Date: Wed, 21 Nov 2001 16:31:21 -0800
From: auto1264@hushmail.com
Subject: A Very Xander Thanksgiving

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and these characters (Spike and Xander) don't
belong to me, and are making me no money. I'm only using them for sick,
twisted fantasies. Don't archive or distribute this story without asking me
first. Don't read if you aren't over 18 or the age of majority in your
area. I appreciate any feedback as long as it's positive or constructive
criticism. This has some bloodplay, so don't try this at home! And Happy
Thanksgiving!

Xander carefully set the cranberry sauce on the table. His parents' concept
of Thanksgiving was tv dinners and lots of wild turkey. Now that he was a
man, nearly married and with a place of his own, he wanted to do things
differently.

So he went out and bought turkey and trimmings from the closest resturant.

"Change is good," he mumbled to himself.

All the girls were out...doing girl stuff, which he didn't complain about
since, for weeks now, Buffy had been all frosty and Willow had been all
scary. Maybe they were out gleefully slaughtering a pack of vampires, just
like the good old days.

A knock at the door interrupted his placement of the gravy. It wasn't like
Anya to knock on the door. Oh well. Xander flung the door open.

"Come inside to the Xander Harris Turke...no! no! Wait! Uncome!"

Spike strode inside, swaggering his usual smug swagger, leather duster
trailing behind him.

"Rules don't work that way, mate. Invited me in for your turkey jerkoff,
didn't ya?"

Xander glared, arms wrapped around his waist, trying to remember where he'd
put all the spare crosses. Spike used to be an enemy of the gang, but had
somehow wormed his way into their ranks. What made Buffy tolerate him?

Maybe it was the chiseled cheekbones, or compact, muscular body, pecs
flexing when he pulled his tight shirts off, or his piercing blue eyes
breathtakingly contrasted with bleach-blonde hair, or his toned ass cheeks
pressing together when he...no, couldn't be that. Xander pushed the
thoughts from his mind.

"Don't..."

Not listening, Spike slithered out of his duster, coat laid carefully onto
the couch.

"Got any blood for a hungry beastie?"

Following Spike into the kitchen, he opened his mouth to bark at Spike for
bending over to look in the refrigerator.  The lecture died in his throat
as he stared at the shifting, undead buttocks, tight and round, trapped in
the tightest denim. He could practically see the material riding up Spike's
cool, dark crack.

"Like what ya see? A little gape for gobble-gobble Day?"

Spike wagged his ass a few more times. Blushing, Xander shook his head. He
hadn't been gaping. Or staring. Not even peeking.

"You're sick. And in Buffy-lust. Why do you care if I was...n't staring at
your Bleach Boy Backside or not?"

Spike swirled around, shutting the fridge door with his foot as he
swallowed a small piece of pie.

"See, I don't. Care about you. Ever. But Buffy's so bloody complicated. And
you're...not."

The clink of an opening belt rang in Xander's ears, Spike slowly walked
towards him, wearing that searing, precise stare that penetrated him to the
core.

Xander stepped back, bumping against the edge of the table, trying not to
think of the long tube of pale flesh bobbing as Spike lowered his pants to
the ground. Trying not to think of the half-hard lump in his boxers at the
sight of that uncut monster.

Resuming the eye contact, Spike smiled an almost feral smile, slapping his
length with a confident hand.

"Like what ya see? Huh? Yeah, bigger than nancy-boy Angel, Angelus,
whatever moniker he may go by. Course, you already know that."

Xander felt like the walls were closing in, as his most shameful secret had
been uncovered. He hated Deadboy, but Angelus cornered him...

"so gentle, wasn't he?"

Suddenly Spike was behind him, kissing words into his ear, running his
fingers down Xander's spine, chilling him even through the pullover
sweater.

"That's his nastiest trick. Makes you want to be taken. Felt dirty after,
huh?"

Trembling from the memories, he let Spike hold him from behind, Spike
quickly yanking the pullover over his head, grinding his dagger-sharp
erection against Xander's slacks-covered butt.

"Commando Boy, now he was different. All warm and loving, knew your body in
and out. Thrust slow and efficient. But when he woke up, who'd he leave you
for each time?"

Xander whispered as Spike suckled his neck, tore his t-shirt in half.

"B-Buffy."

