*****

"Where the fuck are we?"

Xander raised a fuzzy head, forcing gummy eyes to open. "Um. I think we're in. . . Aladdin?"

"And his ruddy forty thieves," Spike agreed.

The room was large, the architecture immediately bringing to mind images of mosques and ancient middle eastern buildings from the television they both adored. Sinuous and curvy dominated the room, not a single right angle in sight. Even the windows were more circular than rectangular, letting in sweetly-scented night air. Jasmine. Myrrh. The walls were tiled with geometric patterns, brightly colored in blues and greens and yellows. The floors were thickly carpeted, their patterns matching the walls, their colors darker and richer, silk banners flowing from ceiling down to the-

Bed. They were in a bed.

Naked.

"Yee-ah!"

Xander bolted up and off the bed, landing on his ass with a woof of expelled air. Arms and legs still flailing-as well as other things-he forced his stunned body to grab some of the opulent silk tapestries and cover himself.

Spike bit his lip. Hard. "You done screaming like a girl, mate?" His voice was high and tight. Rather like he was being strangled. His eyes were incandescent in the light cast from various lamps.

"Uh, yeah, I think. And ow, that hurt. Spike, where the hell-"

"Good." Throwing his head backward, Spike guffawed. Loudly, and for a long, long time.

Wrapping the silk around his lower half tighter, Xander tried not to let his eyes drop below Spike's navel. It was hard, since the vampire was rolling about with the strength of his laughter, and Xander was struck by the inexplicable urge that he should be licking that honey-blond trail of hair that led downward. . .

He forced himself to look annoyed-Spike was laughing at him, after all. But as the sounds continued, Xander couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Spike looked. . . Spike looked happy, something the young man didn't think he could ever remember seeing before. Not gleeful, not smarmy, not even leering, which were Spike's usual expressions for 'good feeling'. Just. . .happy.

"You looked like a bloody windmill!" Spike gasped out finally. By then, he was tangled up in his own cocoon of silk blankets-thankfully covering the place where Xander's eyes continued to drop-grin open and friendly. It pulled an answering one onto Xander's face, remaining as he chuckled a bit ruefully.

"Yeah. Well, you try walking up next to the guy who you-never mind."

Still grinning, a slightly predatory look came back. "Did, didn't I?" he asked, voice low and dripping with things Xander didn't want to examine too closely. "After all, you were-bloody hell." The look dropped off completely, leaving Spike befuddled and annoyed. "What the bleeding hell is going on here!"

Untangling himself, Spike began to prowl around their room. A few small brazier type things that cast a soothing golden glow. Positively hundreds of pillows in all colors imaginable, made out of silk, velvet, and other sensuous fabrics, were scattered around the room. A fountain trickled gently in the back of the room, near the bed, its white basin a shock against the riotous color.

"Okay. Lessee. Little good witch told me she had a pressie for me, a thank you for popping her one."

"I'd, ah, think it was more for proving she wasn't a demon, but-yeah, okay, sure." Spike's heated glare cut off anything Xander was going to say. Instead, he contented himself with watching Spike prowl through the room, lifting objects, sniffing them distractedly before replacing them and looking at something else. He was still naked. Xander wondered why he'd thought Spike's original hair color was dark brown. Then he wondered why he'd thought that at all.

"Right. Got her family off her back, blah blah, she and Red live happily bloody ever after. Just peachy. But, well, who'm I to turn down a pressie? She sits me down in this circle, whispers something-in Arabic? And poof. I'm here." The thoughtful look dropped away, another heated glance sent towards Xander. "With you."

'Heated' could mean so very many things. Xander decided to choose anger, since he was used to Spike being angry with him. He was angry at Spike a lot, too. He could deal with that. "Oh, yeah, like I chose to be here with you, Fangless Blunder. Thank you, no. I was at home. With Anya. And we'd. . . gone to sleep. . ."

Puzzled, Xander crossed his legs to sit more comfortably. His hip ached dully from when he'd landed on it.

"Before you ask," Spike said, "this isn't a dream. Least, it don't smell like a dream."

"Anya said something. What did she say? I don't remember!" Frustrated, and starting to be frightened, Xander slammed his fist towards the plush cushions of the bed.

His hand was caught mid-air.

