Title:  Uncommon Distractions
Author:  Kay
Email:  kaygrr@hotmail.com
Feedback:  Please?  Because watching a grown girl cry is just pathetic.
Website:  ssfdu.tripod.com/kay/journal.htm (love for Sandy) Archive:  Just
let me know, eh? Fandom:  Buffy Pairing:  (Xander/Graham) + (Xander/Spike)
= Xander/Graham/Spike Rating:  PG-13 Disclaimer:  Mine?  What? *These*? 
No, they're Mutant Enemy's.  They just followed me home and wouldn't leave
until I played with them. Spoilers:  The last season of Buffy.  The
incident with Glory, and the ep "The Body".  (Look at me, trying to be
vague).  And that ugly rumor about Spike and a certain blond slayer? 
Never happened. Summery:  Graham and Riley are called back to Sunnydale
when the area destabilizes.  When they return, they discover there are new
factors in lives of the Scooby Gang, especially in Xander and Spike's.

Part 9/?

Spike stared resolutely down at the stove top, concentrating on the blood
he was warming.  He was hungry and he needed to eat.  As long he stayed
focussed on those two facts he wouldn't lose control.  He just needed to
get something to eat.  He didn't need to think about what he'd smelled
when he'd walked into the apartment.  He'd needed blood, yes, but he'd
also wanted to check and make sure that the bugs had been removed from the
apartment.  He had checked with the demons he'd intimidated into watching
the apartment and received confirmation that no strange men or cars had
been seen hanging about.  He hadn't wanted to leave Xander alone, but he
hadn't thought anything could happen in the short time he was gone.

No.  He wasn't thinking about that.  Not until he'd had something to eat. 
He heated the blood just long enough for it to be lukewarm and then bolted
it.  As the blood filled him with borrowed life, he washed his dishes and
put them away, giving himself time to calm down and move past the hunger
that had been distracting him.  It was more difficult to keep the urges
toward blood and violence under control when he hadn't eaten.

The kitchen clean, he couldn't put it off any longer.  He walked into the
living room, eyes fixed on Xander.  The dark-haired man sat on the couch,
drinking the soda that Graham had given him before leaving.  The scents
surrounding him had faded, but Spike could still catch their echoes: 
arousal and nervousness, excitement and pleasure.  Something had happened
while he was gone, something between Xander and Graham.  It wasn't just
Graham, either; for the first time since Anya had left, Spike could smell
Xander's desire.  Graham had made some kind of move on Xander, one that
Xander had liked.

Graham had touched Spike's Xander.  Spike made a mental note to have the
soldier killed as soon as possible.

He wasn't looking forward to this conversation.  He knew Xander wasn't
going to want to talk about it, but he wasn't just going to let him go
without a fight.  He loved Xander and he needed to let him know that.

He sat down on the couch beside Xander, wonder what the hell he was going
to say.  With Dru he hadn't really needed words, and Harmony would fall
for any quick line of bullshit he threw at her.  Playing with the Slayer
had taken planning, but he hadn't meant anything by it.  It was a game,
one he didn't want to lose, but a game all the same.  This was no game. 
Love was many things, but it definitely wasn't a game.  He looked into
Xander's eyes, hoping the words would come.

What he saw distracted him completely.  Xander's face was marked with
lines of pain, his eyes half-shut as he slowly turned his head to look at
Spike.  "Are you still hurting?" Spike asked, worry for Xander sweeping
away everything else.

Xander nodded carefully.  "It never really went away, but knocking my head
on the ground didn't help any."

Spike added Riley to his kill list.  "Do you want me to fetch you some
more aspirin?"

"I'm already over the limit for today," Xander admitted.  "I don't want to
push my luck by taking any more."

Knowing that he'd probably be refused, Spike still had to make the offer. 
"Any time you want to try something better than aspirin, you let me know."

Xander was quiet for several moments.  He drew in a long breath.  "I think
I'm going to have to take you up on that," he said quietly.

Spike licked his lips.  "Are you sure?"

"Yeah.  Nothing else is going to help and if I don't get rid of this pain
I'm not going to be able to concentrate on anything else.  I've still got
a list of bad guys in my head and I can't just sit this out."

Well, actually he could and Spike would prefer it if he did.  He didn't
like seeing Xander risk his life, but he knew better than to try to keep
him out of things.  "All right."  He moved closer to Xander, sitting
half-turned so he could face him.  He waited until Xander turned to face
him, then tried out a reassuring smile.  "Where do you want to do this?"

