Part Eleven

"Can't you do it for me?"

"No. If you don't do this for yourself, you will never learn."




"Spike." The specific of hearing his name with such finality silenced the vampire and he leaned forward to stare at the screen with a sigh. Of course Xander was right. That was why he had hired the human. To teach him. To give Spike the freedom to do in private what he couldn't imagine doing in public.

When Xander read the concession in his student's posture he knew the question had been answered. As an experienced tutor, Xander wasn't surprised. Resistance was the norm with these last-century vamps. Change was hard even for the undead. Possibly especially for the undead. At any rate, they were now ready to move on.

"Okay, let's try." Spike sat directly in front of the computer while Xander sat with his chair turned sideways, facing his pupil. Xander's legs were apart and his upper body was just inches from Spike's. It was very distracting for a vampire who still carried the forbidden memories of just how hot a human man can feel. To make matters worse, as Xander pointed to the screen, his hand inadvertently rested on Spike's shoulder.

"So to enter an e-mail contact, you click here to open the address book. Good, now type in 'Xander' so that if you get any mail from me, that name will show up and you will know I am the sender. Next type in the address as it is listed on my business card and....no, no. Don't insert any spaces. It has to all read as one word. Good. Perfect."

Spike's brain tried to focus on what Xander was saying and follow the instructions but it was getting harder and harder. The spot on his shoulder where the human hand rested was scorching with a heat that was permeating down his arm and pooling in his crotch.

Sudden flashes, like snapshots, exploded in his head. Memories. Pictures of a time some twenty years ago when he was hunting and partying in the underground coffeehouses and clubs of Eastern Europe.

It was a time of nonstop dancing, drinking and fucking. It was fresh blood and living, breathing sex partners. It was young men who knew their place and were grateful for the pain and pleasure served up by a demon master. It was a perfect existence and it was all tossed away by the arrogant ignorance of a narcissistic few who fucked so many.


"Huh? What? Oh, sorry, Xander. I guess my mind wandered a bit. So, I think I got it. Not that any of the slug vamps I know will be sending me an e-mail anytime soon, but at least now I know how to enter their address."

Xander looked into the sad, wistful expression of his vampire student and he wondered what it was that made the man so distracted. Whatever the cause, Xander decided he didn't like it. He would rather see Spike cheerful and smiling, but certainly not in a 'Yes, Massa' way. Spike was one of those rare vampires that just didn't seem to fit into the subservient pattern that the world dictated. It was thought provoking, yet Xander knew that exploration of those thoughts could be dangerous for both vamp and human so he quickly turned his attention back to the screen.

"You're doing great. Now, using my entered address, I want you to send me an e-mail and when I get home tonight, I will return it."

Spike scratched his head. "What should I write?"

Xander sat back in his chair. He removed his hand from his student's shoulder and he smiled at Spike's contemplative manner over such a petty question. Then, surprisingly, as if Spike were dealing the cards for a magic trick, he cupped his hand to block Xander's view of the monitor and he chuckled.

"Don't look. You can't read it until later."

When Xander grinned and turned his head away, Spike began hunting and pecking his fingers over the keyboard in a slow clackity-clacking sound. As a minor cheat, Xander peeked out one eye and watched the concentration on Spike's face. The vampire's blue eyes were staring at the screen while the pink tip of his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth. The sight caused a stirring reaction in Xander's body that was more than a bit unsettling.

"Got it!" Spike hit send and the message disappeared from the screen. With that, the self-satisfied vamp rocked back in his chair and clapped his hands as if he had just won a major military campaign. Xander laughed at his student's exuberance and Spike found himself joining in. The next interruption to the celebratory mood was the obvious grumble of Xander's annoyed, empty stomach.

With an insincere apology, he rubbed his belly. "Sorry about that. I didn't stop for lunch before I came over."

Spike's eyes lit up. "Hey, if you don't object to your food being touched by vamp hands, I have a renter down on the second floor that was a chef before she got vamped. She fixes a hell of a pasta dish with marinara sauce. How about I call her up and she brings us up some lunch?"

Xander's eyebrows wrinkled in a slight frown as the smile fell from his lips. "Oh, no, please. That isn't necessary. I don't want her to go to any trouble. I can grab a burger on my way home."

Spike's face fell and his shoulders slumped. He had been checked as he read a dozen objections and nauseated concerns in Xander's refusal. Spike should have known better than to assume they were anything more than vamp student and human tutor. Spike had overstepped his bounds and made a major undead faux pas. "Oh, sure. Sorry. I shouldn't have...."

Immediately Xander read the indicators that Spike had misconstrued his protest and he quickly switched gears in an attempt to make it right. "You know what? I really am hungry and since we still have a lot to do, why don't you give her a call. I just didn't want to put her to the work of cooking, but if you think she wouldn't mind, I'd love to have lunch with you."

Spike's face lit up and his hesitant grin reached all the way to the corners of his eyes. "Really? You sure?" When he had satisfied himself that the human was not pulling his leg, Spike hurried over to the telephone that sat in the living room area of his flat. He punched a series of memorized numbers and cheerfully spoke to someone that, to Xander, seemed to be more friend than tenant. Spike then returned to where Xander stood, with the intent of offering the human a glass of wine, when they were interrupted by a loud buzzing coming from Xander's pants.

"Oh, sorry, that's my cell. Excuse me while I take this." Xander pulled the phone from his pocket and he stepped off to the side. It didn't matter. He could have gone out into the hallway outside the flat and Spike would have still been able to eavesdrop. Which he intended to do.

"Harris Integration Services. How can I help...."

"Xander!" The voice on the other end came in a loud, harsh whisper and Xander groaned.


"Xander. We gotta talk."

"Please, God, Elmer. Not now. Look, I promise to call you back tonight but I'm tied up with a client now and...."

"This can't wait! It's anal, Xander. Lord almighty, Pinky wants anal!"

Xander rubbed his hands over his eyes. Clearly the crazy train had pulled into Tootsville and the only passenger was fully on board. What he didn't realize was that across the room, Spike's eyebrows had just ricocheted off his hairline and he was blinking in a rapid fire twitch as he interpreted both sides of the call. Whoever Elmer was, he had named his dick Pinky and he was now demanding sexual ass favors from Spike's tutor. Spike took great umbrage at the crass manner that this man addressed his human, and he waited to see what Xander's response would be.

"Listen, Elmer. This is NOT a good time. Why don't you just turn Pinky off for a while and I promise to call you later. Go out for a walk. Watch some television. Just don't think about Pinky. Can you do that?"

