I decided to let out my Hyena!Xander for a bit of run time. Poor boy doesn't get out much ... doesn't play well with others and all. So, yeah, Xander in the cage while the pack is running wild....
Sound is loud in the dark. It echoes eerily against other objects and the bodies running beside me. Strange laughter floats over the still landscape. I can see it. In my head, the stone is bleached in the dim moonlight. Shadows are stark against the ground. In my mind, I run with them. Motion and counter-motion. We flow together and then apart. A finely tuned predator, all others run from us, burrowed in bright, warm nooks. I can smell them.
I call to them. They call to me.
It’s time for me to finally to break free.
slashthedrabble Challenge 26 - Stormy
He was tired. She was pushing hard lately—a reaction to the unfamiliar rains—he couldn’t fight her like usual. He didn’t want to fight her. He remembered when he’d been behind her. He knew what it felt like to be protected because he was important. She’d never told him why he was important; he just knew that she wanted to keep him. But then she’d been sent away, and he’d had to fend for himself again. He hated it. He wanted her back. She wanted to be back, but the strength of the barrier depended on the strength of the carrier, or some stupid magic mumbo-jumbo. Now though, his strength was waning. He had so many things being dumped on him. The addition of one angry, chipped vampire did not help. He hadn’t slept for the past three stormy nights, and when he woke up there was a strange fog over everything, her voice clear in his head. He wanted to step back and let her take care of him.
“Oi, droopy,” a far-away voice, “are ya just gonna stare inta nothin’ fer another day or ya gonna lemme up?!” Anger. He understood anger. She understood the frustration and fear of being trapped and weak. She laughed. He felt his lips peeling back over his teeth and a warbling sound starting high and thin. The blond in their tinted vision flinched. This was the one that had awoken her. This was what she wanted. And he was at their mercy. She rolled her new body out of the bed and stretched muscles. Yes, she liked this one. A strong will to defend and protect. A male that knew women were in charge. He was worthy of being pack, and she did not mind being in this body. Humans were built differently, and she had come to realize she could make this body stronger and faster than its female counterpart. And there, tied down in front of her, was a most intriguing creature. He hissed as she stalked around the chair. Yes, he would do well. Strong. Smart. Not patient by any means; she laughed as he kicked out. He could be loyal and vicious and such a cute little bloodsucker.
She liked his growl as she swung over his lap and licked at his throat. Mm, most tasty. She chuckled in delight at the sudden yelp of realization from her host. Not quite as disgusted as he might have wanted others to believe. Oh, she’d been in his head long enough to know what he liked. And he liked this blond bit of danger as much as she did.
“Gerroff, ya nutty bastard!” Oh, he was twisting and bucking beneath her nicely. She ripped through the cloth separating her from her chosen. Bright lightening made his face clear to her, and as much as he hissed and growled, he wanted them. His face was twisted in pained delight, and he was deliciously hard against her body’s matching reaction.
open_on_sunday drabble challenge 142: Sesame Street.
She curled into his body, holding him to the chair.
She liked his chill. She liked his taste. She liked his growl.
“What the bloody hell’re you doin’ now, bitch?” She lifted her head and looked down at him, showed her teeth, and leaned down to lick her mark.
“This is mine.” He showed his throat prettily. Her claws traced down pale flesh.
“This is mine.” He breathed for her. She moved inside him.
“This is mine.” He purred beneath her. She let him speak.
“Whelp’s gonna flip when he gets out.” He flinched at her laughter.
“He’s mine too.”
Brought to you by the letter M and the number 2.
Breathing deepened, body stretching in a strange animalistic arch.
Spike remained quiescent beneath the hot, moving body. He didn’t know what was waking up. His throat throbbed with the mark, his demon purring in rare contentment. His neck bowed when dark brown eyes blearily trailed over him. Fingers, tipped with claws the night before, brushed softly up his unbound arms and lifted his chin.
Spike wanted to bite him. Would the chip let him? Would she let him? Hot, moist breath caressed the mark on his throat.
“I’m beta, you know.”
Spike found that Xander tasted nummy after all.
Brought to you by the letter B and the number 3
Uh...this was a strange challenge to myself, mostly. Nothing but dialogue.
“She hates your crypt, Spike.”
“Bloody hell, why?”
“Prime real-estate, this!”
“Too many exits.”
“Nothin’ got in ‘at I can’t handle, pet.”
“You’re moving out.”
“The bloody hell I am!”
“Wasn’t a request, mate.”
Let Me Go
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say ... SpikeMuse is not happy today.
This is what I’m reduced to? Babysitting the white hats. All just to get some bloody awful blood. Enough to make a bloke wish he didn’t have survival instincts. Don’t want to live this damned half-life. Trapped here with children that hate and pity me and bloody hell, the Slayer can’t even bring herself to really stake me. Please! Put me out of this misery. Not made for this life. Want to hunt and bite and bleed you dry, I do. Can see the pretty pulse from here. Hear the rush and flush of life.
I never wanted this. Can’t you see me trying to get your attention? Wankers. I wanted you to stake me. Safety? Crawl to you for protection? Idiots. Like my life was ever safe!
