French Toast

French Toast

The bickering in the kitchen woke Spike and he snarled into Xander's pillow.   *What in bloody hell-!  Oh, right.  Andrew.*   Spike shoved his head under the pillow and tried to ignore Andrew's holier-than-thou drawl and Xander's you're-gonna-get-smacked growl.  What in hell could they be arguing about so early in the day? 

"If you do it that way you're gonna end up with lumps of bread in the egg mix!   And - you didn't use enough cinnamon!"

"Oh Xander, so lost - so very, very lost!  You put the cinnamon on after you cook them so that it isn't washed away by the eggs!  And you only get bread in the eggs if you don't know how to handle a fork, as clearly, my dear boy, you do not.  The making of French Toast is an art -"  

Spike perked up, pulling his head out from under the pillow, oblivious to the 'backwards-through-a-hedge' effect it had on his hair.  *French toast?  Neither one of those wankers knows how to make French toast.*   Spike got out of bed and stretched hard - looked around for his jeans.  They were on the floor, spattered with Llhura-demon blood.  Which stank.  He glared at them and then shrugged and marched out of the bedroom towards the kitchen, scratching a bare belly and then a bare thigh, his mind already on warm, eggy toast with syrup and blood.

"Look, Andrew, this isn't rocket science or something, it's fuckin' French toast -"   Xander's voice wobbled and creaked to a halt as Spike appeared in the kitchen doorway.  Andrew - a towel tied around his hips like an apron and a spatula in one upraised hand - took advantage of the silence to launch into a little speech.  It was something about space and science and rockets and Ten-Forward and Spike ignored it utterly.  He plucked the spatula out of Andrew's hand and spun him by one shoulder. 

"Andrew, you little poof.  You couldn't make French toast if your life depended on it."  Andrew's eyes bulged and drifted down - jerked upwards and drifted down again and Spike grinned.  The wave of pheromones coming off the boy was enough to float a battleship.  *This could be fun.*

"Spike!  What are - you don't have any - why are you -?"   Xander couldn't finish a single sentence but the delicious 'fuck me now' smell was just as strong from him.

"Now, Xander.  You bloody well can't make it, either.  Too much cinnamon, makes me sneeze."  Spike poked at the piece of bread dissolving in the egg-mixture.  "This is too bloody soft - look, it's crumbling to pieces!  That's gross.  Andrew!  Eyes front and center, little mouse!  Dump this and get me two fresh eggs."    Andrew blinked and his mouth opened in a silent 'o'.   Spike poked him gently with the spatula.  "Now, Andrew."

"Oh, uh - oh, yeah, two eggs, yeah -"   Andrew grabbed the bowl and dumped it - rinsed it - did a hasty wipe with a paper towel and then dove for the 'fridge and two eggs.  Spike leaned into Xander and give him a hard, searching kiss. 

"Humor me," he whispered, and Xander's eyes narrowed at him but he nodded.  Spike kissed him again and let his hand drift lower, to briefly caress the half-hard cock that was outlined beneath the sweats Xander wore.  He blindly tossed the spatula towards the counter.

"Oh, my sweet -"   Spike turned and caught the egg as it tumbled from Andrew's hand.  He scowled at the boy. 

"Andrew.  Pay attention.  Lessons - yeah?  Lesson the first; don't drop the eggs on the floor.  C'mon over here."  Andrew stumbled forward and put the bowl down with a little crack on the counter, his hand flexing and tensing around the other egg.  "Right."  Spike got up behind Andrew - let the tip of his own growing erection just brush the soft cotton of Andrew's pajamas.   Black bottoms and a blue top with black piping and after a moment's blank staring Spike realized they looked like Mr. Spock's uniform from the early days of Star Trek.  He rolled his eyes - caught Xander's look of sardonic amusement and pushed a little harder into the curve of Andrew's ass.

"Lesson the second - eggs in the bowl, no shell."  Spike reached around Andrew and neatly cracked the egg he was holding - tossed the shell into the sink.  "Now you," he purred, right in Andrew's ear, and Andrew jumped and swallowed hard.

"Uhh...I - do you think -"

"No thinking, Andrew.  This is all about...feeling."   *Wonder how long he'll last?*    Spike couldn't help it - he dipped his head a little and let his lips just brush the top curve of Andrew's ear.  "Feel the egg in your hand.  Fell how smooth it is - heavy -"   Spike curled the fingers of his right hand around Andrew's and the egg - reached out with his left hand for Xander.  Xander came willingly, pressing against Spike, his hand warm on the back of Spike's neck and sweeping slowly down to rest on the upper curve of his buttock.  His other hand curled into Spike's, and Spike brought their linked hands around to Andrew's towel-covered groin, to press against the warm, solid flesh.  "Feel it, Xander?  Smooth and hard..."  Andrew twitched under their fingers and he gasped in a breath.  Spike carefully maneuvered his other hand and cracked the egg on the counter-edge, then guided it over the bowl.

"Open it up, Andy, let it go -" he instructed and Andrew pulled the shell apart, dumping the egg into the bowl.  Spike plucked the shell out of his fingers and threw it into the sink, then he picked up the fork that was lying there.  "Now - scramble the eggs up a bit...  Hold the fork...firmly -"   He pressed Xander's hand over Andrew's erection and pushed forward a little more.  Xander's cock was grinding into his hip, and his hand was stroking lower, kneading and pulling at Spike's buttocks.  Andrew's hand fumbled around the fork and gripped it tightly, and Spike covered the boy's hand with his own.

