A Part of This Complete Breakfast

~ Co-written by Mad Poetess [website]

Pancakes. He was making pancakes -- that was the plan, anyhow. Mix, eggs, milk, bowl, griddle. So why weren't the pancakes getting made?

"Don't move ," came the growl behind him.

"If I don't move," he said, not that he was going to ever move again if he didn't get told he could, in that voice, but he had to at least put up a pretense of arguing, after all, "the milk will spoil."

The milk disappeared from the counter and he heard the fridge door opening and closing. "That was one."

"One?"

"You get three. Third time you fuck around like that, I'm gonna go watch the football game."

Xander hesitated, before grinning. He didn't say anything, or even snicker, but he knew Spike wouldn't really go watch the game. Not for more than five minutes, just to make Xander think he'd gone to watch the game. But rules were rules, and games weren't any fun unless you played them right. Unless you weren't playing, then the rules were "break the rules".

But he'd save up his next two for something better than laughing, now. Instead, he stood still and resisted the urge to wriggle his butt. His naked butt. As in 'everything waving in the breeze'. Waving, if he moved. Which, yeah, pancakes, griddle, hot butter, he knew, he knew. It wasn't his fault he had a lover who liked to walk into the kitchen at random moments, sneak up behind him, yank his pants down, and growl 'Don't move' in his ear. It was just one of the many crosses he had to bear in life. Or, ah, bare, as the case might be.

Xander braced his arms on the countertop, and waited for Spike to proceed with whatever it was that had entered into his twisted little mind this time. Not that it took a lot of imagination to imagine what Spike was imagining... but Spike could be very imaginative. Xander wondered if it would count towards number two, if he asked what the game actually was today.

He heard Spike moving away from him, and resisted the reflexive glance back, to see what his insane lover was up to. Which made him wonder if Spike was "up to" anything, yet. If Spike was still in his usual sleepwear -- nothing. The thought entertained him enough that he didn't actually look, as Spike moved back up behind him. He felt his buttocks tensing, as he waited. He felt a hand briefly touch his left buttcheek, and his muscles jumped again.

"Spike?"

SMACK!

He heard the sound a split second before the line of heat shot across his ass. He had to suck in a breath, before he could manage to give in to the grin that was spreading across his face.

"Was that two?" Xander asked after a second, meaning his having broken silence to say Spike's name.

"No, that was one. Cripes, if you can't count properly, I'll have to give you that one over again." There was another crack, this one fast enough that pain and sound came at the same time, though Xander chose to concentrate on his butt, instead of his ears. At least until Spike actually said something meaningful.

Then there was nothing, except the cool air on the slightly heated skin where Spike had hit him. Xander waited -- surely that wasn't all? -- then he realized what Spike was waiting for. "Er, two?" he counted the slaps.

There was an exasperated sigh. "No, cripes, Xan, I just said - I'd have to start over ." And there was a slap hard, fast, accompanying the last word. Xander flinched that time, from twinges of pain and the unexpected contact. Not wholly unexpected, but--

SMACK!

Xander sighed, and let his head fall, a bit. He had to bite his lip against a laugh when Spike said " That was two!" Except, by Spike's counting, it was three. Unless he'd started over again .

"Okay. I think I've got it now."

"No, you're gonna get it, now." Smack! Slap! Smack!

Xander couldn't help wriggling just a little from that last one, but he figured Spike was probably too busy enjoying the sight of the magic color-change Xanderbutt to care. "That was either three, or six. Depending."

"Now, it can't be both, Xander. Which one do you think it was?"

Xander thought it was the one where Spike took any excuse he could find to drive Xander crazy. Maybe he should do an average? But math had never been his strongest class, as Spike was doing a good job of pointing out at the moment. On the other hand, which answer would get him more spanking?

"One." There was a hard smack on his butt, the hardest one yet. Xander took a deep breath. "One," he said again. If they kept this up, he was going to last exactly three more seconds before he started begging Spike to fuck him. And that would be... what were the rules, again?

There was a pained sigh from behind him. "You obviously have a learning disability, and far be it from me to take advantage of your mental incapacitation..."

"My what?"