"What did I tell you about destroying furniture, Ali?" Spike drawled from above him, looking lazy and amused. "Rich I may be, that does not give you liberty to demolish things for the sake of demolishing them." Settling onto his knees beside Xander, Spike flashed a devilish smile before pushing down the twisted silk and taking a hardening cock into his hands. Stroking slowly he said, "If you think you have so much time, I shall have to find you things to do."

"But I have many things to do, Master." He felt relaxed and happy, pleased that Master had time to spare with him today. Master was so often busy. "However, Master does not let me attend to my duties as. . ."

Spike chuckled richly, keeping the pace languid and sure. "I should take you to court with me, Ali. Have you ride me in front of the viziers," squeeze, "and the advisors," squeeze, "and the mages, and all the endless hordes of petitioners. . ."

Xander's pupil's dilated and his breathing grew ragged. "Oh, yes, Master. Whatever you desire, Master."

"Poor Ali. Have I denied you so, lately?"

Xander whimpered as a cool thumb swiped over top of the head, gathering moisture and pressing firmly against the drooling slit. "No, Master. I know you've been busy with the-oh-the-"

"Hm, obviously I've been very busy if you can hardly speak while I'm just stroking you." Another warm chuckle and Xander felt lips tickle his cheek. "I think I'll go on holiday. Just for a little while. Either that, or I am bringing you to court with me. I spent a great deal of time and effort training a boy to be ready, willing, and deliciously responsive," he purred seductively. "It wouldn't be prudent of me to allow such a treasure to go to waste."

One long lick from jaw to eyebrow and it was only extreme force of will-and training-that kept Xander from thrusting up to find more friction. "Master. . ."

"Will you beg for me, my pet?" Another lick. "Will you beg for my permission?"

"Yes, Master, please, anything Master!"

"Do you enjoy my hand on you? Your Master's hand, stroking you firmly-like this? Rubbing where you liked to be rubbed, where I made you like it? Oh, Ali, you're so beautiful when you're desperate like this." Another lick, rough tongue rasping along skin shaved perfectly smooth.

"Please, Master, please."

"Thrust at me. Yes, like that, my pet. Help me work that beautiful cock. Do you want release, my pet?"

Xander moaned in wordless pleading.

"Do you want to pour yourself into my hand? Release all that is pent up within you? Coating your Master's hand with your essence? Will you bind yourself again?"

"Always, Master," Xander gasped, hyperventilating with need. "Heart and mind, blood and soul, I am yours, Master."

A deep purr of pleasure and the hand that had not ceased its torture cupped the head tightly. "Bind yourself. Make yourself mine."

Xander arched but did not cry out, his body jerking slightly as thick, milky fluid dripped from his cock. It did not spurt, instead dribbling down like molasses, to pool between wide-spread thighs. The orgasms was drawn out impossibly long from the pressure on the head of Xander's cock until-

"Master!"

Spike chuckled a third time, pleased as his flushed and gasping pet twisted to lap up the fluid from the silk. Rubbing his back gently, Spike leaned down to give his beloved Ali a kiss, ready to whisper another promise that this time he really would take a break-

"Oh, gross!" "What the bleedin' fuck!"

It took a tense second or three to realize they were so close their noses were practically bumping. Xander threw himself back with a yell, grabbing a pillow to cover himself before scrambling to the fountain. "That was gross," he said between scrubbing and spitting.

Spike smirked, stretching himself along the still-damp silk. "Oh, please," he drawled with lazy derision, "like you never tasted your own jizz before?"

"No, I haven't, Spike, and eww, just for the record. You really will suck anything won't you?" The scarred eyebrow rose and Xander belatedly slapped a hand over his mouth. Removing the hand, he spat furiously again. "Where the hell are we? And can we go home, so I never have to see you again? Ever?"

Still chuckling, the vampire looked around their room with a practiced. "Well, Toto, we certainly ain't in Kansas now."

"Spike! Will you just-"

"Looks real enough. There's some mojo about, but I think that's protection spells and the like. Smells real enough, too, and that's hard to manufacture with a spell. Spent time in Egypt; this looks a bit like that."

Interested in spite of himself, Xander snagged yet another piece of silk and covered himself securely. "Really? I always thought stuff like this was a Hollywood producer's wet-dream or something."

"Well, yeah, if you look at the common folk. Don't live much better'n the rats, them. But the rich folk, they got it nice. Least, they did. Eighty years and more since I been there, and they hadn't discovered oil yet."

"Oh. So, we're in the Middle East?"

