The Fable
TITLE: The Fable
12/24
AUTHOR: BmblBee
Paring: Spander
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Bad language and M/M sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters used
in this story.
Summary: A new take on the old fable of Rumpelstiltskin.
Xander is held in the tower prison of the evil King Liam and has
been ordered to spin a roomful of straw to gold. Can he do
it? Is there someone who can help?
Author's note: This story is not betaed or spell checked by anyone but me.
If there are errors that you simply have to point out, feel free but don't be upset
if I don't care.
Other than grammatical errors, comments are greatly appreciated.
Thanks to Naughty Fae for the pre-read and encouragement
Link to previous chapters HERE
Xander stirred slightly as he floated from his deep sleep, aware of two things. First, he knew
he had a hell of a kink in his neck and back from the lumpy, horse-hair mat and the cold
that seeped through it from the hard, stone floor. The other thing that became obvious as soon
as he squinted open an eye was that the sun was again nearly set. He had slept away the day
like a man with no worries in the world.
Then he remembered.
At almost the same instant that the crushing details of his situation came rushing back to
him, one last anomaly became apparent. In a solitary room that should be silent, there
was a now-familiar sound that brought a flood of reassurance and comfort.
It was the soft, rhythmic whoosh, whoosh of the spinning wheel.
Immediately, Xander shot into an upright sitting position, a move which caused him to wince
at the stab of ouch in his spine and his hand reached around to rub the small of his
back. "Spike?"
"Evening, sleepyhead." The familiar voice was like a gift from home.
Xander scooted around and folded his legs in front of him as a wide smile covered his face.
The sun was not yet fully set and in this muted light he could faintly make out the silhouette
of the man who worked diligently and rapidly at the wheel in the center of the room. It was
a quickly fading dusky illumination that gave up some details while masking most others.
Xander could see that his new friend had very pale, almost white hair that tumbled in loose
curls to a length that framed a face of indistinguishable features. The man seemed
oddly hunchbacked but Xander was unable to determine if that was his frame or if the
contortion was due to the position needed to feed the straw through the spindle. Another
thing that he could see was that Spike was slight. His arms and legs carried no excessive
fat which was indicative of any peasant in King Liam's land.
"When did you get here?"
Spike grinned. It had been a long time since someone spoke to him in such a welcoming
tone. "Not long ago."
Xander ducked his head and he picked idly at a stalk of straw, hoping his voice didn't sound
too pathetic. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back."
Spike shrugged. "Didn't have anything else to do this evening so I thought I would stop in
and check on you." Spike refused to admit to himself that it was probably nothing more
than gratitude that colored Xander's warm greeting.
Surprising them both, Xander barked out a laugh at the absurdity of a man wandering around
the well-guarded tower prison with nothing better to do than spin a room full of straw into
gold. For Spike, a man who had not heard another human laugh in nearly twelve years, it was
a sound so foreign and wonderful that it caused his foot to still and the wheel to slow as he
lifted his face towards the source of the joy.
Quickly, he recovered as he snatched up a fistful of straw and resumed his task as he tried
to maintain an aloof attitude. "So, young Xander. How was your day? I see they brought
you food that you did not eat. You know you should keep up your strength."
Xander looked over at the platter of wooden bowls and he wrinkled up his nose. "Yeah,
well we must have rats in here because it looks like something was feeding on the food."
Spike smirked at the memory of the delicious fruit. "Rats, huh? Well, you never know
who might be lurking about in your cell as you sleep."
Xander chuckled and he scooted to sit closer to his friend as the last of the daylight robbed
him of even the slightest bit of visual aid. When he got close enough to feel the movement of
the air from Spike's leg, Xander sighed and settled in. "I'm glad you're here. I mean, yeah,
you're saving my head by spinning the straw for me but it is more than that. I'm so alone
when you are not here. Are we friends, Spike? Can we be friends? No matter how all
of this ends up, I would like to think that we were friends."
Again, the peddle of the wheel slowed as Spike turned to face the boy at his side. The lack
of light offered no hindrance to his ability to see Xander clearly. And what Spike saw
was sincerity. In his innocence and lack of life experience, the lad had apparently not learned
the art of deception and manipulation. It was a stunning revelation and one that touched
Spike right down to his demon possessed soul. "Of course we are friends, Xander. I am
very proud to count you as a friend."