"You're an idiot."

"Why didn't you just say so? Of course I'm an idiot; you're spanking my brains out."

Spike smacked him again. "I always knew that was where you kept 'em. Well, since you're incapable of counting, I s'pose I'll have to just pick a number and go with it. Say a nice round hundred?"

Xander swallowed. Tried very hard to answer. "Masimawoogle." He tightened his grip on the kitchen counter. The pancake batter supplies were still sitting there, waiting for breakfast. But breakfast was gonna be for lunch, today.

There were two, sudden smacks in rapid succession. Xander had to inhale before he could say "Five. Um, seven. Eight?" He tried to count, for a couple of seconds he really tried. Then Spike spanked him again, softer, and his fingers lingered on Xander's butt for a second. "One?"

"Maybe we should try something simpler. You know that song, the one with the farmer and his dog?" Spike said.

"Murplethurp?"

"No, the dog's name was Bingo, far as I recall." Spike started singing, purposely off-key, and Xander had to decide whether he could divert enough blood from the lower half of his body to manage a giggle at the thought of Spike singing something Xander used to sing in kindergarten. When Spike hit the first 'B' and smacked his butt even harder than before, Xander's brain decided for him, by going on strike. 'Here, just take all the oxygen you need,' it said to his manly parts.

He had to gasp for air in order to keep his hands in place, and his legs not-buckling, and his butt in more or less the same position so Spike could keep spanking him. Otherwise his manly parts were screaming "closer! there's a cock back there somewhere and it needs to be fucking us!" Which was good, exactly what he wanted, as well, except that would mean an end to the spanking. Er, so to speak.

"Sp--" was as far as he got in saying god knew what, before the next slap on his butt cut him off. Then it was all about being able to breathe at all, as Spike finished off his song and just started smacking away in a steady rhythm, a little faster than before. If he had the air to say it or the brains to frame the exclamation, Xander might have told Spike that he was likely to get brain damage from this spanking after all, even though he didn't keep them in his ass. Most of the time, anyway. He'd either die of oxygen deprivation, or his cock would explode. In the not-good way.

"Sp--" he managed again, and Spike responded -- or interrupted -- by slapping him again, hard. "Uhn!" Xander discovered that his head was almost lowered to the kitchen counter, and suddenly resting it there seemed like an excellent idea. It wasn't comfortable, but it meant he didn't have to think about anything other than the fact that now his butt was sticking out, towards Spike, so in case Spike had been having any difficulty whatsoever in finding it, he would no longer. "Spiiiike!" he finally breathed, and there was a pause.

"Oh. Thought you were trying to say 'spank me again'. Yes?"

"Uh..." He was trying to say something. What was it?

"Oh. Spank me again, please . Well, since you're so polite about it and all..."

Three more swats, and he was making a noise that only dogs and vampires could hear. "Spike!" he heard himself squeak when his voice came back down into human-range.

"Can't do maths, and you're not real good with the English, either, are you, love?" Spike's voice was low and rough in his ear, not nearly as amused as Xander knew he was trying to sound. What he could hear of it over his own panting, anyway.

Xander spread his feet a bit, ostensibly for better balance, but really because if he was going to be this aroused, then by golly so was Spike. Aroused and teased with the fact that all he was doing was standing there. He moved a bit, trying to get comfortable.

"Xan..." he heard from behind him. Who said vampires didn't need to breathe?

"Hmmm?" Xander opened his mouth, but nothing useful came out, except his tongue. That lolled out a bit, which would make Spike laugh and call him puppy-boy if he could see Xander's face. Good thing all Spike could see was his ass, huh? Which was flexing itself without any direct orders from Xander. Maybe Spike could read ass-language? He ought to be able to, given how much time he spent looking at it. Staring at it, and playing with it. Spanking it, like he'd stopped doing for some reason.

"Was that a hundred?" Xander asked, disappointed to find his brain starting to function, again.

"Er? No! Course not." Then Spike slapped him, once. He seemed a little distracted, though, because his aim was slightly off.

"One," Xander counted, helpfully. And wriggled his butt.

"That wasn't one," Spike said, not sounding too sure of his facts. He smacked Xander again, a couple of times, lightly.

