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Spander Inquisition
May. 15th, 2004 10:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backupTitle: Supplicant
Written for: Morula![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_dellamore
Rating: NC-17
AN: It's my first fic in this vein so I hope it's not too...disappointing after all that wait. I apologize. It was hard!
_____________________________________________________
Spike heard the faint moaning from the narrow alleyway when he was still two blocks away. He had the maker pinpointed by the time he’d closed in a block. Cursing, he sprinted the rest of the way, it was nigh on sunrise, but the Slayer’d have his head if he didn’t stop to help her pet boy.
The smell of blood was heavy in the air, coating his tongue even from yards away. Seeing it was worse. It took everything he had to restrain his instinct to shift and hunt prey. Buffy’d stake him for sure, and really? The last thing he needed was a freaked/angry human, which is what Xander was sure to be if Spike came upon him in full vampire regalia.
The blood trail on the ground was reminiscent of a severely wounded animal that was crawling away to die in peace. Spike was astonished to find Xander even breathing as he followed it to its end. He was a bloody mess. And for once the epithet was literal. Spike couldn’t tell where his eyes were in the pulp of swollen flesh that was his face. His split, oozing lips were parted to allow shallow wheezing breaths to pass through them. The only way Spike knew it was Xander was by his smell. Git always smelled the same--Tide and sawdust. Even under the thick layer of booze and blood it was there.
Xander’s legs were bent at unnatural angels to the repose of his body and his knuckles were gripped in a rictus around nearby garbage, as if in an effort to just…stay.
“Harris?” No response.
“Hey. Xander.” Spike moved closer, bending down to carefully place a hand on a shoulder. He received a harsh whistle of a scream in reply even as a blinding stab of pain shot through his head.
“Fuck.” Spike could feel the encroaching sunrise pricking at the back of his skull. No time. He was going to have to do something thoroughly unpleasant for the both of them.
“This is might hurt, Xander. Not that I haven’t wanted to hurt you on more than one occasion, but this? Even I wouldn’t kick you when you were down. Where’s the fun in that if I can’t do the original breaking myself, right?” While he spoke he gingerly inched closer to Xander. By the end he was right next to the boy’s body. Bracing himself for the imminent flash of pain, he swiftly placed his hands and a flicked his wrists, rendering the beaten human unconscious. He’d done it fast enough that there was only a brief shudder from the chip. Moments after that he had Xander’s limp body dangling from one shoulder, brutalized legs flapping grotesquely against his own as he dashed to his crypt to avoid immolation.
**********
He laid Xander on the sarcophagus with a grunt and a grimace. “Damn Harris, I always figured you could stand to lose a few pounds, but all over my jacket?” He peeled the sodden garment off and threw it in the corner. Then he turned to face the misshapen lump of humanity that presumed to be Alexander Harris.
“Crikey, mate. What on the Hellmouth got a hold of you?” Spike knew booze was involved; it was oozing out the pores on the bits of skin the boy had left. Xander was still unconscious, Best for both of us., and Spike decided to better assess the damage. He made no pretense of gentleness as he straightened limbs, probed bones and tissue and stripped the man to his skivvies.
Seeing it in total, Spike was shocked at the beating Xander had taken and still survived. He’s dished out more than a few plates of whup-ass in his existence, even been the proud participant in satisfyingly grisly deaths. But he couldn’t recall anyone who’d looked like this and still breathed.
Spike let out a low whistle. “Roaches, rats, Ranunculous demons and you at the end, huh, Harris?”
He let his eyes skim over the mass of contusions, spit skin, and pulsing flesh and felt his cock fill and rise. Mayhem always did it for him. But even though it was due to the git’s state? Said git was in no state to satisfy him. The times Dru let him have a go at her? He swore the top of his head would blow off. The times Angelus had a go at him? The top of his head did blow off. But this was a different time and different place. His fingers dug deep into his palms as swift anger rushed through him at his inability to take advantage of the situation. Fucking chip.
Tearing his eyes away from the man, Spike looked to his paltry excuse for a pantry. Cans and bottles strewn over two shelves behind his jerry-rigged bar. Still there. He took one last look at the broken man laid before him, rubbed his thick cock through his jeans absently and headed for the cracked bottle.
**********
Xander woke with a start kicking out reflexively at whatever ghostie was running through his brain. He tried to sit up abruptly and fell back onto the hard stone beneath him with a moan.
“Back among the living, aye Harris?” Spike took a swig of his beer as he eyed the human from where he sat, one leg thrown over the arm of his chair.
“Spike. Shit.” Or at least that’s what Spike figured he said. It came out more like, “Sike, sssit.” Swollen lips and all that.
Spike watched him carefully as he asked his next question, “Can you move your parts, boy? Your arms, your legs? Try sitting up again?”
Tentatively, Xander bent first one leg then the other, raised one arm and flexed gingerly, then the other, groaning and mumbling all the while. “I can’t sit uh.”