"Yeah, because I have all the answers, don't I?" Spike drawled with the casual ennui that drove Xander crazy. Except he wasn't relaxed. Xander could see individual muscles tensed in wary anticipation, ready for something to happen. . . It was oddly reassuring. Spike was ready if something happened. "You want answers, you start looking yourself."

"You are the hundred-year-old-vampire. You know about all this magic stuff, you figure it out."

"Know more than you, wanker," was the acidic reply. "Just don't know what this is. Donut boy."

Xander was about to make a snappy retort when he hesitated. "This? This place? You don't know what this place is?"

Spike shifted, losing some of the cultivated boredom. He never couldmaintain that pose long, Xander realized. "Yeah. What of it?"

"You don't know what this place is," Xander repeated. "But you do know something about what just happened. Don't you."

It wasn't a question, but the answer was written plainly on the vampire's face. It was weird. Were anyone else present, Xander was sure the pretense would have continued: making sure the world at large saw the cool, confident, vampire-in control of himself and his surroundings. But it was only Xander. And he. . . trusted Xander? Would let himself relax around Xander? Didn't need the facade? None of these questions were comforting. Their answers less so, especially since he realized just how much he wanted to know those answers.

"Okay, Spike, no fair hogging the info. You know what's going on, don't you?" Xander concentrated on looking mean and foreboding; but his thoughts were scary things right now.

"No, I don't have one sodding idea of what's going on!" Spike snapped, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace. Fortunately, the silk went with him as he agitated back and forth. "All I know is-"

"Is?"

"Is we got some kinda. . . past life thing. Or mebbe we're in other people's bodies. That kinda thing."

Well, it was more than Xander had. He looked down at himself and then over to Spike. "Well, we look the same-hey, here's a mirror. He held it up to see himself staring intently back. "Yeah. We look the same, so it can't be possession-right? So, um. You think past life?"

"Yeah, well, I've done the possession bit before and this don't feel like that so unless you got some bright ideas. . ." Spike glared at him, fear and worry not quite hidden by the steely gaze. "So, you're Ali, is it?" His voice did a weird, husky thing. "And you're my slave."

Xander gulped, frozen solid as Spike prowled closer. "Um, yeah, but see, I'm really Xander, remember? I'm not a slave. And anyway, why would you want me for a slave? I'm gawky and clumsy and shouldn't you want someone pretty and lithesome and, well, female? You know, to cater to your, um, needs?" Babble, babble, babble. The rim of the fountain bumped against the back of his legs.

"Oh, I dunno," Spike drawled. His eyes were way too bright as they traveled up and down the human's body. Xander's skin shivered wherever those eyes lit. "Pretty enough, all that lovely golden skin. Yeah. . . teach you how to dance for me. . ."

"Okay!" Nice, big manly squeak, but adrenaline got Xander away from the fountain and past the bed before the vampire had time to blink. "So. Right. Past-life stuff and how do we get home again?"

Smirking, Spike glanced at the mirror. Nothing reflected back; well, that proved he was still a vamp, at least. "Well, first thing we do is get the hell out of here. Have a bit of a look, see what we can see?"

"Okay. Recon, I know recon." Relieved to be on familiar ground, Xander found the door under a heavy fall of something gauzy-looking. "Um, maybe we should get clothes first?"

"Ali, Ali, you know you are to be unclothed at all-buggering fuck, will whatever the hell you are get out of my damned mouth!" Spike eyes crossed as he attempted to look at his own mouth. Uncrossing his eyes, he glared across the room at Xander. "We are gettin' out of here now," he snarled. "I want this ponce out of my head!"

Xander just blinked at him. Three second ago, the vampire seemed happy to have the Xan-man as his personal cabana boy. Now, he was playinghomophobe-or was that Closet Man?-and overcompensating with aggressive behavior. See random destruction of the room as he-searched for clothes for Xander?

Accepting the loincloth with another blink, Xander dressed himself. Tried to remember everything he could from the psychology class Willow had babbled about and told himself that yes, indeed, he was a man even though he knew all that female sensitivity stuff. Hey, all his friends were female! It was learn or drown!

He was still very confused as he watched Spike struggle to put on the flowy, billowing cloth that seemed to be pants. Or they would be if Spike could ever get them on right. There were no shirts in sight. "Hey, how come you get the pants and I get the loincloth!" he demanded with righteous aggravation. "I want pants!"

"Fine! Take the damned pants! You try and get 'em on!"

