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Grr to cell phones! Grrrr!
Jul. 5th, 2004 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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spuzz in honor of the day of her birth.
Title:spuzz you can name it
Rating: NC-17
AN: I tried to work in as many kinks as possible...there's a few more still dancing back there too...
He wasn’t precisely sure what he was doing here. No, he knew what he was doing here--he’d followed Xander. It was the why had he followed Xander that was bothering him.
There’d been something different about Xander at the Scooby meeting tonight. He’d sat next to Anya, but never really looked at her. Had avoided her petting in subtle ways, moving his leg just enough to avoid the next pat, resting his head in his hand to thwart her fingers tangling in his hair. He’d even got up for a drink of water just as she’d sidled next to him. Anya hadn’t seemed overly concerned. Xander did give her a long kiss just before making lame excuses about an errand before coming home.
Intrigued, Spike followed. Where was the man going, smelling of nerves and musky sweat? Xander’s path led to the other side of town, down in the industrialized section, near where Spike had set up shop with Dru early on.
Xander made a few quick grooming adjustments to his hair and the lay of his clothes before opening a door in a non-descript metal building. Spike just stood and watched the structure for a few minutes, lighting a cigarette to pass the time. No one else came in or out in the time he stood there, he couldn’t make out any sounds from the building’s interior, and there were no marks or signs of any kind on the exterior to indicate what the space might hold.
The cigarette had burned down and Spike moved towards the building. As he did the door opened and two young men exited, hands in each other’s back pockets, one whispering something in the other’s ear that ended with a long languorous kiss.
Spike exhaled, “Bloody hell.”
He was definitely going in now.
Passing the two poofters he caught the door just before it closed and slipped in.
The noise from the place amazed him. Just as the lights momentarily blinded him, all that swirling and blinking.
“ID?” A gruff voice asked from his left.
Spike blinked once and turned his head slowly to face the voice. He let his eyes travel over the burly leather clad man, biceps bared and…oiled, finally capturing the other man’s eyes with his gaze. “I don’t have one.”
“No?” The man sounded disappointed, and his arms dropped from their crossed position.
Spike licked his lips, “No.” He shook his head slightly and dropped his lids, still not breaking the gaze.
“Oh.” The man’s entire posture had gone from imposing and in control, to confused and uncertain.
“Mind if I take a look around? Won’t stay long.”
“I…uh…sure…” The man’s eyes were turning from hazy befuddlement to sharp lust.
“Ta, mate.” Spike strode past him into the raucous, pulsating club.
A gay club. Xander Harris was in a gay club. What the fuck?
Spike scanned the nearby bar, and then the small clusters of tables, fully expecting to see Harris nervously nursing a drink or fidgeting restlessly as he watched, unsure how to proceed.
Instead, it was Spike sitting heavily as his gaze focused on a figure on the dance floor. Harris was there. Right in the middle. Shirtless. Dancing with abandon, hands alternating from caressing a nearby body to waving in the air. His body grinding and rubbing against the other nearly nude males nearby.
Christ on a crutch.
Never taking his eyes off Xander, Spike grabbed the hairless arm of a thong-clad waiter as he floated by. “Scotch. Bottle. NOW.”
*****************
Spike had no clue how long he’d sat there watching Harris gyrate and sweat, but it was long enough for him to have downed ¾ of the bottle and for his pants to have suddenly shrunk 2 sizes. He was just lifting the rapidly lightening bottle for another swig when Xander stopped dancing and started weaving through the sea of dancing bodies. Moments later he had disappeared under a flight of stairs.
Bugger. Spike stood and followed once again. He didn’t even register the hands that came out to pet at him every now and again as he strode through the sweaty mass of males, or acknowledge the catcalls and whistles he received. Where had Xander gone?
He stopped momentarily and looked at the space under the stairs. There was a doorway draped in black velvet, “THE BACK” painted simply on the wall above the panels of fabric.
The smell of sex was strong here. It had been a heady perfume on the dance floor, but here? Here it was enveloping, overpowering.