Another swig. “Whassat?”
Louder this time and hoarse with pain, “I can’t sit uh! Hurts too ‘uch.”
Spike rolled his eyes and snorted as he stood up. “Bloody humans, break like a brittle stick you do.”
When he got to Xander he wedged his hands under the man’s shoulders and heaved. “Up with you, you great oaf.”
Xander let out a high-pitched wheeze of protest as Spike pushed against aching muscles and screaming bones. He yelled, “’UCK!” when Spike finally let go of him and left him to balance precariously on the sarcophagus, limbs straining against gravity, urging him vehemently to lay back down.
Spike rolled his head as he tried to shake off the sparks of pain that had flared in his head as he had forced the human up. “Stop that you arsehat. You’ve got to move or the potion will make your muscles atrophy.”
“’otion? Hut ‘otion?” Xander demanded querulously, and then looked down at his bruised, bare chest. And ‘here’s my clothes?”
“Tossed your kit. Beyond saving.” Spike reached up behind his ear, removed a cigarette and lit it.
“The potion I forced down your ungrateful gob. The potion that’s the only thing--aside from me--that saved you from death.”
Spike let his eyes roam over Harris once again, “You really should thank a man, mate.”
“’ine. You ‘ind a ‘an and I’ll shank him.”
Narrowing his eyes, Spike pressed with two strong fingers on the shoulder that had been dislocated, and smiled when Xander screamed, even as a shudder passed through his own spine.
“Wanna try that again mate?”
Panting, Xander whispered resentfully, “Shanks,” adding “’astard,” under his breath.
Grinning, Spike took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke into Xander’s face.
“Time for more of what ails you then.” Spike sauntered over to the bar, poured a draught from the cracked bottle and brought it back to Xander.
The man eyed the indigo liquid warily and sniffed it after Spike shoved it into a shaking hand. Gingerly, he raised it to his lips and with an eye on Spike, tipped it back.
The vampire watched Xander’s Adams apple bob and waited for it. With an almost absurd glee he counted down: 5…4…3…2…1 and right on time, Xander let go a giant belch of blue flame. Grinning, Spike watched as choking swiftly followed--the acidic aftertaste and the shock of the fire, most likely. The changes in the human’s appearance this time was even more remarkable than the last. The thin blanket skirted Xander’s waist and left his bare chest exposed, where Spike watched purple blooms fade, moving through the spectrum on their way to healthy pink skin. When Xander focused his eyes on him again it was with a clear face, flushed and exuding vitality. Spike ached to suck it out of him. Bugger.
The front of his pants were uncomfortably tight…again. His brain never had been able to make up its mind in regard to Harris. Pink and pretty, or bloody and beaten, it all looked good to Spike’s cock.
He was jolted out of his sexual reverie when the crypt door crashed open with a resounding thud.
Buffy stood there, hands on hips looking as glorious in fury as a tempest. “What did you do to Xander, Spike?”
Spike sighed, of course, blame the undead thing. “Picked him up, dusted him off, set him to rights. Didn’t touch a hair on his dozy little head, Slayer.”
She tromped down the stairs to Xander’s side, “Let’s go Xander. Willow’s itching at the seams and Giles has been pacing since yesterday.”
She moved as if to assist him off his stone bed and he whimpered--yes, actually whimpered--and cowered back from her. Pleading, horrified, brown eyes shot over and caught Spike’s flashing blue ones.
Smirking, Spike said, “Doesn’t look like he wants to go, Blondie.”
She rounded on him, “And again I ask, less patiently this time, ‘What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?’” She looked at Xander more closely this time, “And where are his clothes?!”
He’d had enough. He advanced on her, “And again I tell you, 'Not. A. Bloody. Thing.' Found him drunk in an alley, brought him back here. He tossed his cookies all over himself and I couldn’t stand the stink.” He couldn’t imagine what purpose would be served by telling her the true state he’d found the man in, or the…steps he took to rectify it.
He looked carefully at Xander. He did look better, but…there was something…off in the odor of him. Fear. That hadn’t been there earlier; a slight scent of pain and traces of something wounded, but no fear.
“Why not home or to us?” Buffy’s eyes slanted over him distrustfully.
“Sunrise. This was closest. He just woke a few minutes ago or I would’ve tossed him out for the morning beasties to feed on.” Spike edged around the Slayer and pulled the blanket from Xander’s legs, quickly hiding his amazement at their whole and recovered state. He threw the blanket around the boy’s shoulders and eased him from the cold stone, puzzling at the attempts Xander was making to nestle himself into Spike’s side.
“Up with you now. Go with the Slayer. Atta boy.” Spike was thrown by Xander’s sudden shift in demeanor. This wasn’t like the git at all. He should be glad Buffy came for his hairy arse, itching to get the hell out of here, not…scared half-to-death by her.
