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Grateful thanks to Green for beta reading this story and improving it in so many ways. |
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Predatory Acts
by
Jane Davitt
Part One
April 1997. New Orleans.
In the past he had compared her skin to every white flower that ever
blossomed, to snowfalls, doves and moonlight. Her pale cheeks had flushed
delicately with pleasure; not at the words themselves, halting and trite
as they were, but at the devotion and adoration in his low, husky voice.
Now he looked at her and was silent. She was dying, caught in a slow slide
back to the grave. Words could not change that and the rage built up in him
every time he stroked her lank, tangled hair or kissed the hand that tried
to find the strength to touch his face and failed.
“How did we come to this, love?” he asked her, despair making him cruel,
“and why are you just letting it happen? Why won’t you feed? Why won’t you
fight it? You want to leave me? Is that it?”
He was trembling now, stalking around the bedroom, hands squeezed into
fists with nothing to hit. His anger would have excited her in the past;
his jealous suspicion would have made her purr with satisfaction, but now
she winced, her eyelids fluttering as his loud voice sent ripples of pain
through her head. He saw her face pucker up and sank to his knees beside
the bed, penitent and ashamed, resting his head against the soft quilt.
“My sweet boy,” she whispered. “You worry too much. I read the cards
last night –”
His head jerked up sharply. “You promised me you wouldn’t! That’s why
you’re so tired today. Why do you do it, Dru? It can’t help you, you know
that.”
She shook her head, groping for his hand. “I felt the stars were in
place; I had to know. They told me where I must go. You will go first to
prepare the way and I will follow.” Her eyes sparked for a second, with
a feverish light. “You will betray me – no, hush, you must. It’s needed.
It will be for me that you do it, you’ll see. You’ll know when the time
comes.”
“Dru! There’s never been any woman but you, you know that.” His voice
was hurt but tinged with guilt. It had been so long since he had taken
her – but he hadn’t given in. Hers until the second death, that’s what he
was.
Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “I know that, my darling. No other
woman. And now I’m hungry.”
“You are?” He jumped up eagerly, her words forgotten. “I got you
something nice. Been keeping her quiet as a surprise. I’ll go and get her.”
He left the room and came back with a young girl, hands bound tightly
behind her. Terror had robbed her of the strength to struggle and apathy
was providing a merciful numbness as her heart beat out its final strokes.
Spike dragged her over to Drusilla and laid her so that her neck was inches
away from Drusilla’s mouth. Keeping her in position, he curled his arm
around Drusilla’s thin shoulders, lifting her up. “Go on, love,” he urged.
“Feed. Be strong.”
Drusilla’s face twisted and her fangs appeared. He smiled with encouragement
and then sighed as she failed to bite hard enough to break the skin. “Let
me help,” he said. The girl watched his handsome face alter and found breath
for one gasped plea for mercy before he bit down, delicately, carefully.
The warm blood flowed into his mouth and when it began to trickle down his
chin he pulled away and bent to Dru, kissing her softly, letting the blood
pour from his mouth to hers. He fed her like that until the girl died in
his arms.
“Rest, pet,” he said, tenderly smoothing the covers over Drusilla, rejoicing
in the faint flush of pink on her waxen face.
“I feel better,” she whispered. “Spike? What month is it?”
“It’s April, love, why?”
“Spring...the time when all that lives comes back to life again. Not
my time. I’ll be well again in autumn, when everything is dying. But you
must go there now, Spike. Promise me. Find out what it is I’ll need. Make
sure there’s a place for us, a welcome mat laid.”
“You never told me where, love.”
“The Hellmouth, of course. Where else?”
Spike gaped at her in shock. “Sunnydale? Dru...you know what the Master
said last time we went there.”
She tittered, the borrowed blood invigorating her. “Said you were a
disgrace to the line.”
Spike looked sulky. “He said Angel and you had a lot to answer for when
you made me and he trained me. Pillock.”
“He was pleased about the Slayer you killed,” she offered.
Spike brightened. “Yeah, I think he was...it was a good fight. Did I
tell you how she had me and then the lights went out?”
Drusilla smiled, snuggling down and closing her eyes. “Yes...but you
can tell me again. I like that story.”
“Well, I got her cornered on this subway train–”
April 1997. Sunnydale. Tuesday afternoon.
Xander walked down the corridor towards the hyena cage, resisting the
urge to look back and see if Buffy and Willow were watching him with admiring
glances. They probably weren’t, so if he didn’t look back he could imagine
they were without feeling that he was being a complete loser.
