PWP

by
Jameschick



It’s the soft tickle of a finger on the arch of his foot that wakes him. More to the point, it’s the fact that when he tried to pull his foot away from the offending finger, he couldn’t move. His eyes snapped open only to blink in shock at the sight in front of him. He knows this can’t really be happening, guys like him just don’t get their every wish and fantasy to come true. Never the less, when the finger moves from tormenting his arch to drawing lazy circles around his ankle and then up the inside of his calf, he begins to believe.

He swallows, wondering how it’s even possible as his mouth had gone dry at the site of all the smooth, pale skin, barely reflected in the shoddy streetlight that filters through the one tiny window in his basement apartment. He can’t speak, wouldn’t know what to say even if he could. Anything beyond “please” would be out of his minds capability at the moment. It takes him a minute to realize that he’s naked.

It seems that his body has already tweaked to exactly what is going on as when he looks down, he sees that “little Xander” is already up and waving hello. This seems to amuse the half-naked vampire standing at the end of his bed.

Xander wonders how Spike got out of the ropes. He knows he tied them tighter than necessary, always does. He also wonders at the irony that it is these very same ropes that now bind his wrists and ankles to the shoddy pull out bed he sleeps on.

Then the capacity for thought flees as he sees Spike’s hands casually opening the buttons on his jeans. One by one. So. Fucking. Slowly.

Xander wants to tell him to go faster, to just get the damn things off already, but at the same time, he’s enjoying the sensual torture of being made to wait. He wants to see Spike naked, has been wanting to for some time now. Damn if the vampire doesn’t know it too. He can tell he does by the smirk on his face.

The sinfully tight jeans are wide open now and Xander can just make out the tiniest hint of Spike’s shaft - which the evil demon has kept covered on purpose. Xander growls with frustration, Spike chuckles and climbs onto the bed, straddling Xander’s legs.

“Wanna see it, don’t you boy?”

Xander licks his lips and nods his head. There’s no point in lying, his hard-on gives him away. Spike reaches into his pants and fondles himself, still keeping all but the barest glimpse of himself from Xander’s hungry eyes; he moans low in his throat. Xander whimpers.

“If I take it out, give you a look-see, you gonna do more that just stare at it?” Spike waits for an answer that Xander cannot give. His brain has shut down at the implications of that question. He’s restrained on the bed, he can’t touch Spike. What does the blonde expect him to do?

Spike must see the question in Xander’s eyes , he shuffles forward, straddling Xander’s chest., the still hidden cock only inches from his face. Xander gets it now. He looks up at Spike, want and acceptance written clearly on his face and nods again.

Spike moves off Xander and Xander makes a pitiful protesting noise in the back of his throat. Spike shushes him and removes his jeans.

Climbing back into place, Spike takes his cock in his hands and slowly strokes it from base to tip. He looks at Xander with consideration. “Dunno if you deserve this, boy. You tied me to the chair after all. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of this myself, make you watch instead.”

Panicked, Xander finally finds his voice. “No, please.”

Spike thinks on it for a moment, never stopping his slow strokes. Xander watches fascinated as Spike touches himself; sees a bead of clear fluid gather at the tip of Spike‘s cock. He wants to taste it.. He licks his lips, wonders if he could reach, if he moved fast enough, stuck his tongue out far enough. One taste, he just wants the one taste. Well, not really. He wants it all.

Spike’s voice cuts through the lust induce haze in his mind. “You gonna suck it real good then? Bring me nice and slow?”

Frantic nodding from Xander and Spike brings his cock slowly forward, rubbing along Xander lips, leaving a wet sticky trail. Xander’s tongue pokes out, licks away the salty smear and then eagerly laps at the source of it’s flavour.

With his movement restricted, there isn’t much Xander can do other than to let Spike set the pace. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds that he’s more turned on by this act of submission than any of the more dominate themed activities he got up to with Anya.

Spike moves slowly, in and out of his mouth, telling him what to do. Things like “suck harder” and “use your tongue” are spoken just loud enough for him to hear and obey. He doesn’t even realise that his own hips are moving, humping into the air at the same pace as Spike is pumping into his mouth. He knows nothing but the sound of Spike’s voice, the taste of his skin and slightly bitter fluids. Doesn’t want to know anything else.

There is freedom in this. Freedom from thought, from action, from being. All he feels is what Spike wants him to. The cold damp air of the basement doesn’t register on his skin, the hard metal bar of the sofa bed frame in his lower back no longer bothers him - he doesn’t feel it.

This free floating sensation goes on for what could be hours, or only minutes. Xander doesn’t know, nor does he care. It is only when Spike pulls out of his mouth and Xander’s eyes snap open at the loss that he comes back to himself. “Wha..” He begins to ask what he’s done wrong, willing to beg if only Spike will give another him chance.

“Gonna cum on your face, Xander. Want to see you covered in me, marked by my seed, my scent. I own you now, and I plan to make it known.” Spike’s fist moves harshly over his own flesh, his hips snapping with the rhythm. Xander can feel his own hips now, moving in tandem with the vampire, he feels his ball sack tighten, knows he’s going to cum.

“Please.” Xander whimpers. He doesn’t know what it is he’s asking for, only that he desperately needs it. He gets it as the first lukewarm splash hits his chin and mouth, the second landing on his cheek. He opens his mouth , his thighs tensing, his back arched as he screams the vampire’s name as his own orgasm rips through him.


In the chair, Spike surveys the scene with detachment. He wonders what Xander dreams about that make him take up that spread-eagle position on his back every night. He watches and waits, wondering if tonight will be the night he finally gets an answer.

Xander’s mouth is open, his breathing rapid and harsh. Spike watches as the boy’s back arches, as the sheet slips farther down to uncover his boxers and the tent formed in them. He hears the softly spoken “please” and leans closer - as close as the tight ropes will allow anyway and then a huge grin crosses his face as Xander screams his name.



The End