Buffy took over when Xander’s feet hit the ground, pulling him close despite the man’s sub-vocalized mewling. Buffy half-dragged, half-lifted him out of the crypt and into daylight as Spike watched, captivated by the silent pleas in Xander’s eyes to “Save me. Stop her. Keep me. Don’t make me go.”
**************
The boy’s odd behavior stayed with Spike, his terrified eyes haunting him even in rest. He woke uneasy and pissed that the idiot man/child had caused him such trouble. He swung his legs over the bed and moved to stand up, nearly toppling over when he tried to find his balance on something that was NOT hard stone. He sat down heavily, “Bloody hell!”
Looking down he scowled at what lay beneath his feet. Harris.
“What the fuck are you playing at Harris?” Spike snarled.
Turning over, Xander blinked at him with liquid eyes, eyes that looked as confused as Spike felt.
“I…I had to be here. It’s not right elsewhere.” Xander shook his head as he spoke, flat on his back, eyes never leaving Spike’s.
“You’re bent, you know that Harris? Get up.”
Xander rolled and stood up slowly, moving back from the bed slightly, keeping his eyes on Spike.
He made his way around the human with a blunt shove of his shoulder and headed to wash up, only to stop still, moments later. The human’s scent had changed. The second he touched Xander, the boy released sex from his pores.
Spike swiftly rounded on the man, “What’s your deal, Harris? Why’re you here? All patched up now, nothing more I can do for you.”
Xander’s eyes skittered over Spike’s face, as if searching for the answer there, “I…I…I want something. Something I think you can give me.”
“You sure about that, mate?” Spike was beginning to suspect the potion might have had a few unadvertised side effects after all.
In response, Xander bowed his head and whispered, “No, but I need it. Please.”
Spike circled the human, things clicking into place. “‘S why you were there isn’t it? Why you wound up in the alley like a punching bag?”
Mutely, Xander nodded, head still down.
“Thought you’d just go in, check it out, find someone or something to give you what you wanted if you just got pissed of your arse and found the balls to ask, didn’t you?”
Another nod.
“Leaving Anya fucked you up this much did it?” Spike searched his face for an answer but Xander only blinked as if he didn’t understand.
“No. No, that’s not it is it?” Now Spike began to circle Xander, examining the man, things falling into place. “You always wanted it, didn’t you? Thought that maybe because she was a vengeance demon she could give it to you? Did she? Did you try? Bet it offended her human sensibilities though, didn’t it?” Now Xander’s face betrayed him. Spike had found the right mark.
“One small problem with your little…plan. I’ve got this bloody chip in my head.” Spike twisted his finger into his temple for emphasis. “I can’t give you what you want. Even if I did want to.”
“But…but, I WANT it. I NEED it.” Xander’s tone had turned pleading as his eyes tilted up to meet Spike’s. “And…and I think. I think that things are different now. At least for me. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
Blue eyes narrowed as he thought about Xander’s last few statements. He had acted differently there just before leaving--been itching at him all day hadn’t it? So he decided to experiment.
He reached a pale hand out to the warm body that hummed with life. Ran his thumb over the pulsing jugular and down to the juncture of collarbone and shoulder. Gripping suddenly and sharply, he twisted forward, digging into Xander’s skin and muscle, dropping the man to one knee with a hiss of pain. Nothing. Spike felt nothing. Not a twinge, not a buzz, nothing. He let go.
“I’ll be buggered.” The potion. That was the only explanation. He’d had it for years. Gotten it off a hippie wiccan bird just after Woodstock. She’d offered it to him for Drusilla, well…maybe offered was the wrong word. Tried to use it as a bargaining chip. He tried to recall what she said just before he gave her to Dru…
“It’ll make all the pain go away man. And bind her to you. It’s such a trip…” then there were the expected pleas for her life, which he shrugged off.
He’d only remembered the first part, delivered in that lilting airy cadence of those who were high. That it’d make the pain go away. And it always had. And him and Dru had always been…intertwined, so there'd never been any indication that there had been any “binding” of any kind. But now…having given it to Xander…apparently, the full effect was being realized.
Spike shook himself lightly and let his head roll on his shoulders, loosening his muscles. Then he looked directly into Xander’s waiting brown eyes.
“On your knees.” Xander sank to the ground in a graceful crumple. Spike grabbed a handful of thick brown hair and snapped the man’s head back.
“You know you’re lucky to still be walking around in this skin, right?”
“Yes.” A slow sibilant whisper emphasized the flashing desire in the boy’s eyes.
“Yes what?” Spike’s every nerve teetered on the edge of an unfathomable precipice, waiting for what he hoped, no, knew he would hear.
The full pink lips parted and the words came willingly, “Yes, Master.”
His eyes closed and he savored the delicious thrill he receive from that simple form of address. It had been too long. And to hear it coming from Harris, from the one being since Angel who could drown him in desire or suffocate him with anger, was an exquisite thing.