"You need to go - around and around - gently -"  Xander's hand rubbed a circle over Andrew's cock and Spike's ass, and Spike let his other hand drift up to rub and circle over Andrew's chest, feeling his nipples harden under the pajama top.   He let go of the fork and watched with amusement as Andrew continued to churn it clumsily in the eggs.

"You need to, now, drop the fork -"   Andrew dropped it - stood there, his hands clutching the counter edge, his hips moving jerkily between Xander's hand and Spike's groin.  Spike slid his hands up to Andrew's shoulders and turned him.

"Lesson the third...your grip.  Firm, but not stiff.  Your wrist - has to be fluid."  Spike guided Andrew's left hand down to his naked cock - curled the trembling fingers around it.  Andrew twitched and gasped, his eyes impossibly wide.  Xander untied the drawstring of his sweats and pushed them down, over his hips and to the floor, kicking them away.  The tip of his cock was shiny and wet.   The combined scents of arousal and pre-come and clean sweat mingled in the air and Spike took a deep, deep breath.

*Fuckin' sweet.  Wonder if he's a virgin?  Maybe that Warren bloke had him, but I doubt it...*   "C'mon, Andy, take Xander in your other hand.  You need to practice.  Firm, but fluid."   As he talked he worked the knot in the towel free and tossed it to the counter top, where one corner flopped into the eggs.  Spike nudged his hips forward, reminding, and Andrew took Xander's cock in his other hand - began a slow caress of both of them.  Xander made a small, breathy sound and pulled Andrew closer by one hip, and Spike did the same so that their shoulders just touched, and thighs were bumping and glancing off each other.  Together they worked Andrew's pajama pants down and down, until they puddled around his ankles. Andrew's cock was dark with blood and the clear fluid pearled on the tip of it.  Spike reached and swiped his thumb over the head, making Andrew groan, and then he pushed his thumb between the wet, pink lips.

"A good cook always tastes, little mouse.  You have to know how it tastes," he rumbled, and Andrew's mouth closed down on his thumb, sucking and licking, while his hands stuttered over their cocks.  Xander smeared his own finger with the pre-come from Spike - nudged his fingertip in beside Spike's thumb.

"Spike - tastes good, doesn't he Andrew?"

"Ohhh..." around their fingers, breathy and needy and Spike kneaded the slim buttock that was under his hand - felt Xander's fingers on the other side and they both slid their fingertips into the warm, sweat-slippery crease.  Andrew's hips bucked and his cock bobbed, bumping theirs.   His hands worked, twist and glide, a little tentative, and Spike leaned in to run his lips over Andrew's jaw and throat.

"Grip a little harder, Andy - you won't hurt us.  Nice and tight, yeah?"

"O-okay -" Andrew whispered.  He stroked more firmly and Spike rewarded him with a little nip to the top of his shoulder - with his fingers wiggling deeper into the cleft of his ass.  Xander's fingers were there too, sweeping down to cup Andrew's balls from behind and tug lightly, and Andrew surged under them, gasping, his hands faltering. 

"I think he needs - a demonstration," Xander murmured, and Spike grinned over at him.  With a little effort they maneuvered the boy so he was pressed between them.  Necessity being the soul of invention, Spike glanced around and saw the stick of butter on the counter.  He scooped up two fingers full and nudged Xander, who did the same.  Then Xander smeared the soft, warm butter over Andrew's cock, starting a slow, tight stroking.  Spike pressed his fingers into Andrew's ass, rubbing the slippery stuff in, working it deeper with one fingertip and then two while Andrew's head fell back on his shoulder and his eyes fluttered closed.  His hands gripped spasmodically at Xander's hip and Spike's encircling arm.  Xander leaned forward and kissed him, fucking his tongue into his mouth and coaxing little moaning cries from the boy.   Andrew's legs spread a little wider, and he was rocking his hips back and forth now, trying to get both sensations at once.

Spike wove his fingers together and eased two inside, going slow, twisting a little and just pushing in and out in shallow thrusts.  "Oh, you feel nice, little mouse - nice and hot and smooth...  You like this?" Spike whispered, and Xander moved his mouth down, to lick and suck at collarbones and nipples and Andrew's head rolled weakly on Spike's shoulder.

"It's - it's - oh, please, it's -"

"Good?  It's good?"

"In-incredible - please!"  Xander's hand was moving faster now, gripping tight, and he was fondling Andrew's balls gently, tugging and rolling them.  Spike insinuated a third finger, pressing up and rubbing inside and Andrew cried out, his hands gripping tight on arm and hip, his mouth wide, eyes wide, legs wide between them.

"Gonna come?  Why don't you come, Andy, why don't you -"   Andrew arched and moaned, trembling, and then was coming hard, his body breaking out in a sweat, soft groans of pleasure bubbling up out of his chest.  Gradually, Spike and Xander let their hands slow - go to a gentle caress and then finally stop and Andrew was gasping for breath, belly heaving.

"Think you could do that now, Andrew?" Xander asked, and Andrew gave a shaky laugh.

"I - I think I want to - to try again."

"I think - you need to try in the shower," Spike said, pressing in close behind Andrew and letting his own hard cock slip between Andrew's legs and rub.   Xander pushed closer and ground his erection against Andrew's slippery, come-laced belly, kissing Spike over the boy's shoulder.

"I think - oh!  M-make it so, gentlemen," Andrew ordered.  And they did.