Spike listened intently while Elmer fussed about his hard-on and the fact that he needed Xander to come over in person and not just phone him. Finally, much to Spike's dismay, Elmer secured the promise that Xander would make a personal appearance later this afternoon and the call was concluded.

When Xander dropped the phone back in his pocket, Spike was standing in the kitchen with his back to the human as though the phone call had been of less than minor interest to him. Spike popped the cork on a bottle of wine as he struggled to understand why he should care. He had no chancewith a breather. Just the hint of impropriety could see the Feds busting down the door of his flat and dragging him away, and he certainly didn't know Xander's stance on adherence to the law.

With all of this in mind, Spike reestablished his air of distance and professional detachment. "I hope you don't think it's presumptuous of me to offer you some wine while we wait for your lunch to arrive. If so, I can serve you in the living room and I'll wait here in the kitchen."

Xander stood where he was and wondered what the hell had just happened. He thought he and Spike were getting on so well and now the curtain of division had been dropped between them. It only confirmed his suspicions that most vampires were a bit wacked.

"Wine would be great but I don't want to drink alone. I would be very honored if you would join me." The line was delivered in a dramatic manner, with Xander bending at the waist and sweeping his hand toward the sofa in such an exaggerated fashion, that Spike again relaxed and the slightest hint of the previous smile returned to his face.

The wine was poured and the men sat down. At first it was somewhat quiet and awkward with starts and stops of conversation that hunted and pecked at subjects that could be discussed, that broke no laws and skirted all grey areas. Reality television seemed to be the first strong point of agreement and the chatter began to flow freely along with the bottle of chardonnay.

The Bachelor was a douche-bag. The characters on the Jersey Shore should all be bitten and vamped and the fat girl on American Idol sang so badly that it should have signaled the end of the program as in, 'it's all over when the fat lady....'

Both men were rolling, and just as the last drops of wine were poured into Xander's glass, the doorbell rang. Spike jumped to his feet. He gripped the dead soldier by the neck of the bottle and waggled it. "Why don't you open another one while I put the food on the table."

Xander jumped up and immediately dropped back down as the buzz from the wine swam through his brain and discombobulated his balance. With an unmanly giggle, he tried again. As he shuffled past, he noticed Spike speaking with an attractive blond woman who was handing the vampire a large platter, and Xander ignored the look of concern on her face as his eyes met hers.

"Spike, you aren't doing anything stupid are you?"

Spike glanced over his shoulder at the handsome man who was struggling with the cork on a bottle of wine. "No. Don't worry. He's just teaching me the computer."

The words fell far short of easing her concerns but she knew minding her own business was a matter of survival, so with a fractional nod of her head, she backed away as he closed the door. He then went about the business of filling two plates with food and setting them on the table. By now, Xander had won his fight against the demon cork and was pouring their glasses to the rim with the golden, oaky wine.

The next hour was spent in pleasant conversation. It was light, easy, and the food went a long way towards sobering the human up. Despite the diminished effects of the alcohol, he still found himself very content and happy with both the company and the dinner. This was proving to be one of the nicest days Xander had had in a long time.

After the platters were removed and the last of the second bottle of wine dispersed, Xander slumped back in his chair. As thoughts of a nap started to nudge at him, his phone again vibrated in his pants and he mentally threatened to ram Elmer's cell phone up his ass if it was another crisis. Reluctantly, he answered.

"Harris Integration Services."

"Xander? Hey, hi. This is Paul. You know from...."

"Oh, sure, Paul. Hi."

"Hi. Um, I was just wondering if you were still interested in that, you know, quickie? I get off at ten tonight. If you want, I can get off at ten thirty too."

The offer was blunt and crude but they were men, not girls who wanted hearts and flowers. Neither of them was interested in dinner and a movie and that was the great thing about being a gay man. It cut through the bullshit and straight to the chase.

Xander wasn't sure if it was the wine or the relaxed company but the fact was, he was horny as hell and the prospect of a fast one-off was just the ticket. So, with his hand cupped over the cell phone and his head discreetly turned to the side, Xander mumbled, "Sounds great. I'll pick you up and maybe we can both get off before ten fifteen."

Spike angrily leapt to his feet and he snatched the plates off the table.

Part Twelve

Spike had no idea why he was suddenly so irked. Maybe it was because they were still on the clock as far as time the vampire had paid for and Xander was eating up all that time by hanging on the phone with his fuck buddies. Suddenly a new twist on that thought stopped Spike dead in his tracks.

What if these were men that Xander had met through his ad on the internet? The very advert that had crooked its finger in a come-hither way and advised unknown males that Xander was 'open minded' and willing to do all sorts of nasty disgusting things that no human should ever do to another. Okay, the ad might not have used those specific words but that was how Spike interpretedit. "Fucking humans," he muttered under his breath.

After placing the dishes on the kitchen counter, Spike called up all his reserves of composure. He blanked his face as though he hadn't overheard the conversation and he turned around in time to see Xander close his phone and drop it back in his pants. His slightly TENTED pants! Spike was aghast at the budding stiffy Xander was sporting.

Xander, on the other hand was oblivious to Spike's reactions. As he scratched his scalp, Xander seemed to take an inventory of himself before he snorted. "Well, I hate to admit it but I think I'm a little drunk. I don't ever drink alcohol on an appointment and I suddenly feel like a nap has just been penciled into my schedule. I think I might just go home and...."

Spike rushed back into the living room. For some inexplicable reason he couldn't stand the thought of Xander leaving and going straight into the arms of the faceless, dick-hungry Paul or possibly planting a passionate kiss on Elmer's Pinky. "No. Wait, we aren't finished. You said we could set up my cell phone on this visit."

Xander rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his brain. He wanted to go. He wanted to stay. His thoughts were scrambled and his feet felt big and clumsy. His dick was half-hard from the effects of the wine yet the tiny brain cell that still functioned told him to prioritize. This was a client not a friend. This was a vampire not a human, and this was business. He still had a job to do.

"Yeah. Right. Okay, I'll tell you what, why don't I give you just the very basics. I'll show you how to power it on, how to send a call and I'll even put my number in your contacts list. Then tomorrow, we'll go over everything else and we can practice making some calls. How's that?"