He willed his voice not to betray him as he spoke his next words, “We go through with this Harris, and there’s no going back, you understand me? No safe word, no breaks, no calling it quits, no redemption--for either of us. You get me boy?”
When he felt Xander’s head pull in acquiescence, he tightened his hold. “Say it.”
“Yes, Spike. Yes, Master. I understand.”
The vampire nearly sand to the ground next to the surprising, wondrous human in his grip. Wanted to wrap his arms around him and thank him, wanted to vamp and sink his fangs into that willing flesh, wanted to pound his cock into him and fuck him into submission all at once.
There would be time for that. Spike would make sure. He looked at the panting, pink boy. Might as well begin as soon as possible.
“Open your mouth.” Spike watched with greedy eyes as Xander wet his lips with the tip of his tongue tentatively and then let his jaw drop, looking at Spike expectantly.
The vampire wasn’t soft anymore, but neither was he hard; he thanked the demon in him for supernatural circulatory control. He’d waited; he wanted to feel the man’s heat caressing him, sucking him to full erectness.
Not removing his fingers from the dense tangle of Xander’s hair, he pulled his head closer and lifted his semi-flaccid cock with the other, tracing the man’s lips with the head of his prick. Stuttering breaths flowed over Spike’s cock, teasing it with a promise of blinding heat once he was inside that mouth.
“Lick me.” Again that shy tongue slipped out. Lapping at him like a cat with cream. Moist, thick flesh brushing hot against his inherent coolness. So gentle, so unsure. Spike pulled his head closer, making tears stand out in Xander’s eyes. Clear, unblemished eyes, where blackened sockets shone the day before.
“Harder.” Xander’s tongue became firm and his strokes lengthened, licking at Spike’s rapidly stiffening dick like a giant lollipop, his nose nestling into the crook of the vampire’s hip, tantalizing the cool skin, parting the crisp curls with hot wafts of air from his nose.
“Take me in, boy.” The man’s eyelids drooped lazily, burdened by lust and the hazy brown eyes nearly rolled back as he opened his mouth once again. Xander dragged his mouth down the length of Spike’s hard, tepid phallus, lips on either side, tongue painting a wet, fiery path down to the head.
Spike shouted out when those blood filled, moist, pliant lips took him in. He knew he should be kind, knew he should take it slow, but he’d made his intentions clear. His position plain.
Both hands dropped to Xander’s head, strong, lean fingers clasping his scalp, pushing his head forward. The man opened his mouth and moved his tongue out of the way, desperately trying to stifle his gag reflex as Spike thrust his cock into the sweltering cavern of his mouth.
“Fuck. So fucking hot. You little bitch. This is what you’ve been waiting for. My cock. Your mouth. Can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when I’m coring your arse. When I’m whipping you. When I’ve got your cock in my fist, drinking from your throat.”
His hips were working faster now, his grip becoming harder, tears were running down Xander’s red face as he forced his jaw slack and tried frantically to loosen the ring of muscle at the back of his throat.
Finally, Spike came with a bellow and let his face vamp as he howled his pleasure to the cold stone walls. Xander stayed where he was, face buried deep in the thatch of hair between Spike’s thighs, body bent forward, most of his weight supported by the tension in Spike’s hands and lean of his body. Slowly, slowly, it all loosened. The fingers, the body, the cock.
To the vampire’s great pleasure, Xander mouthed Spike’s softening prick, ending as he began, with soft kitten laps of his tongue.
At last, Spike spoke again, “Stand up.”
With shaking limbs and sore knees, Xander stood, keeping his head bowed. “You’ve done well. Better than I ever imagined.”
A hard palm covered Xander’s swollen cock. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Spike hooked a finger under Xander’s chin and forced the man to look at him. Smiling he said, “Strip and get on the bed.” Unable to help himself he caught the human’s bottom lip with his teeth and worried it slightly as he ran his tongue over the silky texture of it.
“All your misbegotten dreams are about to come true.” Spike planned to take his time with the education of this one.
Centuries if necessary.
******************************************************
Challenge :
Two things you definitely want included in your fic: Love the whole sub!Xander thing, with any amount of h/c, from brutal to notsomuch. And a mention of Angel would be stellar.
One thing you definitely *don't* want to see in your fic: Schmoop.
Preferred rating: R or above.
Written for: Morula
_dellamoreRating: NC-17
AN: It's my first fic in this vein so I hope it's not too...disappointing after all that wait. I apologize. It was hard!
_____________________________________________________
Spike heard the faint moaning from the narrow alleyway when he was still two blocks away. He had the maker pinpointed by the time he’d closed in a block. Cursing, he sprinted the rest of the way, it was nigh on sunrise, but the Slayer’d have his head if he didn’t stop to help her pet boy.