He pushed the curtain aside and walked through. He could hear the moans as soon as he entered the narrow passageway; it was dark, a stark contrast to the brightness outside, but there were soft glows of pink, blue and green here and there, marking the path Spike walked.
He turned a corner and there were naked men lining the walls. Not all were naked, some wore cock rings, or leather harnesses, and some wore the mouths of other men. Those without men called to him, not all with voice, some with a turn of the head, some with a stroke of their dick. He passed them by and entered into a larger room; there were couches here, men in various states of fucking and sucking covering most of them.
Spike had been around. 125+ years on this earth and he’d seen more than his share of orgy and sexual escapade. But nothing, nothing, had affected him as strongly as what his eyes settled on in a far corner.
Xander Harris, lounging naked, his dark cock being sucked down by a slender, blond haired youth.
It wasn’t just the sight of his tanned skin, glistening with sweat. The closed eyes and arched neck. The large hand resting on the blond head. It was Xander’s mouth. His full lips alternating between open and closed--between a wide, strained “O” of pleasure, to a clenched jaw with his full bottom lip sucked in.
Xander Harris was getting blown. By a man. Spike nearly short circuited, chip or no. With each drag and suck the boy performed on Xander, with each knead of hip or abdomen or thigh, Spike’s lust grew. He sank against the cinderblock wall behind him and brought his hand to the bulge in his jeans. He rubbed himself in time with the boy’s movements on Harris. Rasping the thick denim over the tender skin of his prick, grinding the heavy seam hard into his balls and cockhead. He continued rubbing, his strokes getting harder and more fierce as the young man’s head bobbed faster on Xander’s prick, Spike's eyes glued to Harris’ body, watching his hips bucking up into that mouth, back starting to arch.
Separately, they came together, man and vampire.
And damn if Spike wasn’t starting to feel something beyond fierce lust and amazement.
Indignant. That was first.
Swiftly followed by anger.
Then jealously.
William the fucking Bloody jealous of a twiggy blond poof. Fuck.
spuzz in honor of the day of her birth.Title:
spuzz you can name itRating: NC-17
AN: I tried to work in as many kinks as possible...there's a few more still dancing back there too...
He wasn’t precisely sure what he was doing here. No, he knew what he was doing here--he’d followed Xander. It was the why had he followed Xander that was bothering him.
There’d been something different about Xander at the Scooby meeting tonight. He’d sat next to Anya, but never really looked at her. Had avoided her petting in subtle ways, moving his leg just enough to avoid the next pat, resting his head in his hand to thwart her fingers tangling in his hair. He’d even got up for a drink of water just as she’d sidled next to him. Anya hadn’t seemed overly concerned. Xander did give her a long kiss just before making lame excuses about an errand before coming home.
Intrigued, Spike followed. Where was the man going, smelling of nerves and musky sweat? Xander’s path led to the other side of town, down in the industrialized section, near where Spike had set up shop with Dru early on.
Xander made a few quick grooming adjustments to his hair and the lay of his clothes before opening a door in a non-descript metal building. Spike just stood and watched the structure for a few minutes, lighting a cigarette to pass the time. No one else came in or out in the time he stood there, he couldn’t make out any sounds from the building’s interior, and there were no marks or signs of any kind on the exterior to indicate what the space might hold.
The cigarette had burned down and Spike moved towards the building. As he did the door opened and two young men exited, hands in each other’s back pockets, one whispering something in the other’s ear that ended with a long languorous kiss.
Spike exhaled, “Bloody hell.”
He was definitely going in now.
Passing the two poofters he caught the door just before it closed and slipped in.
The noise from the place amazed him. Just as the lights momentarily blinded him, all that swirling and blinking.
“ID?” A gruff voice asked from his left.
Spike blinked once and turned his head slowly to face the voice. He let his eyes travel over the burly leather clad man, biceps bared and…oiled, finally capturing the other man’s eyes with his gaze. “I don’t have one.”
“No?” The man sounded disappointed, and his arms dropped from their crossed position.
