White Horse


Spike sat at his favorite bar stool and he perused the room as he sipped his Jack Daniels. The room was packed to the point that the walls were all but bulging with the raucus crowd of gay men drinking, dancing and hooking up. The floor vibrated with the stomping of their boots and his ears rang with the loud, hard rock music of Adam Lambert that blasted from a dozen speakers that were placed throughout the club.

Spike often came here to unwind and tonight was no different. He was sick of the restrictive lifestyle of the group of do-gooders that always wanted him to step up and fight for the 'right' side. Their limited life experience had them clueless. Buffy and her band of narrow-minded, single-sighted Scoobies didn't have a whit as to what the real world was all about. They thought it was all Mums and Dads with 2.3 happy children playing with puppies and that it was the Slayer's appointed task in life to preserve that world.

In Buffy's eyes, there was no deviation of the norm allowed. Spike knew better. The world was made up of all sorts of colors and pleasures and lifestyles that had nothing to do with breeders or Scoobies. It was sometimes good demons that acted bad and bad ones that could be so good dancing on the head of his dick that he wanted to scream. Sometimes he just needed that freedom. That space. That time where he didn't have to see the recrimination or judgement in the eyes of the brats of Sunnydale.

He may be a demon but he was a man first and when a man's rod gets hard, he just wants to get off. Period.

And that was why he came here.

Tonight was the usual crowd. Most of the men and demons he recognized as ones he had fucked in the dark corners and backrooms a dozen times and probably would again tonight. But, this evening he had been in the mood for some fresh fish. Something young, tender and still heavenly snug. Something like.........Oh yeah. What have we here?

Spike could hardly believe his eyes. It was the whelp. The Slayers lapdog. Spike watched from his spot of discretion as the boy tentatively eased into the room. He was clearly out of his element and every predator in the room knew it. The men on the dance floor who were grinding and humping to the music, glanced over at him and whispered to their partners who responded with grins and nods. The sharks smelled blood.

Spike wondered if the boy had any idea what he was in for. He considered sliding off the plastic stool and saving him. It was what Buffy would expect. He would scold the boy and with a parental swat on the rump, send him back to Disneyland where he belonged. Or, he could order the popcorn and watch the boy squirm. Spike slapped his hand down on the bartop and shouted, "Hey, Bill, you got any snacks?" Bill slid over a bowl of peanuts and returned to his other customers.

Xander's feet were nailed to the floor. He had taken two hours to dress, drive and finally get up the nerve to come in. Whatever he had been expecting to find here was magnified ten fold and it was gayly overwhelming. He had known for sometime who and what he was and now that his 18th birthday was behind him, he was ready to act. As long as no one he knew found out. He was, for now, a part-timer in the floral closet.

The room was dark. Damn dark and "Whoa!" Where the hell did that goose come from? The anonymous finger in his ass got him moving and he decided that a place out of the mainstream might be a better choice for now so he slipped quickly toward the bar.

When he saw the boy coming, wide eyes and smelling of innocence, Spike ducked his head to avoid detection. Like flies swarming a rotting carcass, within minutes, Xander was surrounded. Bears, twinks, older men, younger ones and everything inbetween all converged offering to buy him drinks or asking him to dance.

Spike groaned as the fear and arousal rolled off the boy in waves. It had every vampire in the room, Spike included, salivating. Just when he was afraid the boy might bolt and ruin the floor show, a man stepped in. Pushing the others aside he took charge of the virginal situation. As soon as the man turned his back to Spike, Spike recognized him. They had backroom fucked more than once. His name was Ted or Tad or George or something. Didn't much matter. He had a relatively tight arse and a neck that didn't mind a bite or two. And now he was apparently going to be the first car on the Xander-train.

"Back off you jerks! Give this boy some breathing room. Can't you tell he's human? Needs some fucking oxygen, not a mob of horny freaks shovin' in on him!"

The others took the scolding good-naturedly. They knew they would get their turn. Xander looked at the man with eyes of gratitude and relief. "Gee, thanks. Hi. I'm Xander. Wow, these guys are really friendly. I'm kinda new here. I was just out to get a beer and I saw this place and....."

The rescuer just laughed and threw his arm around Xander's shoulders. "No need for all that. The name's Mike and we both know you didn't come here for a beer, but, hey, that's cool. Ain't none of us here for just some alcohol and scintillating conversation. We come here to fuck. We come here cause we don't want no smelly snatch in our face or loosely wrapped around our dicks. We ain't interested in buying a girl dinner and roses on the hope of some stink finger. We fuck men and there ain't nothin' wrong with that."

Xander's eyes bugged wide and at the end of the bar, Spike snorted whisky out his nose as he tried to suppress his laughter. He then waved his hand to the bartender and instructed him to take the new boy a beer but don't tell him who sent it. Spike subtly glanced over as he watched Xander accept it and take the first few sips. Mike encouraged him to drink the rest and Xander was led to the dance floor.

Spike ordered another shot and he swiveled around to watch, confident that the lack of illumination and the boy's overloaded senses would provide all the concealment the vampire needed.

He was right. Xander was buzzed from the fast beer on his empty stomach. He shuffled his feet to the thumping beat of the music that seemed to assault him from every side and he relaxed into the dozens of hands that groped his chest, back, crotch and ass. He was hard as a rock. He couldn't ever remember being this horny. Except maybe the first time he jerked off to the Big Boners magazine he bought at the all night adult store on RT#39.

Mike slid his arm around Xander's waist and pulled him close as they continued to hump and move. Xander's heart pounded and his breathing was fast and shallow. Finally, when he feared an explosion in his jeans, Mike made his move. He licked the shell of Xander's ear and whispered. "Let's go in the back."