Xander blinked, looking a little bemused.  "Right here on the couch."

Spike grinned.  "I didn't mean that.  Of course on the couch.  Where do
you want me to cut myself so you can drink?"

Licking his lips, Xander shook his head.  "I don't know.  Wherever is
easiest for you, I guess.  Somewhere that it won't hurt you."

Resisting the urge to turn to mush, Spike shrugged out of his duster and
rolled up one of his sleeves.  "I think the wrist will work best," he
murmured, pulling out one of his knives.  He'd prefer giving Xander his
blood in several different ways, but this way was the least likely to
frighten him off.  Knowing the other man's gaze was pinned on him, he
carefully cut a short line across his wrist, slicing deep to guarantee
blood flow.  He raised his wrist, extending his hand toward Xander.

Xander's hand shook a little as he reached out to support Spike's wrist. 
He glanced up to meet Spike's gaze.  At Spike's encouraging nod, he bent
his head and pressed his mouth to the bleeding wound.

Spike pressed his lips tightly together to stifle the pleased moan that
threaten to break free.  Soft lips feathered gently over his skin, parting
to draw in the crimson rivulets.  A pause as Xander grew accustomed to
what he was doing, and then his lips were pressed tighter against Spike's
skin as he sucked at the wound.  Spike shifted minutely, desire rising in
him at the sensation.  He knew that Xander wouldn't be able to take enough
blood to hurt himself; he'd crafted the wound carefully, knowing that it
would close before Xander drank too much.  He felt his skin begin to knit
and got ready to withdraw his wrist.  Xander evidently realized that the
cut was healing because he stopped sucking at it.  A warm tongue swept
across Spike's skin in soothing, cleansing strokes, then Xander sat back,
letting go of Spike's arm.

Spike controlled his reactions carefully, making sure to nonchalantly roll
his sleeve back down.  He didn't want to make a big deal out of this and
freak Xander out.  He didn't want this to be the last time Xander let him
offer this.

It only took one look at Xander to send all that control went out the
window.  Xander's eyes were wide and wondering and his cheeks were
flushed.  He stared at Spike with parted lips, a small smear of blood at
the corner of his mouth.

Before Spike realized that he wanted to, he was already doing it:  he
leaned forward and licked away the smear, erasing it with a few delicate
laps of his tongue.  He leaned back a little and searched Xander's face. 
The other man still looked wondering, but there was no scent of fear on
him.  Not wanting to push Xander too hard but unable to resist, he moved
even closer to Xander, sliding his arm around Xander's waist to pull the
dark-eyed man to him.  Construction-nurtured hardness filled Spike's arms,
wonderfully solid to touch.  He pressed his lips to Xander's in a gentle
kiss, once, twice, and then again in a longer caress.  He swept his tongue
out across Xander's lower lip, begging for entrance.  He could taste
Xander and blood and he wanted more.  With a muffled sound of need Xander
acquiesced, parting his lips and inviting Spike inside.  Spike pulled
Xander even closer, eagerly tasting his mouth for the first time.  The
essence of Xander was stronger, as was the lingering taste of blood.  His
senses were filled with warmth and life and Xander and blood...and
something else.  Spike probed more intently, not wanting the kiss to end. 
That element of something else intruded on his awareness, reminding him
not of a taste, but instead of a scent...

With a growl, he pulled away from the kiss.  "Graham."  He was tasting
Graham.

Xander flinched away, pulling out of his embrace to huddle in on himself
on the other end of the couch.  He wrapped his arms around himself and
stared at the floor, his breath shaky, shuddering.

Spike shoved down the possessive anger that was threatening to take over. 
He didn't want to scare Xander.  It wasn't Xander's fault that Graham had
kissed him.  It was Spike's fault for not killing the soldier as soon as
he realized where he interests lay.  He could deal with Graham later. 
Right then he had to fix the mistake he'd made.

He scooted closer to Xander and reached out to him once more.  The 
dark-haired man resisted, but Spike murmured reassurances and with
insistent pressure drew Xander back into his embrace.  He raised a hand to
brush an unruly lock of hair off Xander's brow.  "How's your head?" he
asked quietly.