"Twenty?" Xander guessed. Spike made a little groaning sound, like maybe his own math skills were deteriorating rapidly. Or maybe it was just his knowledge of anatomy, because the next light smack wasn't exactly on his butt. Which was utterly unfair, because if Spike wanted his knees to buckle, all he had to do was moan 'Xan' in Xander's ear again, and he'd be gone.

Like he was doing right now, and Xander was forcibly reminded of the fact that at some point he'd lifted his head, just enough that when he closed his eyes he felt a hard smack on his forehead -- not the fun kind, either.

"Spiiiike," he tried again, and wriggled, spread his feet a bit more, and tried to think of the English words for 'fuck me, dammit!' He had to stop and breathe, then Spike was spanking him again like he'd found his calling -- one, two, three, four, on and on like it was going out of style.

If Spike was trying to distract him from... something, it was working. Xander could only concentrate on the fire that Spike was setting on his skin, and the sounds of the slapping in his ears. Even his breathing, he assumed, had been taken over by the part of him that controlled these things when he was sleeping or running for his life, or other activities that he wasn't quite doing at the moment.

If he relaxed, just a little, he could maybe rub up against the counter. But that would be cheating. Why exactly did he care, again? He scooted towards the counter, trying to feel around for something smoother than a brass handle.

"Stop that!" There was a hard, no-nonsense, smack on his butt.

"Why?" he whined. Didn't care how much he whined, because he could feel the wood on the tip of his cock and he really just wanted--

"There's still football on the telly."

Xander laughed, a short explosive breath. "Like you could walk that far."

"Could if I--" Spike's reply was cut off sharply, after the floor creaked once, followed by a shuffle, then Spike's hand showed up on the countertop. "Right, maybe not," he said in a dizzy voice.

While Xander was trying to summon up the energy to laugh again, Spike's hand was disappearing, and reappearing with a not-quite-so-sharp whap on his left buttcheek, then another on his right one. Xander heard Spike take a deep breath, like he was preparing to lay in again, and managed to shout out "Spike!" before the barrage re-started.

Not that Spike was listening to him, not that it didn't take a few reflexive slaps for the sound to filter through Spike's ears to his brain. "Bloody hell; what?"

Which was long enough later that he'd forgotten what he'd wanted. There were only two things he could think of. The first was 'spank me' -- which was already happening, if not right now because Spike had stopped to ask him silly questions like "what are you trying to ask me?" The other thing was "fuck me" which he didn't think he had to actually ask for, given the way Spike's hands were shaking every time he paused between smacks to rest them on Xander's back. What was keeping him, anyhow?

He felt a hand smack his butt, then a finger ran up the untouched skin between his buttcheeks. "Ohgodohgod," and he fell forward against the counter.

"That what you wanted?" came the question, and Xander just moaned incoherently, which was yespleasefuckmenow language for 'duh', or maybe the other way around.

Spike was either smart enough not to laugh at him, or maybe he was as nearly as far gone as Xander, because there was none of that smarmy chuckling that usually came after such an answer. There was just Spike's other hand fumbling around on the counter in front of Xander. After an eternity or two point five seconds of that, Xander slid one arm forward and grabbed Spike's hand. "What... are you doing ," he hissed.

"Tryin' to find..."

"My ass? It's right there." Xander guided Spike's hand back where it belonged, and tried to get him to feel what he'd been too busy to notice earlier-- the fact that Xander had been lubed and ready since before he even stumbled down to the kitchen this morning.

"Need something!" Spike hissed, and Xander decided that his wasn't the only brain out of working order. He reached back, found Spike's very nice erect cock, and held it steady while he slammed himself backwards.

There was a loud, hard groan, and for a second they stood there without moving. Xander closed his eyes briefly, feeling the stretch inside and the burning, outside.

"Fuck, you cheated," was ground out next to his ear. Xander grinned.

"You're predictable," he countered, and moved forward a little. Spike grabbed his hips and slammed them together again. "Murg," Xander managed. It meant something like 'I never get through making breakfast on mornings after one of us almost gets his head bitten off by a demon." When both of them almost got their heads bitten off, they never even made it out of bed.