Spike found that resolution far from satisfactory. He wanted Xander to stay and talk with him all afternoon. He wanted Xander to fall asleep on his couch and not go to his fuck date with Paul the perverted asshole or even that Elmer creature. In a shocking moment of horrified realization, Spike had to acknowledge the dangerous fact that he wanted...Xander.

It was terrifying. It was both morally and legally reprehensible. It was simply out of the question and any hint of its reality was a certain death sentence. And yet, there it was. Spike was in a quandary that had only one possible solution. Nip it. Nip it in the bud. Put it out of mind and dwell on it no longer.

Xander stayed one more hour. He gratefully accepted the black coffee that the vampire offered him and his head cleared slightly as he refocused on the particulars of the job at hand. The phone that he had purchased for the vampire was the standard phone that he always bought. It used pre-paid minutes rather than a contracted phone plan because most companies refused to sign up the undead. Apparently demons were wont to default on written agreements, and they were lax about their credit ratings.

Xander took out his own phone and he laid it on the table by the sofa where they sat. After he entered his personal number in Spike's abbreviated contacts list, he instructed Spike to call him. After two aborted tries, Xander's phone came to life as it buzzed and vibrated on the table. When Xander picked it up and spoke into it, Spike's face lit up like the star on the top of a Christmas tree.


"HEY! This is me. And that is you. I called you just like on a real telephone."

Xander chuckled at Spike's unrestrained joy. "This is a real phone, Spike, and you can hang up by pushing the 'end' button like I showed you."

For Xander it was mission accomplished. The alcohol buzz had come and gone and left him tired and muzzy. He still had a few hours before he picked up Paul at the fast food joint, which gave Xander plenty of time for a hot shower and a swing by the drugstore for a handful of condoms. Unfortunately, the wine, combined with the coffee and a glass of water had caused
yet another predictable effect.

"Um, I know you're a vampire and don't...well, you don't, but do you have a bathroom with a.... The fact is, I'm about to piss down my leg."

When Spike finally figured out what the handsome human was wagging on about, the vampire laughed and pointed down the hall, indicating the third door to the left. When Spike had taken over this building, he completely remodeled and at that time he gave the tenants a choice of toilet or no toilet. Almost all of them, Spike included, chose to keep it. Sort of a sad, nostalgic reminder of days and turds gone by.

With a grin of appreciation and unrestrained relief, Xander gave a brief nod before he darted toward the facility. When the human and his active kidneys were out of sight, Spike was jolted with a sudden lightbulb-over-the-head moment that left no time for the weighing of advisability and he snatched up Xander's phone from the spot where it lay.

Copying the instructions he had been given for his own phone, Spike opened the contacts list and he quickly scrolled down. There was no Paul listed, but that wasn't surprising. When Spike eavesdropped on the conversation, he had the distinct impression that Paul and Xander had no previous relationship. Paul was probably just one more horny human that was reacting to the stupid ad Xander had placed on the internet site.

"AHA!" Spike flinched when he realized he had said that out loud and he craned his neck to see if there was any sign of Xander returning from the loo. At that moment, he heard the toilet flush and Spike hurried to jot down the info on the only Elmer in Xander's phone. Just as he replaced the phone on the table Xander reappeared, smiling and wiping his damp hands on his trousers.

"Whew! I didn't know one little bladder could hold that much. All righty then, I have another appointment across town later today so I need to get going. If you want, we can get together tomorrow and spend a bit more time working on the phone. We can try texting and voicemail and I can explain about how the prepaid cards work."

Spike nodded and smiled. "That would be great. Fine. Good. Yes. I know you're a very busy human and have a lot to do. Please don't let me keep you any longer. Tomorrow would be perfect and I will look forward to seeing you then."

As much as Spike hated to see Xander go, he now had new fish to fry. Although the vampire was no fool, he was certain he could accomplish his mission of investigation without crossing any legal boundaries. It was simply a question of curiosity. It wasn't as if he expected any end result other than the satisfaction of knowledge acquired.

Xander collected his things as he gave thought to what an odd day this had been and the fact that it was only half over. He made sure he had his cellphone and all his paperwork in his briefcase. With nothing more to say, he left his student behind and walked back out into the late afternoon sunshine. The cool, late-day breeze flushed his brain with fresh oxygen as he stood
on the brownstone stoop and sucked the air into his lungs before he slowly blew it back out.

The weather was perfect. The day was amazing and it was one of those times in a human's life that Xander knew it just didn't get much better. He had the world by the ass and there were no clouds on the horizon.

Now that he was feeling much more himself, Xander whistled and skipped down the steps toward where his small car was parked. Before he reached his Bug, the phone in his pocket again buzzed and vibrated against his leg and he fished it out.

"Willow." Xander stared at the name and number on the caller ID. He knew he should answer, but if he did she would rag on him for not calling her back or stopping to visit. She would whine about the new shoes she wanted or she would bitch that she had gained nearly a pound. Whatever the cause for the call, Xander just couldn't allow any downers to dampen his good mood. Nah, he decided. She can leave a message.

"Pick up, Xan. God damn it. Pick up the dang phone."

Willow sat at the large desk and stared at her computer screen while she nervously tapped a pencil on her knee. She held her phone to her ear and listened as it rang again and again. Finally, after the seemingly endless ten rings, the automated voice advised her that Xander was apparently unavailable and she was welcome to leave a name and number and a brief message. The voice swore on a dead gramdmother's grave that Xander would return at his earliest convenience.

*BEEP* "Hi, Xan, it's Willow AGAIN. Come on, sweetie, I know you aren't that busy. Call me back as soon as you get this, or better yet, stop over at my place. I REALLY need to talk to you. Please, Xander. This is important."

Knowing she had done all she could, Willow snapped her phone shut and laid it down as she turned all of her attention back to the computer. The day was bright and sunny yet she had not been out of the house all day. Directly after her breakfast of whipped egg whites and sliced tomatoes, she had logged on and opened the Yahoo e-mail account that she had created in case anyone responded to the ad she, in the guise of Xander, had posted. What she found nearly knocked her off her skinny butt.

There were no less than two hundred responses and over the course of the day, nearly a hundred more. It would appear that this was a good time in history to be a gay man in California. Subsequently, she had been studiously categorizing and issuing each applicant a number on a scale of one to ten.

The range of men stretched from ugly, pathetic geeks all the way up to stunning Adonises with obviously cosmetically enhanced hair and teeth. Their profiles listed shoe salesmen, aspiring actors and even a couple unemployed illegal aliens. Willow quickly realized that the few lines of introduction these men wrote about themselves were almost moot when compared to the pictures.

