It's not really kinky smut, it's not really light fluff (although it is fluff), but it's what wanted to be written. (NC17)

Dire Circumstances

by

Cicirossi

"Spike, no. I'm too tired. Sorry, but I just don't feel like it."

Bless his heart, Spike looks positively shocked. Can I blame him? How often do I turn down sex? Today was one of those days though, where I swear the guys took the jackhammer to me and not the bedrock. I'm exhausted. Anyway, it's not long before shocked turns the corner at hurt and stops at the red light of pissed-off.

"Right," Spike says, pulling away from me. "You just go sit in front of the TV and put your feet up while I play the good little missus. Can I get you a beer? Or maybe give you a rub? Sweetums?"

Sighing, I rub the back of my neck, where all of the tension of the day is stored. He's using his most offensive tone, the snide one he usually reserves for Buffy, and his face is closed and hard. Time to make with the nice. "It's not you, okay? I'm just beat."

I can tell by the slight softening of his expression that I managed to convey my weariness and keep the sarcasm under wraps. He waggles his eyebrows at me. "Could give you a bit of vamp juice. That'd perk you right up."

Can he hear the way my heart speeds up at that? Oh, yeah, I'd love that. But? "No. We agreed that I don't drink your blood unless the circumstances are dire. Remember?"

"These are dire circumstances, pet. We haven't had sex in most of a week."

Okay, now I'm the angry one. "You know, if I wanted to be nagged all the time about insufficient orgasms, I would've stayed with Anya."

Ouch. That has to hurt, and as soon as the words come out I wish I could call them back. Spike pulls himself up and gives me a haughty once over. "Yeah, and if I wanted to be the one doing all the work all the time, I'd go looking for Dru. Think I'll just go have a bit of a wank in the bath. Enjoy the silence."

Yeow. Gotta say one thing for Spike. He gives as good as he gets. He's off to the bathroom now, all angry stomping and flying clothes. It's not like we're tired of each other. Or that we don't get along. He's right though. It's been awhile, because this project at work just leaves me flattened, and I'm grouchy and he's a damned Energizer Bunny when it comes to sex. Anya has nothing on that guy.

And his blood, just a few drops, would pick me up. Natural speed. But it's worse than him drinking from me, because it gives me the same euphoria without the hangover. It's like him drinking from me is my brain on drugs. Me drinking from him is my brain on drugs without the crash, and I could do it all the time, which is bad.

The water is running, and it's not the shower. He really is going to take a bath, and now I'm stuck with the image of him, naked, in the bathtub. Wet, naked Spike. Touching himself. Shit. So much for self-control and twelve step programs for plasma addiction. I knock gently on the door.

"Spike, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Do you mind? M'busy here."

"Can I come in?"

Deep breath, Xander. Try again. "Please? Can I come in?"

"Door's not locked, is it?"

A quick twist of the handle proves that it's not, and I close the door behind me before much of his good steam gets out. Yep. Naked Spike in the tub. He's dunked his head to get all the goo out of his hair, and water clings to his eyelashes. He's already hard. Sometimes just looking at him makes my stomach hurt.

"Sorry." I've said it a lot tonight, but this time it comes out quiet and heartfelt and he can tell.

"Not a big deal, luv. You're cranky is all. Go get some food in you, and sit a while. I'll be out in a bit."

"I'd rather have some of you in me."

"Yeah?" He grins a little before he can catch himself, but then he sobers. "You don't have to, you know," he says with perfect seriousness.

"I know. And that makes all the difference." Starting with my shirt, button by button, I strip off my clothes. He's watching me like he always does at times like these. Like he might miss something really important if he blinks. Drawing it out can be fun, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to sink into that hot bath with him and soothe us both. With a final push my pants and boxers are gone, and I motion for him to lean forward, so I can get in behind him.

He shakes his head, and gets that obstinate look when I start to argue, so I slide into the tub in front of him, between his legs, and lean back. God it feels good. One of the reasons we splurged on this apartment (aside from the lack of south facing windows) was the deep tub. Times like this, all hot water and slick skin, makes me glad we did. We stay like that, just relaxing, for quite awhile, but Spike can't be inactive forever, so he washes me. Slow sweeps of his soapy hands on my chest and arms, then my belly and legs.

It's all I can do to stay awake, and I feel really guilty about it but it feels so good. Even his hard-on against my back doesn't make it feel urgent, just lazy and warm and happy. "Sorry," I say again, because I am and I was and I shouldn't have said those things.

"Shhh," he whispers against my ear, just before he sucks a little on the lobe. "I know." His hands go away and I whimper a little, but then they're back, less soapy, more slick. My cock is only half hard, but that changes after just a few strokes, and I go with it, rolling my hips up on each down-stroke.

Nipping at my neck, Spike spreads his legs wider so he can get more of his skin against mine. He's so hard against me, but not desperate. Slow, even strokes with his hands and his body, and the build up is so good. Just so damned good. I want to tell him, but I can't really, and he doesn't seem to care. Lips pressed hard against my neck and I can tell he wants to bite, maybe a little, but he doesn't because that's not what this is about. Instead he nuzzles and licks and I open my eyes just enough to see his hands on me, and around me.

My orgasm startles me, a sudden rush of heat and sound, and he doesn't last long after me, sucking a mark up on my neck and grinding against my back, rubbing himself into my skin. I needed that so bad, and how does he know it when even I don't?

"Mmmm. Thanks." It's all I can get out, but it's enough, because I hear a chuckle from where his face is buried in my neck.

"Welcome, pet. Feel better?"

"Yeah. You?"

"The circumstances are much less dire, luv," he says, and neither of us even try to stop laughing and get out of the tub.

The End