”There is a method to my patheticness,” he muttered. The corridor opened
out into a large area, fenced off at the far end. Four people, who really
did deserve the label ‘loser’ and would have it tattooed on their foreheads
if Xander were ever World Dictator, were holding Lance over the fence, and
scaring the life out of him. Xander sighed. Some would say Lance asked for
it, but he hated bullies with every fibre of his being. Vampires were worse
and demons in general pushed them down to third on the list but still, yeah,
bullies were bad. He should know.
He walked over a weird symbol painted on the concrete floor in a truly
revolting shade of red, and grabbed at Lance, pulling him to safety. He
was just enjoying some verbal sparring with Kyle when the world around him
shifted.
The hyena growled –
And Xander wasn’t alone anymore.
Tuesday Night.
Xander left the Bronze, heart hammering with pleasure at that last vicious
jab. Willow’s face...why had he never realised how exposed people were,
how easy it was to bring them down with just a few words? And they were starting
to fear him now – he watched in amusement as they scattered out of his way,
the girls glancing at him appraisingly through down swept lashes; the boys
just failing to meet his challenging stare.
Fun though it was, he wanted out. There was something stifling about
the club tonight, something that made his throat close up as he was accidentally
brushed by bodies that weren’t kin to him. Kyle and his friends were still
in there but he had stayed away from them, still resisting the call to join
them. They were his pack, yes, but they were still playing. Xander wanted
to do more than play.
The alley beside the Bronze was dark, but not for him. Tonight his eyes
twisted the blackness, squeezing out every droplet of light from the stars
above and the streetlights below. He sniffed the air, raising his head
to catch every message it brought him, a thousand whispers merging in a
soft, cool breeze. The scents in this alley were singing to him, plucking
at his sleeve and brushing his face. Blood, death, food; it stank of these
things. He had never walked down it alone after sunset before.
Xander turned into the alley, quickly swallowed by the shadows, a giggle
forcing its way between his lips. It was so funny to remember that he’d
been scared to walk here. When a clump of shadows began to move, he carried
on walking, lips twisted in a grin. Two shapes, writhing in a parody of affection,
desperate moans and whimpers from one, a low growl from the other.
A feeding vampire. And he _still_ wasn’t scared. Just hungry. How funny
was that?
~*~*~*~*~
Spike swallowed, and turned, an incredulous glare on his face. He had
an audience? What was it with this town? He’d spent the day listening to
stories about a new Slayer in town and too many hours negotiating safe
passage with a minion of the Master’s. The ugly old bugger wouldn’t even
see Spike face to face. Just passed on a warning that Spike was only allowed
to feed once a night and he might find time to see him tomorrow. As if
there was a shortage of food! He knew what the Master was trying to do;
get Spike so angry that he left, or gave him an excuse to kill him. Temper
rose within him and he threw a punch at the youth, his fist moving so fast
it blurred. The boy just stood there, swaying out of the way of the blow,
still with that stupid laugh bubbling out of his mouth.
“Do you mind?” Spike said acidly. “Some of us are trying not to get
hiccups.” He cocked his head, studying the youth in front of him. Human,
but with a tang of magic about him that made Spike feel a tremor of unease.
The boy’s eyes...dark under thick eyebrows, eyes that looked at the world
and saw a toy made to be broken and taken apart. Scary eyes. Familiar eyes.
“Is she dead?” The boy tried to sound indifferent but there was an edge
of excitement roughening his words.
Drusilla’s eyes. Yes. The same wilfullness, the same indifference to
anything that interfered with gaining pleasure or inflicting pain.
“Will be soon enough. Look, mate –”
The boy looked at him directly for an endless moment and Spike felt
the stirrings of a lust too long unsatisfied. It might have ended there
– not the time, not the place, and the boy was disturbing him on many levels
– but the woman’s blood had sprayed over his face and the hand he had clamped
over her gasping, gaping mouth. Without thinking, he brought his fingers
to his mouth to lick them clean. The boy was close and he moved closer, capturing
Spike’s wrist in strong fingers and bringing the stained fingers to his
mouth.
Spike felt a tingling anticipation spread through his body at the first
warm touch. Twisting within the boy’s grasp, he placed the palm of his
hand over the lad’s mouth and nose, letting him take the scent of the blood.
Spike was hard already, and as the warm breath sighed out to cover his hand,
he had to bite his lip to cover the moan that rose from him.
“That’s right, boy,” he whispered, as a tongue lapped eagerly around
his fingers. “That’s – hey!”
The dark eyes were blazing now and the grip on Spike’s wrist was painful.
“Don’t call me that.”