Xander nodded and grinned while, in a move to try and be helpful, he repeated his actions of
the night before as he used his hands to scoop large bundles of straw. He then piled it
up to within Spike's reach while he let the warm sensation of the man's words flow through
him. Friends. They were friends. It brought Xander great comfort to know that he would
not die alone, although he was still hesitant to admit that that outcome was the inevitable
one. "Can you tell me about yourself, Spike? I like it when we talk. Do you really live in
a forest far from here? What do you do there? Are you a herder of livestock or perhaps
a woodcutter?"
Uncomfortable with where that line of questioning may take them, Spike turned his focus back
to his labor and diverted the conversation away from himself. "I would rather know about
you. What is your life like? Have you been schooled? Do you have a lovely young maiden
who has her eye on you and the hope of your son's in her belly?"
"SPIKE!" Xander giggled at the outrageously, indecent charge. "I know no females who
would even entertain such an imagining about me."
Spike's rigid, bony brow crinkled slightly. "No? A very handsome and well-built young
man like you? I would have thought you would be sliding your hands beneath the skirts
of a dozen pretty young girls in search of their wet secrets."
Xander took no offense to a comment that, when coming from his father, had always
sounded like an accusation. But here, in the dark, with a man to whom he was literally
trusting his life, Xander felt the freedom to speak his mind and murmur his deepest heart
and fears. When he answered, his voice was low, quiet and thoughtful. "I don't know.
There are several girls in the nearby village and one whose father often helps cut the trees
of our forest. I see the maidens and they are very nice but when they talk to me they are
silly and say nothing with a lot of words. I don't like spending time with them."
Spike laughed. He remembered the girls of the court when he was still a young prince
in the castle. "Yes. They can be a bit verbose."
"Verbose?"
Spike nodded. "Chatty, talkative. Yeah?"
Xander brushed a clump of straw dust from his shirt and sneezed. After rubbing his hand
under his nose, he reached out and let his fingers slightly ghost over Spike's rising and
falling leg. "Yeah, chatty. You're very smart, aren't you Spike? You musta gone to
some school."
"I did when I was very young but my book instruction stopped abruptly when I was twelve
years of age, but you are causing a diversion my young friend. I believe we were discussing
your interest, or lack there of, in the soft, dampness of the female body."
Xander shuddered. "Gosh, Spike you are really blunt. I guess the truth is.... not. I think
there might be something wrong with me. I hear the other lads in the market place talk
about their, you know, peckers getting stiff at the thought of a pretty lass lifting her skirts
for them but I just don't feel it. I've tried. One time I even hid behind the cart of the scrap
seller and I tried to watch Miss Barbara, the village ribbon lady while I rubbed myself but
my tally-whacker just wouldn't rise in me own hand. Do you think my manhood suffers
an irregularity, Spike?"
It was all Spike could do to refrain from bursting out in a hearty laugh at the boy's sincere,
pitiful confession. But he wouldn't do that. It would be hurtful and a serious breech of
their tentative, new friendship. Instead, Spike responded in casual tone that implied they
were discussing some mundane topic such as the weather or the skinning of a deer. "No,
I doubt that there is any real concern. Some lads just take a bit longer to find their interest
than others. Now, don't tell me that you have never done yourself a favor while lying in your
bed at night. Quiet, so's your folks don't hear. Pulling on wood rather than cutting it while
your mind sees things that you want to have. What is it that your mind sees, Xander.
What does give you pause and pleasure?"
Xander fell silent. This was something that he had always refused to acknowledge even
to himself and certainly never to someone else but here in the dark with the swordsman's
blade itching to scratch the back of Xander's neck, he wondered if confession truly was
good for the soul.
Glancing over, Spike's yellow eyes glowed to get a better look at the boy who suddenly
had nothing to say. It piqued Spike's interest and renewed his suspicions. "Xander?"
Xander took a deep breath and thanked the sun for it's departure from the sky. "I think
bad things."
Spike's own dick stirred slightly at the possible prospects and he licked his lips. "Bad
things? You? I find that hard to believe, young Xander. Come on now, what sort of ideas
swim about in your brain and trousers?"