I want to curl up and dream of a place far away, a time long past. 'Cause this place and time? Not me. Not mine. Nothing I want and nothing that wants me. I want to be on the sea, lifting my face to the cold spray of salt water. I want to be lost in the desert, wrapped in a burnoose and fighting. And that's it really. Fighting. I have nothing to fight for here. Nothing to fight against. Been ripped away, my ability. Stupid, arrogant humans trying to control something primal.
‘S like trying to tame a cat, it is. Like them so much more than dogs. Kittens'll bite back. Dogs, taken and gentled from a young age, don't bite. Not unless threatened. Cats make a decision to bite and hiss and scratch, no matter how long you've lived with them and talked to them and held them, if they change their mind they express it. They'll bite the hand that feeds them because they are what they are.
Can I do that? Will I turn around one day and say, 'I don't like it here, fuck off.' I wish. I can't even tell them that the small, taunting jeers at the small, mundane things hurt. Hurt so bad some days. Like a finger's been jammed into my chest and is pressing down on my heart and lungs. Like a heavy hand has closed around my throat, closing off words and breath. Not that I need to breath. Body’s instinctive reaction, no matter how long it’s been without.
I have no idea who I am right now. It's all lost in this flash and dazzle that keeps us distracted until the next good show. I want to know pain and suffering and starvation and the knowledge that I must overcome or perish. Life and death. All in an instant. Because the next instant I could be gone, and I really don't feel that I would have amounted to much of anything in this short time. Not like all those lives I have lived. I sailed the seas and burned in the deserts. I hunted and fought and died. I crawled and begged and starved. I know these lives. I feel them haunting me now. Is this pathetic waste of air what those struggles have amounted to? Is this slow, meaningless death to be the culmination of action and anger and passion?
Passion. Something so vital to life. Missing. Gone. Torn from me by the softened edges of a new world. A dangerous world. A world made to fatten the flock for the wolf is knocking at the door.
Let it in, pretty one. Let it devour you and then me. You’re holding tight to me. Why? You don’t want me. Wanna stake me? Make me bleed and crumble to dust? Open the door and let it in. Let me out. Do something! Anything. Sitting all precious in your little group. High and mighty on a pedestal the shines so bright and echoes so empty.
Did you see him fall? Did you try to reach out to pull him back to you? Or were you the one that pushed him? ‘Cause he’s howling at the moon, now. Scratching at the pane. He wants in. I want out. Never even saw him, did you? Clutching and clawing at something you can’t believe. Open the door. I’ll go to him. I’ll set him up on the proper altar and worship at his feet. He tastes of iron and copper now. Heart thudding heavy in his chest, and you don’t hear him. Don’t feel him. Hot and powerful. Living. He’s running and tearing and promising the change.
Watch me walk out this door. No, better yet, don’t. Not like you ever saw me, either. Couldn’t see my pain and desperation beyond your own whimpering frustrations. Go on and dance. It could very well be your last, you know. Find a moment and live it. Do something with it. No more talk. No more leashes. No more chains. He’s waiting, he is. Leading me toward a different life. A newer life. With anger and joy and laughter and pain. That’s what living is. Too bad you’ll never grow old enough to appreciate it.
Willow smiled as Spike stalked passed her. She ignored his growl and walked into the Magic Shop.
“Hey, guys! Xander here yet?” She looked around, wondering when she and Tara could manage some time alone. Giles looked up briefly, eyes already dropping to his book as he answered.
“I have not heard from him yet today.” Willow paused, a tiny frown pursing her lips.
“I haven’t seen him for a while, wonder what he’s been up to.” She shook her head a bit before settling into the couch and grabbing up some research materials. Buffy turned to look at the door. She shivered as a tingle ran up her spine. Was that laughter she heard? Shrugging, she turned back to her sword, hoping to get last night’s demon slime off some time soon.
Dawn shared a small, tight smile with Tara before returning to her homework.
slashthedrabble #197 - Caught
Wind rushing over his ears, dirt flying under his legs, dark shadows flickering and leaping under an empty new moon. Heat nipped at his heels, heavy breathing laughed against his ears, claws tugged and teased his flaring duster through the oldest, emptiest cemetery lanes.
Heavy body slamming his back, hard marble crushing his chest, stolen blood rushing and surging with possessive hands ripping his clothing. Teeth closed over the nape of his neck, growling vibrated through his head, cock pressed and ground into his excited, trembling body.
For the moment, their hunger was satiated.
Spike could not resist being caught.
open_on_sunday #308 - Bare/Bear
He bared his throat for her. Smooth, pale length stretched under her teeth. Trusting, yielding, giving way to her whims with little more than words meant to tease, play, entice.
He bared his body for her. Long, lean muscle pulled taught under her hands. Pushing, yearning, taking everything she demanded of his submission.
He bared his heart for Xander. Soft, gentle touches played against hot skin. Talking, laughing, loving words whispered in the dark nights.
She could bear it until they were more established. One was insecure. One was anxious. She’d just kill any challengers until her pack mates understood.
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