It soon became apparent that the accompanying pictures told a story all in themselves. Some men included a shot of themselves standing clumsily with their hands dangling awkwardly at their sides while an unseen accomplice snapped the photo. Other men had the balls (literally) to attach a photo to their e-mail that displayed ALL of their assets. With their legs splayed, their cocks stood proud and erect while they stroked, aimed and marginally covered their manhood with a discreet hand.

They winked. They smirked. They licked their lips with long, pink tongues.

When the first few had popped up, Willow had squeaked and shuddered at the respondant's blatant chutzpah of assuming Xander wanted to see pornographic poses with bits and bobs wagging. By noon, she had worked her way through so many that they were becoming repetitious and her critique of them was beginning to include the fine points of, this one has a pimple on his ass, or ball-sac too small for the girth of his cock. Of course this was not to say that Willow wasn't selecting several and doing a fast copy-paste into a file for herself. For later.

And now, she couldn't wait for Xander to see all of this. He would be eternally grateful. He would gush and unending praise would flow like honey on hot biscuits, and when he looked through the pictures and read the graphic comments, he would surely find Mr. Right. Like Willow, he would suffer eyestrain from examining each and every one as he concentrated on the applicants' most redeeming qualities.

For instance, David, a lifeguard from Encino, claimed to have no gag reflex and Charlie from Malibu declared himself loose as a goose. Willow had assigned them both a top score of ten.

Now if Xander would just call her back so she could get him over here, they could get this butt ball rolling.

Part Thirteen

It was a somewhat disturbing concept and one that Xander was not entirely onboard with. He had never been one for cheap, tawdry sexual encounters, yet when Paul suggested it, it had come across as the most brilliant idea since the wheel and sliced bread. Now that Xander had time to think about it, and sober up, he wasn't so sure.

Xander had never been a rodeo star. He wasn't one of those men who just wanted to go into the ring, ride a bucking bronco and then walk away slapping the dust off his chaps. Xander was looking for stability. He wanted someone to talk to and spend time with. Someone he could sit on the couch beside and maybe share a bottle of wine with.

"Wine?" Where had that thought come from? Xander paused as he dressed in clean jeans and an Izod. The short nap he had taken after getting home had gone a long way towards making him feel more refreshed. After that, the teeth brushing and the shower with the extra long butt-wash had given him the confidence that he was now minty-fresh in both pink areas of orifice.

For a few moments, as he stood under the steamy hot spray, Xander's businessman's brain had again revisited his marketing concept of inventing a male douche for gays to flush that certain spot of wrinkled mustiness before and after each rousing encounter. He was sure it would be a hit. He could even do an infomercial. The kind that plays on local cable channels at three in the morning.

Once he started to dress, however, all entrepreneurial thoughts floated away and were replaced by the uncomfortable knowledge that he was about to go pick up the spaghetti boy and bounce a few meatballs with him.

With that admission came the flow of thought that banked toward what he really wanted out of a relationship, and finally ended with the question of why that relationship would include wine.  I hardly ever drink wine. Okay, yeah I did today but that was only to make the client more comfortable. It would have been rude to refuse such a polite offer, although I probably should have stopped after one glass. Or at least one bottle.

Xander stopped what he was doing and he smiled as the warm memory of the very pleasant afternoon returned to him. It was bizarre. Xander never fraternized with his clients. He was always careful to keep that invisible curtain firmly in place between them and he was stumped as to how he ended up on the sofa, drinking and chitchatting, not to mention sitting at the fucking table and eating lunch.

Xander frowned as he tried to rationalize and justify his actions while he pulled on a pair of clean white ankle socks. "No big deal. I have often met clients at the coffee shop for lunch to discuss contracts and set deals. That's all this was. Simply an extension of our contractual details."

Even as Xander said the words, the giggle that followed and the squiggle that accompanied told him that he was spouting bullshit. He chose to pointedly ignore the red flashing warning light that was blinking in his brain. The funny thing was, just thinking about his afternoon was making his evening seem not only possible but downright necessary as his annoying half hard-on was back and demanding satisfaction.

He checked the time. It was nine forty-five. He tied his shoestrings and felt that familiar nervous tension in his stomach. He stuffed his wallet in his back pocket and he stared at the obscene pile of condoms that were mocking him from the top of his dresser. After giving them a glare, he snatched up two and stuffed them in his pocket. Then as he turned to leave the bedroom, he grabbed one more.

Dashing down the walkway, he jumped in his car and turned the key. He had no idea how or where this little tryst was to take place, but thinking about it was beginning to make his head hurt so he blanked his brain, blocked his thought and drove off into the night. Destination, Spaghetta Villa. He was so focused that he never noticed the large, dark, 1963 DeSoto that pulled out behind him.

The short trip from Xander's apartment to the spaghetti shop was quick, which was why Xander patronized it in the first place. He could get home before the noodles turned cold and that was a critical necessity when you were dealing with pasta that tended to gum up as it cooled. Now it occurred to him that the close proximity may prove detrimental. What if this encounter went sour? Could he still count on a bucket of their finest without spittle molestation of his sauce?

The concerns and questions would, for now, go unanswered as he pulled in front of the building with the red and white striped awning and the fat rat that darted into the side alley. Xander wondered if he should go in. It wasn't as if he was meeting his date's father and asking for permission to court. He considered tooting his horn. Neither of those options seemed appropriate, considering the basis of the meeting. Before he could decide, the restaurant door flew open and Paul came running out. Xander reached across, rolled down the window and Paul stuck his face in the passenger's side.

"Hi. Damn, you're right on time. Great. I'm horny as fuck. I hope you brought rubbers and lube. I'm in the mood to fuck till both our cocks fall off."

Xander scowled. Fuck. Lube. He knew there was something he had forgotten. As he tried to work out a detour to another drugstore, it occurred to him that Paul was still massaging the bulge in the front of his jeans and talking rather than joining him.

"So, my fucking boss left early and I'm still finishing up. We aren't technically supposed to close for another five minutes but hell, no one will call now. Give me just a few minutes to shut down and lock up and I'll be right back out."

Before Xander could respond, Paul was spinning around and rushing back inside. It was just what Xander didn't need. Time to think. He turned off the engine. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with a tune that played only in his head and he tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that he was about to do something dirty and disgusting.

Adding to the quandary was the fact that Paul was clearly a bottom and as a big, burly guy, Xander was often mistaken for a top. It was a given that someone tonight was about to get short-changed.