Xander swallowed hard. "A couple years ago, I took our ox cart to the village. It was
loaded down with wood for the King's courier and some beaver pelts to exchange for flour
and seeds. When I got there, the royal wagons were already loading up and I had to hurry
to give our share and make sure our family's name was marked off on their tally. As I started
to unload my cut, the man with the counting book offered to help me. He was older than
me. Taller and lean. When he smiled at me his teeth were white and straight and his eyes
were clear and blue. His hand kept bumping mine and each time he would laugh. It made
me laugh too but I'm not even sure why. That night, and several nights after, when I would
touch myself, it was his body I thought about. Even as I knew it was sick and wrong. It
didn't matter. It made me feel so good. Am I terrible, Spike? Am I cursed and sick in my soul?"
This time when Spike answered, he stopped his task completely and turned fully towards the
boy at his feet. He ran his claw-like hands through the rich, dark hair and he lightly scraped
his nails across Xander's scalp in a move of connection and confirmation. "There is
absolutely nothing sick or wrong with you, boy. Everyone finds pleasure in their own
way and every man who walks the earth has a right to a happiness of his own choosing.
In fact, I would be amiss if I didn't confess to a certain proclivity myself."
"Huh?" Xander's brain short circuited at the combination of the confusing words and
the surprising physical contact with the man at the wheel.
Spike chuckled and resumed his spinning. "Sorry. Let me explain. When I was very young,
my future was already arranged for me and the woman I was to marry selected. For reasons
I won't explain, it didn't work out and, fact is, it is probably for the best. You see, I too
struggle to release my seed at the idea of a maiden riding my manhood. But, I believe we
were talking about you and your mystery man, were we not? Tell me Xander. Did the two
of you sneak off together? Did he plant a kiss on your sweet lips? Did he show you his dingle?"
"Holy moley, Spike!!! How you talk! Gosh no he didn't.. We didn't.... I didn't....
NO! I ain't seen no other man's dingle. 'Cept fer my Pa but that don't count. His is all
ugly and shriveled and sad. Not that I was thinkin' about it or nothin' I ain't that twisted."
Spike threw his head back and he laughed with a gusto he hadn't felt in years. His life had
been so lonely and depressing for so long that he had forgotten what real joy felt like and it
felt damn good. Suddenly, despite their present situation, Spike was feeling silly and
carefree. "But your stranger. You thought about his wiggler didn't you? You imagined
what it would look like. How it would feel resting in the palm of your hand. What it might
taste like on the tip of your tongue. Was it big in your dreams? Did your own dick get so
hard that you didn't have enough skin left to blink with?"
Xander roared. By now he was rolling around on the dusty floor and stirring up a cloud of
dust that left him coughing and choked as the tears ran down his cheek. "Stop! Stop! You
are making my sides hurt from laughing."
"Do you want to?"
Spike's question had come on such a soft, suggestive voice that Xander immediately
stopped laughing and he lay very still. "Do I want to what?"
Spike felt a zip of naughty excitement rush through his body. He knew this wasn't the time
or place for either of them, but considering their futures, or lack of, what better time was
there? Besides, his craving for a warm touch was so overwhelming that it already had his
cock warming and moving between his legs. "Do you want to know another man's saber?"
"Yours?"
"Mine."
Xander's breath hitched. "But it is dark. I can't see you."
Spike's leg slowly lifted and swung in an arc over the wheel of the spinner in a move that
seemed to stop time and space. "A blind man sees with his hands. Would you like to let
your fingers look at what your eyes cannot?"
Xander's mouth gaped open and no logical words came to mind. Instead, he responded
by crawling up and onto his knees and edging over closer to where Spike now stood. The
room was cloaked in a thick, syrupy silence. The constant whooshing of the wheel had
ceased and neither man uttered a sound which made the soft rustle of Spike's clothing seem
as if it were the loudest thing Xander had ever heard. He knew what it meant. Spike was
going to make good on his offer.
Cautiously, Xander's hand reached out in the darkness towards the unseen and hoping that
Spike would position himself. Suddenly, an iron grip clamped itself around Xander's
wrist effectively stopping him in mid-air as Spike's voice growled. "You must touch no
other part of me. Do you understand? Do you swear?"
Xander nodded his head vigorously. "I don't understand but I promise."