The smell of blood was heavy in the air, coating his tongue even from yards away. Seeing it was worse. It took everything he had to restrain his instinct to shift and hunt prey. Buffy’d stake him for sure, and really? The last thing he needed was a freaked/angry human, which is what Xander was sure to be if Spike came upon him in full vampire regalia.
The blood trail on the ground was reminiscent of a severely wounded animal that was crawling away to die in peace. Spike was astonished to find Xander even breathing as he followed it to its end. He was a bloody mess. And for once the epithet was literal. Spike couldn’t tell where his eyes were in the pulp of swollen flesh that was his face. His split, oozing lips were parted to allow shallow wheezing breaths to pass through them. The only way Spike knew it was Xander was by his smell. Git always smelled the same--Tide and sawdust. Even under the thick layer of booze and blood it was there.
Xander’s legs were bent at unnatural angels to the repose of his body and his knuckles were gripped in a rictus around nearby garbage, as if in an effort to just…stay.
“Harris?” No response.
“Hey. Xander.” Spike moved closer, bending down to carefully place a hand on a shoulder. He received a harsh whistle of a scream in reply even as a blinding stab of pain shot through his head.
“Fuck.” Spike could feel the encroaching sunrise pricking at the back of his skull. No time. He was going to have to do something thoroughly unpleasant for the both of them.
“This is might hurt, Xander. Not that I haven’t wanted to hurt you on more than one occasion, but this? Even I wouldn’t kick you when you were down. Where’s the fun in that if I can’t do the original breaking myself, right?” While he spoke he gingerly inched closer to Xander. By the end he was right next to the boy’s body. Bracing himself for the imminent flash of pain, he swiftly placed his hands and a flicked his wrists, rendering the beaten human unconscious. He’d done it fast enough that there was only a brief shudder from the chip. Moments after that he had Xander’s limp body dangling from one shoulder, brutalized legs flapping grotesquely against his own as he dashed to his crypt to avoid immolation.
**********
He laid Xander on the sarcophagus with a grunt and a grimace. “Damn Harris, I always figured you could stand to lose a few pounds, but all over my jacket?” He peeled the sodden garment off and threw it in the corner. Then he turned to face the misshapen lump of humanity that presumed to be Alexander Harris.
“Crikey, mate. What on the Hellmouth got a hold of you?” Spike knew booze was involved; it was oozing out the pores on the bits of skin the boy had left. Xander was still unconscious, Best for both of us., and Spike decided to better assess the damage. He made no pretense of gentleness as he straightened limbs, probed bones and tissue and stripped the man to his skivvies.
Seeing it in total, Spike was shocked at the beating Xander had taken and still survived. He’s dished out more than a few plates of whup-ass in his existence, even been the proud participant in satisfyingly grisly deaths. But he couldn’t recall anyone who’d looked like this and still breathed.
Spike let out a low whistle. “Roaches, rats, Ranunculous demons and you at the end, huh, Harris?”
He let his eyes skim over the mass of contusions, spit skin, and pulsing flesh and felt his cock fill and rise. Mayhem always did it for him. But even though it was due to the git’s state? Said git was in no state to satisfy him. The times Dru let him have a go at her? He swore the top of his head would blow off. The times Angelus had a go at him? The top of his head did blow off. But this was a different time and different place. His fingers dug deep into his palms as swift anger rushed through him at his inability to take advantage of the situation. Fucking chip.
Tearing his eyes away from the man, Spike looked to his paltry excuse for a pantry. Cans and bottles strewn over two shelves behind his jerry-rigged bar. Still there. He took one last look at the broken man laid before him, rubbed his thick cock through his jeans absently and headed for the cracked bottle.
**********
Xander woke with a start kicking out reflexively at whatever ghostie was running through his brain. He tried to sit up abruptly and fell back onto the hard stone beneath him with a moan.
“Back among the living, aye Harris?” Spike took a swig of his beer as he eyed the human from where he sat, one leg thrown over the arm of his chair.
“Spike. Shit.” Or at least that’s what Spike figured he said. It came out more like, “Sike, sssit.” Swollen lips and all that.
Spike watched him carefully as he asked his next question, “Can you move your parts, boy? Your arms, your legs? Try sitting up again?”
Tentatively, Xander bent first one leg then the other, raised one arm and flexed gingerly, then the other, groaning and mumbling all the while. “I can’t sit uh.”
Another swig. “Whassat?”
Louder this time and hoarse with pain, “I can’t sit uh! Hurts too ‘uch.”
Spike rolled his eyes and snorted as he stood up. “Bloody humans, break like a brittle stick you do.”
When he got to Xander he wedged his hands under the man’s shoulders and heaved. “Up with you, you great oaf.”
Xander let out a high-pitched wheeze of protest as Spike pushed against aching muscles and screaming bones. He yelled, “’UCK!” when Spike finally let go of him and left him to balance precariously on the sarcophagus, limbs straining against gravity, urging him vehemently to lay back down.
