Moonlight and Shadow



The moonlight made patches of blinding white all among the tree-shadows, and to Oz it looked like drifts of impossible snow on the warm California grass.  The tombs and headstones were snowy, too; shining white and strange like dragon's teeth and the bones of giants, poking up at crooked angles.  The air was mild - fresh - with hints of the river and the sea, the astringent smells of pine and crushed grass and the ever-present, dead-earth smell from all those vamps digging up and out.  Buffy might patrol every night, but she only patrolled one cemetery at a time and the vamps were everywhere.   Kind of like the soldiers, but Oz had his eye on them now, and he'd memorized the scent of righteous morality along with gun-oil so he could avoid them when push came to shove.

Oz sidestepped the furrowed ground of a disturbed grave and stopped short.   A new scent had come to him.  A scent that was familiar and at the same time disturbingly different.   He paused, nostrils flaring, the wolf stirring and lending its own input.

*Earth smoke blood spice...salt sweet wood lemon.*   Scents he encountered every day, but this time tinged with...something else.  *Savory musk pepper want want want.*    He took another breath and then eased slowly forward, gaze flickering keenly over the patchwork ground.  Silent as the wolf could be.

"Xander..."   The voice was groaning, breathless - needy, and it made the hair stand up on the back of Oz's neck - made his belly do a little twist - made the muscles right behind his cock clench.  Pleasant little whole-body shiver and he eased around the trunk of a twisted yew and stared.

A tomb - one of the above-ground kind - was in the clearing straight ahead, about fifteen yards away.   Spike's coat was laid out on top of it, and Spike was laid out on top of his coat.  Shirt off, pants down to his knees, he lay across the narrow width, his arms raised and his hands curled around and clutching the edge above him, his entire body arched into a silver-white bow.  Shadows from a near-by sycamore danced over him, dapples of blackness, and his coat was like a spill of ink under him so that he seemed to float, suspended by nothing.   His profile was sharp against the blackness beyond him.  Xander was between his legs - inside the rucked hobble of Spike's jeans - and he was shirtless as well.   His skin - so darkly-tan in the sun - was now an old ivory, dark against Spike's pallor and the lunar-white of the marble.  The dapples of shadow were like tattoos over the both of them - shifting spots of hidden flesh that the thresh and toss of the tree limbs obscured and revealed by turn.

"Love, love - feels so good..." Spike moaned, and Xander lifted his head - face hidden behind his shaggy hair.

"You like that, Spike?   I like that taste of you on my tongue.  Gonna give me more, baby?"  Oz shivered, leaning his head and shoulders back against the yew.  The trunk was wind-warped and nearly parallel to the ground and he pillowed himself there comfortably.  Let his hand slide down - slowly, like Xander's hand was - from collarbone to chest to belly.  Let his hand tease open the button on his worn jeans and ease the fly down.  Silent, and almost motionless.  Xander was gently stroking Spike's cock with his hand - too gentle for the vampire, who groaned again and thrust upward, his knees locked around Xander's hips.

"Give you anything you want, love, anything, any - thing, please..." 

"Anything?  I like that, too."  Xander bent over Spike's body again and Spike's hand fisted into his hair, pulling the strands back.  Now Oz could see Xander's face, as well - could see his mouth moving over Spike's flesh - his tongue lapping and licking, his teeth biting gently.   Oz let his own hand trail over his chest, brushing lightly here and there while his other hand slid under the waist of his underwear and stroked hard, warm flesh.   When Xander's mouth closed over Spike's cock again Oz arched, hissing, his own hand tightening down and squeezing.  He could feel dampness, slick under his fingers and he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked slowly.  Watching Xander suck, watching Xander hold Spike's hips in his hands, pinning him down and mouthing him until the vampire was gasping.

"C'mon, fuck - Xan -" Spike rasped, and Xander finally lifted his head.

"Yeah - fuck.  You're ready for me, right?  Like I told you to be..."

"Fuck yeah, been ready all night."   Spike lifted his legs, getting his knees over Xander's shoulders, crossing his ankles.  Xander's hands dropped to his waist and Oz heard the scratch of his zipper going down.  He pulled his saliva-wet fingers from his mouth and grasped his cock again - started a slow, twisting stroke.  His gaze riveted on the others, his heart pounding in his chest and the thick smell of his own arousal mingling with the other scents. 

"Good.  I don't wanna waste any more time."  Xander pulled Spike forward a little, so his ass was coming off the edge of the tomb.  He pushed Spike's legs back, leaning over him, one hand guiding and a moment later Oz could tell he was pushing in as Spike arched up off the stone, his hands going back over his head and clinging to the stone lip.  Xander paused for a moment, looking down at him and then shoved brutally home and Spike wailed, his ass coming up off the stone.


"Just how you like it, baby," Xander gasped out.  He settled into a hard, fast rhythm, his hands behind Spike's knees, keeping his legs high and apart.  Spike was using what leverage he had to lift himself into each thrust, muscles flexing all along his ribs and thighs.  Oz stroked himself faster, letting his other hand come down to cup and roll his balls - tug at them.  He spread his legs a little wider, his hips moving in time with Xanders, his whole body tingling with the scents of lust and blood and sweat.  The wolf inside wanted to join them - wanted to take Spike's cock in his mouth and suck that heady flavor down his throat - wanted the cool flesh of Spike's mouth on his own body - wanted to sink his tongue into Xander's mouth and taste the flavors there.  He whimpered and hastily stifled it, his eyes wide and intent.

Xander was thrusting harder - faster - and Spike's human face had become the demon's.  Xander reached between them, his hand on Spike's cock and Oz could see his shoulder and elbow working - stroking hard. 

Suddenly Spike bucked up, a series of low cries tearing out of him, and Xander's head was back, his mouth open, his rhythm falling apart into uncontrolled jabs and shoves.   Oz grasped himself tighter - moved his hand faster, his legs trembling as a rush of tingling heat shot down his spine and he orgasmed silently, straining for air.  A moment later Xander folded over Spike, gasping, and his hips slowed and slowed and stopped and he lay there, draped over Spike's heaving chest, his hand trapped between them.    Spike lifted his head and kissed Xander's hair - disengaged his hands from the tomb-edge and brushed crumbles of stone off them.

"Fuckin' hell, love, that was bloody brilliant," he rasped, and Xander lifted his face up to be kissed.  Oz leaned against the yew, shivering, and then crouched down to slowly wipe his hand on the long grass.  He stood up and tucked himself away, feeling energized - hungry - wanting more.  He watched as Spike and Xander kissed, slow and careful around the fangs, and then as slowly disengaged and tidied up - got ready to leave.   Spike shrugged on his coat and pulled Xander close.

"Can't wait to get home.  Fuck you all night...  You ready for me?" he asked between kisses.  Xander shivered, his fingers in Spike's hair.

"Always ready for you, baby."  Spike bent his head and whispered something that even Oz's wolf-senses couldn't hear, and then they were both grinning, and Xander was nodding.  Spike pulled out his cigarettes and lit on - looked over his shoulder and let his human face come back.

"Want to come join us, wolf?  Always room for more."  In the shadows Oz froze, and as Spike and Xander sauntered off, he stood for a moment, thinking.  Remembering both of them down in the Pit, getting him out of the Initiative's clutches.   Remembering how their friendship had been extended to him - how they had simply included him after that, no questions.  Feeling the hunger, and the want in his belly - in the wolf.  He craned his neck and looked up at the moon, and then he jogged out of the trees, following.  Catching up.