Oh, snarky vampire. "Good! I will! Just watch-oh, Master, must I dress you again?" Xander laughed, amusement shining from his eyes as he gathered up the flung material and crossed to the sullen vampire. "Here," he said, placing the fabric along pale, sinewy legs and holding it while he wound a sash around an ankle. "Sometimes, Master, I wonder how it is you taught a poor, uneducated, European boy like me. Since you cannot do the simplest things. . ."

"Insolence, Ali!" But it lacked real anger and Xander grinned in anticipation.

"Shall I punish myself, Master?" he asked seductively, wrapping the other ankle tightly. "Are you too poor a master to devise punishments for me?"

"I have neither the time nor the-oh, Allah above!"

Xander chuckled, his Master's length deep within his mouth. Sliding off with a lick at the spasming slit at the tip, he made his eyes big and innocent as he asked, "Allah, Master? Do you wish him to teach me?" One hand began to stroke and knead a velvet-soft sac, the other sliding down to press just behind them. "I know I am not a good slave, born in a frozen land among godless people, without proper education or training." Releasing the sac, he dragged soft, un-calloused fingers to tease skin that shivered with want. "I thought, perhaps, I did not need the Holy One himself to-"

"Ali!"

A despairing, desperate cry. Laughing lightly, Xander slowly sucked his Master back into his throat. Bobbing quickly, he tried not to laugh as his Master babbled to all and sundry that Ali was his best, most favorite slave, his love, his own, his-

"Ali!"

Salty, coppery semen flooded his mouth, Xander very careful not to spill a drop. While his Master panted and calmed, Xander licked him clean and tied the sash around his Master's narrow waist, so that the pants would stay up.

"There, Master," he said soothingly. "All dressed."

"Very go-oh, my god." Spike blinked, unsure as to whether he should be happy or disgusted that Xander had just sucked him off. Rather well, too.

Xander chose for him. He remained frozen for almost ten solid seconds before turning a deep, deep red all the way down his chest. Then he howled. "Gross!" Once more, he dived for the fountain and splashed water everywhere as he tried to rid the taste of semen from his mouth. "Not fair!" he complained as he tried to make himself throw up-Spike didn't want to tell him that the finger-down-the-throat didn't work for people who didn't have a gag reflex.

Which Xander obviously didn't have.

"How come I'm the one who always ends up with c-um. . ." More blushing.

Spike watched in obvious amusement, tracing the lovely rush of blood down the taut stomach-construction was good for something, then-past the silken loincloth.

Which was doing nothing to hide the contradiction to the juvenile hacking and scrubbing from above.

Spike grinned. This was fun.

*****
Part 2:

"You done then?"

A laser-like glare cut across to the smirking vampire. Spike wondered if the boy was going to pass out or explode or something. Nearly five minutes and still that body-blush hadn't faded-although it was starting to look nearly purple instead of the nice, delicious red from before. Spike decided not to mention how tasty the flushed skin looked. If that furiously beating heart pumped any harder, blood was going to start leaking from Xander's ears.

He wondered what Xander tasted like.

"I hate you," came the harsh response.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Right, then. You go on doing that cleaning thing, I'm gonna see what's about. Maybe find some compliant slave girls." He leered suggestively, hoping to entice Xander into coming with him.

He didn't think about why he wanted Xander with him. Or why he hoped they wouldn't find any compliant slave girls.

"Slave girls?" That did the trick, some of that dusky hue fading back to the normal California tan-although one part that remained suffused with blood. Loincloths covered next to nothing, although Xander didn't seem to realize that. Yet. Spike was waiting for the perfect time to tell him.

Yes, he was evil, ta much.

The vaguely anticipatory look turned suspicious. "Why do you want slave girls?" Xander asked, folding his arms across his chest. Spike stifled a giggle-the boy looked utterly ridiculous, clad in blue silk, a hardon, and a glare. "All you need to do is wait for 'Ali' to make another appearance and-er, right. Slave girls."

Look, more blushing.

Absurdly long eyelashes swept against red cheeks and Spike wondered why he was embarrassed this time. It wasn't like either of them were enjoying the whole insane role-playing they'd been forced into.

A bit of white was slowly drying on the corner of the boy's mouth.

Er. Okay, it wasn't like they were consciously enjoying it.