"Better," Xander said, eyes widening as he realized it.  "The pain's
gone."  He started to grin, then the pleasure of the relief was gone as he
remembered what had just happened.  "Spike, I'm sorry.  I-"

Spike stroked his fingers through Xander's hair, quieting him with the
slow repetition.  "You don't have anything to apologize for, luv.  You
didn't do anything wrong."  After all, Xander hadn't known he belonged to
Spike.  Graham on the other hand...but that was something to think about
later.  Right now he had to get Xander calmed down.  He could see the
first hints of fear in his brown eyes and knew he was the one who put it
there.  It wasn't Xander's fault two men were throwing themselves at him.

It was Graham's fault.

Pushing his jealousy aside once more, Spike smiled at Xander.  "It's not
your fault I couldn't help myself any longer and had to kiss you, now is
it?"

"I didn't do anything," Xander agreed slowly.  "And I don't understand the
sudden urge to kiss me."

"Not sudden, really.  I've wanted to for a while and I didn't want to wait
anymore."  He hoped he wasn't going to sound like too much of an idiot. 
"I don't want to push you into anything.  I just wanted you to know I'm
here.  All right?"

Xander nodded.  "I think so."  The fear was gone from his eyes, but he
still looked bemused.

Spike moved in slowly, making his intentions blatantly obvious and giving
Xander plenty of time to protest.  When Xander relaxed a little bit more
into his arms, Spike took it as permission and once again claimed Xander's
mouth in a kiss.  Xander's hesitant cooperation this time sent a shiver of
delight through him as a warm tongue curled around his own.  He explored
the dark-haired man's mouth leisurely, making sure that not only was
Xander breathless by the time he finished, but also that every trace of
Graham had been eradicated.  Barely satisfied, he pressed a kiss to the
corner of Xander's mouth and another just in front of his ear.  Still
holding Xander's warmth close, he quietly asked, "Isn't it about time you
headed to bed?"

Xander's heart rate sped up immediately and he tensed in Spike's arms. 
"Um," he said in a nervous tone.  "Um, I..."

"Alone," Spike said with a smile.  "Go to bed and sleep, luv.  I'll talk
to you tomorrow."  He didn't want to do it, but he released Xander and sat
back.

Xander stood up slowly.  "So, um, goodnight?"

"Night, Xander."  Spike watched as Xander disappeared into his bedroom. 
He wasn't going to make any declarations of love.  He'd confused Xander
enough for one night without dropping something like that on him.  He
stayed on the couch and closed his eyes, reliving the experience:  the way
it had felt to feel Xander's body against his own, the sweetness of his
taste and his participation.

When there had been no sound of movement from Xander's room for almost an
hour, Spike rose up from the couch and walked over, silently opening the
door and slipping inside.  He stood beside the bed and stared down at the
sleeping man, watching the way his chest rose and feel slowly, envying the
pillow that he cradled in one arm.  He was acting like a pathetic sap, but
he accepted it.  He'd long ago recognized that he was Love's Bitch and he
never claimed Love was a gentle master.  He had fallen hard for Xander and
if turning soft in some ways was the price he had to pay for being in
love, then so be it.

He backed out of the room slowly, reluctant to leave but unwilling to
disturb Xander.  He considered going back out on the streets for the rest
of the night, but decided to stay in and watch television instead.  He
half-way convinced himself that he was doing it because he wanted to and
not out of an insane urge to protect Xander.

As he flipped from one infomercial to the next, he grew less and less able
to ignore something that was disturbing him.  His first reaction to
finding out that Graham had kissed Xander was rage.  He was fine with
that; he was accustomed to jealous anger.  His second reaction, though,
was curiosity mixed with greed.  He hadn't wanted there to be anything of
Graham's presence left on Xander, but he'd wanted to experience that
presence for himself and as he'd tried to remove it he'd found himself
wanting more.

That wasn't right.  He hated Graham for trying to take his Xander.  He was
willing to admit that he found the soldier attractive.  He'd caught sight
of Graham while imprisoned by the Initiative and remembered him because of
his strong, handsome features and muscular physique.  Hell, Graham had
played the starring role in Spike's 'masturbate for the camera' bid to
relieve boredom while waiting for a chance to escape.

Just because he thought the Xander-stealing bastard was attractive was no
reason for him to be greedy for another taste.  There was no reason for
him to want to know what pure Graham tasted like, either.  Disturbed by
the speculations he couldn't stop his brain from mulling over, Spike tried
to go on watching television.  He stared steadily at the screen, but he
was distracted by the memory of measuring blue eyes and a muscled body in
uniform.

*****