allyndra

Title: Cockney Rhyming Slang
Author: Allyndra
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Spoilers: Through Season 4
Rating: Probably NC-17 in late chapters
Disclaimer: Not my boys, not my world, not my songs. *sobs* Not my money.
Summary: Each chapter is inspired by a Chas n Dave song. I figured the soundtrack of my childhood would make a nifty soundtrack for a basement fic.

Chas n Dave stole most of these particular lyrics from a much older song, but I'm not really in a position to complain.

Massage Parlour

Oh, my darlin', roll me over.

Roll me over, lay me down and do it again.

I'm in clover.

So keep a doin' what you're doin', it drives me round the bend.

The credits were rolling from the final episode of the marathon when Xander spoke. "Are we friends?" Xander asked, suddenly lifting his head off Spike's shoulder.

"Course not," Spike denied automatically. "Can't be friends with do-gooding humans, now can I?"

"So the hanging out and talking and kissing makes us what?" the boy persisted.

Spike squirmed uncomfortably. "Cordial enemies?" he suggested. It sounded weak even to him.

"Uh huh," Xander said skeptically. "You snuggle with your enemies?"

"I wasn't snuggling!" Spike protested. Xander wriggled against him, emphasizing all the places their bodies were still touching. Bugger! He'd been snuggling on the sofa with a white hat. He pulled away a few inches, enough so that he was on his own cushion. "Not snuggling," he repeated firmly.

Xander blinked at him. "There's nothing wrong with being friends," he said seriously. "What are you afraid of?" His eyes were very dark.

"We're not friends," he said. "And I'm not afraid of anything." He was William the Bloody, after all. He wasn't afraid of a damned thing. He pressed his body against Xander, far closer than he'd been before. "How 'bout you? Afraid of me, mate?" he asked in a whisper, sliding his hands up to hold Xander's shoulders tight against the sofa. Xander licked his lips and shook his head. "You should be," Spike said. But Xander really wasn't, and that's why Spike had to kiss him.

Spike hadn't realized he'd memorized their previous kisses so carefully, but he found himself counting all the ways this one was different. This kiss was not about control, and it wasn't about comfort. It was fiercer, more passionate. This was a kiss of definition. Spike knew he was right; they weren't friends. But he couldn't deny that they weren't enemies, either. Whatever they were, it was this. It was fire and laughter, lust and familiarity. It was a hot, wet mouth opening to the prodding of his cool tongue and large, strong hands clinging to his back.

Spike pulled away long enough to tug Xander shirt off. He ran his hands over Xander's chest, thinking perhaps he'd stopped his campaign of shirt destruction too soon. Maybe he ought to carry on until the boy had no shirts left at all. He licked his way down the column of Xander's throat and nibbled along his collarbone. Xander arched into his caresses with a groan. Rough fingers slid under Spike's shirts, skimming his sides until Spike jerked away.

"Tickling just isn't cricket," he chided. Xander grinned up at him, flushed and panting and entirely too pleased with himself.

"Maybe you should be afraid of *me*," the boy said. He yanked Spike's shirt up and off, staring at his bare skin. There was a kind of wonder in his eyes that made the vampire's cock twitch. Xander placed one sun-darkened hand on Spike's pale chest and said, "God, that's hot!" He ran his thumb over a pink nipple, circling it until it peaked. He ducked his head and captured it in his mouth, teasing the nub with tongue and teeth. Spike slid his hands into Xander's dark hair, urging him on. He bit down, and Spike nearly purred in approval. Spike tightened his hands and tugged. Xander glared at him.

"Hair pulling definitely spoils the moment, Spike," he said.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Just wanted you to stop for a minute. This isn't exactly the best place for this," he explained, gesturing at the sofa. "Hop up and let me pull out the bed."

"Hop being the operative word," Xander snarked, climbing up to stand on one foot. Spike threw the cushions to the floor and made short work of turning the sofa into a bed. Once it was fully extended, Xander dropped onto it heavily. "Happy now?" he asked.

Spike leered at him. "Not yet," he replied. He stalked toward Xander, enjoying the way the boy's heart rate sped up. He pushed Xander down to the mattress and stood beside the bed. Xander gazed up at him, all dark eyes and panting lips, as Spike toed off his boots. He popped open the buttons on his jeans and shimmied out of them. There was that awed look again, and Spike almost shuddered under the weight of it. He climbed onto the bed and trailed wet, open mouthed kisses down Xander's chest and stomach. He slid his fingers along the waistband of Xander's jeans, making the boy shiver.

"I thought you said tickling was against the rules," Xander said. His voice came out huskier than usual.

"I've never been one for following the rules," Spike countered. His hands glided over smooth skin to open Xander's button, then slowly, teasingly pull down his zipper. He palmed the boy's cock through his boxers, earning a sharp gasp.

"Oh yeah," Xander breathed, "You're a rebel."

Spike grinned and tugged the jeans and boxers off, easing them carefully over Xander's hurt ankle. He crawled smoothly back up Xander's body, supporting his weight on his hands and knees so that his body barely brushed against Xander's. The boy groaned and pressed up against him, trying to get close enough for the pressure to do more than tease.

"You are a bad, bad man," Xander accused, glaring at the vampire hovering over him.

"I've been telling you that for years," Spike replied, rocking his hips so his cock dragged up the length of Xander's.

"I know," Xander said quietly. "You keep making me forget." He twined his arms around Spike's neck and pulled him down. Spike fell into the kiss, letting Xander make him forget, too.

They tangled together, bodies fitting in a way that made all their differences seem like complements. Xander was just enough taller than Spike that their cocks didn't line up exactly when they kissed. Instead, Spike thrust down against Xander's hip, rubbing his sensitive head along the hollow that could have been made especially for that purpose. Xander thrust back, his erection stroking against Spike's balls and the base of his cock. Xander's heart beat loud and fast, setting a rhythm Spike was glad to follow. Xander's hands molded to Spike's arse, silently conveying his urgency.

Xander's body arched under him, and Spike felt the boy's slippery, pulsing release. He groaned into Xander's mouth and drove himself harder against that warm, pliant body. Even though he'd already come, Xander continued to cling to him, encouraging Spike with his mouth and hands. It didn't take much more encouragement. He felt the wave of pleasure surging through him, growing until it crashed over him, sweeping Spike along with it.

He found himself sprawled on top of Xander, cradled between the boy's thighs, taking deep breaths he didn't need. Xander's fingers were combing idly through Spike's hair, drawing invisible patterns against his scalp. When Xander spoke, Spike felt his voice as much as heard it.

"Are we friends, Spike?" he asked, his voice rough.

Spike hauled himself up, resting his weight on his forearms and looking at Xander. His hair was mussed and his lips were swollen. Spike thought it was the best he'd ever looked. He traced a finger along Xander's jaw and down his neck.

"Not friends," he said. He settled himself back on Xander's chest. "We're something else, pet."

"Yeah, I guess we are." He couldn't see the smile, but he heard it.