Spike pursed his lips, his own temper rising. “Wasn’t planning on formal
introductions, mate but whatever. My name’s Spike and my hobbies are
biting people until they stop asking me not to and keeping up with the
footie. You?”
The lad looked confused for a moment and Spike raised a cynical eyebrow.
“Jones? Smith?”
“Xander.” The word was dragged out of him with difficulty, as though
it was a word he’d known once but forgotten.
“Well, now we’re best friends, so let’s get on with it before we have
company.”
The mood shivered, like a glass vibrating as a high note sounded. Just
before it shattered, Xander’s grip loosened and he bent his head, drawn
to the enticing scent of fresh blood. Spike felt the rasp of his tongue begin
again and decided to speed up the cleaning. Parting Xander’s lips with his
fingers, he slipped two fingers inside the furnace of his mouth. Xander
seemed oblivious to the sensations he was evoking, intent only on the unfamiliar,
intoxicating taste, but the process went on long after Spike’s fingers were
bare of blood. Xander was sucking and biting, his tongue swirling around
the cool fingers that had invaded his body so casually. Spike let it go on
a moment longer before pulling them out. Xander’s eyes were glazed, less
human than before and Spike wondered, fleetingly, just what had been done
to him. Did it matter? Well, maybe. Spike didn’t fancy waking up all furry.
He’d forgotten the blood that lay in an intricate webbing across his
cheek. Xander hadn’t. He leaned forward and nuzzled against Spike’s neck,
making the vampire flinch before his arm came up to circle around Xander’s
shoulders, pulling him closer. Xander’s busy tongue explored every contour
of Spike’s face, finding and cleaning every dried droplet. His breath was
blood scented and every exhalation was surrounding Spike with a cloud of
mingled scents.
Finally, Xander began to pull back, his job done. Spike’s arm held him
in place and his eyes, gleaming with arousal, told him wordlessly that he
had gone too far to retreat. Spike’s other hand came up and his thumb
traced a line across Xander’s eyebrow and down to the strong clean lines
of his jaw. Finally, it hooked under his chin, tilting Xander’s head up
slightly, exposing his throat.
“You scared I’m going to bite you, pet?” Spike said in a throaty, humming
voice that wriggled inside every opening Xander’s body had and made itself
at home.
Xander shook his head. He was scared but not because of that. He was
frightened because his body wasn’t quite his any more. Forces were moving
within him, reshaping emotions and desires, simplifying and refining all
he was.
“It’s good to be a little scared, you know. I won’t mind.” The voice
was insinuating now, mocking but not unfriendly. Xander wanted it to stop
it talking. He was having trouble with words; trouble making them fit what
was inside his mind. He was shedding concepts as a snake sheds skin and he
had a feeling that if he thought about what he was doing he might find a
reason to stop. He didn’t want to stop.
“Going to have you now. Last chance to run. I’ll catch you, of course,
but I’ll let you try.”
Xander grinned, feeling assurance flood back, as though the very idea
of running away had freed him from fear. It was his lips that took Spike’s,
a simple hard press of skin on skin at first. He’d kissed girls before –
not many, but some. They had giggled, noses and teeth bumping his own awkwardly,
mouths gaping like foolish fish. He had done his best to match their movements
but he couldn’t say that it had been as much fun as he’d expected. This
was different. The lips against his were cool and firm, opening up just enough
to let their tongues meet. The kiss deepened and suddenly Xander was moaning,
little whimpering noises, wrapping his arms around Spike, feeling Spike’s
hands move down his back, palms flat, stroking him through his cotton shirt.
The hands pulled impatiently and his shirt came untucked. When Spike’s hands
slid against his skin Xander felt his hips jerk forward reflexively. When
the vampire’s nails scored his back, raking it from shoulder blades to waist,
he threw back his head and howled, the sound torn from him, leaving him
emptier of humanity than he had been before.
Spike laughed, eyes sparkling with appreciation. This was going to make
up for the long journey and all the crawling he’d had to do. The lad was
such an intriguing mix of naivety and lust. No time to teach him much, but
Spike decided that he wanted more than he could take in an alley. He thought
of Drusilla but she was far away and this – this was nothing. It didn’t
count.
“Listen, mate. This place is going to be crawling soon when they kick
the kiddies out of that club. Let’s go somewhere quieter.” Spike caught
Xander’s arm and tugged at him.
Xander annoyed him by looking down at the body on the floor, hesitating
at the thought of leaving her. The woman was starting to move, her hands
groping, scrabbling pathetically against the ground. Spike cursed mildly
and went to her, dropping to his knees and looking up at Xander. “Come on
then – do it fast.”
