FIC: No Comment (S/X, manny!verse human AU, Mature)
Informal participation in WriSoMiFu is good for me.
Good for you, too, if you enjoy hotass!male!nanny fic.
Now I just need a CaFuCoBi (Catch up on your Fucking Comments, Bitch) month and I'll be set.
Previous manny lovin' in tags. 1215 words, unbeta'd. Feel free to point out errors.
“Daaad!” The voice came winding down the stairs.
Xander swallowed and willed his own voice to actually work. “Hold on, honey. I’m coming.”
“Already?” This voice slid into his ear on a wave of warm breath. “I thought older men were supposed to have stamina.”
“I thought…” Xander gasped as sharp teeth nipped at the skin of his neck. “I thought we agreed not…” It was hard to say which was more distracting - the tongue now sliding along his collarbone or the finger circling his nipple. “…to call me old.”
“Not old, luv.” The finger trailed down his chest. “Just older…” The tongue traced its way toward the nipple the finger had left behind. “Wiser…” The finger blazed a new trail, skating past Xander’s belly button. “More masterful…”
Xander swallowed again as a shiver ran through his body. “Oh yeah,” he muttered, “because I’m totally the one running the show here.”
“Could be.” The words brushed against Xander’s abdomen, tickling the skin and causing the muscles to clench. “Could put me in my place.”
“Actually, you’re, um…doing a pretty good job of placing yourself at the moment…but, um…you really need to get off.”
“Mmm…you read my mind.”
“No…” From somewhere deep inside, Xander found the willpower to put a hand on Spike’s shoulder and push. Lightly. “I mean you need-”
“Daaad!” This time the call was accompanied by the sound of little feet on wooden stairs and, without intending it, Xander’s light push turned into a shove.
Spike tumbled to the opposite end of the couch, fingers suddenly clumsy as he tried to do up his fly. Xander tossed a throw blanket into Spike’s lap before struggling with the buttons of his own shirt.
Xander shoved a button through its hole and thanked God that his own fly was still closed.
He tackled a second one and thanked God that his daughters had actually been paying attention when he told them never ever to run down the stairs.
He stumbled through a third and thanked God for the fact that the couch faced away from those stairs.
By the time Ella rounded the couch, he’d managed one last button, the artful arrangement of his shirttails, and a brief apology to God in case He happened to be listening - since Xander doubted He would be too keen on taking credit for this particular dodged bullet.
Xander smiled at his daughter. “Hey, pumpkin, what’s up?” He pretended not to hear Spike’s snicker.
More footsteps down the stairs and Xander waited patiently as first Ella and then Halle made their respective cases for whose turn it was to pick the video and which they each wanted to watch next. In the end, Xander decided the dispute based on a criterion that he felt was both objective and fair.
Length.
Halle and Ella trotted back up the stairs.
“They should be up there for awh-” The tongue pushing its way between Xander’s lips made it hard to speak.
Twenty minutes later, clothed but vertical, Xander thought he heard a noise on the stairs.
He froze.
Listened.
Nothing.
“Jesus,” Xander muttered. “Making out on the couch while listening for footsteps on the stairs, keeping just enough clothing in place to pretend you’ve been watching a movie. I feel like a teenager again.”
“No comment,” Spike said.
Xander and Spike were in the kitchen when the phone rang. Xander tossed Spike the loaf of bread and picked the cordless receiver up off the wall. “Hello?”
“So…?” prompted the voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Will.” Xander moved to the fridge.
“Hey yourself. Come on - spill.”
“Not at the moment, no,” Xander said, as if answering a question. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, then pulled lettuce and tomato from the crisper, turning around to set them on the counter.
“Wait a minute - what are you doing? Are the kids in the room?”
“Making lunch.” He took out the mustard and mayo. “And no.” Not my kids, anyway, added a part of Xander’s brain that was so fired.
“Then why aren’t you making with the juicy details, mister?” Willow demanded. “It’s bad enough that you snuck the kids out last night while I was sleeping.”
“I didn’t sneak.” Xander dug past the sliced ham in search of the turkey. “Tara was there.”
“Tara doesn’t ask any of the good questions.”
“Guess you should’ve stayed awake, then,” Xander said, coming up with turkey at last and passing it back to Spike.
“Xander!”
Spike held up a knife and looked at him askance. Xander pointed to the cutting board.
“What?” he said into the phone.
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” Suddenly, Willow’s voiced dropped. “Oh my god, was it awful?”
