Another one dusted off and revived. Unfortunately, not exactly Spander-centric. Or even male/male centric. I did sneak in some Spander UST/flirtation, though. How can I not?!
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel the Series
Characters: Spike/Faith, if you look cross-eyed a leetle Spike/Xander-ish-ness
Prompt: 62. Wet
Notes: Written in April of 2008. Yeah. O.o Another one of those. No beta, just my onesie on the read-through. Let me know about mistakes, please! Ask before archiving. Also, pretend Faith never went totally bad and stayed in Sunnydale with the gang. That's what I did.
Disclaimer: It may come as a surprise but I'm not Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy and therefore I do not own Spike or any of his many shagging and verbal sparring partners. I weep for the injustice of it all and play with these characters in the fiction I write because this is pretty much all the fun I have.
Summary: Spike's chained to a bath tub. Faith comes in and locks the door. What's a vamp to do?
Archivist's Note: The second part of this story contains explicit HET. If this offends you stop reading at the end of Part 1. There is no need to read the second part to enjoy the pre-slash Spander first part, though the Spike/Faith interaction is very well written and it would be a shame to miss it.
It seemed odd to feel this sort of thing during a hostage type situation -- him the hostage. With all that had gone on with this thrice-damned chip and the constant exposure to the Slayer that caused an almost constant buzzing itch at the back of Spike's canines and his neck, Spike didn't really get out that much.
Spike was bored.
Also, a bit depressed, some loneliness thrown in, as well, but mostly bored.
And he was chained to the wall, so he couldn't go far. Had to have his meals brought to him like some sort of condemned prisoner awaiting his day with the lethal injection.
He'd take the needle, of course.
Christ, he was bored. Also, the chains rattled if he sighed too hard. And he did that a lot.
He stared at the ceiling, the chains rattled.
He scratched his nose, the chains rattled.
He scratched his balls, the chains rattled.
He shifted his numb ass, the chains fucking well rattled.
He just thought hard and the damned things rattled and that sent the Slayer and her posse running to see if he was attempting escape.
So, of course, he couldn't have a nice wank, and fuck, how he wanted one. Imagine the rattling that would've gone on then!
Not that he hadn't tried getting out of them, out of curiosity's sake, really, because, obviously, he didn't have anyplace else to go. Also, morbid thoughts of fire or potential bursting in by those soldier's who'd got him to begin with caused him to be wary of imprisonment and a necessary quick getaway, but he was missing his lock-picks and the manacles seemed to be magicked so that vampires and the like couldn't budge them.
He drummed his fingers on the inside of his thigh, the chains rattled.
He sighed and slumped against the hard porcelain at his back.
Heavy footsteps came towards the bathroom and a waft of pizza and grease and chocolate and nauseating animal blood met his nostrils.
The boy's turn to feed him, then.
He smirked as the door open and Xander entered carrying a steaming mug of foul pig blood and a wary look on his face with a bit of disdain and contempt mixed in for good measure.
It was as if the boy couldn't figure out one expression of hatred to send towards Spike.
"Your dinner's served, my un-good, chipectomied vampire," Xander said, voice high with a snooty, fake French accent.
Really crappy fake French accent.
As if there was a good real French accent. Spike hated the French. France, as a whole, actually.
Spike rolled his eyes, fists clenching hard. "Give it over, then. I'm hungry, git."
"Say please, biteless, or maybe I'll just take this away and dump it in the toilet or something."
The boy was right at the top of his Shit List. As soon as this chip was taken care of, he'd see to him and the other Scoobies. His Sire, too, for good measure, but that was just for fun, really.
Spike felt his fangs elongate and graze against his pursing lips but he didn't vamp out. It wouldn't do any good.
None of them were scared of him anymore. He couldn't fucking hurt them!
God, his life sucked.
He sagged, feeling defeated and helpless. "Please," he grit out, eyes flashing yellow.
If the ponce knew what was good for him, he'd still feel a healthy dose of fear for Spike. A leashed dog was still dangerous and that leashed dog never forgot cruelty.
Not that Spike was comparing himself to a mutt, but still.
It was Xander's turn to smirk. He shuffled forward with over-sized feet in their battered yellow-laced sneakers and dangled the blood temptingly over Spike's head.
"That didn't sound as heart felt as it should have. I think you should try a little harder. I mean, you are hungry, aren't you, Spikey?"