Xander fell to his knees beside Spike, head tilting as he looked at
the woman. “She’s dying...”
“Yeah, think I took a bit much. She’s not going to make it.” Spike’s
fangs flashed as he grinned. “Be a kindness to put her out of her misery.”
With a swift, practiced, movement he bent his head and tore out her throat,
drinking for a moment before thrusting her at Xander.
Xander stared at him, the body of the woman lying across his thighs.
“You’re sharing food with me,” he said slowly. “Why? You’re not one of my
pack.”
“Don’t know what you mean, pet, but we’re the same. Can’t you see it?”
“I’m not a vampire.”
Spike’s eyebrows lifted, his mouth expressive. “You’re a human with
something else inside you. You want blood. I’m a vampire with a demon who
wants it too. When the sun rises it might be different but tonight, right
here, right now – we’re the same.”
Xander looked down at the body. “She smells good.”
“Sure she does. And she’ll taste better. Feed.”
And Xander did. He was drawn to the wound Spike had left, the skin already
opened by teeth so much sharper than his own. He worried away at the flesh,
ripping off shreds, feeling the cooling blood gloss his lips and coat his
fingers. Spike stood guard, a little disdainful but approving. The boy wasn’t
exactly neat but there was something exciting about watching him. Spike
wondered if he would have cared if the woman were still alive. Probably not.
Xander was lost in an experience so intense that it left no room for
any emotion other than pleasure. When Spike’s hand fell onto his shoulder,
shaking him roughly and then pulling him away from his meal, he growled
angrily, baring his teeth.
“Someone’s coming and best we get the hell out,” Spike said. “I promised
someone I wouldn’t hunt more than once a night while I was here and he’s
not the sort of person you disappoint. Come on”
Xander was still resisting, snarling and trying to carry on feeding,
when suddenly he went very still, his face turned towards the high, light
voice of one of the people approaching.
“Buffy, are you sure Xander came down here? On his own? I mean, even
with you here, I’m all terrified and –”
Xander sprang to his feet and looked around wildly. Spike’s eyes narrowed
but he didn’t waste time asking questions. They left just as Buffy and Willow
arrived, the sound of their footsteps drowned by Willow’s scream as she
stumbled over the body.
Part Two
Xander didn’t talk at all until they arrived at the windowless basement room
Spike had rented for the time he was in Sunnydale. It should have felt claustrophobic
but instead it was surprisingly cosy. A cave or a coffin? Either way,
it was sanctuary for both of them.
Spike closed the door and flipped the lock before walking over to a table
holding glasses and two bottles. He poured out some vodka, splashing the
liquid into a tumbler with a generous hand. Xander was standing, staring
at nothing when he felt the glass shoved into his hand.
“Drink this and start talking,” Spike said. “I’m still in the mood to be
entertained but I want to know what you are first.”
Xander took a cautious sip and choked as it burned his throat. Spike sighed
impatiently. “Not got anything to go with it,” he said. “Vampires; not known
for our skill with a cocktail shaker, you know. You’re lucky I get a taste
for something other than blood now and then.”
Xander felt his legs begin to give way as the need to sleep overcame him.
His stomach was full for the first time in hours; he was safe, and his eyelids
were weighted with a drowsy contentment. He made it to the bed in a controlled
stagger, brushing past a startled Spike, and fell asleep at once, the glass
dropping from his hand.
Spike watched him in disbelief. The bugger was out cold. And taking up more
than his fair share of the bed. He poured himself a drink, kicked Xander
unceremoniously to the floor and flopped onto the bed, reaching out for the
remote. He had no desire to go out again. The streets would be full of spies
for the Master, only too keen to get him into trouble. He wasn’t all that
popular with the minions. Strange, that. Or possibly not, as he’d been the
cause of more than a few of them dying in the past. Word got around.
When he’d discovered that there was nothing at all of interest to watch he
took a long sip of his drink, put it down on the night table and rolled over
to look down at his comatose guest. A grin lit up his face like a candle
illuminating a jack o’ lantern carved by Satan. Well, he had _something_
to play with at least.
As the sleepiness that followed feeding wore off, Xander woke up, stretching
out lazily, eyes still shut. There was a metallic jangle and he froze, trying
to identify the unfamiliar noise. Flight or fight – which was best? Opening
his eyes he saw that he was still in the basement room, still with his new
companion and neither option was available. There had been some changes while
he slept. He was naked now, his clothes in an untidy heap by the door. That
would have bothered him yesterday, but now he felt more concern over the
fact that he was cuffed to the bed frame, his arms spread uncomfortably wide.