"I'm predictable?" Spike started pulling out, and for a terrifying moment Xander thought he wasn't gonna be predictable-- that maybe he'd gotten hold of some kind of Willpower-of-the-Gods spell, and was gonna go head off and watch football after all. Then Spike pushed into him again, with a little growl. "Next time I'm gonna..."

What, wait until Xander had actually made the pancakes, for once? Spread the maple syrup on him and lick it off after breakfast? Xander grasped the countertop tighter. Licking. Syrup. Slam, as Spike bumped him up against the drawer fronts again.

"Gonna... what?" he managed, though he had no idea how. "Fuck me, then spank?" And how on earth was English coming out of his brain, much less his mouth?

There was a growl from behind him, and Spike pulled out. Xander barely had time to open his mouth to whine about it, when Spike slammed back in. This time Xander growled, and he felt Spike wriggle, in response. Pressed up against him, fully sheathed in Xander's body, and he wriggled like he was begging for more syrup.

Xander was fairly sure any blood left that wasn't in his cock was currently running out his ears-- which no doubt explained why Spike had bent his head close and was sucking at Xander's earlobe like a Dustbuster in overdrive. Xander had at least one alternate suggestion as to what he could be doing with that amazing vacuum power of his, but athletic as Spike might be, he was physically incapable of fucking Xander and sucking him off at the same time.

Didn't mean they hadn't had fun trying. Xander had even been considering getting Spike split into two halves -- but he was afraid of the halves he'd end up with. Vamp Spike was no biggie -- once he remembered why he'd been separated, he'd toss off the chance to kill and rampage, to have more sex. It was wimpy Spike that would take too much convincing, that made it not worth the trouble looking up spells.

Neither of whom were having any trouble, right at the moment, making Xander feel like he was split in two, again. Xander groaned as Spike pushed in, pulled out, leaned forward and slid in, varying his speed and force and the way his hands slipped around on Xander's stomach without actually touching his cock.

He considered calling Spike a prick-teasing bastard, since the English in him seemed to be temporarily accessible, despite the presence of the Englishman in him, or perhaps because of it. But really, if Spike touched him now, he might burn his fingers or something, and the last thing he needed was a pissy vampire jumping up and down and... wait, what was the downside, again? "Slartibartfast?" he spat out. Oh well, so much for English.

"Right," Spike responded, and his hands moved. Onto Xander's hips. Xander moaned in frustration, and Spike whispered in his ear "Yeah, like that, do you?"

Xander thought about strangling him. Reaching back and hitting him with the spatula. Except when he leaned back to take his weight off his hands, he felt Spike push into him again, all the way, and he forgot what he'd been doing. Being fucked. That's what he'd been doing. Xander let his head fall back onto Spike's shoulder.

A hand touched him, brushing across his stomach, then up his chest. He groaned, trying to tell his own hand to go push that hand back down . He whimpered when his hand ignored him. The other hand, on the other hand, responded by finding one of his nipples -- Xander thought it was the left one, but he'd pretty much lost all sense of direction by now-- and tracing around it in ever-decreasing circles, until finally Spike was pinching it, hard.

Xander considered biting him, but he couldn't quite move his neck far enough to reach Spike's arm. How obliging of Spike to let go, after a few excruciatingly pleasurable seconds, and reach his hand up to brush across Xander's lips. To Xander's credit, he waited until Spike had once more driven himself in, rather than biting him in mid-thrust, which might just make his knees buckle as much as Xander's were doing.

When he did bite down, clamping onto the finger that was teasing his mouth, he felt Spike stiffen and jerk behind him. Jerked out, then jerked in, then Spike was losing all control of his body. Xander worried the fingertip between his teeth, licking the pad and nibbling the skin, and Spike sounded like he was being strangled. Or fucked, himself, and somebody had forgotten to tell Spike that vampires didn't breathe and shouldn't have had brain cells enough to inhale for vocalizing when having this much fun.

Spike's free hand was digging into Xander's hip, and Spike was very definitely losing control. Slamming into Xander's ass and crying out like he wanted to wake the undead -- Xander suddenly had sense to think how this could be fair. He was the one who got spanked. Shouldn't he get to come, first?