Spike curled his upper lip, showing a little fang this time, glared up at the insolent little git. "You know, I was never one for torture or playing with my food but if I didn't have this chip, I'd fucking well enjoy taking my time murdering you. Pull out your intestines and slurp the blood from the hole I made in your fat belly. Tie 'em in a knot and make you wear 'em for a belt. Then, I'd crack your ribs open like an eggshell and play with your lungs and your liver. You know, the human liver isn't half bad...with a bit of whisky to chase it down. Lots of good blood in there, protein."
Xander's hand wavered and he pulled it to his stomach. He cleared his throat, looking a little queasy, as he should have. "Well, you can't, can you? You're going to have to do what we say and be good because you're at our mercy. It's not like you have anywhere else to go, is it?"
Boy was right but Spike would never give him the satisfaction of knowing how truly desperate Spike was, or that inside, he felt fearful that one of this lot would, just simply because they could, force him into some sort of slavery because of his vampiric nature.
He'd off himself first.
"Unfortunately, I don't. Give me my effing blood before I find a way to gouge out your eyeballs and make you eat 'em with ketchup. You bloody Americans love ketchup, don't you? On every sodding thing."
Xander looked a little green. "Eww. Here, asshole. Just shut the hell up and eat this already so I can go away and not have to look at your ugly face anymore."
Xander practically threw the mug at him and Spike barely managed to get a grip on it before Xander was ducking back and leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest.
Spike drank the blood as quickly as possible and it barely took the edge off his gnawing hunger. He wiped his mouth and held onto the mug for a bit longer, heat seeping into his skin in a very pleasant way, watching Xander with an unwavering gaze.
"Are you done now? I'd like to leave so I can go get a donut before everyone else eats all the jelly ones."
"Like you need anymore pastries, fatso."
"I'm not fat, damn it!"
Spike swept a heated gaze down Xander's tensed body and the boy's heart sped up. "Well..."
Xander glared at him, stalked to the tub and snatched the mug from Spike's hands. "Oh, fuck you, Spike. You're just trying to start something because it's all you can do. I don't have to take this...and, really? I don't even have to feed you, do I? I could let you starve. It's not like anyone would care. I've heard vampires can live on almost indefinitely even without feeding. It's not pretty and it's most definitely not pleasant. Want to test that theory?"
Spike puffed up, then deflated.
He knew it was true, all of it, even the surviving without blood bit. He knew stories of vampires getting buried alive for some erroneous reason dealt out by whoever it was got pissed enough to do it to them. A vampire would waste away, down to almost all skeleton and skin, but still alive, living inside their own minds because their bodies had practically shut down. Wasn't a pretty way to exist and Spike didn't want any part of that. Angelus had made him suffer by not allowing him to feed for weeks on end when he'd chain him up for imagined indiscretions and that was for the bleeding birds.
Spike couldn't seem to help himself, though. Pissing off these stupid kids and their Watcher was the only bit of fun he could have anymore.
He wasn't even allowed telly time! He had to do something to keep his mind occupied or he'd go completely fucking out of his tree.
He shifted, spreading his legs and Xander's demeanor changed. He backed up and looked confused at Spike's sudden demeanor shift.
"What?" he asked, clutching the mug like a lifeline.
Spike moistened his lips and lowered his left hand to his groin.
Xander stared at him, slowly comprehending, and his eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing?" he squeaked.
"Maybe I'll take you up on your offer, eh? Bet you'd enjoy a good coring, wouldn't you, boy? My massive cock reaming out your tight little virgin ass? You begging me to fuck you all the more harder..."
Xander's mouth fell open.
Spike continued, getting into it -- his cock was too, actually. He rubbed himself through the tight jeans. "Or maybe you'd like to get me on my knees and ram your prick into me, eh? Give me all you've got, as hard as you want, for as long as you want. I'm a vampire, Harris, you could fuck me till I bled and it wouldn't matter because I'd heal up a treat, wouldn't I? All virgin tight and smooth as you could ever want, every time."
Xander swallowed and Spike smelled a tendril of arousal coming from the boy.
It was very gratifying to know he could turn the kid on his toes.
"Y-you, shut up!"
"Make me," Spike said silkily, sliding his thumb up the side of his swelling crotch.
Xander bolted and Spike laughed loudly after him.
Oh, that had been fun.
His chains rattled as he settled back down and he scowled.
Christ, he could use a wank.
This ends the Spander part. Xander doesn't return, click for Spike/Faith
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