Spike was sitting cross legged at the foot of the bed, his hands wrapped
around Xander’s ankles possessively. He was partially stripped, his torso
palely gleaming in the light of two lamps, one beside the bed, the other
on the table with the bottles. He still wore black jeans, clinging needily
to his thighs, but his feet were bare. The animal in Xander panicked
and he began to thrash, pulling down hard with all his strength, trying to
snap the cuffs. The metal headboard creaked but held, as did the cuffs. Pain
flared in his muscles and he felt the skin on his wrists begin to chafe against
the metal. He managed to jerk his feet free and send Spike off the bed in
an undignified scramble as the vampire avoided his frantic kicks, but he
couldn’t release himself.
“Calm down,” Spike advised from the carpet. “I’ll let you go when you’ve
answered a few questions.” Xander heard his words but they made no sense.
He was trapped; held down, fear choking him, robbing him of all rationality.
Spike glared at him. “I _said_ stop it.” His voice was cold now, each word
a threat. Recovering his grace, he stood up in one effortless movement and
walked to the head of the bed. Grim-faced, he bent and gripped Xander by
the throat, squeezing hard. The pain brought Xander back to himself as words
could not, and he made an effort to relax and lie still, placating the creature
who was controlling him. The pressure eased and Spike knelt by the bed and
laid his lips gently against the red marks his fingers had made for a fleeting
second. Xander felt a tremor run through him at the brush of those lips,
remembering the kiss in the alley.
“That’s better,” Spike murmured, with an approving pat on Xander’s shoulder.
“Can’t play till I know. Not safe.” He grinned, sitting back on his heels
and looking at Xander. “So what’s a nice little human like you doing eating
people? And no need to make it a long story.” He ran an appraising hand down
Xander’s flank and chuckled. “Looks like you agree with me that there’re
better things we could be doing.”
Looking down his body to an erection that was practically sitting up and
begging – not to mention drooling – Xander had to agree.
~*~*~*~*~
When Xander had finished talking, his words halting and laboured as he fought
to explain what he didn’t comprehend, Spike looked uneasy. “So, this pack
of yours can track you? Don’t really want visitors.”
Xander shrugged. “I don’t know if they will or not. I’m still not –” He paused.
He still wasn’t one of them, not wholly, but it hurt to admit it. Before
the change they’d already been a pack. He was one of them by chance and he
had been on the outskirts, his motivations far different from theirs when
he walked into the hyenas’ cage. The change was working on him in different
ways because of that. He felt anguish that still, still he was an outsider.
They would stay away until he called to them and at the moment he didn’t
want them. Spike had fed him, had captured him. The vampire was alpha in
Xander’s eyes and Xander didn’t want his pack to see him like this for fear
of losing their fragile trust. If he concentrated he could feel their thoughts
dimly. They had finished with the Bronze and they were going home, scattering
for the night through habit. By tomorrow the change would have bitten too
deeply for them to part again but tonight enough humanity remained to allow
routine to supercede instinct.
“They won’t look for me tonight,” he said with certainty.
“Good. Well, I don’t know what happened to you exactly, or if it’ll last,
but it doesn’t sound catching. Not like something bit you.”
Xander craned his head to look at Spike who had walked to the end of the
bed and was casually peeling off his jeans, his back turned to him. “It doesn’t
bother you? That I’m ...possessed?”
Spike turned his head and Xander saw his vampire face appear and then fade
away. “What do you think?”
Xander lay unmoving as Spike sauntered over and began to undo the cuffs.
“Could you – could you leave them on?” he whispered, his voice plaintive.
The restraints freed him, he saw that now. Without them he would have to
fight or leave and he didn’t want to do either. With them he could stay;
guiltless, helpless...but the conflict in his mind was crippling him. He
wanted what Spike was offering, craved it as he had the woman’s blood, but
the idea of being weakest was frightening. The weak died first.
Spike shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
The eyes that stared down into his were awash with many emotions but not
one of them was mercy. “Because everything you do to me and let me do to
you is going to be your choice. You don’t get to console yourself with the
thought you couldn’t help yourself.” Spike took the second cuff off and held
the curved metal in his hand, weighing them as he watched Xander try to think
this through. Then he hurled them away and sprawled on his back beside Xander,
arms crossed behind his head.
“Go on, then,” he said lazily. “Get started.”
Xander moved to kneel beside Spike, looking down at the slender, strong body.
He reached out a hesitant hand, letting it hover above the waiting flesh
and swallowed. Spike frowned. “If you’re trying to wind me up – oh God, I
don’t believe it.”
“What?” Xander said, feeling confusion fog his mind.
