Mutually Beneficial
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" Spike said listlessly.
"Doing that thing. The one where you're all quiet and pensive. It's creeping me out."
Spike turned his head and looked at Xander with something that almost resembled interest. "Why's that?"
"Because. Because I just know that the whole time, you're thinking, which wouldn't be so bad, except you're obviously thinking about things you regret doing, which, given your history, means you're thinking about murder and mayhem and a little bit of the old 'Ultra-Violence'."
"Don't tell my Anya never thought back on all the horrible things she did during her career, Xander."
"Yes, but somehow, when she did it, it was cute. Okay, maybe a little creepy, but mostly cute. You, on the other hand, are just creepy. More creepy than you were when you were being reasonable, and you'd set the bar pretty high with that one."
With an apathetic shrug, Spike went back to his one-vamp mime interpretation of Colonel Kurtz. The horror. Not to mention the annoyance, irritation, and--oh yeah--the sexual frustration. At some point, Spike's reasonable facade had slipped into some sort of crushing, soulful depression. Unfortunately, at the same point, he'd gone from the Oscar role to the Felix role in their odd coupledom. A depressed, moody, repentant vampire, it turned out, was a great housekeeper. A neurotically great housekeeper. The place hadn't been this clean since Anya'd been left standing at the alter.
Xander had liked it better when Spike's idea of penance involved more penis, less Pine-Sol. No blood-rings on the coffee table, no wet towels on the floor, no wet mouth on little Xander for days. Something had to give.
"Spike?"
A grunt of acknowledgement (no nod, no movement, just a quiet grunt) was all he got in reply. Make that a passive-aggressive depressed, moody, repentant, house-cleaning, holding-out-on-his-host vampire.
"Snap out of it."
Not even a grunt.
Fine. A few years with Anya had taught him a thing or two about dealing with pouting roomies. Xander got down between Spike's knees and started undoing the tight, black jeans.
It got more than a grunt. "Hang on! What the devil are you doing?"
"Quid quo blow, Spike. Ah, commando man I see. Good, that'll make it snappy."
Xander lowered his head, licking and teasing until Spike's cock was hard enough to suck, and the grunts turned to groans. With a lifetime of expertise garnered from the sock puppet of love, his hands stroked base and balls before moving to that little in-between bit and pressing up just so...
Spike came in a room-temperature rush, and Xander forced himself to swallow. He lifted his head, wiped his lips, and smiled gamely at the stunned vampire.
"Better?"
Spike blinked, shook his head, and blinked again. "Did that just happen, or am I hallucinating again?"
"You bet it just happened, Mister. Now answer my question: better?"
A hint of a smirk passed across Spike's face. "It's like you once said; sure, until next time."
The next morning, when Xander woke up, he found toothpaste on the mirror and wet towels on the carpeting.
Hallelujah.