“No,” Xander said, prompting a high-pitched squeal painful even through the phone.
“I knew it! Was it good?”
“Yep.” Xander headed into the pantry in search of potato chips.
He held the phone away from his ear as Willow squealed again. “Was it awesome?”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh, come on. ‘Yes,’ ‘no,’ ‘uh huh’ - could I get an answer with more than one syllable here?”
“Actually,” Xander pointed out as he carried the potato chips out into the kitchen, “that last one was two.”
“Okay, ‘uh’ and ‘huh’? Do not count as syllables.”
“Pretty sure they do.” Xander frowned at the potato chips for a second and then returned to the fridge. “Guess I wasn’t the only one nodding off in English class.”
“Xander Harris, you are deliberately torturing me and I do not appreciate it.”
“Actually, no,” Xander said, pulling out a package of baby carrots.
“What do you mean ‘no’? If you’re not torturing me, then why won’t you…. Oh my god, he’s there, isn’t he? He is totally in the room with you.”
Xander looked over and smiled at Spike, who was making his third sandwich. “Uh huh.”
“But you came and got the kids. He didn’t…I mean, did he spend the night?”
“Of course not.” Xander pulled out a few more pieces of bread, set them on the counter and then turned to put the rest of the loaf away.
“Still, I can’t believe he’s there. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Keeping his back to Spike, Xander rolled his eyes. “Like what, for example?”
“All right - stupid question. But first thing tomorrow we are so developing a code.”
“Sure.” Xander removed four glasses - two glass, two plastic - from the cupboard.
“Okay, so, cough once for smoochies, twice for sex.” Willow paused as, apparently, it occurred to her that there were other options. “Oh, and three times for oral sex, four times for a hand job, and five times for frottage.”
“No thanks,” Xander said.
“Okay, fine, so the code needs some work. Meanwhile, I still need some details.”
“Sorry.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Girls?” he called up the stairs. “Lunch.”
“You don’t sound sorry,” Willow said. “You sound…” Even through the phone Xander could feel her eyes boring into his soul. “You sound like a man who spent all morning making out on the couch like a teenager while his kids were upstairs watching TV.”
“Huh,” Xander said. “Imagine that.”
He hung up the phone and hurried to sneak in one more kiss before the girls got downstairs.
Good for you, too, if you enjoy hotass!male!nanny fic.
Now I just need a CaFuCoBi (Catch up on your Fucking Comments, Bitch) month and I'll be set.
Previous manny lovin' in tags. 1215 words, unbeta'd. Feel free to point out errors.
“Daaad!” The voice came winding down the stairs.
Xander swallowed and willed his own voice to actually work. “Hold on, honey. I’m coming.”
“Already?” This voice slid into his ear on a wave of warm breath. “I thought older men were supposed to have stamina.”
“I thought…” Xander gasped as sharp teeth nipped at the skin of his neck. “I thought we agreed not…” It was hard to say which was more distracting - the tongue now sliding along his collarbone or the finger circling his nipple. “…to call me old.”
“Not old, luv.” The finger trailed down his chest. “Just older…” The tongue traced its way toward the nipple the finger had left behind. “Wiser…” The finger blazed a new trail, skating past Xander’s belly button. “More masterful…”
Xander swallowed again as a shiver ran through his body. “Oh yeah,” he muttered, “because I’m totally the one running the show here.”
“Could be.” The words brushed against Xander’s abdomen, tickling the skin and causing the muscles to clench. “Could put me in my place.”
“Actually, you’re, um…doing a pretty good job of placing yourself at the moment…but, um…you really need to get off.”
“Mmm…you read my mind.”
“No…” From somewhere deep inside, Xander found the willpower to put a hand on Spike’s shoulder and push. Lightly. “I mean you need-”
“Daaad!” This time the call was accompanied by the sound of little feet on wooden stairs and, without intending it, Xander’s light push turned into a shove.
Spike tumbled to the opposite end of the couch, fingers suddenly clumsy as he tried to do up his fly. Xander tossed a throw blanket into Spike’s lap before struggling with the buttons of his own shirt.
Xander shoved a button through its hole and thanked God that his own fly was still closed.
He tackled a second one and thanked God that his daughters had actually been paying attention when he told them never ever to run down the stairs.
He stumbled through a third and thanked God for the fact that the couch faced away from those stairs.