Spike sat up, poking Xander in the chest as he spoke. “You – are – a – virgin.
A possessed, under age virgin. Fucking you is corruption of a minor,
not to mention bestiality and the whole loss of innocence bit.” He threw
back his head and shouted with laughter. “You know that saying about being
illegal in fifteen states or whatever? Fucking you is illegal world bloody
wide mate, for one reason or another. I love it!” He paused and looked at
Xander’s stricken face. “Ah, come here, pet. I’ll show you what to do.”
Part Three
Xander’s head came up sharply. “I don’t need you telling me anything,” he
said, the uncertainty in his voice contradicting his words. “I’m just not
sure I want to –”
“Not sure you want to fuck the undead your first time out?”
Xander shrugged. “Had my eye on someone else.”
Spike frowned, puzzled at the way that made him feel. Possessive jealousy
wasn’t new to him; watching Dru flirt her way across every continent did that
to a man, but he barely knew Xander after all. “This someone else - another
bloke?” he asked casually, leaning back on the bed and pushing the pillows
up behind his head. He watched Xander try to lie, a grin twitching his lips.
The boy was so bad at it, it was funny.
“A – no! Girl. She’s a girl. Woman. She’s mine. I knew it from the moment
I saw her.”
“How very romantic,” drawled Spike, rolling his eyes. “And is she going
to like the new improved version that eats dying women, or will that make
seducing her just that little bit –”
Xander flung himself at Spike, hands reaching out for his throat, anger
revealing the animal as wrapping paper torn away shows the gift inside. Spike
let him do it, laughing helplessly. “Can’t kill me that way, pet,” he choked.
“And you’re leaving yourself open.”
He proved his point by digging his nails into Xander’s balls, making him
cry out with shock and pain. His hands slipped away from Spike’s neck and
he reached down but Spike’s grip slackened at once. Spike waited until he
was sure Xander’s rage had died away and then his hand began to stroke instead,
moving higher, gripping and pumping until Xander’s eyes closed and his teeth
bit into his lip.
“Feels better than you thought? Someone else doing it for you? Doesn’t really
matter whose hand it is, does it. You’re so randy you’d come if it was me,
or your girl, or just about anyone. But you want it to be me because I’m like
you, aren’t I? And I’ll make it good, pet.” His hand never stopped moving
as he rolled Xander onto his back, propping himself up on an elbow and flinging
one long leg over Xander’s thigh, holding him still. Xander’s hands reached
out, blindly searching, and Spike shifted so that his own cock was within
reach. Xander took it and began to work it awkwardly, unable to get a rhythm.
Spike moved on top of him, his mouth hungry against Xander’s, his body like
a cool sheet on a hot night.
It had been months since Spike had made love and even then Drusilla had
been so fragile that he had hardly dared to move once he was inside her.
He knew he was hurting Xander, knew that no matter what strength the animal
spirit was giving him, a human body was too breakable to withstand a vampire’s
pleasure...but he didn’t hold back. Much. Xander might have begged him to
stop, but his mouth was busy and he’d waited so long for this –
Time slowed after they came for the first time, after they had the taste
of each other’s come in their mouth, the smell of it on their fingers, the
sounds of each other’s climax in their ears. They lay motionless, not done,
just waiting. Blood trickled down their bodies from a dozen cuts and bites,
lips were swollen and full from kisses that had bruised as much as they caressed
and they were both still hard, still ready.
Xander reached out a finger and laid it against Spike’s mouth, brushing
it against lips he’d torn with his teeth until they bled, just so that he
could lick them clean. Spike pursed his lips in a mockery of a kiss, eyes
glinting with challenge. Xander grinned back, feeling relaxed and wanting
more.
If he’d still been capable of abstract thought that would have puzzled
him. He’d just had wild, rough sex with a vampire. A male vampire. An hour
or so after eating human flesh. Relaxed? He should have been curled up in
the corner shaking. Dimly he sensed that, but it didn’t seem relevant. The
body beside him, stretching out with a languid, feline grace, was enough to
wipe his mind clear of anything but a humming lust, buzzing in his ears, raising
the hair on his body in an atavistic response. Curiosity filled him and he
leaned in, snuffling at Spike’s neck and making the vampire laugh, tasting
and smelling every hollow on the sleekly muscled body, committing them to
memory.
He stopped and ran his finger over Spike’s body, feather touches, tickling
and teasing until Spike moaned, hips lifting off the bed just a fraction of
an inch. His hand locked around the base of Spike’s cock, lifting it from
where it lay against his flat stomach. Dipping his head he licked at it, tonguing
it roughly, enjoying the way it felt inside his mouth. The contrast of the
hardness at the core and the thin, delicate skin surrounding it was fascinating.