As the minutes ticked by, Xander became more and more convinced that he wanted out of this date. It was all he could do to not just turn the key and speed away. A resolution that assured he would not be eating here again. A damn shame because he loved their linguini. "Well, fuck. I guess I'm just going to have to balls up and fuck the little twerp to ensure my future patronage. How the fuck do I get myself into these...."

The rest of Xander's muttering was cut short when Paul again shoved his face in the side window. This time the bright, promising grin was gone, his fly-front was flat and his face was screwed up in a very unattractive scowl. "You're gonna hate me for this but I can't do tonight. Some fucking asshole just called in a huge order and if I don't fill it, the boss will find out and can my ass. Damn, Xander. I'm really sorry. I know you were all set to ream my ass out and shoot a wad into my tight, hot...."

Xander was elated, relieved and he felt like a prisoner who had been given an early release. He was in the best position possible short of hands and knees. He could put on the face of the wounded party and still ensure the future integrity of his bucket o'noodles.

"Oh damn, Paul. That is fucked up. I was really looking forward to pumping my hard rod in and out of your snug little...."

Paul groaned and rubbed his hand over his deflated dick. "Shit! If you fuck as good as you talk I'll be squirting in record time. Hey, I got an idea. Why don't you come inside with me. I can cook the fucking noodles and sauce while you cook me. Hell yeah, it will be hot as hell."

Xander immediately realized he had overplayed his hand and he quickly backtracked, all the time wearing a sad look of martyrdom on his face. "No, we better not. What if your customer came in and caught us with me buried balls deep inside your body. Your boss wouldn't like that either, and frankly as a customer of Spaghetta Villa, I would hate to think that you were scooping my supper while all of those random body fluids were squirting and dripping all over the place."

A flash of guilt on Paul's face told Xander that he had just ordered his last serving of rigatoni. Damn, he thought. Who was it said, 'If ignorance be bliss'? With a sigh of disgust, Paul nodded his head in agreed defeat.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Tonight is a bust, but hey, we can do this another time can't we?"

Xander put on an expression of strained sincerity. "Oh, sure, Paul. I'm looking forward to it. Tell you what, the next time I come in we can set another time and date. It'll be great. I'll pork the hell out of you. Guaranteed."

Spike sat in the dark in his car and he observed the scene act out silently a half a block away. He watched as the perverted Paul leaned over and spoke to Xander. He saw the boy's hands wave in explanation and he watched as the tan corduroy trousers swayed back and forth.

Spike knew right there and then that he was doing Xander a favor. No one should have to fuck a man who wore corduroy.

When the punky Paul finally stepped back away from the small red car, Xander started it up and slowly pulled away from the curb as poop pirate Paul raised his hand to wave good bye.

The minute the VW disappeared, Spike flipped open his new cell phone and he again dialed the number on the front of the restaurant window. He watched as corduroy Paul turned and hurriedback inside to answer.

"Hello? Spaghetta Villa. How can I help you?"

"Yes, this is Doctor Dolittle. I just called with an order for five buckets and ten dozen wings."


"Well, something has come up and I won't be needing the food any longer. I hope I haven't caused you any inconvenience."

"WHAT? Hey, I'll have you know...."

Spike stifled a snicker and he quickly cut the call off by snapping shut his phone. He then waited just one more minute to watch with enormous satisfaction as predictable Paul came rushing back outside to see if there was any sign of the man and the dick in the little red car, both of which were long gone. Spike laughed as the promiscuous Paul stomped, waved his fists in the air and screamed at the only full moon he was to see tonight.

Spike had to admit that Xander was right. A cell phone was VERY convenient.

Down the street from the Spaghetta Villa, Paul was so consumed with his temper tantrum that he never noticed the black DeSoto as it backfired and came to life before easing away from the curb. As it passed him, the driver leaned over and took a good look at the crazed human throwing a hissy fit on the sidewalk.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Paul flipped the bird at the nosy driver before stomping back inside to close down the restaurant.

Spike wiggled happily in his seat. He shifted gears from first to second and finally third as his car picked up speed. When he got to the end of the block, instead of turning right to follow Xander, Spike turned left. He still had one more stop to make and there was no time like the present.

Reaching down on the seat beside him, he picked up the slip of paper with the name and address jotted down on it. He had a vague idea where Wood Street was and if he was right, it was not in one of the best parts of town. That in itself was perplexing. Why would a human be living in one of the more rundown sections of the city? Spike dropped the paper back down as he considered that to be the least of his problems. The first issue was to figure out a way to get a look at this Elmer person.

After three wrong turns and two backtracks, Spike located Wood Street and he slowed as the building numbers counted up. When he located the number that corresponded with the one on the notes section of Xander's phone, Spike pulled up to the curb and he stopped.

"What the hell?"

Spike stared at the small placard that was attached to the front of the building. It was void of words but the red blood drop painted on it told the whole story. It designated the entire building as one inhabited exclusively by vampires.

"Elmer Toots is a vampire? So why the hell is he telling my Xander about his pinky?"

Spike jumped out of his car and he slammed the door shut as he marched up the walkway to demand some answers.

Part Fourteen

Spike looked up. The building in front of him had the appearance of a tacky, tasteless, rundown hotel. It was, no doubt, one of those government conversions that the low income, no-class vampires had been relocated to. These were the people Spike referred to as food-stamp vamps. Always on the dole. Satisfied to accept a human handout and live on a shoestring rather than get out there and keep busy with one of the many service jobs that were designated as vamp-approved.

He already didn't like this Elmer creature.

With no hesitation, Spike marched up the walkway, into the lobby and quickly located the nameplate roster. Running his finger down the list of residents, he found the flat number of one E. Toots. The fact that he didn't have a clue as to what he was going to say to Mr. Toots was irrelevant as Spike bolted up the stairs, two at a time, until he hit the floor and the hallway that
he sought.

When he emerged from the stairway, Spike looked around and snorted. The place was everything he had imagined. The long hallway outside the numbered flat doors was narrow and dim due to the fact that half of the overhead fluorescent lights had been broken out for the comfort of sensitive demon eyes. The floor of the hallway was covered in a well-worn, red, faux oriental runner that was all but bare threads.

Despite the broken and missing numbers from the doors, it wasn't hard to locate the one he sought. Spike stood on the outside and took a moment to get his temper under control. He had some questions he wanted answered before he ripped the head off this man-beast. He wanted to know just what Elmer's relationship was with Xander and if Xander had actual intimate knowledge of Pinky. A startling thought that sent shudders of revulsion rippling through Spike's body.

