Today is the birthday of the wonderful, intelligent, fun and totally fabulous entrenous88. I wish you an absolutely wonderful birthday!!!!!!!!!!! *throws confetti and offers you pie*

In honour of your birthday, EntreNous, I was inspired to continue that S/X fic, Contagious, I posted about a month ago. So this is technically part two, although I feel confident that this can be read on its own. Oddly enough this is Spike POV and I’d wanted to write you a Xander-centric fic since you’re such a Xanderista, but then I wrote this instead. *g* There’s still lots of Xander so hopefully you enjoy!

Title: Contagious
Author: cordelianne
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R
Chapter: Two
Word Count: 1,105
Feedback: Yes please. Concrit is very welcome by email.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Joss owns them.
Summary: The sun streams in, creating patches of light which catch the dust –there’s a lot of dust.
A/N: Set during season 4.
Thanks to savoytruffle and electricalgwen for their invaluable support, help, suggestions and betas. All mistakes are mine.

If anyone missed the first part, it’s here.


Contagious
by Cordelianne

PART TWO


The sun streams in, creating patches of light which catch the dust –there’s a lot of dust. Spike doesn't mind the dust – No domestic vamps here – but the sun's a bitch. He's supposed to be sleeping, not cursing some androcentric designer. Who the fuck thinks windows are a good idea for a crypt?

Course, the real question is Why did Spike pick a crypt with windows in the first place?

Spike decides he doesn’t have to answer stupid questions, and turns over in an attempt to see if the surface is any softer on his side. No, still as hard as rock and since it is rock, not really a surprise. He throws the blanket off and it sends more dust to dance in the bloody sunbeams.

Harris’ hovel is starting to seem like blood-filled paradise right now. And his nostalgia for a Scoobie’s basement is almost enough to make him step outside for a nice afternoon stroll. He shrugs. Might as well do what all good housebound Americans do during the day – watch TV.

***

He wakes up to yelling and thudding. Can’t a vamp rest in peace?

Spike opens his eyes to find that it's dark out and that the only sounds coming from the TV are faint strains of canned laughter. And then it hits him, violence, right outside of his crypt. Just what he ordered – and there’s free delivery, doesn’t get much better than that.

He changes his mind when he swings the door open to a face full of ash. The slayer’s stake stops inches from his heart.

“I come in peace.” Spike raises his hands in the air, smirks a bit, because, why not?

The stake’s lowered. “No you don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t.” He surveys the disappointing scene – no more vampires, just Willow helping Harris to his feet – and pulls out a cigarette. “Was hoping for violence but you meddling kids have taken care of that.”

Buffy raises an eyebrow as she slides the stake into her back pocket. “Right, cause it’s all about you.”

He watches Harris brush dust off his pants, then gives Buffy his best leer. “Got that right, love.”

She sighs, but Willow comes over and pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Spike, I’m sure you’ll find something to kill tonight. Don’t give up!”

He chokes on cigarette smoke. “Did you –” he coughs “– just give me a pep talk?”

Willow nods, giving him a bright smile. He groans. Could his life get any more pathetic?

His answer comes in the form of Harris patting his other shoulder and saying, “We don’t want you trying to kill yourself again. I can’t keep buying new coffee tables.”

It was a rhetorical question, Spike growls to the universe.

At least Harris isn’t treating him like he’s the troubled teen in some afterschool special. Although, being mocked isn’t much of a step up.

“What? Pizza delivery isn’t the path to fame and fortune?” He shakes his head in mock shock.

“As fun as this is.” Buffy smoothes a hand through her hair. “We should really call it a night. Studying and all.”

“Oh, yes!” Willow bounces. “The Psych chapter on ‘Arrested Adolescence’ looks fascinating.”

“Fascinating,” Spike says as he extracts himself. Might as well see if there’s any other baddies lurking around.

Just as the animated chatter recedes, the sound of footsteps grows louder. It’s Harris, running to catch up with him.

“No homework for me.” His tone errs on the too side of cheerful. “Thought I’d join you for some more action.”

Spike considers the boy, who’s looking at him with those big eyes of his. He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m tough.” Harris flexes – surprisingly – muscular arms.

“Fine. Just don’t get in the way.”

Not like Spike has anything else going on.

***

He blames Harris’ lips. This never would have happened if he hadn’t been licking them, drawing attention to how red they are and causing Spike to have the strange desire to kiss them.

He blames the lack of things he can hurt. There he was all wound up and nothing to kill, what was a vamp to do?

And he blames himself for deciding Harris is the answer to that question.

Harris moans and presses against him, deepening the kiss and Spike reconsiders. Might not be so bad after all. He goes along with the frantic kissing and groping – course Spike’s not frantic, it’s just fun, a rush. He bites Harris’ lower lip and grins at the gasp it elicits.

Harris pulls back, panting. “Wow, so this is way better than I thought it – I mean, not that I thought about you. It’s just surpri–”

Spike shuts him up with the only way he’s found that actually shuts Xander Harris up – and it’s turning out to be the best way, even better than all the gruesome deaths he’s fantasized about over the years.

This way only inspires the occasional moan which just adds to how good it feels thrusting against Harris. His cock is getting the perfect amount of pressure from Harris’ thigh, making him feel generous. He slides his leg between Harris’ thighs.

He’s getting whimpers now.

It’s a high – winding Harris up like this. It has him moving his hand down between them to run it along Harris’ dick.

It’s a good move that causes Harris to buck and gasp and clutch at Spike. Brings Spike closer to the edge too.

He bites Harris’ neck – not to hurt, just to tease – and increases the pressure and speed of his grip.

Harris moans and comes, half-collapsing on Spike, breathing fast in his ear.

Spike’s still hard but that’s okay. One look at those red lips and flushed cheeks has him wanting more. Wanting to feel that pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. Cause it’s not that he likes Harris, it's just been a long time and he’s always up for fun, especially when it’s this good.

Harris is looking around, as if taking in their surroundings for the first time. “I can’t believe we just did that two feet away from Hilda Mitchell’s gravestone.”

Spike snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure she’s horrified.” He takes his time getting out a cigarette and lighting it. Inhales, exhales. "Could go somewhere more private."

Harris’ face flushes more and he looks down at his shoes. “I guess we could go, you know, to, um, my place.” He meets Spike’s eyes for a brief moment before returning to examining his sneakers. “If you want. I mean, I have cable.”

“Yeah?” Spike nods and starts walking. Harris falls in step beside him. “At least your basement’s dark.”


*end*