Spike rolled his head as he tried to shake off the sparks of pain that had flared in his head as he had forced the human up. “Stop that you arsehat. You’ve got to move or the potion will make your muscles atrophy.”
“’otion? Hut ‘otion?” Xander demanded querulously, and then looked down at his bruised, bare chest. And ‘here’s my clothes?”
“Tossed your kit. Beyond saving.” Spike reached up behind his ear, removed a cigarette and lit it.
“The potion I forced down your ungrateful gob. The potion that’s the only thing--aside from me--that saved you from death.”
Spike let his eyes roam over Harris once again, “You really should thank a man, mate.”
“’ine. You ‘ind a ‘an and I’ll shank him.”
Narrowing his eyes, Spike pressed with two strong fingers on the shoulder that had been dislocated, and smiled when Xander screamed, even as a shudder passed through his own spine.
“Wanna try that again mate?”
Panting, Xander whispered resentfully, “Shanks,” adding “’astard,” under his breath.
Grinning, Spike took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke into Xander’s face.
“Time for more of what ails you then.” Spike sauntered over to the bar, poured a draught from the cracked bottle and brought it back to Xander.
The man eyed the indigo liquid warily and sniffed it after Spike shoved it into a shaking hand. Gingerly, he raised it to his lips and with an eye on Spike, tipped it back.
The vampire watched Xander’s Adams apple bob and waited for it. With an almost absurd glee he counted down: 5…4…3…2…1 and right on time, Xander let go a giant belch of blue flame. Grinning, Spike watched as choking swiftly followed--the acidic aftertaste and the shock of the fire, most likely. The changes in the human’s appearance this time was even more remarkable than the last. The thin blanket skirted Xander’s waist and left his bare chest exposed, where Spike watched purple blooms fade, moving through the spectrum on their way to healthy pink skin. When Xander focused his eyes on him again it was with a clear face, flushed and exuding vitality. Spike ached to suck it out of him. Bugger.
The front of his pants were uncomfortably tight…again. His brain never had been able to make up its mind in regard to Harris. Pink and pretty, or bloody and beaten, it all looked good to Spike’s cock.
He was jolted out of his sexual reverie when the crypt door crashed open with a resounding thud.
Buffy stood there, hands on hips looking as glorious in fury as a tempest. “What did you do to Xander, Spike?”
Spike sighed, of course, blame the undead thing. “Picked him up, dusted him off, set him to rights. Didn’t touch a hair on his dozy little head, Slayer.”
She tromped down the stairs to Xander’s side, “Let’s go Xander. Willow’s itching at the seams and Giles has been pacing since yesterday.”
She moved as if to assist him off his stone bed and he whimpered--yes, actually whimpered--and cowered back from her. Pleading, horrified, brown eyes shot over and caught Spike’s flashing blue ones.
Smirking, Spike said, “Doesn’t look like he wants to go, Blondie.”
She rounded on him, “And again I ask, less patiently this time, ‘What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?’” She looked at Xander more closely this time, “And where are his clothes?!”
He’d had enough. He advanced on her, “And again I tell you, 'Not. A. Bloody. Thing.' Found him drunk in an alley, brought him back here. He tossed his cookies all over himself and I couldn’t stand the stink.” He couldn’t imagine what purpose would be served by telling her the true state he’d found the man in, or the…steps he took to rectify it.
He looked carefully at Xander. He did look better, but…there was something…off in the odor of him. Fear. That hadn’t been there earlier; a slight scent of pain and traces of something wounded, but no fear.
“Why not home or to us?” Buffy’s eyes slanted over him distrustfully.
“Sunrise. This was closest. He just woke a few minutes ago or I would’ve tossed him out for the morning beasties to feed on.” Spike edged around the Slayer and pulled the blanket from Xander’s legs, quickly hiding his amazement at their whole and recovered state. He threw the blanket around the boy’s shoulders and eased him from the cold stone, puzzling at the attempts Xander was making to nestle himself into Spike’s side.
“Up with you now. Go with the Slayer. Atta boy.” Spike was thrown by Xander’s sudden shift in demeanor. This wasn’t like the git at all. He should be glad Buffy came for his hairy arse, itching to get the hell out of here, not…scared half-to-death by her.
Buffy took over when Xander’s feet hit the ground, pulling him close despite the man’s sub-vocalized mewling. Buffy half-dragged, half-lifted him out of the crypt and into daylight as Spike watched, captivated by the silent pleas in Xander’s eyes to “Save me. Stop her. Keep me. Don’t make me go.”
**************
The boy’s odd behavior stayed with Spike, his terrified eyes haunting him even in rest. He woke uneasy and pissed that the idiot man/child had caused him such trouble. He swung his legs over the bed and moved to stand up, nearly toppling over when he tried to find his balance on something that was NOT hard stone. He sat down heavily, “Bloody hell!”