Spike licked his lips, “No.” He shook his head slightly and dropped his lids, still not breaking the gaze.
“Oh.” The man’s entire posture had gone from imposing and in control, to confused and uncertain.
“Mind if I take a look around? Won’t stay long.”
“I…uh…sure…” The man’s eyes were turning from hazy befuddlement to sharp lust.
“Ta, mate.” Spike strode past him into the raucous, pulsating club.
A gay club. Xander Harris was in a gay club. What the fuck?
Spike scanned the nearby bar, and then the small clusters of tables, fully expecting to see Harris nervously nursing a drink or fidgeting restlessly as he watched, unsure how to proceed.
Instead, it was Spike sitting heavily as his gaze focused on a figure on the dance floor. Harris was there. Right in the middle. Shirtless. Dancing with abandon, hands alternating from caressing a nearby body to waving in the air. His body grinding and rubbing against the other nearly nude males nearby.
Christ on a crutch.
Never taking his eyes off Xander, Spike grabbed the hairless arm of a thong-clad waiter as he floated by. “Scotch. Bottle. NOW.”
*****************
Spike had no clue how long he’d sat there watching Harris gyrate and sweat, but it was long enough for him to have downed ¾ of the bottle and for his pants to have suddenly shrunk 2 sizes. He was just lifting the rapidly lightening bottle for another swig when Xander stopped dancing and started weaving through the sea of dancing bodies. Moments later he had disappeared under a flight of stairs.
Bugger. Spike stood and followed once again. He didn’t even register the hands that came out to pet at him every now and again as he strode through the sweaty mass of males, or acknowledge the catcalls and whistles he received. Where had Xander gone?
He stopped momentarily and looked at the space under the stairs. There was a doorway draped in black velvet, “THE BACK” painted simply on the wall above the panels of fabric.
The smell of sex was strong here. It had been a heady perfume on the dance floor, but here? Here it was enveloping, overpowering.
He pushed the curtain aside and walked through. He could hear the moans as soon as he entered the narrow passageway; it was dark, a stark contrast to the brightness outside, but there were soft glows of pink, blue and green here and there, marking the path Spike walked.
He turned a corner and there were naked men lining the walls. Not all were naked, some wore cock rings, or leather harnesses, and some wore the mouths of other men. Those without men called to him, not all with voice, some with a turn of the head, some with a stroke of their dick. He passed them by and entered into a larger room; there were couches here, men in various states of fucking and sucking covering most of them.
Spike had been around. 125+ years on this earth and he’d seen more than his share of orgy and sexual escapade. But nothing, nothing, had affected him as strongly as what his eyes settled on in a far corner.
Xander Harris, lounging naked, his dark cock being sucked down by a slender, blond haired youth.
It wasn’t just the sight of his tanned skin, glistening with sweat. The closed eyes and arched neck. The large hand resting on the blond head. It was Xander’s mouth. His full lips alternating between open and closed--between a wide, strained “O” of pleasure, to a clenched jaw with his full bottom lip sucked in.
Xander Harris was getting blown. By a man. Spike nearly short circuited, chip or no. With each drag and suck the boy performed on Xander, with each knead of hip or abdomen or thigh, Spike’s lust grew. He sank against the cinderblock wall behind him and brought his hand to the bulge in his jeans. He rubbed himself in time with the boy’s movements on Harris. Rasping the thick denim over the tender skin of his prick, grinding the heavy seam hard into his balls and cockhead. He continued rubbing, his strokes getting harder and more fierce as the young man’s head bobbed faster on Xander’s prick, Spike's eyes glued to Harris’ body, watching his hips bucking up into that mouth, back starting to arch.
Separately, they came together, man and vampire.
And damn if Spike wasn’t starting to feel something beyond fierce lust and amazement.
Indignant. That was first.
Swiftly followed by anger.
Then jealously.
William the fucking Bloody jealous of a twiggy blond poof. Fuck.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-06 06:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-06 12:25 pm (UTC)