Written for Mad Poetess' birthday. (NC17)

Colors Not Found in Nature



Staking was imminent. Sudden, immediate stake-age. Spike was asking for it. Had been all day. First, he left the ice cream carton out on the counter, where it melted all over. Then pig's blood in the congratulations on your promotion to crew boss mug. Followed by the oops I used all of your laundry soap when I shouldn't even be doing the laundry. The list of transgressions went on and on, and all in one day, too. It had to be some kind of record.

The last straw broke as Xander got ready for bed. His toothbrush was pink. He hadn't used it yet, and even if he had, Xander didn't have a problem with bleeding gums. So someone of the vamp variety who drank blood just before bed and pouted when told to brush his freaking teeth first had used Xander's toothbrush. Yep. Stake. Dust. He'd make one of those little zen gardens out of what was left.

Stomping into the bedroom, Xander waved the offending toothbrush in Spike's general direction and decided to let the bleached jerk have a piece of his mind before meeting painful death. "You used my toothbrush. You got it all bloody. Damn it Spike, it looks like you soaked it in red kool aid."

The yelling came out less impressive than it should have. Xander was a little distracted by the fact that Spike was almost undressed. The only thing left was the jeans, and as he hollered, those went down to the ankles. And Spike bent over to pull them off his feet. And wiggled his perfect little butt.

Which was distracting, but also enlightening. A light bulb went on and Xander figured out what was going on. "You're a bad vamp, Spike. You're evil. And I think you need to be suitably punished for your misdeeds."

Not laughing out loud, and Xander was proud of himself for it, because Spike nonchalantly said, "Oh, yeah?" but every line of his body bespoke anticipation. He practically vibrated.

"Yeah. Come here."

If you watched Spike long enough, you realized that his walk was a work of art. Especially when naked. Shoulders up and back, hips just a little too forward, it gave him that swing that almost made anything forgivable. And tonight Spike was positively sauntering, every move of his legs and hips and ass saying hurt me, baby. When he finally stood in front of Xander he offered a cocky grin and nodded toward the rosy toothbrush.

"Didn't know it was yours, luv. Looked new to me. Thought it was fair game."

"Uh huh. And the ice cream?"

"Passions came on. Went out to watch it and forgot."

Tossing the toothbrush aside, Xander sat down on the side of the bed and rolled up his sleeves. "And my mug?"

"Well, you said you weren't going to use it anymore. Too many coffee stains. Me? Like a little extra flavor with my breakfast."

Spike could act unaffected all he wanted, but there was one part of his body that gave him away every time, and Xander was almost on eye level with it. And yeah, it was giving Spike away again. "You know that was my favorite mug."

"It'll wash."

"Oh? Like the laundry? Like my powder blue underwear that used to be white? Over the knee, Spike." Xander patted his lap, and Spike tried not to look too eager as he draped himself over it. The evidence that rubbed against Xander's denimed thigh as Spike got comfortable suggested otherwise.

Some psychologist somewhere would have a field day with the implications of this little game, he was sure. It didn't work for them if Spike just came out and asked for it. Strangely enough, when it was Xander's turn to be a bad boy, all he had to do was say, "Hey, spank me?" Spike, though, he had to annoy Xander enough to put some sting behind it. Maybe Xander admired that creamy pale but masculine tush a tad too much to want to smack it. Most of the time. Maybe.

Right now, though, it seemed like a good idea. Everything else he could get over but the toothbrush. Yeah. Seemed like a really good idea. One hand rested at the base of Spike's spine, in the hollow that seemed made for Xander's palm. He stroked there, gentling and soothing, until Spike was nice and relaxed, having found a not so scratchy place for his hard cock. The Xander drew back his other hand and let it fly.

The smack as his hand connected with Spike's ass echoed through the room, and Spike jumped a little. Then he twisted his head around to glare at Xander. "That the best you can do? You hit like a girl. That was barely a tap."

Ding. Mission accomplished, because that made Xander think of Dru doing this, even though she was probably a little too attention deficit girl to hold onto the thought, and it made him mad enough to really let go. He whomped on Spike's ass after that, raining down blow after blow. They made the most satisfying noise, a hearty smacking sound. And contrary to poplar belief, the skin on someone's butt is actually a bit tougher than the skin on someone else's hand, probably from sitting all day. So Xander's hand developed a nice throb long before Spike's ass was ready to give out.

Or maybe it was because Spike's ass didn't really bruise up like a human's would, so it was hard to tell when it was nicely cooked. But even if it did Xander wouldn't stop, because Spike squirmed and moaned and humped Xander's leg and Xander was just in the groove. The one he got into sometimes with Spike, where the sound of flesh hitting flesh mixed with the musky smell of his own sweat and the indefinable scent of Spike's arousal blended into his drug of choice and gave him a high that wouldn't quit. Oh yeah, Spike was hard against him, rubbing and rubbing, and Xander was hard too, uncomfortably so in his stiff jeans, pressing against the zipper seam.

Kept going, even when his arm tired, even when the noises coming from Spike turned desperate and pleading, because it felt so good. Every jolt that traveled up into his shoulder from his arm told him that Spike was his, that only he got to do this, that he did it better than anyone ever had. And Spike told him that too, babbling, begging for him to hit harder, faster, more. When Spike finally came, shouting and flailing his legs it was almost a shock, breaking his rhythm and bringing him back to earth with a thud.

Breathing hard, Xander pulled Spike up to sit on his lap and drank in the sight of him. Hair sticking up in every direction, eyes heavy lidded and lips just a little swollen from biting. He was gorgeous. Spike smiled, not smug, not smirking, just a happy, sated smile and they kissed. Long, drugging kisses that made Xander's jeans even more uncomfortable, so he wasn't going to complain when Spike opened said jeans and wormed a hand inside to stroke and tease.

Pumping Xander's cock roughly, Spike ground his ass down hard against Xander's legs, moaning into the kiss and that's all it took. Just that, just knowing how much Spike loved what he'd done, and Xander came hard, arching into Spike's fist, panting and groaning.

They sat there for a long while, long enough for all of the little molecules of Xander's body to settle back into their respective spots. It felt good to rest his head in the hollow between Spike's neck and shoulder and relax, and to ignore the throbbing of his hand.

"Now, are you sorry for using my toothbrush?"

"Hell no, pet. But I will apologize for the ice cream."

That got a laugh out of him. That was his Spike. Xander nodded. "Sure you are. But only because we don't have anything cold to put on your butt now."

The End

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