Spike shook off his introspection and headed toward the waving gauzy curtains that they thought indicated a door. The room smelled of sex and Xander's sweat; he needed a distraction if he was going to stay by something that poured out pheromones and blood-scent. Otherwise that Arab guy might come back-and Spike wasn't convinced just how much of a top the other personality really was, despite the current evidence. He also wasn't interested in finding out. Particularly when that discovery could come with him already on his back, legs in the air.

Granted, Xander did have a very nice-

"Gah!" Shaking his body like a wet dog, Spike purposefully headed for the doorway. "You wanna stay here, fine. I'm gone."

"What? Spike? Spike! Hey, wait up!" There was no way, no possible way that he was turned on by the sound of bare feet slapping against the marble-marble?-floor. None.

Spike started to think about Darla.

"Hey, slow down." He felt a scalding wave of bodyheat before the actual touch of skin on his. "Spike!" The hand clasped his shoulder, jerking him back slightly. Oh, how it burned. He hadn't been able to properly appreciate that roasting warmth when the other personality had been in control. Now that he could. . . He stopped more out of pleasant surprise than the tugging of Xander's hand on his shoulder.

"You are not leaving me here," Xander said with that desperate firmness the boy used sometimes. The whole 'no more butt-monkey' thing Dawn had told him about one afternoon when she'd played hooky in his crypt. The rendition-filtered through Buffy's retelling-was eerily accurate now. "I may hate you, but you are not leaving me here by myself while you go off and-do something."

"Something? Oh, save me from the devastating Harris wit. You get the cheerleader to teach you that one?"

"Fuck you."

Spike had a fraction of a second to curse before rich laughter poured out of his own throat. "My precious Ali," he said huskily, pushing the boy up against the nearest silk wall hanging. He was such a pretty, pretty boy. "So soon? I thought we would go and look at the gardens first."

"Where you have the-Spike, let go of me right now."

Spike glanced down to see his own hand wrapped around two silk-covered cocks, pressed together and pointing at his chin. "Er, right. Sorry."

He opened his hand, taking a nervous step back. He was very horny now, and the intoxicating hot-blood-and-pheromones scent wasn't helping.

He thought of Darla and then Darla with Angelus. Still didn't help.

Damn.

Swallowing convulsively, he took another step back and turned to study their surroundings. A hallway, also lined in silk, conveniently muffling the sunlight so that it looked bright but no rays ever touched the areas they walked in. Marble floors, tiled walls, panting, gasping, horny boy still braced where Spike-no, the Arab-had pushed him.

"So, exploring?" Xander asked. The boy's voice sounded strained and nearly entirely falsetto. Spike ignored the shiver that voice produced. This was all the product of some weird spell that the little blonde Wicca had put together. Some absolutely ridiculous kind of thanks. Spike was contemplating his own 'thanks' whenever they got back.

He was not attracted to Xander.

"Right. Exploring." They moved down the hallway, both with the stiff, my-legs-have-no-blood walk of men with persistent erections that would not go away no matter what. Spike spared a brief moment of sympathy for the human-as a vampire, the pain didn't bother him much, even made him enjoy it a bit more. The human, however, had to be hurting badly at this point.

Except Spike didn't care about that. Because he was the Big Bad and the Big Bad ate humans. He certainly didn't contemplate doing them. . . favors.

They passed several rooms-bedrooms, mostly-all empty, although still lushly furnished, with the stale feeling that meant they hadn't been used in a while. After nearly twenty minutes, Xander motioned for them to halt.

"Okay. So far, as explorers we suck. Er, I mean, not that, ah-where are all the people?" He sounded scared under the blustering attempt at humor. "Are there people? I mean, the creepy guy who takes over you indicated there were but. . . are we the only ones here?"

Spike inhaled deeply. Arousal, from himself and the boy, their own scents below it, faint hints of flowers and. . . there we go, people. "Yeah. There were some-not long ago, too. Want me to track 'em?" And why was he asking the human for direction?

Xander blinked, a grin flickering across his face. "You can do that? Track through scent? Like-" Spike caught the tremor and jerked his head around to glare at Xander angrily. Another grin appeared, then vanished; brown eyes began bouncing.

Spike growled.

"Like that! Like a dog!" Howling in his own imitation of one, Xander collapsed against the wall, convulsing with laughter. Spike crossed his arms and stared, refusing to say or do anything. He was a vampire. Of course he could track people; they were his food!

Snarling at the idiocy of human boys, Spike stalked after the trailing scent of people.