With the assurance that Xander would remain blissfully ignorant of the deformities that
twisted Spike into a monster, he eased his hold on the boy's hand and gently guided it
forward until Xander's fingers lightly grazed the swollen shaft of Spike's cock. In unison,
both men gasped at the shock of the wonderful contact.
Involuntarily, Spike leaned forward as he let go of Xander's hand to see what the boy would
do and any remaining concerns of rejection were quickly dispelled when the boy boldly
wrapped his fingers snugly around the firm erection. His thumb pressed against the
loose, velvety skin and he gingerly pushed it up and down. The act elicited a soft moan as
Spike stepped his feet further apart. "Oh, Xander, that feels wonderful."
The statement caught Xander off guard. He had believed that Spike was doing this as
concession for an inexperienced boy who probably had no other future but the realization
that Xander was also giving pleasure thrilled him beyond belief. Encouraged by the praise
and his own raging hard-on, Xander wrapped his hand fully around the other's manhood.
It felt much like his own and yet vastly different. Spike was longer. Slimmer and although
hard as a rock, Spike had a great deal more rubbery flesh covering his pecker.
But none of the differences matter. What was important was that Xander had a cock in his
hand and as if it were his own, he knew exactly what to do with it.
He began to stroke. Smoothly. Firmly. Like a man who had milked a dozen cows.
"Oh, fuck!" Spike humped forward as the hot shock of sex shot through him and he knew if
he didn't act quickly, he would spill his seed too soon. Again, he snatched at the boy's
wrist, forcing him to stop. "Stop! Stand up! Remove your britches and expose yourself to
me. As you satisfy me, I wish to return the favor."
"Wow!" Xander's whisper had barely left his lips before he was on his feet and his pants pooled at his ankles. The next thing he heard was Spike spitting twice just before grabbing Xander's extended reach. When he slapped their palms together, Xander's hand was coated with a dollop of saliva which he would not let go to waste.
With nothing else to say, both men got down to the task of bringing and receiving pleasure and in less than three minutes, Xander felt the lighting sharp snap burn down his spine. It boiled in his ball sac just seconds before signaling the first shot of hot, sticky seed from his pulsing cock. In response to the smell and feel of the spill over his hand, Spike's own dick reacted and he too enjoyed the most powerful orgasm he had ever known.
12/24
AUTHOR: BmblBee
Paring: Spander
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Bad language and M/M sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters used
in this story.
Summary: A new take on the old fable of Rumpelstiltskin.
Xander is held in the tower prison of the evil King Liam and has
been ordered to spin a roomful of straw to gold. Can he do
it? Is there someone who can help?
Author's note: This story is not betaed or spell checked by anyone but me.
If there are errors that you simply have to point out, feel free but don't be upset
if I don't care.
Other than grammatical errors, comments are greatly appreciated.
Thanks to Naughty Fae for the pre-read and encouragement
Link to previous chapters HERE
Xander stirred slightly as he floated from his deep sleep, aware of two things. First, he knew
he had a hell of a kink in his neck and back from the lumpy, horse-hair mat and the cold
that seeped through it from the hard, stone floor. The other thing that became obvious as soon
as he squinted open an eye was that the sun was again nearly set. He had slept away the day
like a man with no worries in the world.
Then he remembered.
At almost the same instant that the crushing details of his situation came rushing back to
him, one last anomaly became apparent. In a solitary room that should be silent, there
was a now-familiar sound that brought a flood of reassurance and comfort.
It was the soft, rhythmic whoosh, whoosh of the spinning wheel.
Immediately, Xander shot into an upright sitting position, a move which caused him to wince
at the stab of ouch in his spine and his hand reached around to rub the small of his
back. "Spike?"
"Evening, sleepyhead." The familiar voice was like a gift from home.
Xander scooted around and folded his legs in front of him as a wide smile covered his face.
The sun was not yet fully set and in this muted light he could faintly make out the silhouette
of the man who worked diligently and rapidly at the wheel in the center of the room. It was
a quickly fading dusky illumination that gave up some details while masking most others.
Xander could see that his new friend had very pale, almost white hair that tumbled in loose
curls to a length that framed a face of indistinguishable features. The man seemed
oddly hunchbacked but Xander was unable to determine if that was his frame or if the
contortion was due to the position needed to feed the straw through the spindle. Another
thing that he could see was that Spike was slight. His arms and legs carried no excessive
fat which was indicative of any peasant in King Liam's land.