He drew it inside as far as he could, catching the flesh with his teeth,
inexperience and eagerness combining to make him clumsy. Spike hissed with
pain and Xander did it again, this time on purpose, his ardour edged with
a cruelty as inherent and impersonal as a child’s.
Xander wanted more than a hand coaxing him to climax now and his own
erection was demanding attention. Abandoning Spike’s cock abruptly he moved
up his body until he was straddling Spike’s chest. Slipping his hand behind
the blond head, he raised it, shoving pillows behind it to support Spike’s
neck. Holding his cock, feeling its familiar weight against his palm, he moved
so that it was just out of reach of Spike’s lips. Power was tingling through
him, raw and rich. When Spike opened his lips, waiting, ready, he didn’t
hesitate.
It had been a while since Spike had done this and never with someone so
new, someone who didn’t care that his rapid deep thrusts gave his partner
no chance to breathe or to swallow. Xander might have been forgiven for thinking
that a vampire didn’t need that luxury but Spike was willing to bet it hadn’t
even crossed his mind. Xander was lost in pleasure, as he had been when he
fed from the woman. Spike had ceased to exist for him, apart from his mouth,
and Xander’s eyes were squeezed tight shut, oblivious to anything but what
that mouth was doing to him.
Spike endured it, fury bubbling up inside him. His hands were free and he
began to use them, gripping Xander’s hips to try and control his violent thrusts,
listening to the harsh gasps as Xander built up to a solitary, selfish, climax.
He could have thrown Xander off him, could have bitten down hard and punished
him, but he was paying for his earlier pleasure, paying for his betrayal
of Drusilla and part of him welcomed the discomfort.
Xander came at last when Spike lost patience and pushed a finger knuckle
deep inside him, brutally fast and hard. Xander cried out, his cock slipping
free of Spike’s bruised lips, and came, covering the vampire’s face with sticky
wetness. Spike pulled his finger free and turned his face into the pillow
to wipe it clean. Xander moved off him and looked down, his eyes hazy with
pleasure, empty of guilt. He saw that Spike was still hard and reached out
for him but Spike’s hand swept out, knocking Xander away from him.
Xander stared at him, startled out of his euphoria. “Don’t you want me to
-?”
Spike stood up his face passionless and cold. “I don’t want anything from
you.”
He walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Xander heard the screech
of a tap being turned and then the hiss of a shower. He ran his fingers through
sweat-damp hair, watching the door, perplexity clouding his face. Standing
up on legs still shaky, he walked to the door and turned the handle. It wasn’t
locked and he pushed it open and went inside. The room was small, with a shower
over the tub. There was a plastic shower curtain with a dolphin theme but
Spike hadn’t bothered to pull it. Spray was drifting out and wetting the
tiled floor making it slippery underfoot. Spike was standing, head bent, one
arm stretched out, hand flat against the back wall, bracing himself. The
water was pounding the back of his neck, hitting the bare skin and cascading
down the long curve of his back. Spike’s other hand was around his cock and
he was jacking off as if it was a job that needed doing, as exciting a task
as flossing.
Xander took one step and Spike said, “Out”, his hand still busy, his face
grim. Xander ignored him and took another step. In that room, it was enough
to bring him close enough to touch Spike. He reached out his hand and Spike
spun around, grabbing him by the throat with the hand that had been against
the wall. His eyes were dull with tears, threatening to spill down a face
contorted with loathing. The animal in Xander knew fear and began to panic.
Spike stepped out of the bath, pushing Xander backwards, and thrust him towards
the door.
Xander’s bare feet skidded on the tiles and he fell to the floor, landing
heavily on his back. Spike watched him impassively, having released his hold
on him as soon as he began to fall. He rolled onto his front and Spike pounced.
Xander was pushed down against the tiled floor, a sleek damp weight against
his back, a hard cock prodding against him. He felt him start to push inside
with one savage, shallow thrust that pulled a scream of pain from him. Spike
hesitated. He knew that sound of despairing violation. It had come from his
throat in the past. He couldn’t do it. The weight left Xander abruptly and
from the floor he watched Spike walk past him to the table and reach for a
bottle of vodka.
Xander sighed, resting his face against the floor for a moment before getting
to his feet. He was confused, angry, and now that the lust had simmered down,
he was aching and sore, but he could see that Spike was distraught and that
bothered him. He’d enjoyed hurting people in the Bronze, watching them flush
with embarrassment as he derided their bodies, their clothes, their dates
or lack of them. They weren’t in the pack. Spike wasn’t either, not really,
but he was strong, they had shared food and sex and Xander saw him as an equal.
