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Feb. 21st, 2004 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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dancetomato
Spander
hurt/comfort..sorta
NC-17
Setting: Season 5 just after Intervention
DT--::sigh:: I tried to work that loverly phrase in...I did, but it just wasn't right. The best I could do shows up at the end.
He lay on the lid of the sarcophagus for seeming hours. Floating in and out of consciousness. Twisted hair taunting him thorough ruby lips. Doe-eyes pleading with him from behind a green veil. Soft whispers. Harsh words. He was adrift on pain and memory, sure of nothing.
Someone was lifting him. Floating through the air, warmth surrounding him, burrowing its way through his body, into his bones.
Softness enveloped him, a hand behind his head, a cup at his mouth and a warm rumble encouraging him to, “Drink. Open, don’t spit these out. Drink.”
And it was all done so nicely. How could he refuse the warm voice and the strong hand?
Then a giant purple wave engulfed and swept him away.
*****
His eyes opened and blearily he took in his surroundings. Crypt. Bottom level. His bed. He struggled to sit up on aching arms.
“No. Lay down. I’ll get you what you need.”
Spike’s head twisted abruptly to find the voice.
“Harris?” He croaked.
“That’d be me. Lay down.”
And only because his arms had started shaking uncontrollably, not because the whelp had told him to, Spike collapsed back onto the bed. “What’re you doing here?”
“Orders, Spike.”
Xander came into view as he approached the bedside, cup in hand. “Here, take a few more of these, they’ll help.”
Spike eyed them suspiciously, “Not man enough to stake me then? Have to kill me through some little pill?”
“Not gonna kill you vamp-man. They’re painkillers. Willow…helped them out potency-wise.” Xander’s voice took on a sales-pitch tone, “Specially formulated for the demon in you.”
“Why?”
“Because Buffy said.”
“Why you?”
“I volunteered.”
Spike stared at the boy as if he had suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. “Volunteered.”
“Yeah.”
The seconds ticked by as Spike stared at the boy/man in front of him. Xander placidly looking back at him.
“Give ‘em here.”
*********
When he came up from the warm swirl his limbs felt weak from disuse, his mind heavy, his tongue thick and dry. A deep gnawing hunger in his belly.
“Wow.” Soft and amazed.
Spike struggled to focus on the voice. “Harris?”
“Yep.”
“Why’re you still here?”
“Figured you’d need a refill. Looks like I was right.”
Xander’s eyes were wide, brows lifted, an almost…appreciative look on his face.
Spike realized he was in game-face. The hunger gripped him fiercely as the scent of blood wafted to him.
“Where is it?” He hated that he sounded so desperate, needy.
Xander held out the bag, Spike gripped it and sunk his fangs in greedily, quickly draining it of the tepid blood. Another bag was in his hands as soon as he finished the first, and then a third.
“It’s human.”
A slow nod. “Arrangements were made.”
Things weren’t adding up. None of this made sense. “What is going on with you lot? Have you all gone daft?”
To Spike’s surprise Xander laughed. “At least you don’t trust us. That’s good. Was beginning to think Buffy’d gone a bit nuts myself.”
Spike narrowed his eyes as Xander continued, “It’s because you didn’t spill your guts vamp-man. She’s…grateful.”
Spike tore his eyes from the grinning boy and studied the folds of his sheets. Shaking his head he said slowly, “Never would. Couldn’t. I...” he stopped himself and refocused on Xander, “No secrets from me, pup. King of secrets, me.”
Xander absorbed the drop of Spike’s shoulders and the earnestness of his face. He sat on the bed.
“How’re you feeling?”
The blood was working its way through his body, plumping his flesh, energizing him from the inside out; he glanced at his chest and watched as an angry red slash gradually faded before his eyes.
“Not up for a rumble, but I could get out of this bloody bed.”
Xander nodded and stood up.
Spike swung his legs over the side and moved to stand, it struck him suddenly that he was naked. The whelp had probably done it, so no false modesty necessary. For some reason, the thought of Xander stripping him down and laying him between his sheets licked at his brain mischievously.