A quick hand squeezed his prick, and Xander gasped, the rush of blood
giving him a full-tent boner, his reflexive attempt to get away sliding
Spike's spear between his clothed cheeks.

"Guess you're stuck with blokes who wanna boink Buffy. Tough luck Xanax."

Spike grabbed the bowl of cranberry sauce, smearing a red-stained thumb
across Xander's juicy nipples, pinching the sweet nubs into pain.

Stepping away, he dipped his turgid hardness into the sauce, dropping the
bowl to the carpet as he stroked his sticky member. Foreskin receded, the
elongated, throbbing penis stood straight out, clear droplets glued to the
red clumps.

"Suck it."

Xander wanted to say no, knew Spike couldn't hurt him, but the sight
brought back every feeling he tried to deny with Cordelia, and now
Anya. The truth he felt when he saw an aroused man, knowing the arousal was
for him, his to control.

Dropping to his knees, sweaty palms pressed against Spike's milky-white
hips, Xander took the head into his mouth, pre-cum and sauce mixed into a
sugary saltiness. Dipping into the slit, he then shifted his head, tonguing
cranberry out of the remnants of foreskin.

Spike grunted, moaned, gritting through layers of teeth as Xander massaged
his own heavy shaft, unbuckling and unzipping her trousers.

Slowly removing Spike's pulsating meat from his throat, Xander used his
left hand to scratch his own sensitive, drooling penis tip, his right
pulling and tugging at the low-hanging, cool-to-the-touch balls slapping
against his chin. Curiosity led him to briefly suckle them, too big to fit
in his mouth at the same time. Like fleshy ice cubes.

Suddenly, he realized the girls could be back at any minute. Both hands
moved to grope Spike's massive, muscled buttocks, he ran his nose against
the black pubes, tongue rubbing the underside. In a one-two move, three
fingers shoved into Spike's anal canal as he suckled the sensitive
underside. Spike, never the most patient man, screamed as he impaled
Xander's throat, shooting load after load.

Xander groggily pulled himself up to a standing position, still hard.

"Need some help with that?"

Spike's grip alone was enough to almost send him over the edge, until he
noticed Spike had his fingers squeezing the very base, preventing him from
finishing.

Spike pushed a steak knife into his hand, continuing to massage Xander's
aching, engorged erection.

Eyes bulging, Xander tried to shove the knife away.

"I'm not into that! No, not the Harris boy!"

Spike leaned in, shifting to his monster face, yellow eyes and a growling
mouth Xander shamefully found sexy.

"You sucked me off, so now I get to suck. It's only fair."

As much as he hated himself for it, or imagined himself cutting open a
vein, Xander had always wondered what the sensation was like. That he was
the one making the incision disgusted and excited him.

"Alright. Alright. I hate you."

Concentrating, whispering a prayer, he sliced a small cut in his left
arm. Spike lunged at the smell, teeth and tongue cleansing and draining him
dry. the raw heat, Spike's cheeks temporarily warm and soft as they
scratched against his wrist, the sweet, hazy lull coursing through Xander's
entire body...

Semen sprayed onto Spike's hand, against his powerful, lean thighs as he
continued feasting from Xander's arm.

His eyes rolled back in his head several times, peaceful darkness calling
before Xander finally managed to grab Spike by his peroxided hair, tearing
him off the mark. Softly, purring even, Spike licked the wound a final
time.

"Good-tasting blood, kid. Nice texture. Oi, you do this on my legs? Sloppy
git."

Spike cleaned his thighs with a napkin, wiping his flagging penis while he
was there.

Xander lazily pulled his own pants up, too busy trying not to think about
what he just done. Spike squeezed his arm.

"Hey, cheer up. I know what'll do the trick."

Turning around, Spike slapped his rock-hard ass, running his fingers down
the ample cheeks until Xander made an approving sigh.

"Thought you'd like that. Good luck cleaning this place up."

He patted Xander's flat stomach, pinched a nipple for good measure, then
gave him a peck on the lips, licking away a droplet of his own
sperm. Holding Xander's head forcefully, he locked their mouths together,
Xander reluctantly tasting his own blood, suckling Spike's tongue, biting
back a whine when Spike pulled away.

"Now don't go spreading yourself around."

The appreciative hand ran down Xander's bare backside.

"Cause I'll be back for that come Christmastime."