"Wait, Spike-I'm sorry." Gasping and red-faced, the boy held out a hand while he wiped at tearing eyes. "Hang on, okay? Sorry. I don't-hey, wait a minute." The grin became impossibly bigger. "Why am I apologizing to you?"

"Because you're a tosser." He could be mature. He could. When he wanted.

Warm arms slid around his waist, pulling the unresponsive-no, he was not pouting-vampire into a snug embrace. "Master," was purred into his ear. "Forgive your humble servant, Master."

"I am Wa'il Nu'man, Master Vampire and Sultan of Heraz. I am death in darkness, justice in sunlight. I am the hunter who never misses, the guard who never rests. I do not growl like a common mongrel!"

"Of course not, Master." But dark eyes continued to dance with suppressed laughter.

Growling, he picked up his nearly giggling slave and carried him to the nearby garden. It was just barely dark, an echoing hint of sunlight painting the horizon pink, but certainly dark enough to allow him complete mobility. Tossing the still-laughing boy onto a waiting bed of soft, sweet grasses, Nu'man pounced.

Licking, sucking, tickling, and most of all nipping, Nu'man tormented his younger lover until the boy lost all laughter and could do no more than groan under the assault. Writhing under a cool mouth, unable to retaliate with his hands held fast above his head, he moaned and shrieked his need to the silent garden. Not even birds disturbed their pleasure.

"A dog, Ali?" he whispered while he continued his torture. "To sit and pant at your feet? To come with a word, a gesture, instantly obedient?" He released Ali's wrists, unsurprised when they remained exactly where they were, as if chains bound them. "Oh, Ali, I think you have your roles reversed." One hand pinched at distended nipples while the now-free left hand burrowed into the silken covering and pushed it to one side. "Is that not correct?"

He sucked the head of Ali's cock into his mouth.

Ali arched, screamed, and then hissed his answering, "Yessss," only after he'd come back down to earth. "Please, Master!"

Nu'man chuckled around his twitching mouthful, briefly sliding his mouth all the way down before releasing Ali entirely. Reaching out towards a nearby bottle, he thumbed off the wax sealant and dribbled a large amount down Ali's erection.

"Master-what-"

"Rose syrup, my pet. I remember how much you liked it last time." Erection coated, Nu'man dabbled some on his own body and settled above the human's face. "Now, if you please."

Oh, how talented was his Ali! Trained to know just how Nu'man liked to be opened and lavished, responsive to the least of Nu'man's reactions. He occasionally added more rose syrup to his body-he loved to hear Ali gasp with pleasure at the sweet, almost sickly taste. When Ali began to buck against thin air, however, he lifted himself and turned around.

"Don't move," he ordered. Heat spread through him as sank down, spreading throughout his cold, dead body until he felt almost human again. Heat, fullness, the sharp, skittering pleasure as his prostate was slowly rubbed. . .

Ali was panting, almost hyperventilating as Nu'man slowly lifted back up until only the very tip was inside-and then equally slowly came back down. There were advantages to having preternaturally strong muscles, making the awkward, unbalanced movements easier to achieve. Up and down he slid, angled so that his prostate was under constant pressure. It felt very good, but rather like a light massage. Nice, but not enough.

For him, anyway.

For Ali, it was the purest torture.

"It has been weeks since I saw you, Ali," he said conversationally as he rode at this snail's pace. "Have you done as I asked?"

"Yes, Master."

Nu'man grinned. "Very good, my pet. Such a well-trained boy. Denying yourself all physical pleasure for the past three weeks."

Ali was reduced to mindless keening as he forced his body to remain perfectly still while his master used him.

"You are a treasure, my lovely Ali." He rose all the way up again. "A beautiful treasure."

Spike slammed back down.

"What the-"

"Master," Ali begged, long past rational thought as he was still denied. "Please, Master. Please."

Spike blinked at the whimpering, shivering boy below him, mind racing as he tried to figure out what had happened. He was himself, Spike, again. But Xander was still Ali and. . .

And he was riding Xander.

"I bloody well knew it," he muttered, rocking a little just to get the now-continuous begging to stop. Eventually Ali's-Xander's-the boy's words tumbled back into the wordless kenning as he strove to hold back his orgasm. "I knew the poof was a bottom. Dammit, why am I the one who always ends up with a cock in his arse?!"

A nicely-sized, incredibly hard cock that was rubbing him in exactly the right places. Also attached to a body that desperately needed to orgasm.