Standing, he stretched languorously, watching the boy from the corner of his eye, a swirl of pleasure tickling his groin as human’s mouth gaped open. Spike knew he looked good: smooth skin stretched over lithe muscles, long bones, all hard angles and sharp curves, better than God made him. And? Because of the blood and the earlier thought of Harris being involved in his current nude state, his prick was beginning to twitch and fill against his thigh. Spike struggled not to grin as Xander’s eyes got wider and a blood flush crept up his neck to his face.
Still not looking at the whelp, Spike casually dropped his arms as if to scratch, but instead pulled his stiffening cock into his palm, gently working it to the sound of Harris’ increasingly rapid breathing.
He turned away, intending to walk to his crude shower and finish what he’d started when he heard, “Don’t…”
Spike’s gut knotted as comprehended the meaning behind the quietly hoarse word. He turned to see desire in the previously astonished brown eyes. A pink tongue darting out to moisten parted lips. Large, sturdy hands curling and uncurling next to hips that unconsciously tilted forward as if to display the full bulge in Harris’ jeans for Spike’s perusal.
Spike caressed Xander’s body with his eyes as he leisurely worked his fingers over his thick member. When he rubbed a thumb over his wet cockhead, letting the side of it slide through the slim indentation at its tip, a shudder ran its way through the pup’s body.
He took a step forward. Predatory, feeling the power in the room simply because he was naked. And hard. Harder than he’d ever been in his sultriest dreams of the Slayer. Marble between his legs because this boy, this Scooby, this man in front of him was eating him alive with his eyes.
He kept moving until he was finally close enough to touch Xander. Close enough to be enveloped by the cloud of arousal emanating from every pore on the whelp’s tanned skin. Deciding quickly, he gripped Xander’s wrist and brought the clenching fist to his dick where it unfurled and established a tentative hold on his aroused flesh.
The moan that escaped Spike’s lips was anything but manly. A wide calloused palm holding him gently, Xander’s face an amalgam of fear, awe and lust.
Spike’s own hand sought out the firm ridge twitching beneath worn blue denim, Harris’ hand tightening on him convulsively as he rubbed its length. Spike’s balls nearly embarrassed him as they filled and rose, threatening to shoot their thick load just from the rough, delectable feel of the boy’s hot grip.
“This what you want, boy?” Spike’s words floated quiet on the air. As if spoken too loud, with too much emphasis, and the delirium would end.
Xander tilted his head down and locked his whisky eyes with Spike’s, and then he slowly moved his hand from tip to base on Spike’s cock, rough ridges dragging down his foreskin like burning sandpaper.
Good enough, then. Spike got Xander’s dick out of his pants with speed and finesse cultivated from years of experience. His tongue dry again at the look of the man’s dark, blood filled phallus wrapped in his own pale fist. Long and just thick enough, with a wicked curve that bent Spike’s wrist just a bit back from level.
Spike dropped to his knees, his own member keening at the loss of the rugged hand that cradled it, and took Xander between his lips.
“Christ.”
Spike felt Harris’ knees start to give and with quick hands on lean hips, guided the boy to the bed where he sat heavily. Spike moved swiftly between parted knees and let the boy slip into his mouth again. Such heat, even here. Felt like his mouth was being branded by an iron bar. He moved a hand to his own insistent prick.
Spike tilted his head just enough and opened wider, Xander slid all the way back and Spike swallowed.
“Fuck yeah!” Spike was glad he didn’t need to breathe as Xander bucked up into him forcing his nose deep into his groin. Spike held him there, clutching him repeatedly with that tight ring of muscle deep in his throat. Quick, tight gulps around Xander’s cock, drops of pre-come sliding their way down.
He moved back to taste the rest of Xander, warm human flesh so different from the cool, barely tepid vampire flesh he’d been accustomed to. Salt, meaty essence, copper, so close to blood, but just different enough. Felt the hot blood pulsing just beneath the surface, let the slick tangy drops of pre-come coat his tongue. Spike’s own hand began to move faster on his glass hard cock.
He moved a hand to Xander’s rising testes. Rolled them gently as the pup cried out in shallow grunts and keening moans.