After taking an unnecessary deep breath, Spike raised his fist and he pounded on the door.


The explosive sound echoed throughout the entire second floor and it elicited an immediate response.

"HOLY SHIT! Who is it? What do you want?"

Spike gritted his teeth and he balled his fists up at his sides as he spoke to the still closed door, "My name is Spike. Open the damn door or I'll rip it off."

Fortified by the closed, locked barrier between them, Elmer pressed his forehead against the wood and he lowered his voice two octaves as he responded. "No. I ain't no little piggy and you can't huff and puff enough to blow my house down so whatever you are selling, take it somewhere else cause I ain't buying."

Spike's first instinct was to simply slam his boot against the cheap, thin door and knock it off its hinges but he knew that an action of that sort would be deemed a breech of the quiet. There was always the danger that one of these neighbors might summon the authorities, and the last thing Spike wanted was to draw the attention of the humans with the badges and stakes, so he tried another tactic.

He placed his palms on the closed door and he lowered his voice. "No, no, you misunderstand. I'm not selling anything, I just need to speak to you. I apologize if I came on a bit strong. Please, can I come in and talk?"

Elmer paused. His visitor sounded calmer but it could be a trick. Regretfully, Elmer had painted over the peephole in the door when he believed his neighbors were standing out in the hallway and watching him through it. Elmer firmly believed that just because he was paranoid didn't mean people weren't out to get him. "What do you want to talk about?"

Spike screwed his face up in a grimace as he struggled not to scream, 'I want to talk about ripping your dick off and shoving it down your throat,' but he knew that would not gain him entrance. Instead, Spike took a giant leap of faith and went for the truth. Or at least a sliver of the truth. "I want to talk to you about a human by the name of Xander Harris."

Without hesitation, the deadbolt snapped and the door swung open. When it did, Spike found himself face-to-face with a bizarre little man of no more than five foot two. He had a rotund belly and a receding hairline with a comb-over that would have benefited greatly from just being shaved off. To say he was unattractive would have been a generous compliment.

Before Spike was killed and turned, he had been told by a favorite uncle that every person on the face of the earth has either a pig face or a fox face. This man was no fox.

Spike was bewildered as he looked the trollish creature up and down. There must be some mistake. He needed clarification. "I'm looking for Elmer Toots."

Elmer stood with his hand still on the knob of his front door and his body blocking the entrance to his apartment. His visitor was both intimidating and handsome, if you liked that sort of thing. The man was muscular, blond, and after Elmer gave him a quick sniff, it was evident that this Spike person was a vamp. Still, the undead factor did not instantly carry an invitation with it and Elmer tipped his head questioningly.

"I'm Elmer. You said something about Xander? What about him?"

Spike had had enough pussy-footing around. With his palm on Elmer's chest, he shoved the stubby homeowner out of the way and he walked inside and looked around. It was worse than he had imagined. Empty beer cans and blood bags were strewn everywhere. Stiff, used cum rags were tossed to the floor near the sofa and the wall behind the computer was papered with pictures of a cheesy, slutty woman who apparently owned no clothes other than crotchless panties.

"Jesus H. Christ! How the fuck can you live like this?"

"Fuck you! It's the maid's day off and besides, you ain't exactly an invited guest ya know. So why don't you tell me what it is you came to say about Xander and then get the fuck out."

Spike thanked the vampire laws of the universe that made breathing in this stench unnecessary and he faced off with the gross little man. "I'm here to get a few things straight about Xander AND your Pinky."

That got Elmer's immediate attention. The mention of his woman's name was like a lightning bolt that seemed to add five inches to his height. "My Pinky? What about my Pinky? That is a very personal subject, mister, and you better explain yourself quick before I dust your ass!"

Spike gave a disgusted snort that confirmed what they both knew. The odds of Elmer dusting his visitor were about as great as his dusting his apartment. Slim to none. As an exclamation point to that, Spike walked over and flicked Elmer painfully on the end of the nose. "Ow. That hurt. Fine, so what about my Pinky."

Spike crossed his arms. "I want to know why you called Xander this afternoon to tell him about your Pinky. Has he ever seen Pinky? Has he ever touched Pinky? And don't lie to me!"

Elmer continued to rub his sore nose. Clearly this intruder was a few fries short of a Happy Meal and it was best to just go along with him until he could evict the nutcase from his home. "Yeah, Xander knows all about Pinky. He comes here to do my computer and one day he got here early for our appointment and Pinky was up. I showed him and he didn't seem to mind looking. So what business it that of yours?"

Spike was stunned. His eyes darted between Elmer's face and his crotch as the whole scene played out in his head. Poor innocent Xander arrives for an appointment and the door is opened by a fat, nasty vamp with his pants down and his pinky in his hand.

Spike was aghast. He took a physical step back as an expression of horror and disbelief formed on his face and he pointed an accusing finger directly at the confused Elmer. "That's illegal. That is a violation of human law. Xander would NEVER fuck your Pinky!"

The rage in the room turned contagious and now Elmer was furious at the charges against both his friend and his woman. With a swat to the finger that pointed at him, Elmer went nose to nose with his accuser. "That ain't true! Pinky's a vamp and Xander don't fuck no vamps. Xander is one of them good humans and if you come here to accuse him of squirtin' over my Pinky, you is a liar!"

The firm denial, while confusing, did carry a ring of truth to it and Spike felt his ire cool slightly. Still, he needed clarification. "So, if Xander doesn't cum on your vamp cock, why are you showing it to him?"

Elmer's face went slack and his eyes blinked repeatedly. Nothing about this whole conversation made any sense. It was as if this stranger had charged into the Toots residence and began spewing Greek prophesies. It was time for one of them to start from the beginning and if Elmer had any hope of kicking this nut case from Tootsville, the rationality would have to start from him.

"Okay, wait. What? Look, Mr. Spike, I think you're a bit fuzzy. Let me spell it out for you. Xander is my friend. Yeah, yeah, I know he's a human but he's one of the good guys. So anyway, he came here to set up my computer and teach me how to use it. Well, one night when I was cruising through the...um...nature and travel sites, I accidentally stumbled across Pinky's Passion Palace."