By the time Ella rounded the couch, he’d managed one last button, the artful arrangement of his shirttails, and a brief apology to God in case He happened to be listening - since Xander doubted He would be too keen on taking credit for this particular dodged bullet.
Xander smiled at his daughter. “Hey, pumpkin, what’s up?” He pretended not to hear Spike’s snicker.
More footsteps down the stairs and Xander waited patiently as first Ella and then Halle made their respective cases for whose turn it was to pick the video and which they each wanted to watch next. In the end, Xander decided the dispute based on a criterion that he felt was both objective and fair.
Length.
Halle and Ella trotted back up the stairs.
“They should be up there for awh-” The tongue pushing its way between Xander’s lips made it hard to speak.
Twenty minutes later, clothed but vertical, Xander thought he heard a noise on the stairs.
He froze.
Listened.
Nothing.
“Jesus,” Xander muttered. “Making out on the couch while listening for footsteps on the stairs, keeping just enough clothing in place to pretend you’ve been watching a movie. I feel like a teenager again.”
“No comment,” Spike said.
Xander and Spike were in the kitchen when the phone rang. Xander tossed Spike the loaf of bread and picked the cordless receiver up off the wall. “Hello?”
“So…?” prompted the voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey, Will.” Xander moved to the fridge.
“Hey yourself. Come on - spill.”
“Not at the moment, no,” Xander said, as if answering a question. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, then pulled lettuce and tomato from the crisper, turning around to set them on the counter.
“Wait a minute - what are you doing? Are the kids in the room?”
“Making lunch.” He took out the mustard and mayo. “And no.” Not my kids, anyway, added a part of Xander’s brain that was so fired.
“Then why aren’t you making with the juicy details, mister?” Willow demanded. “It’s bad enough that you snuck the kids out last night while I was sleeping.”
“I didn’t sneak.” Xander dug past the sliced ham in search of the turkey. “Tara was there.”
“Tara doesn’t ask any of the good questions.”
“Guess you should’ve stayed awake, then,” Xander said, coming up with turkey at last and passing it back to Spike.
“Xander!”
Spike held up a knife and looked at him askance. Xander pointed to the cutting board.
“What?” he said into the phone.
“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” Suddenly, Willow’s voiced dropped. “Oh my god, was it awful?”
“No,” Xander said, prompting a high-pitched squeal painful even through the phone.
“I knew it! Was it good?”
“Yep.” Xander headed into the pantry in search of potato chips.
He held the phone away from his ear as Willow squealed again. “Was it awesome?”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh, come on. ‘Yes,’ ‘no,’ ‘uh huh’ - could I get an answer with more than one syllable here?”
“Actually,” Xander pointed out as he carried the potato chips out into the kitchen, “that last one was two.”
“Okay, ‘uh’ and ‘huh’? Do not count as syllables.”
“Pretty sure they do.” Xander frowned at the potato chips for a second and then returned to the fridge. “Guess I wasn’t the only one nodding off in English class.”
“Xander Harris, you are deliberately torturing me and I do not appreciate it.”
“Actually, no,” Xander said, pulling out a package of baby carrots.
“What do you mean ‘no’? If you’re not torturing me, then why won’t you…. Oh my god, he’s there, isn’t he? He is totally in the room with you.”
Xander looked over and smiled at Spike, who was making his third sandwich. “Uh huh.”
“But you came and got the kids. He didn’t…I mean, did he spend the night?”
“Of course not.” Xander pulled out a few more pieces of bread, set them on the counter and then turned to put the rest of the loaf away.
“Still, I can’t believe he’s there. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Keeping his back to Spike, Xander rolled his eyes. “Like what, for example?”
“All right - stupid question. But first thing tomorrow we are so developing a code.”
“Sure.” Xander removed four glasses - two glass, two plastic - from the cupboard.
“Okay, so, cough once for smoochies, twice for sex.” Willow paused as, apparently, it occurred to her that there were other options. “Oh, and three times for oral sex, four times for a hand job, and five times for frottage.”
“No thanks,” Xander said.
“Okay, fine, so the code needs some work. Meanwhile, I still need some details.”
“Sorry.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Girls?” he called up the stairs. “Lunch.”
“You don’t sound sorry,” Willow said. “You sound…” Even through the phone Xander could feel her eyes boring into his soul. “You sound like a man who spent all morning making out on the couch like a teenager while his kids were upstairs watching TV.”
“Huh,” Xander said. “Imagine that.”
He hung up the phone and hurried to sneak in one more kiss before the girls got downstairs.