Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Starts out with a tiny bit of Spuffy, But just for plot's sake!



I watch as Spike tries to gentle Buffy, tries to soothe her with whispered words and fleeting touches. Watch as Spike is thrown to the ground and savagely covered. I can feel the mirroring wince on my face when Buffy straddles his thighs, as she wraps a cruel hand around the base of his cock and fist it roughly. He struggles to sit up, she just slams him back down on the cold concrete, pressing him down so she can lean over and tear a chunk of flesh out of his shoulder with her teeth. My eyes track the vibrant red blood welling up and spilling out across his chest. Watch as her nails rake and scrape the skin away, leaving vicious welts. And the whole time, Spike tries to touch, tries to calm her frantic pace.

It ends as suddenly as it begins, Buffy arching her back and coming with a shrill cry, then rolling off Spike with a triumphant leer. She pulls her clothes back on, and I can see her mouth moving the whole time, the disgust and loathing so plain on her face. Spike just watches her stomp and curse, his own face carefully blank. I can tell he didn’t come, but his cock wilts anyway. She stands next to him, I’ve never actually seen her look that cold, that cruel. Her eyes rake over his body, then she spits on Spike. Literally spits on him. I can read the words spewing from her mouth this time.

“You are beneath me.” She steps over him, leaves her lover as abandoned as the building they had fucked in.

Spike climbs to his feet, exhaustion and ache clear in every line of his body. He gathers his clothes and pulls them on, not bothering to wipe the blood and mucus from his skin. I duck behind some crates before he makes it to the door. I’m gonna follow him, I know what to do. This, this I am good at. His posture changes when he hits the moonlight, shoulders and hips falling into that familiar lethal slink and sway. But his eyes...

I follow him back to the crypt, it’s like we’re two stepping down the street. Spike doesn’t turn his head, or give any indication that he knows I’m back here. I don’t think he does.

I wait, in the shadows of the cemetery, give him time to get downstairs and cleaned off. He waits until I’m at the bottom of the ladder before he says anything.

“I know you’re there, Whelp. Not tonight, not in the mood for one of our stimulating conversations.” He doesn’t turn, just stands there with his back to me, wiping off his chest. “I can smell you, you know. Can smell the cinnamon from your coffee, can smell the wood and musk scents from your soap, under all that sunshine and sweat. Can smell...everything else too.”

“Not here to fight with you Spike. Just...shut up, ok?” And I’m right there, so close I can smell the blood drying on his skin, I raise my hand and ghost it across his back. Almost but not quite touching. I breathe out, aiming for the back of his neck. Spike shudders and tries to pull away from me, the swell of his hips fit perfectly in the curve on my hands. Who knew?

“Not gonna take anything from you, Spike, and until you get past the need to protest I would really appreciate it if you would just shut up and let me do this.” I have to taste him, have to taste the skin just under my chin, my lips feel so hot against him. He’s tensing up, trying trying to pull away. I’m stronger in this than he is though. I suck on the crook of his neck, the skin pebbles up, making a perfect round welt. I use my tongue to soothe it back down. I slide my hands around, following the curve of his hips, my fingers resting in the thin hair beneath his navel. I swear to God he whimpers just a bit.

I’m pressed fully against Spike’s back now, one hand splayed on his belly keeping him in place, the other hand moves up to map the damage Buffy had left behind. Gonna have to remember to kiss those better later. He’s addicted to my heat, to any heat really, like me with chocolate. That’s my weapon, to surround him and melt him, like gold. And he really can’t help but to lean into it, press back against me. My cock fits right in the cleft of his ass, he knows it and I know it. And somehow it’s right.

I fit my mouth over the bump of his shoulder, just scraping my teeth over the flesh until he tilts his head. I know any thoughts of fighting this have gone out the window. I take a step backwards, drawing him down with me to the bed. We curl on our sides, I keep him as close as I can, without trapping him against the bed. Spike makes these hushed whimpers in the back of his throat, I can’t see his face but I can feel the trembling start in his spine.

“Shh, baby. I got you, not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.” And whatever he needs, is what he gets. I put my hand where his heart should be, promise with everything that’s in me. I rest my head behind his, sticking my nose as close to his ear as I can, and just breathe. Take long swipes down his chest with my free hand, I can feel the bite and the scratches are almost gone. His shoulders hitch a little, a drop of wet lands on the arm he’s using for his pillow, and I hold this vicious, relentless killer as he silently cries out the pain. I count heartbeats until he shifts.