Spike knew it was coming. Knew that there wasn’t much left to do, so he slid his mouth down Xander’s cock again, pressing his tounge hard against the thick vein, swallowing the spongy head just as his fingers moved down to massage the man’s tight wrinkled hole.
And Xander came. In long, burning spurts down Spike’s throat, thrashing and humping his mouth, heedless of anything and anyone. The taste of him was enough to send Spike spiraling over the edge shooting his own ejaculate onto his hand and thighs.
“Spike…”
“Spike…”
“Yeah, whelp.”
“Don’t call me whelp. I hate it when you call me whelp.” Spike forced himself out of the dark haze that had overtaken him at climax.
“What?”
“I said, did you have a nice dream there Spike? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, witnessing a vampire having a wet dream is something I could’ve done without for the rest of my life.”
Spike opened his eyes and found that he was still on his bed. Muscles and bones aching, feeling like hammered shit. Feeling more than a little itchy and uncomfortable in stiff, blood-dried clothes. A clingy, heavy, damp weight on his crotch. Bugger.
“No secrets from me, pup. King of secrets, me.”
“Trying to be all enigmatic now huh? Stick to the snark, suits you better.”
Xander turned to leave the dank recess of the lower crypt, tossing over his shoulder: “There’s some pills there on the table. Buffy had Willow make ‘em special for ya. I gave you some earlier, came back to give you another dose, but since you’re up….” He grabbed onto the ladder and started his way up.
Spike drew a hand down his face. ‘Course. More sense this way anyhow. Just one last dart though…
“By the way, Harris...”
Xander looked back at him.
“Who’s your daddy?”
Brown eyes widened in shock and Spike laughed, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side, as he watched the whelp scramble up the ladder in sheer panic.
dancetomatoSpander
hurt/comfort..sorta
NC-17
Setting: Season 5 just after Intervention
DT--::sigh:: I tried to work that loverly phrase in...I did, but it just wasn't right. The best I could do shows up at the end.
He lay on the lid of the sarcophagus for seeming hours. Floating in and out of consciousness. Twisted hair taunting him thorough ruby lips. Doe-eyes pleading with him from behind a green veil. Soft whispers. Harsh words. He was adrift on pain and memory, sure of nothing.
Someone was lifting him. Floating through the air, warmth surrounding him, burrowing its way through his body, into his bones.
Softness enveloped him, a hand behind his head, a cup at his mouth and a warm rumble encouraging him to, “Drink. Open, don’t spit these out. Drink.”
And it was all done so nicely. How could he refuse the warm voice and the strong hand?
Then a giant purple wave engulfed and swept him away.
*****
His eyes opened and blearily he took in his surroundings. Crypt. Bottom level. His bed. He struggled to sit up on aching arms.
“No. Lay down. I’ll get you what you need.”
Spike’s head twisted abruptly to find the voice.
“Harris?” He croaked.
“That’d be me. Lay down.”
And only because his arms had started shaking uncontrollably, not because the whelp had told him to, Spike collapsed back onto the bed. “What’re you doing here?”
“Orders, Spike.”
Xander came into view as he approached the bedside, cup in hand. “Here, take a few more of these, they’ll help.”
Spike eyed them suspiciously, “Not man enough to stake me then? Have to kill me through some little pill?”
“Not gonna kill you vamp-man. They’re painkillers. Willow…helped them out potency-wise.” Xander’s voice took on a sales-pitch tone, “Specially formulated for the demon in you.”
“Why?”
“Because Buffy said.”
“Why you?”
“I volunteered.”
Spike stared at the boy as if he had suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. “Volunteered.”
“Yeah.”
The seconds ticked by as Spike stared at the boy/man in front of him. Xander placidly looking back at him.
“Give ‘em here.”
*********
When he came up from the warm swirl his limbs felt weak from disuse, his mind heavy, his tongue thick and dry. A deep gnawing hunger in his belly.
“Wow.” Soft and amazed.
Spike struggled to focus on the voice. “Harris?”
“Yep.”
“Why’re you still here?”
“Figured you’d need a refill. Looks like I was right.”
Xander’s eyes were wide, brows lifted, an almost…appreciative look on his face.