Then the stubborn not-touching-him hand closed on his cock. He jerked forward and then back, and wondered if they were supposed to be having a screaming contest, or if that was just an added bonus. He'd thrown off Spike's rhythm, jerked back while Spike was slamming forward, which produced a very nice smack against his still-stinging ass, but stopped the movement for a second, as Spike adjusted to Xander's body's sudden decision to participate, and started moving again.

Except he wasn't moving his hand, just holding Xander's cock tight within the firm fist, almost jerking but not quite. Which would do it, pretty soon, unless Spike got any ideas about pinching him off, at which point Xander would just have to kill him and finish the job himself.

Xander began moving his hips again, less concerned with how it made Spike's cock thrust deeper inside him than he was with how it made his cock slide, just a little, inside the fist of Spike's hand. Couldn't tell if Spike was adjusting his grip to stop him or help him because it really didn't matter anymore. Xander was moving without caring what Spike was doing, except that it was Spike inside him and Spike encasing him and Spike leaning down against and pressing something sharp into his shoulder.

Xander screamed and felt himself coming, knees buckling and thighs tensing as he tried to shove himself forward and drive himself backward and not move as those teeth sank deeply into his body. With what senses he had left that weren't busy dealing with every fuse in his body blowing at once, he could feel Spike's body stiffening, the hand on his cock pinching almost painfully hard, the one on his hip digging in with no almost about the pain, the imprint of four Spike-fingers and a thumb pressing clear to the bone, it felt like.

Then he was losing his balance, about to slip to the floor, and that hand was gone from his poor soon-to-bruise hip and being held firmly around his waist, holding him up. Holding them both up.

Spike's mouth was far too close to Xander's ear when he roared, even muffled by the flesh of Xander's shoulder, but at this point, Xander didn't care if Spike screamed straight into his skull, as long as he didn't get dropped on the floor while Spike was doing his last little out-of-control thrust. That was a good excuse for the ringing in his ears, at any rate, since otherwise it was ringing in his brain somewhere and that would mean he really was too dizzy to stand. Or blink. He felt his arms give out and he fell forward, again, only to find himself falling slowly.

When he managed to blink he found himself sitting on the cold linoleum floor in a tangle with a equally-confusedly-blinking vampire. His face was flowing back to human, and his gold eyes were flashing behind the slow blinks. He looked adorable, so Xander pushed himself forward a few inches, and kissed him.

"Er..." was Spike's response, or it felt like 'er' when Spike said it into Xander's mouth. It tasted like maple syrup, though, and Xander's own blood. So at least Spike had gotten his favorite breakfast treat.

Xander rested his head against Spike's, just breathing, undoubtedly dripping sweat all over him, although how anybody would be able to tell the difference between human sweat and vampire sweat, if Spike decided to whine about it, he had no idea. Taste test, maybe?

"Thawasnice," Spike murmured.

"Murg," Xander replied, wrapping one arm around Spike and holding him close, thinking this would be a lovely spot for a quick nap. Spike could always warm his butt up, again, after the floor bled all the heat out....

"You two are so cleaning the kitchen before I step foot in there. And paying for everyone to have breakfast at Waffle House. And -- are you listening to me?"

Xander closed his eyes. She wasn't really annoyed -- or surprised, or anywhere near as disgusted as she was trying to sound. Spike murmled something that sounded like "I'll kill her later," or possibly "my foot's falling asleep," and hugged Xander closer.

"Oh great, you're not gonna move for hours now," Buffy said petulantly. " And you let the pancake batter go bad." Despite her big statements about not setting foot in the kitchen, she did take a few steps in, looking down at them with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. "Bet you ate all the cinnamon bread, too." She turned around and called out into the living room. "Looks like it's toaster waffles for breakfast today, guys."

"Again?" came the resounding chorus, and Xander didn't really have the energy to lift his head and yell at them to shut up, he was trying to sleep.

"I thought we were going to Waffle House?" Willow asked, walking up to the doorway. "Eew." She wrinkled her nose. "Should we hose 'em down?"

