and as Spike continued to drink from him, he convulsed, cumming forcefully.

Spike snarled and pulled his head away as he felt the liquid heat flood between them. Growling continuously, he continued to slam into the tight, rippling tunnel that gripped his cock like a vise. With a muted scream, he sank in as far as he could and came.

Wesley gasped for breath as Spike relaxed on top of him. It might have been mere minutes, or perhaps hours before his brain started to come back online. He stiffened when he realized he was gently stroking the vampire's back. The moment of shock was soon eclipsed by a mixture of mortification and anger. He struggled under Spike, shoving the vampire away from him.

Spike blinked at Wesley sleepily. "What, you're not gonna tell me that hurt?"

"You said nothing about that!" Wesley hissed as he sat up and yanked a sheet over his body.

"I didn't? How...neglectful of me." He leered and rolled onto his back, displaying himself shamelessly. "It's not like you didn't enjoy yourself," he reminded Wesley. "Gimme a bit, and I might even be up for a rematch."

Wesley flinched away from him. "You bastard." He felt around for his clothes, struggling to get dressed without letting go of the sheet.

"Oh, give the 'wounded innocent' act a rest," Spike said with disgust. "Itot lot like I popped your cherry or something. I know what a virgin feels like, and tight or not, you were no virgin!"

"That's not poi point!" Wesley snapped. "I didn't...I didn't ask for that! It's not what we agreed to!"

"We agreed that I would bite you, and you would enjoy it. I did, you did, what's the problem here?"

Mostly dressed now, Wesley lurched from the bed. "This never happened," he said forcefully.

Spike shrugged. "Whatever, mate. You go ahead try to forget that you let me fuck you. Good luck. Want a smoke?"

Wesley glared at him, then spun around and strode a bit stiffly across the room.

Spike watched as Wesley climbed hastily up the ladder. "Oh, tell Rupes I'll be around tomorrow night to translate that journal," he called after him. His only response was the slamming of the door to his crypt.

Spike lounged back on his bed, grinning. "Well now," he said softly. "That was fun."

Finit.

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The Things People Do