Looking down he scowled at what lay beneath his feet. Harris.
“What the fuck are you playing at Harris?” Spike snarled.
Turning over, Xander blinked at him with liquid eyes, eyes that looked as confused as Spike felt.
“I…I had to be here. It’s not right elsewhere.” Xander shook his head as he spoke, flat on his back, eyes never leaving Spike’s.
“You’re bent, you know that Harris? Get up.”
Xander rolled and stood up slowly, moving back from the bed slightly, keeping his eyes on Spike.
He made his way around the human with a blunt shove of his shoulder and headed to wash up, only to stop still, moments later. The human’s scent had changed. The second he touched Xander, the boy released sex from his pores.
Spike swiftly rounded on the man, “What’s your deal, Harris? Why’re you here? All patched up now, nothing more I can do for you.”
Xander’s eyes skittered over Spike’s face, as if searching for the answer there, “I…I…I want something. Something I think you can give me.”
“You sure about that, mate?” Spike was beginning to suspect the potion might have had a few unadvertised side effects after all.
In response, Xander bowed his head and whispered, “No, but I need it. Please.”
Spike circled the human, things clicking into place. “‘S why you were there isn’t it? Why you wound up in the alley like a punching bag?”
Mutely, Xander nodded, head still down.
“Thought you’d just go in, check it out, find someone or something to give you what you wanted if you just got pissed of your arse and found the balls to ask, didn’t you?”
Another nod.
“Leaving Anya fucked you up this much did it?” Spike searched his face for an answer but Xander only blinked as if he didn’t understand.
“No. No, that’s not it is it?” Now Spike began to circle Xander, examining the man, things falling into place. “You always wanted it, didn’t you? Thought that maybe because she was a vengeance demon she could give it to you? Did she? Did you try? Bet it offended her human sensibilities though, didn’t it?” Now Xander’s face betrayed him. Spike had found the right mark.
“One small problem with your little…plan. I’ve got this bloody chip in my head.” Spike twisted his finger into his temple for emphasis. “I can’t give you what you want. Even if I did want to.”
“But…but, I WANT it. I NEED it.” Xander’s tone had turned pleading as his eyes tilted up to meet Spike’s. “And…and I think. I think that things are different now. At least for me. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
Blue eyes narrowed as he thought about Xander’s last few statements. He had acted differently there just before leaving--been itching at him all day hadn’t it? So he decided to experiment.
He reached a pale hand out to the warm body that hummed with life. Ran his thumb over the pulsing jugular and down to the juncture of collarbone and shoulder. Gripping suddenly and sharply, he twisted forward, digging into Xander’s skin and muscle, dropping the man to one knee with a hiss of pain. Nothing. Spike felt nothing. Not a twinge, not a buzz, nothing. He let go.
“I’ll be buggered.” The potion. That was the only explanation. He’d had it for years. Gotten it off a hippie wiccan bird just after Woodstock. She’d offered it to him for Drusilla, well…maybe offered was the wrong word. Tried to use it as a bargaining chip. He tried to recall what she said just before he gave her to Dru…
“It’ll make all the pain go away man. And bind her to you. It’s such a trip…” then there were the expected pleas for her life, which he shrugged off.
He’d only remembered the first part, delivered in that lilting airy cadence of those who were high. That it’d make the pain go away. And it always had. And him and Dru had always been…intertwined, so there'd never been any indication that there had been any “binding” of any kind. But now…having given it to Xander…apparently, the full effect was being realized.
Spike shook himself lightly and let his head roll on his shoulders, loosening his muscles. Then he looked directly into Xander’s waiting brown eyes.
“On your knees.” Xander sank to the ground in a graceful crumple. Spike grabbed a handful of thick brown hair and snapped the man’s head back.
“You know you’re lucky to still be walking around in this skin, right?”
“Yes.” A slow sibilant whisper emphasized the flashing desire in the boy’s eyes.
“Yes what?” Spike’s every nerve teetered on the edge of an unfathomable precipice, waiting for what he hoped, no, knew he would hear.
The full pink lips parted and the words came willingly, “Yes, Master.”
His eyes closed and he savored the delicious thrill he receive from that simple form of address. It had been too long. And to hear it coming from Harris, from the one being since Angel who could drown him in desire or suffocate him with anger, was an exquisite thing.
He willed his voice not to betray him as he spoke his next words, “We go through with this Harris, and there’s no going back, you understand me? No safe word, no breaks, no calling it quits, no redemption--for either of us. You get me boy?”
When he felt Xander’s head pull in acquiescence, he tightened his hold. “Say it.”
“Yes, Spike. Yes, Master. I understand.”
The vampire nearly sand to the ground next to the surprising, wondrous human in his grip. Wanted to wrap his arms around him and thank him, wanted to vamp and sink his fangs into that willing flesh, wanted to pound his cock into him and fuck him into submission all at once.