"When did you get here?"
Spike grinned. It had been a long time since someone spoke to him in such a welcoming
tone. "Not long ago."
Xander ducked his head and he picked idly at a stalk of straw, hoping his voice didn't sound
too pathetic. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back."
Spike shrugged. "Didn't have anything else to do this evening so I thought I would stop in
and check on you." Spike refused to admit to himself that it was probably nothing more
than gratitude that colored Xander's warm greeting.
Surprising them both, Xander barked out a laugh at the absurdity of a man wandering around
the well-guarded tower prison with nothing better to do than spin a room full of straw into
gold. For Spike, a man who had not heard another human laugh in nearly twelve years, it was
a sound so foreign and wonderful that it caused his foot to still and the wheel to slow as he
lifted his face towards the source of the joy.
Quickly, he recovered as he snatched up a fistful of straw and resumed his task as he tried
to maintain an aloof attitude. "So, young Xander. How was your day? I see they brought
you food that you did not eat. You know you should keep up your strength."
Xander looked over at the platter of wooden bowls and he wrinkled up his nose. "Yeah,
well we must have rats in here because it looks like something was feeding on the food."
Spike smirked at the memory of the delicious fruit. "Rats, huh? Well, you never know
who might be lurking about in your cell as you sleep."
Xander chuckled and he scooted to sit closer to his friend as the last of the daylight robbed
him of even the slightest bit of visual aid. When he got close enough to feel the movement of
the air from Spike's leg, Xander sighed and settled in. "I'm glad you're here. I mean, yeah,
you're saving my head by spinning the straw for me but it is more than that. I'm so alone
when you are not here. Are we friends, Spike? Can we be friends? No matter how all
of this ends up, I would like to think that we were friends."
Again, the peddle of the wheel slowed as Spike turned to face the boy at his side. The lack
of light offered no hindrance to his ability to see Xander clearly. And what Spike saw
was sincerity. In his innocence and lack of life experience, the lad had apparently not learned
the art of deception and manipulation. It was a stunning revelation and one that touched
Spike right down to his demon possessed soul. "Of course we are friends, Xander. I am
very proud to count you as a friend."
Xander nodded and grinned while, in a move to try and be helpful, he repeated his actions of
the night before as he used his hands to scoop large bundles of straw. He then piled it
up to within Spike's reach while he let the warm sensation of the man's words flow through
him. Friends. They were friends. It brought Xander great comfort to know that he would
not die alone, although he was still hesitant to admit that that outcome was the inevitable
one. "Can you tell me about yourself, Spike? I like it when we talk. Do you really live in
a forest far from here? What do you do there? Are you a herder of livestock or perhaps
a woodcutter?"
Uncomfortable with where that line of questioning may take them, Spike turned his focus back
to his labor and diverted the conversation away from himself. "I would rather know about
you. What is your life like? Have you been schooled? Do you have a lovely young maiden
who has her eye on you and the hope of your son's in her belly?"
"SPIKE!" Xander giggled at the outrageously, indecent charge. "I know no females who
would even entertain such an imagining about me."
Spike's rigid, bony brow crinkled slightly. "No? A very handsome and well-built young
man like you? I would have thought you would be sliding your hands beneath the skirts
of a dozen pretty young girls in search of their wet secrets."
Xander took no offense to a comment that, when coming from his father, had always
sounded like an accusation. But here, in the dark, with a man to whom he was literally
trusting his life, Xander felt the freedom to speak his mind and murmur his deepest heart
and fears. When he answered, his voice was low, quiet and thoughtful. "I don't know.
There are several girls in the nearby village and one whose father often helps cut the trees
of our forest. I see the maidens and they are very nice but when they talk to me they are
silly and say nothing with a lot of words. I don't like spending time with them."
Spike laughed. He remembered the girls of the court when he was still a young prince
in the castle. "Yes. They can be a bit verbose."
"Verbose?"
Spike nodded. "Chatty, talkative. Yeah?"
Xander brushed a clump of straw dust from his shirt and sneezed. After rubbing his hand
under his nose, he reached out and let his fingers slightly ghost over Spike's rising and
falling leg. "Yeah, chatty. You're very smart, aren't you Spike? You musta gone to
some school."