"I think we should chuck them into the hallway," Buffy replied.

"With or without their clothing?" That was from Giles, and Xander wondered if everyone was in the kitchen, now, and if he should be asking them how long they'd been standing there. Not long, because there hadn't been any applause.

"I don't think Spike has any, does he? There's a big pile on the floor outside their room..." Dawn called from the distance. "Which means I missed Spike streaking to the kitchen yet again , thank you." Xander wondered just how late everybody had slept, if no one had noticed and raised the Spike-streaking alarm, like they usually did.

"I think we should lock 'em in the basement, in separate rooms. This is the third time they've broken the no-sex-in-the-kitchen rule, and if Graham and I can't do it, I don't see why they should be allowed to." Riley sounded huffy, then there was an oof! as Buffy jabbed an elbow into his stomach.

"I don't think you need to be pushing for enforcement of house rules, buddy, considering you left 'Out Of Uniform' in the VCR for like, the third time. Which breaks both the 'No porn where Dawn might see it,' and the 'Be kind, rewind' rules," she informed him.

"Who was watching it with me?" Riley countered, and there was suspicious-sounding silence from Buffy.

"Can I come out of my room yet?" Dawn yelled.

There were four or five "No!"s yelled back. Xander smirked, and felt someone hit him on the top of the head.

"Ow!"

Spike growled, but didn't raise his head or open his eyes. Some protector.

"The VCR rules are one thing," Riley whined. "It's not like Dawn hasn't seen half those movies anyway; she knows how to jimmy the lock on the video cabinet--"

"Do not !" came from Dawn's room.

"--but this is the kitchen. Somebody's gotta do something about these two, or we'll never be able to eat in this house."

Xander lifted his head from Spike's shoulder. "You could always spank us..."

He found five pair of eyes staring at him, with five almost identical expressions of sincere lack of taking-him-up-on-his-offer. Then Riley smiled. "Actually, that sounds like a good idea." Everyone turned to glare at him , though Spike was grinning in anticipation. "I can think of just the person to do it, too," Riley continued.

Xander was suddenly quite sure he did not want to know. Riley was smiling, looking quite evil, which -- after being shagged regularly by Spike -- was normally a turn-on for him. This just made him want to go 'eep' and hide in the cupboards. Spike's grin was fading, too, as if he'd figured out who Riley meant. "Don't tell me," Xander hissed.

"I'll rub lotion on you, after," Spike whispered. Well, that was something, at least. Wait, why would he need it?

"Uh..."

"Big hands. Spanks hard."

"Say you mean Cordelia. Please say you mean Cordelia." Spike just looked at him. Xander squeaked. "Wesley? He has nice hands. I mean, big hands. I mean -- what if we take everybody to breakfast?"

"You already are," Buffy pointed out.

"For a week?" Xander added.

"Someplace nice?" Willow countered.

"I want Eggs Benedict!" Dawn yelled.

Xander let his head fall back down on Spike's shoulder. "Are you sure we shouldn't move back into our own apartment?"

"Not as much fun to have sex in the kitchen, if nobody's gonna catch you," Spike pointed out. Oh yeah. There was that. "'Sides which, you wanna give up your showers with Rupert? Or Willow? Or Graham? Or--"

"Spike?"

There was a pause. "Yes?"

"Wanna go get breakfast?"

Another pause. Then, "Sure. Do we have to get dressed?"

Five voices yelled "YES!" Dawn was the single dissenting vote, but, as she often pointed out, nobody ever listened to her anyway.

Xander sighed, sounding like it was the bane of his world to be saddled with people who demanded he wear clothes in public. He gave Spike a squeeze, waited for said-squeeze to look up at him. "I win."

Spike gave him a dumb-founded look.

Xander waited, then, when it was clear Spike had used up all his brain cells earlier, said, "You bet me that the next time this happened, they'd stop us while you were still spanking me. I said we'd make it all the way -- you owe me a chocolate bar."

"That's it! I'm calling Angel," Buffy said.

"Lotion. Lots of lotion," Spike whispered.

Xander put his head back down on Spike's shoulder and wondered if they could finally get Waffle House to deliver, this time.