There would be time for that. Spike would make sure. He looked at the panting, pink boy. Might as well begin as soon as possible.
“Open your mouth.” Spike watched with greedy eyes as Xander wet his lips with the tip of his tongue tentatively and then let his jaw drop, looking at Spike expectantly.
The vampire wasn’t soft anymore, but neither was he hard; he thanked the demon in him for supernatural circulatory control. He’d waited; he wanted to feel the man’s heat caressing him, sucking him to full erectness.
Not removing his fingers from the dense tangle of Xander’s hair, he pulled his head closer and lifted his semi-flaccid cock with the other, tracing the man’s lips with the head of his prick. Stuttering breaths flowed over Spike’s cock, teasing it with a promise of blinding heat once he was inside that mouth.
“Lick me.” Again that shy tongue slipped out. Lapping at him like a cat with cream. Moist, thick flesh brushing hot against his inherent coolness. So gentle, so unsure. Spike pulled his head closer, making tears stand out in Xander’s eyes. Clear, unblemished eyes, where blackened sockets shone the day before.
“Harder.” Xander’s tongue became firm and his strokes lengthened, licking at Spike’s rapidly stiffening dick like a giant lollipop, his nose nestling into the crook of the vampire’s hip, tantalizing the cool skin, parting the crisp curls with hot wafts of air from his nose.
“Take me in, boy.” The man’s eyelids drooped lazily, burdened by lust and the hazy brown eyes nearly rolled back as he opened his mouth once again. Xander dragged his mouth down the length of Spike’s hard, tepid phallus, lips on either side, tongue painting a wet, fiery path down to the head.
Spike shouted out when those blood filled, moist, pliant lips took him in. He knew he should be kind, knew he should take it slow, but he’d made his intentions clear. His position plain.
Both hands dropped to Xander’s head, strong, lean fingers clasping his scalp, pushing his head forward. The man opened his mouth and moved his tongue out of the way, desperately trying to stifle his gag reflex as Spike thrust his cock into the sweltering cavern of his mouth.
“Fuck. So fucking hot. You little bitch. This is what you’ve been waiting for. My cock. Your mouth. Can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when I’m coring your arse. When I’m whipping you. When I’ve got your cock in my fist, drinking from your throat.”
His hips were working faster now, his grip becoming harder, tears were running down Xander’s red face as he forced his jaw slack and tried frantically to loosen the ring of muscle at the back of his throat.
Finally, Spike came with a bellow and let his face vamp as he howled his pleasure to the cold stone walls. Xander stayed where he was, face buried deep in the thatch of hair between Spike’s thighs, body bent forward, most of his weight supported by the tension in Spike’s hands and lean of his body. Slowly, slowly, it all loosened. The fingers, the body, the cock.
To the vampire’s great pleasure, Xander mouthed Spike’s softening prick, ending as he began, with soft kitten laps of his tongue.
At last, Spike spoke again, “Stand up.”
With shaking limbs and sore knees, Xander stood, keeping his head bowed. “You’ve done well. Better than I ever imagined.”
A hard palm covered Xander’s swollen cock. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Spike hooked a finger under Xander’s chin and forced the man to look at him. Smiling he said, “Strip and get on the bed.” Unable to help himself he caught the human’s bottom lip with his teeth and worried it slightly as he ran his tongue over the silky texture of it.
“All your misbegotten dreams are about to come true.” Spike planned to take his time with the education of this one.
Centuries if necessary.
******************************************************
Challenge :
Two things you definitely want included in your fic: Love the whole sub!Xander thing, with any amount of h/c, from brutal to notsomuch. And a mention of Angel would be stellar.
One thing you definitely *don't* want to see in your fic: Schmoop.
Preferred rating: R or above.
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Date: 2004-05-15 03:20 pm (UTC)You've totally made my week, dear. I can't thank you enough. *g*
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Date: 2004-05-15 04:30 pm (UTC)Anyway, great job!
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Date: 2004-05-15 05:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-15 06:31 pm (UTC)I also like that Spikeisn't just taking advantage of Xander because he's available. He wanted him before the potion. And he plans to keep him around for a few centuries and train him right. Lovely!
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Date: 2004-05-16 04:35 am (UTC)Oh, my, yes! Wonderfully done! I love the Spike voice in this piece.
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Date: 2004-05-16 07:55 am (UTC)Love this line in particular:
Spike let out a low whistle. “Roaches, rats, Ranunculous demons and you at the end, huh, Harris?”
So, so, so true. Hee.
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Date: 2004-05-16 10:12 pm (UTC)More.
*hugs* No worries. Dark but not too. And I don't mind it pretty freaking dark. Good blend here. And I -did- actually whimper at the end. Need more, now, soon. Nice little 'verse here.
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Date: 2004-07-02 07:00 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-02-16 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 04:12 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for reading AND commenting! I'm so pleased that you liked it!