"I did when I was very young but my book instruction stopped abruptly when I was twelve
years of age, but you are causing a diversion my young friend. I believe we were discussing
your interest, or lack there of, in the soft, dampness of the female body."
Xander shuddered. "Gosh, Spike you are really blunt. I guess the truth is.... not. I think
there might be something wrong with me. I hear the other lads in the market place talk
about their, you know, peckers getting stiff at the thought of a pretty lass lifting her skirts
for them but I just don't feel it. I've tried. One time I even hid behind the cart of the scrap
seller and I tried to watch Miss Barbara, the village ribbon lady while I rubbed myself but
my tally-whacker just wouldn't rise in me own hand. Do you think my manhood suffers
an irregularity, Spike?"
It was all Spike could do to refrain from bursting out in a hearty laugh at the boy's sincere,
pitiful confession. But he wouldn't do that. It would be hurtful and a serious breech of
their tentative, new friendship. Instead, Spike responded in casual tone that implied they
were discussing some mundane topic such as the weather or the skinning of a deer. "No,
I doubt that there is any real concern. Some lads just take a bit longer to find their interest
than others. Now, don't tell me that you have never done yourself a favor while lying in your
bed at night. Quiet, so's your folks don't hear. Pulling on wood rather than cutting it while
your mind sees things that you want to have. What is it that your mind sees, Xander.
What does give you pause and pleasure?"
Xander fell silent. This was something that he had always refused to acknowledge even
to himself and certainly never to someone else but here in the dark with the swordsman's
blade itching to scratch the back of Xander's neck, he wondered if confession truly was
good for the soul.
Glancing over, Spike's yellow eyes glowed to get a better look at the boy who suddenly
had nothing to say. It piqued Spike's interest and renewed his suspicions. "Xander?"
Xander took a deep breath and thanked the sun for it's departure from the sky. "I think
bad things."
Spike's own dick stirred slightly at the possible prospects and he licked his lips. "Bad
things? You? I find that hard to believe, young Xander. Come on now, what sort of ideas
swim about in your brain and trousers?"
Xander swallowed hard. "A couple years ago, I took our ox cart to the village. It was
loaded down with wood for the King's courier and some beaver pelts to exchange for flour
and seeds. When I got there, the royal wagons were already loading up and I had to hurry
to give our share and make sure our family's name was marked off on their tally. As I started
to unload my cut, the man with the counting book offered to help me. He was older than
me. Taller and lean. When he smiled at me his teeth were white and straight and his eyes
were clear and blue. His hand kept bumping mine and each time he would laugh. It made
me laugh too but I'm not even sure why. That night, and several nights after, when I would
touch myself, it was his body I thought about. Even as I knew it was sick and wrong. It
didn't matter. It made me feel so good. Am I terrible, Spike? Am I cursed and sick in my soul?"
This time when Spike answered, he stopped his task completely and turned fully towards the
boy at his feet. He ran his claw-like hands through the rich, dark hair and he lightly scraped
his nails across Xander's scalp in a move of connection and confirmation. "There is
absolutely nothing sick or wrong with you, boy. Everyone finds pleasure in their own
way and every man who walks the earth has a right to a happiness of his own choosing.
In fact, I would be amiss if I didn't confess to a certain proclivity myself."
"Huh?" Xander's brain short circuited at the combination of the confusing words and
the surprising physical contact with the man at the wheel.
Spike chuckled and resumed his spinning. "Sorry. Let me explain. When I was very young,
my future was already arranged for me and the woman I was to marry selected. For reasons
I won't explain, it didn't work out and, fact is, it is probably for the best. You see, I too
struggle to release my seed at the idea of a maiden riding my manhood. But, I believe we
were talking about you and your mystery man, were we not? Tell me Xander. Did the two
of you sneak off together? Did he plant a kiss on your sweet lips? Did he show you his dingle?"
"Holy moley, Spike!!! How you talk! Gosh no he didn't.. We didn't.... I didn't....
NO! I ain't seen no other man's dingle. 'Cept fer my Pa but that don't count. His is all
ugly and shriveled and sad. Not that I was thinkin' about it or nothin' I ain't that twisted."