Within the pack, giving comfort was expected. They were one. What hurt one,
hurt all.
He pulled a towel off the rack and walked over to Spike, who turned away
silently, putting the bottle back on the table. Ignoring the rejection, Xander
began to dry Spike with the towel, starting with his shoulders. Spike flinched
at the first touch and then stood still, head bowed. Xander didn’t make more
of it than it needed, didn’t try to turn it into foreplay. It was as instinctive
as a cat washing the face of his litter mate. He rubbed the soft towel over
damp, smooth flesh, standing behind Spike as he dried his neck and back carefully.
He towelled each arm and then went to his knees so he could reach Spike’s
backside and legs, eyes level with flesh marked by his own teeth and nails
in a dozen different places.
Then he stood and walked around to face Spike. He began with Spike’s chest,
scrubbing at the defined muscles with a distant admiration. When he went to
his knees again he didn’t ignore Spike’s cock, hanging heavy now, but he
didn’t linger over it. He stood again and looked at Spike’s hair. It was almost
dry so he settled for giving it a brisk rub, tousling it up into curls.
Spike’s head jerked up. “Watch it!”
Xander stepped back, hands raised in automatic placation. Spike’s face softened
for a second and he sighed, smoothing his hair down. “Not your fault, mate,”
he said. “Well, partly your fault for being such a selfish bastard –”
“Huh?”
Spike glared at him half heartedly. “Get a blow up doll, next time,” he
advised. “They don’t care if you’re just using them to get off.”
Xander flushed. “I’m sorry.”
“Liar. You had a great time. But if you want seconds, you might want to
reconsider your technique in the future. Some advice? When there’s a set
of teeth around your dick, it’s not a good idea to piss off the bloke who
owns them.”
Xander winced but Spike waved a magnanimous hand and carried on. “Not really
you that’s got me worked up. It’s Dru. My girlfriend. Do you know how long
I’ve been faithful to her? Years, mate. Bloody decades.”
Xander felt vaguely flattered. “So I’m the first person you’ve had sex with,
apart from her, in like a century?”
Spike snorted. “Not likely! But she was there watching, or she set it up.
Not the same. This is behind her back and if I tell her, it’d hurt her. She’s
hurt enough, is my princess. But she’s got this thing, see? She looks inside
you. Literally with some of ‘em and she can pull things out of your mind –”
“Are we still being literal here?”
“Sometimes.”
Xander threw the towel in the direction of the bathroom and sat down on
the bed. “So, why me?” he asked. “And sorry that you’re going to die horribly
and it wasn’t much fun, by the way.”
Spike arched an eyebrow with pretended surprise. “What makes you think Dru’s
going to blame me?” he asked.
Xander thought about that. It should have scared him but it didn’t. It was
too remote a threat. The here and the now; that was all that mattered and
it was more than enough for him to deal with.
“And I don’t know what you’re like as a human but you’ve got...possibilities
the way you are now. Trust me, you’re too tasty to leave on the plate.”
Xander swallowed. Spike’s voice was like an extension of his hands. It was
soft, suggestive and it made him shiver and quiver. He was finding that he
responded less to what Spike said than his tone. The hard edged voice made
him feel like whining in supplication, the velvet sheathed one made him want
to squirm and beg.
“If she tries to hurt me, Buffy will stake her,” he said, discovering that
even with a hyena’s soul his mouth still said deeply stupid things. Spike
stiffened in every body part but one. Xander could almost see the pieces slotting
together and he began to scramble away from the slowly advancing vampire,
every sense he had telling him that he’d just made a bad mistake.
“Girl in the alley was calling to a Buffy and you took off like a greyhound
who’s spotted the rabbit.” One step. “All the demons are talking about in
the bars is the new Slayer.” Another step. “Seems she’s called Buffy too.”
Last step. Spike’s face was inches away, his eyes flat, like scribbled blue
crayon in a paper white face. “You’re friends with the Slayer aren’t you.”
It wasn’t ever a question.
Spike’s fist moved too fast to avoid and Xander’s head slammed back against
the door. Spike saw him slump down unconscious and pursed his lips. “Sorry,
mate, but you just moved from being a treat to being bait.” He sighed. Dressing
a limp body was a bugger but he couldn’t carry him through the streets like
this. Marvelling over Xander’s taste in boxer shorts – glow in the dark reindeers
with red noses – he began to dress him, ready for the trip to the Master’s
lair.
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