Xander shivered, his legs went weak and he felt his own head nod without being told. Grabbing him by the hand, Mike led him to the back of the room, around a corner and into a long hallway where men stood in couples and small groups, Their pants were down and their cocks were hard and exposed. They masturbated each other, they sucked and licked each other and they were buried balls deep. The walls were splattered and the floor was slick and wet. The smells and the sounds were so deliciously dirty, Xander felt his dick jump in response.

When they finally located an open space, Mike pushed the unresistant boy against the wall and began to open his pants. "What do you want, Xander? Have you ever taken it up the ass? It don't matter to me, I just want to get off on you."

Xander's brain was in a fog. He shook his head to clear it and Mike took that as a negative on the anal opportunities. It was cool. There were other ways and besides, Mike had his eye on a couple other men tonight that would willingly spread their cheeks for him.

"Yeah, ok, how about I just suck you and jerk off? Damn, you're so fresh and young, my nuts are already full. I can pop us both real fast." That sounded good to Xander and he grinned as Mike dropped to his knees. True to his word, they both came in minutes and Mike was gone. Xander slumped back against the sticky wall. He wanted to be disgusted, but what the fuck. This was exactly what he'd hoped for when he came here.

Staggering back out and into the bar, Spike's left eyebrow rose at the sight and smell of the whelp. Apparently there was an expiration date on the innocence of the youth of Sunnydale and Xander's had exceeded its shelf life. Interested and a bit twitchy himself, Spike collected a familiar twink and hustled him to the side. A fast arse fuck and he was back on his stool before anyone else could claim it. And he continued to watch.

Xander danced with no one and everyone. It was a cluster. A shoving match of sweat, steam and probing fingers and tongues. It was shuffling feet and rubbing bulges. It was a prelude. Within an hour and two more free beers, Xander was gone again. This time, he took longer and Spike marked the minutes on the dance floor as an A'stair demon wiggled his hands in Spike's jeans and jerked him off. The music climaxed at the same time Spike did. The demon licked his fingers and Spike returned to the bar.

Later, when he came back, the boy looked both blissful and knackered in equal measure. He found a seat at a table and happily flirted as he held court recognizing the throne his virginal status had won him. He would not allow himself to think of his life tomorrow. There was only tonight.

It was getting late. The club was thinning and the men with real world jobs, wives and straight lives were drifting away. The ones who remained were the fringe of society. The bikers, the truckers and men who lived off incomes not derived between 9-5. They were rough, harsh and accustomed to taking what they wanted.

Xander had come three times already and he was whipped. His beer buzz had his ears ringing and his head swimming, yet, if coaxed, his eighteen year old constitution could cause his balls to fill and his dick to rise one last time. Glancing around the room, he spotted a trucker. Big, muscular and wearing a wife beater that displayed a tattoo which read, "Born to raise hell." In his drunken state, Xander thought that prophetic as he came from the hellmouth so he batted his eyes coquettishly. Within seconds, he was scooped to his feet and shoved roughly toward the side of the room. This time there would be an audience.

"Take off your pants. I want that ass."

The voice was rude and crude and it shot right fire through Xander. It curdled in fear in his stomach and it squiggled as need in his balls. Wasn't that why he came here? Didn't some part of him want rid of that pesky cherry that was lodged in his precious pucker? "Wait, I don't know. I never."

But his pants were down to his knees and the few bar patrons that were left were gathered around to watch. The fire that had burned in Xander all night still simmered and he bent over. He rested his head against the wall and he tipped his hips back. Just as he felt two large calloused hands spread and probe him, he heard a scuffle and the hands were gone. Xander's head snapped around in time to see Spike backing the trucker off with a flash of fang.

"Spike? Oh, fuck! I'm not....I didn't.....how did you....?"

All the time Xander was stuttering and questioning, Spike was unzipping. His own long, pink dick was still unsated despite his previous couplings. This was tonight's dessert. This was what he had hung around all night for. "You want fucked, boy? That's why you came here, yeah? Well, this is your lucky night."

Xander whimpered. There was no denial that would sound convincing so he didn't try. He placed his palms on the wall and he rocked his hungry hole back towards the vampire. Every man watching had a cock in his hand. Either his own or that of a friend of a friend and they all stroked in anticipation.

Spike quickly fingered his boy's hole and he was delighted to find that all the sex the boy had earlier had his whole body relaxed. It would still hurt, a thought that thrilled Spike, but at least he could get in.

With no time to waste on foreplay, Spike lined up and shoved. The piercing, splitting pain ripped through Xander and his shouts caused more than one man watching to erupt in release. After a momentary wait, Spike slowly started his rhythm. Out and in. Out and in.

The vise-like grip of the boy's wounded hole was pure heaven and he sped up as Xander wriggled on the vampire's cock like a worm pierced on a fishing hook. After a few more moments a funny thing happened. The pain turned a corner. Now it was deep and nearly pleasurable. Xander moaned and he began to pump back coaxing Spike to pick up the pace.

It was quick. After three previous encounters, Xander's exhausted cock could do little more than rise slightly and spurt nearly dry, uncomfortable spasms. It didn't matter. Spike got his. He rammed in deep and unloaded. The boy's cherry would be stamped on his trophy wall.

Finally he pulled out and he slapped Xander on the bare ass leaving a red hand mark. Vamp cum leaked between his legs and his knees felt weak but, surprisingly, Xander felt good. No guilt, no shame. All he needed now was a bath and a good night's sleep. Spike clamped his human teeth down on Xander's neck as he growled menacingly.

"Pull up your pants and go home, boy. Night's over."

The End

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