Elmer's face went moony and he wandered over to the wall of pictures where he stroked his fingertips across the exposed vagina and lips of the skanky woman he apparently worshiped. "This is my Pinky. She talks to me through the computer and we have sex together. A lot! Xander knows all about Pinky. He thinks she's the cat's pajamas too but Pinky is a vamp and Xander don't fuck no vamps. If you really knew Xander, you would know that."

Spike's body released all of the pent up tension he held as the truth and understanding cleared his mind. It all made sense. It all came together and the pieces of the puzzle fit the picture of his Xander perfectly. All but the minor tidbit about 'Xander don't fuck no vamps.' That statement should carry the codicil of 'yet' behind it.

With a companionable chuckle, Spike joined Elmer at his wall of shame and with a suppressed grimace, Spike tried to repair some of the damage he had done. "So, that's Pinky. Well, she seems very...nice. She is certainly flexible and...wait a minute, did you say that she can see you through the computer? I don't know a lot about computers but I don't think...."

Elmer turned around to face Spike and the pitiful expression in the ugly little man's eyes tugged at something equally lonely within Spike. With a smile and a tenuous pat on Elmer's shoulder, he answered his own statement. "Yeah, that Xander is a computer genius. If he can hook you and Pinky up together maybe he can find someone for me too."

Elmer's face lit up at the words of encouragement and suddenly he wasn't so sure he wanted to boot this stranger to the curb after all. Although it was hard for most people to believe, Elmer Toots did not make friends easily but who would have thought that today he would gain a new best buddy.

"Hell, yeah, Spike old chum. Hey, tell ya what, why don't you have a seat on the couch and I will warm us a couple of mugs of AB positive that I been saving for a special occasion. Then we can sit down and have us a long talk about our mutual chum, Xander Harris. Whadda think?"

Spike looked at the crusty, dubious sofa and a shudder of revulsion skittered up and down his spine. On one hand, a long talk with Elmer would fill in a lot of the blanks in his dossier on Xander, but was his stomach strong enough to actually spend any more time in this pit of spent passion? One thing was certain, either way he would be burning his clothes the moment he got home.

"Oh, what the hell. Nuke it up, Toots my man. I got nothing else to do."

"Woo Hoo! You got it Spike ole' buddy. You got it."

Part Fifteen

"Oh shit!" The exclamation traveled on a puff of air that spoke volumes of frustration and being overwhelmed. It had gotten to the point where Willow was almost afraid to turn on the computer and log onto the e-mail account under Xander's dating name. She had considered just deleting the whole thing, but like a car wreck, it was morbidly fascinating and she couldn't take her eyes off it.

Each time she looked, she was flooded with the names, pictures and descriptions of hungry, horny men who wanted to do despicable things to the unwitting Xander.

She was stumped by terms such as 'slapping dicks,' 'riding bareback' and 'humping the hound.' She refused to even imagine what fisting, frotting or intercrural sex might mean and she was certain it was nothing Xander had ever heard of or would consider engaging in.

It was like a whole world, a counterculture that flourished right under her nose. An alternative universe that co-existed unseen next to the real world of decent, wholesome people who wanted sex the old-fashioned way. She cringed as she wondered how much of this world Xander was involved in. Not because she didn't want him sexually satisfied but because it was glaring evidence that maybe she didn't know as much about her old friend as she thought she did.

Adding to her concern and confusion was the fact that for two days now, Xander had not answered any of her voicemails, calls or texts. She was beginning to be concerned for him and she was questioning the wisdom of starting this snowball that had grown to gargantuan proportions.

She considered just canceling the ad and wiping out all of the applicants but feared that by doing so she may be eliminating the one man that could be Xander's soulmate. And wasn't that the whole point of this exercise? To find Xander's happiness for him? No, she just had to see this matter through regardless of how distasteful it may become.

Instead, she decided to do the only other thing possible. If Mohammad won't come to the mountain maybe it was time to forward the e-mailed mountains to Mohammad. With that solution in mind, Willow logged on to the over-full e-mail box. She went to the properties then the settings and when she came to the forward space, she typed in Xander's personal e-mail address and she clicked the mouse that would toss the monkey off her back and onto his.

It was a load off her mind when she shifted the proverbial primate and she hoped he appreciated all the trouble she had gone to for him. "Whew!" And Willow went to bed with a clear mind.


"Dang. What a day."

Xander dragged himself up to his front door. He turned the key and all but tumbled inside. It was late and after dodging the bullet with Paul, who, now that he gave it some thought, was a creepy little weasel, Xander was just glad to be home. On one hand, he wouldn't have minded a bit of free-styling sex with a willing hand that was not his own but on the other side, nothing is free. There are always consequences and a price to pay and Paul could end up more expensive than Xander could afford.

Xander peeled off his shirt as he passed through the living room and he tossed it to the floor before proceeding to the refrigerator for a cold beer. While leaning against the kitchen counter, he tipped the bottle up and drank half of it straight down. After capping it off with a long, loud belch, he felt much better and decided to check his mail quickly before he dragged himself to bed.

While his computer powered up, he kicked off his trousers and sat down in just his boxers. He took another swig of his beer and clicked on the little white envelope on his desktop that said 'You have mail.'

"Okay, let's see who is.... ACK! WHAT THE FUCK?"

Xander sat bolt upright on his chair. The forgotten beer was set on the desk and his eyes bugged as the inbox filled and the numbers kept on coming. At first his initial fear was that he had, despite all his antivirus programs, picked up a nasty bug that had infected his computer and opened him up to tons of unwanted spam. However, when he looked at the names of the senders, he was starting to see a pattern.

Peckerdick25, sirsucksalot41, hardandhung30, even though Xander was a bit slow on the upswing, he was beginning to recognize a similarity so, with a slight hesitation, he began opening some of the messages. As he did, each one elicited its own exclamation before he went on to the next.

"Holy shit!! Oh, my, GOD! How does he do that? Holy hamster nuts! That guy can suck his own.... Damn, is that tongue real or photoshopped? Oh, eww. Who even does that?"

On and on it went as he found it impossible to stop. It was man after man who seemed to be specifically speaking to Xander and Xander alone. They made suggestions. Requests. Lewd, creative allusions and one had even included a penciled diagram that consisted mainly of tab 'A' being inserted into slot 'B'. Xander took a moment to appreciate the artwork.

Xander was stumped. He was concerned. He was totally turned on. It took only a second to come to the conclusion that whoever was responsible for this despicable flood of gay porn could be dealt with later. For now, he had a bottle of lube in the bottom desk drawer and about 500 men who were eager and willing to give him a thrilling evening. The only question was, who?

