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Spike was in his element. Surrounded by ten vamps, only a few of whom were fledges, the glee radiated off of him with the promise of a good fight. "What is this, a Bloodaholics Anonymous meeting? You lot were just standing around chatting. Who's up for a bit of a rough and tumble, ya?"
Growling, a few dashed in at that comment, but not in a coordinated fashion. A few kicks, a few twists, and the odds were down to 6 to 1. Shaking his head in disappointment, Spike fell into a fighting stance, his duster billowing around him. He took a step backward to better survey the surviving vamps. Unfortunately, he didn't see a box, and he tumbled back onto the ground without his normal grace.
The vamps began to rush in when, suddenly, there was a deep chuckle from down the alley. "Is this a private fight, or can anyone join in?" Stepping out under the one unbroken light was a figure in black wearing an eyepatch.
"It's him," hissed a vamp wearing a torn Van Halen shirt. The new player took a moment to enjoy the various expressions of fear facing him. Then, in a circular fighting style that was a blend of both aikido and the feral moves from Mutant X, he quickly dispatched the remaining vamps.
Stepping over to give Spike a hand up, he accepted the scrutiny of the blond vamp. "Harris, the not-so-doughnut boy anymore. Looks like you don't need any help."
Pulling the vamp in close to him, Xander drawled, "Need, no. Want?"
That comment was met with a raised eyebrow. "Know all about want, pet."
Then they were kissing. Deep, devouring kisses that were flavoured by the vamp dust covering them both. Hands coasting over muscles warmed and limber from the fight, but both still burning with a tension that screamed for release. The space between them shrunk until they could feel each other's hardened lengths. Spike broke the kiss to start trailing his supple lips along Xander's shadowed jawline, hands firmly on Xander's ass, pulling them closer, both thrusting to get closer still.
"Spike," Xander hissed, letting the warm water of the shower stream over him and clean the evidence of his activities.
Toweling himself off, he had to grin. Throw in a guitar solo and he'd just re-written his high-school fantasies, replacing the vampire for the Slayer.