"Whatever." He glanced down to the unseeing boy. "You bloody owe me for this, bricklayer. Hear that? You owe me."

Threat pronounced, Spike nodded and leaned forward to brace himself on the ground. "Harris-er, Ali?" Lust-dazed eyes forced their way open to meet his. "Pull me off, eh?"

Warm hands encircled him, tugging exactly the way he preferred-hard up, soft down, with little twists here and there-and he began to move. No more of this teasing shit. He wanted to get off. Whoever was in control of the body he rode knew exactly what to do, matching the rhythm he set so that the combined pressure of warm hands on his outside and a warm cock on his inside sent his cold blood boiling.

Xander-Ali-whoever was babbling again, promising mind and body to Master Wa'il. His soul, his heart were already given, but anything, everything was Master's so long as he was permitted to come!

Spike sped up, slamming himself up and down, groaning and panting due to what was turning out to be incredibly good sex. The boy was moving, now, just enough to push up when Spike came down, angling his hips so that at that last second his prostate was almost viciously jabbed, the right amount of pain and pleasure humming through his body.

"Gonna come," he gasped, surprised at how quickly he was getting off on this. He felt his body freeze, clamping down impossibly hard while the boy's hand moved at light-speed up and down-

He arched back, scream locked in his throat as he shot four times in quick succession onto the human's chest. Strong fingers milked him, prolonging the feeling until it was nearly pain. Slumping forward, he gasped against sweaty skin.

Damn, had that been good.

"Well, pet," he began, halting when he realized.

The cock inside his now-relaxed body was still hard, still desperate, held almost impossibly still by a human concentrating solely on not coming-no matter how much pain it caused him.

If he didn't come soon, the boy really was going to explode.

"Shit, wasn't it good? Was good for-oh. Right. Xa-I mean, Ali. Ali, look at me." Eyelids fluttered, but only white showed. "What the hell should I-oh. Ali, come."

Nothing.

"Fuck. You cannot die-t'Slayer will kick my arse! Come already, dammit! Fuckin'-will you just bloody well finish!"

Hands grabbed his hips, flipping him over so quickly that he didn't have time to protest. Those same hands-when the hell did the boy get so strong?-held him down as hips worked with frantic speed.

Spike got hard again.

"Come on," he whispered, spreading his thighs for a better angle. "Come for me. That's it, boy, come for me. Come for Spike." He was going to have grass burns on his arse from the power of the boy's thrusts. Spike was grateful that this Nu'man obviously knew his stuff-it was soft grass at least.

"Come for me," he said again. "Come on, Ali. Come for Spike. Fill me up, make me warm inside." He braced himself on the ground, freeing a hand on to begin jacking himself. "Fuck-mm, boy, you cannot die, you hear me? Fucking cum before you bloody explode! Come on, Xander, come-Xander?" The thrusts faltered, just a little, and Spike could feel the balls slapping against him start to rise. "You name is what does it?" Spike didn't stop to analyze why, not when he knew he was going to have bruises with the burns.

Not when the shuddering, hyperventilating boy was so close to seizuring instead of orgasming.

"Right, then. Whatever. Xander! Xander, come now!" Once, twice, three times more Xander pumped before throwing his head back and howling his release. Spike jerked as the first warm burst of cum entered him, spreading that delicious heat even further through his body. More and more poured in even as the boy shook and jerked. And then he was yelling himself, chanting the boy's name over and over as he came again and again-

Spike woke up on his back, with his legs in the air. Well, not really in the air. His heels were resting on Xander's arse, but his knees were up high to accommodate the heavy body that lay on him. But still. On his back, legs in the air, with Xander bloody Harris sticking his cock up his arse.

"I knew it," he muttered peevishly.

This kind of stuff never happened to Angelus. He got souled, yeah, but not bloody humiliated. Even Dru may've hung about the lesser end of the demonic gene pool, but she was still with demons. This was just. . .

"Spike?"

"Yeah? What?"

"We just had sex."

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Oh. Okay. Can I sleep now?"

Spike thought about moving. He thought about how since he didn't have to breathe, the solid weight on him wasn't bothersome. He thought about how warm it was. Soft. Almost comforting. Xander wiggled a little with Spike thought, pulling out, and then snuggled in close. Warm breath bathed the vampire's neck.

"Yeah, pet." One arm slipped around a well-muscled back. "We can sleep now."

Spike would later categorically deny that he held on just as tightly as Xander did.

*****
tbc