Quickly, Xander wriggled out of his boxers. He sat butt naked on the cool, plastic seat and he opened his thighs as his mouse rapidly clicked through the countless opportunities. Some were too old, too young, too chubby and.... "Hello. What have we here?"

Xander leaned in toward the screen and stared at the man who had draped himself over an overstuffed recliner. He had one leg flopped over the arm of the chair and his family jewels settled proudly beneath a long, thick cock. But it wasn't the girthy meat or even the staged pose that caught Xander's attention. It wasn't the man's encouraging dating name of beefytop69 or the fact that he had waxed his pubic hair, which was a kink of Xander's. No, what seemed to light Xander's wick and start the flame within his crotch flaring was the man's face.

He was young but not illegally so. He was pale and the soft, curly blond hair on his head and body reminded Xander of someone he could not quite recall. One thing he did know was that this was to be his date for the night. He dribbled a bit of warming oil on the head of his erect dick and hissed as he took himself in hand while reading the applicant's short profile out loud.

"Hi. I may look young but I know what I am doing and I have the hands, tongue and cock to prove it. I want a man who will get on all fours for me while I shove my fingers deep into his willing body. When I have you all loose and relaxed, I'm going to ram my hard nine inches so deep inside you that you will feel me in the back of your throat. Then I'll start pounding. I won't hurt you. Much. Unless you beg me to. Write to me."

Immediately, the dim room took on an intimate atmosphere. The only sounds were the quiet whir of the computer, the slippery slap, slap of skin on skin and the rapid, breathing of the slapster. Xander moaned, groaned and spoke in muttered, obscene intimacies to the smiling face on the screen who seemed to enjoy watching.

As if they were really together, Xander fueled the fantasy by speaking to the confident blond, telling him what he liked and wanted. In his mind, the blond was agreeable. To a point. But the stranger was also demanding and insistent. He wanted things from Xander. He wanted to make Xander do things that Xander found dirty and shameful. It was incredibly erotic.

Xander gasped and manhandled himself while he read through the profiled offer. After the third run-through, his own dick was jerking and pulsing in his hand. He shot wad after wad into the boxers he held against his slit until they were sticky and wet and his balls were soft and empty.

Afterwards, when he was slumped and spent, he swallowed the last of his beer and considered crawling off to bed. He was exhausted. He was brain-dead. Unfortunately, his dick was still curious and it twitched despite the fact that it had not entirely deflated. With a scowl on his face, Xander looked down at it and asked, "Really? Are you sure?"

Buddy was sure and although Xander had his doubts, Buddy had never lied to him before, so together they began scanning the e-mails until they came to another one that inspired Buddy to jump and harden. It was a picture and profile surprisingly similar to the last. Young, fair haired and light complected. Xander shrugged. Who knew? Apparently Buddy had a type. With a
snort, Xander reached for the oil.

By daybreak, it took all of Xander's strength to push his chair away from his computer and rise on shaky legs. He rubbed his bleary eyes and scratched his wild, unkempt hair. His dick was so sore, he wasn't even certain he could piss without screaming in agony. Fucking Buddy had vastly overestimated his abilities and now Xander would pay the price.

Luckily, he didn't have any appointments until later this morning which allowed for a hot shower and a few hours sleep. Thankfully there was a quart of orange juice in the cooler to replenish his lost body fluids. He would worry about the origin of the barrage of male porn later.


"Oh, sweet Jesus on a jackass."

Spike's head flopped back and his eyes rolled up into his head. He had just jerked off for the fourth time to the smiling picture on the screen of Xander's tan, muscular, hairy body. The couple of hours that he had spent with Elmer had proven to be much more entertaining and companionable than he would have imagined. Raging insanity was apparently not an important variable in the gauging of a person's amiability. They had made arrangements to meet again the next day for a cup of plasma down at the Vampster Cafe.

When he arrived back at his flat, Spike had turned on his computer with only the intent of running through the steps as Xander had taught him to reinforce Spike's understanding. He went to his mail and, not surprisingly, found no new messages. Then he went to his Fangfacebook account that Xander had helped him create and he added E. Toots as a friend. Spike now had one friend.

Then he wavered. Should he? No! He shouldn't. Human sites were off limits to vamps. If he wanted to look at gay porn he had already discovered that there were thousands of sites available. Sites that featured male vampires biting, fucking and hurting each other with cold, hard cocks and razor sharp fangs. Or as Spike would put it, "Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda. Been there fucked that."

Oooorrr. He could accidentally stumble across the site that he had bookmarked at the top of his list. His inexperienced fingers could mistakenly type in the words that would lead him to a dating site that featured.... "Oh, yes. There you are my pretty. Come to daddy."

The moment Xander's face appeared on the monitor, Spike's dick began to fill, fatten and rise from the dead. His face shifted from its human visage to the true demon that inhabited him. His evil, yellow eyes glowed as they stared at the innocent human on the screen. His throat rumbled in a low, deep growl that spoke to his intentions. He read the profile and although he couldn't
accurately interpret the writer's aspirations, it was moot. Spike had his own aims and goals that he could, here in the privacy of his flat, pretend were reality.

Xander would be his. His human to use in any way he wished. That hot, willing body would open up for the vampire master that thrust his rock-hard cock into every orifice he could use. He would take the boy awake or asleep. On his knees or on his back. He would bend the human boy up like a pretzel while Spike satisfied every fantasy that might pop into his head. When finished, he would leave the boy sore, red and begging for more.

After just one encounter, Xander would never let another human man touch him again. It was a fact. Once you go Vamp, you never go back.

But that wouldn't be the best. The capper, the coup de gras would come at the moment of heavenly orgasm. With Spike buried balls deep in the human's arse, Spike would lean in, fangs flashing, and he would plunge into the hammering pulse of his human's throat. When Spike imagined the hot rush of ready, willing blood gushing down his throat, his cock jumped in his
fist and he squirted cold cum over his hand and onto the floor.

Again and again he set the scene in his head and again and again, his fantasy Xander complied and squirmed for him. After the last time, Spike glanced down and he noticed the time on his computer. Reluctantly, he had to release his choke hold on himself. The sun had crept onto the horizon and he had five hours to shower and nap. His only fear now was whether or not he would be able to face the real Xander without ripping the human's clothes off and plunging into the hot, living body.

"Self-control you dolt!" Spike reprimanded himself as he hoisted out of his chair. Unfortunately, he forgot to shut down his computer before he stumbled toward the shower.