Xander on Top
by Minim Calibre
First thing Xander does when he wakes up is pay Anya a visit. Asks her if he can come in (it's almost too bad she's human, but hell, he's hungry), maybe talk things out. Yeah, she thinks she knows him. Xander Lavelle Harris, wouldn't hurt a fly. She's in for a rude awakening, but he's still a nice guy. He lets her come before he rips her throat out.
Second thing Xander does is go home. There's someone in the closet he should be calling daddy, and that someone needs a stern talking-to.
That someone is hitting himself again, broken words spilling from his useless mouth. "I didn't mean it, it wasn't me, I'm sorry, G-d, I'm sorry."
"Save it for Buffy, Spike. I don't have time for this crap."
Spike has tears streaming down his face. Xander never thought he'd see something more pathetic than the human Xander Harris. Guess he'd been wrong about that, too.
"What? You think I'd hang out in the graveyard, let Buffy clean up your mess? Get up."
Spike just stays there, curled in a ball with his fists beating against his ears. Well, he can't say Xander didn't warn him.
Xander grabs him by the shoulders and lifts him. Without the bravado and the swagger, Spike's small, almost girlish. This... thing. This whimpering, cowering... thing. This is the monster who held him in a basement? The creature who fucked his woman? The bastard who tried to rape Buffy? This?
It's payback time.
"Hey, Spike, I think I know just the thing that'll make up for everything you've ever done to me or to anyone else, for that matter."
Xander drags the unresisting fool to the bedroom and throws him roughly on the mattress. Spike tries to curl back into fetal, but he's too crazy and weak, no match for the Xand man. Xander pulls Spikes pants down to his ankles--he does Spike's laundry, or did, so he knows he won't find anything under them but firm white flesh.
He's never been this hard, and hard has never felt this good--he can feel every swollen inch of himself, every fiber of his underwear against his cock. He'd be burning up if he wasn't lukewarm.
He unbuttons his own pants, shoves them off impatiently and takes the underwear with them. Spike's whimpering still, but he's spread his legs like a good boy. Spike knows what's coming to him. Maybe he's not as stupid as he looks.
Cool, tight flesh rips around him as Xander thrusts inside without preparation or apology. The shock of it causes Spike's ass to clench, holding him so tight he has to use all his strength to push in, and man, this is better than Faith.
Xander comes, hard, to a symphony of tears and apologies spilling from Spike's mouth. He pulls out, puts his pants back on, and looks down at the battered vamp who sired him.
"Things are going to change around here," he tells Spike. "And first things first... it's time you start picking up your own damned towels."
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