Spike realized he was in game-face. The hunger gripped him fiercely as the scent of blood wafted to him.
“Where is it?” He hated that he sounded so desperate, needy.
Xander held out the bag, Spike gripped it and sunk his fangs in greedily, quickly draining it of the tepid blood. Another bag was in his hands as soon as he finished the first, and then a third.
“It’s human.”
A slow nod. “Arrangements were made.”
Things weren’t adding up. None of this made sense. “What is going on with you lot? Have you all gone daft?”
To Spike’s surprise Xander laughed. “At least you don’t trust us. That’s good. Was beginning to think Buffy’d gone a bit nuts myself.”
Spike narrowed his eyes as Xander continued, “It’s because you didn’t spill your guts vamp-man. She’s…grateful.”
Spike tore his eyes from the grinning boy and studied the folds of his sheets. Shaking his head he said slowly, “Never would. Couldn’t. I...” he stopped himself and refocused on Xander, “No secrets from me, pup. King of secrets, me.”
Xander absorbed the drop of Spike’s shoulders and the earnestness of his face. He sat on the bed.
“How’re you feeling?”
The blood was working its way through his body, plumping his flesh, energizing him from the inside out; he glanced at his chest and watched as an angry red slash gradually faded before his eyes.
“Not up for a rumble, but I could get out of this bloody bed.”
Xander nodded and stood up.
Spike swung his legs over the side and moved to stand, it struck him suddenly that he was naked. The whelp had probably done it, so no false modesty necessary. For some reason, the thought of Xander stripping him down and laying him between his sheets licked at his brain mischievously.
Standing, he stretched languorously, watching the boy from the corner of his eye, a swirl of pleasure tickling his groin as human’s mouth gaped open. Spike knew he looked good: smooth skin stretched over lithe muscles, long bones, all hard angles and sharp curves, better than God made him. And? Because of the blood and the earlier thought of Harris being involved in his current nude state, his prick was beginning to twitch and fill against his thigh. Spike struggled not to grin as Xander’s eyes got wider and a blood flush crept up his neck to his face.
Still not looking at the whelp, Spike casually dropped his arms as if to scratch, but instead pulled his stiffening cock into his palm, gently working it to the sound of Harris’ increasingly rapid breathing.
He turned away, intending to walk to his crude shower and finish what he’d started when he heard, “Don’t…”
Spike’s gut knotted as comprehended the meaning behind the quietly hoarse word. He turned to see desire in the previously astonished brown eyes. A pink tongue darting out to moisten parted lips. Large, sturdy hands curling and uncurling next to hips that unconsciously tilted forward as if to display the full bulge in Harris’ jeans for Spike’s perusal.
Spike caressed Xander’s body with his eyes as he leisurely worked his fingers over his thick member. When he rubbed a thumb over his wet cockhead, letting the side of it slide through the slim indentation at its tip, a shudder ran its way through the pup’s body.
He took a step forward. Predatory, feeling the power in the room simply because he was naked. And hard. Harder than he’d ever been in his sultriest dreams of the Slayer. Marble between his legs because this boy, this Scooby, this man in front of him was eating him alive with his eyes.
He kept moving until he was finally close enough to touch Xander. Close enough to be enveloped by the cloud of arousal emanating from every pore on the whelp’s tanned skin. Deciding quickly, he gripped Xander’s wrist and brought the clenching fist to his dick where it unfurled and established a tentative hold on his aroused flesh.
The moan that escaped Spike’s lips was anything but manly. A wide calloused palm holding him gently, Xander’s face an amalgam of fear, awe and lust.
Spike’s own hand sought out the firm ridge twitching beneath worn blue denim, Harris’ hand tightening on him convulsively as he rubbed its length. Spike’s balls nearly embarrassed him as they filled and rose, threatening to shoot their thick load just from the rough, delectable feel of the boy’s hot grip.
“This what you want, boy?” Spike’s words floated quiet on the air. As if spoken too loud, with too much emphasis, and the delirium would end.
Xander tilted his head down and locked his whisky eyes with Spike’s, and then he slowly moved his hand from tip to base on Spike’s cock, rough ridges dragging down his foreskin like burning sandpaper.