“Do you ever feel like you aren’t there anymore? Like you aren’t real?” Spike’s voice is amazingly smooth for someone who was just crying. I know he can feel me nod against the back of his head. But I say it anyway. He needs me to say it.

“Every morning until I see myself in the mirror.” He puts one hand over mine drags it over to cover his nipple. Rolls just a bit until I can see his face, and he can see mine.

“I can’t see myself in the mirror, Xander. I am what you lot make of me. Buffy made me...hurt. Right now that’s what I am. Can you...can you make me better?” Fuck, there are those tears.

“Close your eyes.” I roll him all the way onto his back, let him twitch and wriggle until he is comfortable. I just look at him for a minute. It’s like God thought ‘Perfection’ when He laid out the plans for this creation. I climb up to my knees, I know right where i want to start.

I pick up his hands, bring one to my face and drop a kiss right in his palm. His fingers curl just a bit, rubbing across my cheek. His other hand wraps around mine, and I can feel myself going into that floating headspace. Where the whole universe narrows down to this space on the bed. We are the only two creatures left, here.

I kiss his wrist, opening my mouth just a little and let my tongue drag over the corded tendons dancing under his slick skin. I bring his other hand up to curl around the back of my neck, his finger immediately tangle in my hair, I’m glad now I missed that last barber appointment. I have to watch his face, Spike has one of the most expressive sets of expressions I have ever seen, and now that he is almost relaxed...

My tongue in the crook of his elbow seems to be a good thing, the hand in my hair tightens, and he smiles just a little. I work my way down to his shoulder, pressing my nose against his skin and inhale. I love how he smells, like cloves and smoke.

I bring my hands into play now, letting them skate over his flesh, touching soft and hard and fast and slow. No set pattern, just learning what he likes where he likes it. So far he likes it all.

Mouth on one nipple, teeth and tongue and breath. Roll the second in my fingers, pinch and pluck and soothe the flesh around it. his mouth is open now, and he’s making these quiet mewling sounds, I can see his tongue swiping at his bottom lip. Hot kisses down the center of his belly, he doesn’t seem to really notice when I slide his jeans down over his hips and off his legs. Just kinda shifts and lifts until they’re gone.

Spike’s cock is hard and flush against his belly, uncut and gorgeous. I can’t wait to feel the head against the back of my throat, but this is for him, not me. I lean over and lick where his thigh meets his hip, fasten my mouth over the bone and scrape my teeth across his flesh. He jumps a little at that, the quiet little gasps become words.

“Harder pet, please, that...that tickles.” File that bit of info away for future reference. Spike is ticklish.

So I bite. His hips arch off the bed, the hand buried in my hair pulls and twists, and he cries out. Really cries out this time. I know he’s had about as much as he can take.

I settle between his legs, flat on my belly. Slide my hands under his ass and up over his thighs, pulling his legs as far apart as he will let me. Bury my nose in the crisp hair around the base of his cock and just...breathe. The smell is pure sex and want and need. Thick and male. Spike. His hands clutch mine now, and he holds perfectly still. I turn my head, resting against the swell of his hip, and stare at his cock for just a minute. Then i lick it from base to tip. Quiet time is officially over now. His head starts thrashing back and forth and the most amazing sounds are coming from his mouth. Please and yes and mine.

I use every trick in the book, licking and sucking and nibbling. i feel his sac tighten, pull up close to his body, and I know its time. I pin his hips to the bed, and slide my mouth down over the head of his dick, keep him pinned until my nose touches the flat of his stomach. And it’s a perfect fit. I slide my hands down to cup his ass, and Spike is silent and still for about two seconds, then he lets out this low howl. Both his hands are buried in my hair now, he tugs, pulling my head up. I suck, the little shot of pre-come explodes on my tongue. I look up, and he’s staring back at me in full game face. I keep eye contact and swallow his cock down into my throat again. Then I hum just a little. He throws his head back, and screams. Arching and twisting and shaking. I drink every drop he shoots down my throat.

My hands seem to know all the spots to stroke and pet, until the trembling stops. His cock is soft now, and I let it slip from between my lips, let it rest in the crook of his thigh. He lays there, one arm thrown over his face, the other flung out to the side. Legs sprawled out, all boneless and satiated. He doesn’t seem to notice when I slip off the bed and straighten my clothes. I make it to the ladder before he shifts back to human face, and looks at me.

“Xan?” One word so full of questions. I just smile, and shake my head at him.

“You didn’t...?”

“This wasn’t about me, Spike.”


“Save it for when I need, alright?” And I leave.

The End

Feed the Author

 Visit the Author's Live Journal  Visit the 
Author's Web Site

The Spander Files