Spike threw his head back and he laughed with a gusto he hadn't felt in years. His life had
been so lonely and depressing for so long that he had forgotten what real joy felt like and it
felt damn good. Suddenly, despite their present situation, Spike was feeling silly and
carefree. "But your stranger. You thought about his wiggler didn't you? You imagined
what it would look like. How it would feel resting in the palm of your hand. What it might
taste like on the tip of your tongue. Was it big in your dreams? Did your own dick get so
hard that you didn't have enough skin left to blink with?"
Xander roared. By now he was rolling around on the dusty floor and stirring up a cloud of
dust that left him coughing and choked as the tears ran down his cheek. "Stop! Stop! You
are making my sides hurt from laughing."
"Do you want to?"
Spike's question had come on such a soft, suggestive voice that Xander immediately
stopped laughing and he lay very still. "Do I want to what?"
Spike felt a zip of naughty excitement rush through his body. He knew this wasn't the time
or place for either of them, but considering their futures, or lack of, what better time was
there? Besides, his craving for a warm touch was so overwhelming that it already had his
cock warming and moving between his legs. "Do you want to know another man's saber?"
"Yours?"
"Mine."
Xander's breath hitched. "But it is dark. I can't see you."
Spike's leg slowly lifted and swung in an arc over the wheel of the spinner in a move that
seemed to stop time and space. "A blind man sees with his hands. Would you like to let
your fingers look at what your eyes cannot?"
Xander's mouth gaped open and no logical words came to mind. Instead, he responded
by crawling up and onto his knees and edging over closer to where Spike now stood. The
room was cloaked in a thick, syrupy silence. The constant whooshing of the wheel had
ceased and neither man uttered a sound which made the soft rustle of Spike's clothing seem
as if it were the loudest thing Xander had ever heard. He knew what it meant. Spike was
going to make good on his offer.
Cautiously, Xander's hand reached out in the darkness towards the unseen and hoping that
Spike would position himself. Suddenly, an iron grip clamped itself around Xander's
wrist effectively stopping him in mid-air as Spike's voice growled. "You must touch no
other part of me. Do you understand? Do you swear?"
Xander nodded his head vigorously. "I don't understand but I promise."
With the assurance that Xander would remain blissfully ignorant of the deformities that
twisted Spike into a monster, he eased his hold on the boy's hand and gently guided it
forward until Xander's fingers lightly grazed the swollen shaft of Spike's cock. In unison,
both men gasped at the shock of the wonderful contact.
Involuntarily, Spike leaned forward as he let go of Xander's hand to see what the boy would
do and any remaining concerns of rejection were quickly dispelled when the boy boldly
wrapped his fingers snugly around the firm erection. His thumb pressed against the
loose, velvety skin and he gingerly pushed it up and down. The act elicited a soft moan as
Spike stepped his feet further apart. "Oh, Xander, that feels wonderful."
The statement caught Xander off guard. He had believed that Spike was doing this as
concession for an inexperienced boy who probably had no other future but the realization
that Xander was also giving pleasure thrilled him beyond belief. Encouraged by the praise
and his own raging hard-on, Xander wrapped his hand fully around the other's manhood.
It felt much like his own and yet vastly different. Spike was longer. Slimmer and although
hard as a rock, Spike had a great deal more rubbery flesh covering his pecker.
But none of the differences matter. What was important was that Xander had a cock in his
hand and as if it were his own, he knew exactly what to do with it.
He began to stroke. Smoothly. Firmly. Like a man who had milked a dozen cows.
"Oh, fuck!" Spike humped forward as the hot shock of sex shot through him and he knew if
he didn't act quickly, he would spill his seed too soon. Again, he snatched at the boy's
wrist, forcing him to stop. "Stop! Stand up! Remove your britches and expose yourself to
me. As you satisfy me, I wish to return the favor."
"Wow!" Xander's whisper had barely left his lips before he was on his feet and his pants pooled at his ankles. The next thing he heard was Spike spitting twice just before grabbing Xander's extended reach. When he slapped their palms together, Xander's hand was coated with a dollop of saliva which he would not let go to waste.
With nothing else to say, both men got down to the task of bringing and receiving pleasure and in less than three minutes, Xander felt the lighting sharp snap burn down his spine. It boiled in his ball sac just seconds before signaling the first shot of hot, sticky seed from his pulsing cock. In response to the smell and feel of the spill over his hand, Spike's own dick reacted and he too enjoyed the most powerful orgasm he had ever known.