Good enough, then. Spike got Xander’s dick out of his pants with speed and finesse cultivated from years of experience. His tongue dry again at the look of the man’s dark, blood filled phallus wrapped in his own pale fist. Long and just thick enough, with a wicked curve that bent Spike’s wrist just a bit back from level.
Spike dropped to his knees, his own member keening at the loss of the rugged hand that cradled it, and took Xander between his lips.
“Christ.”
Spike felt Harris’ knees start to give and with quick hands on lean hips, guided the boy to the bed where he sat heavily. Spike moved swiftly between parted knees and let the boy slip into his mouth again. Such heat, even here. Felt like his mouth was being branded by an iron bar. He moved a hand to his own insistent prick.
Spike tilted his head just enough and opened wider, Xander slid all the way back and Spike swallowed.
“Fuck yeah!” Spike was glad he didn’t need to breathe as Xander bucked up into him forcing his nose deep into his groin. Spike held him there, clutching him repeatedly with that tight ring of muscle deep in his throat. Quick, tight gulps around Xander’s cock, drops of pre-come sliding their way down.
He moved back to taste the rest of Xander, warm human flesh so different from the cool, barely tepid vampire flesh he’d been accustomed to. Salt, meaty essence, copper, so close to blood, but just different enough. Felt the hot blood pulsing just beneath the surface, let the slick tangy drops of pre-come coat his tongue. Spike’s own hand began to move faster on his glass hard cock.
He moved a hand to Xander’s rising testes. Rolled them gently as the pup cried out in shallow grunts and keening moans.
Spike knew it was coming. Knew that there wasn’t much left to do, so he slid his mouth down Xander’s cock again, pressing his tounge hard against the thick vein, swallowing the spongy head just as his fingers moved down to massage the man’s tight wrinkled hole.
And Xander came. In long, burning spurts down Spike’s throat, thrashing and humping his mouth, heedless of anything and anyone. The taste of him was enough to send Spike spiraling over the edge shooting his own ejaculate onto his hand and thighs.
“Spike…”
“Spike…”
“Yeah, whelp.”
“Don’t call me whelp. I hate it when you call me whelp.” Spike forced himself out of the dark haze that had overtaken him at climax.
“What?”
“I said, did you have a nice dream there Spike? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, witnessing a vampire having a wet dream is something I could’ve done without for the rest of my life.”
Spike opened his eyes and found that he was still on his bed. Muscles and bones aching, feeling like hammered shit. Feeling more than a little itchy and uncomfortable in stiff, blood-dried clothes. A clingy, heavy, damp weight on his crotch. Bugger.
“No secrets from me, pup. King of secrets, me.”
“Trying to be all enigmatic now huh? Stick to the snark, suits you better.”
Xander turned to leave the dank recess of the lower crypt, tossing over his shoulder: “There’s some pills there on the table. Buffy had Willow make ‘em special for ya. I gave you some earlier, came back to give you another dose, but since you’re up….” He grabbed onto the ladder and started his way up.
Spike drew a hand down his face. ‘Course. More sense this way anyhow. Just one last dart though…
“By the way, Harris...”
Xander looked back at him.
“Who’s your daddy?”
Brown eyes widened in shock and Spike laughed, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side, as he watched the whelp scramble up the ladder in sheer panic.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 01:39 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-21 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 01:39 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-21 04:00 pm (UTC)I tried to make Xander stay with Spike, but he refused. Said, nuh-uh, not this time, too canonny for me. Busta's on his own.
Stoopid Xander.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 03:42 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-21 04:01 pm (UTC)Yeah, he just didn't want to admit it right then and there. Bad boy.
Glad you liked!
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 05:13 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-21 05:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 06:42 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-21 08:49 pm (UTC)::blush:: You're too kind.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 09:05 pm (UTC)But Calla, well Calla gets a thorough licking. *All Over* her naked body. Because she gave me a happy. ::commences with the licking::
Re:
Date: 2004-02-21 11:53 pm (UTC)So glad you liked it!
::stretches out so that you can reach every inch::
no subject
Date: 2004-02-22 11:18 pm (UTC)