Written for [info]sueworld2003


Lady Cat

Xander waited until the blue eyes lost their glazed look, focusing on his face. "Morning, boy. How're you feeling?"

He could see Spike remember, see the wince as he realized how close that stake had come, sheepish fear making him curl into Xander's touch on cheek and neck. "Fine."

"You gave me a scare last night, boy." The repetition was calculated, and against his leg Xander felt Spike's cock twitch. "I didn't like that at all."

"He was going after Giles."

"I know he was." Giles had fallen back, searching for a more defensible position while Willow and Tara chanted furiously to bring up a protective circle around him. It was dangerous, yes, but Spike hadn't needed to go after the demon threatening Giles. Particularly when the demon behind him had known he'd go up against a vampire as well as a Slayer. And come prepared. "I'm glad you wanted to protect him, boy."

"Thank you." Spike curled even closer around him, legs wrapping around one of Xander's, face pressed into the crease of Xander's hip.

"But you don't get to die, boy. Not ever." His fingers, busy stroking jaw and neck and soft curling hair, grabbed a few locks, clenching into a fist. Spike made a noise, head tilting forward to increase the pull. "Understand me?"

"Yes. I don't get to die."

"Good boy."

"'m yours."

Xander tugged sharply, then released. "Gonna make it up to me, boy?" The word was faintly derogatory, faintly affectionate, wrapped up in the power games they played. Xander felt his heart beat faster as he flashed to that moment of absolute panic again, the way Spike had looked back to him, always to him. "Make it better?" he asked roughly.

Spike nodded, nuzzling his head forward between naked thighs. "May I?"

"Go ahead, boy."

His mouth was so soft. His kisses could be bruising in their intensity, so hard they left Xander's mouth tingling afterwards. Not now, though, now Spike's lips were softer than a girl's run silky with gloss, tongue sweet and supplicating against an eager cock. Xander groaned, cupping his head but not applying more than a hint of pressure. "That's a good boy."

When his cock was fully hard and just this side of aching, Spike withdrew with a slow, long lick. He slithered onto his knees, head down, eyes locked on Xander's thighs. They'd been through this before, of course, roles shifting as reality forced them to. Sometimes it was Xander on his knees, collar locked around his throat as Spike reassured himself that they both were still there, still together. But most often it was Spike—and sometimes, not due to near-fatal brushes at all. Xander absently ruffled Spike's hair, smiling slightly as he recalled less weighty memories—Spike liked to be reminded that he belonged. Xander enjoyed reminding him.

"Do I need to make you understand, boy?"

Spike hesitated a moment, head tilting as he thought. A ‘yes' would earn him a bruised and reddened bottom, a strip of leather or a bit of wood aiding mortal strength. Sometimes they both needed that, particularly after a scare this terrifying. Xander kept his face impassive, not wanting to influence Spike's decision one way or the other. "No."

Nodding, Xander relaxed against propped pillows and waited; a ‘no' had rituals associated with it, too. Rituals Spike was breaking, since he didn't reach out towards the bedside drawer, just swung his leg around Xander's hips and lined himself up.

Xander didn't bother objecting, though he almost wanted to. If Spike felt he needed it, Xander would oblige him. Xander would do anything for him.

They both hissed as Spike sank down into Xander's lap, occasionally pausing as muscles were painfully breached. Slowly, carefully, Spike worked his way as far down as possible. Then he held there, torturing them both as he waited. And waited.

It was amazing the control a human could develop, given time and frequent practice. Xander reached out to thumb, then viciously pinch a nipple. "You don't redden," he complained, not for the first time. "Guess I'll have to make you."

Spike was whimpering, the tip of his cock slick and shiny when Xander finally released two—reddened—nipples. He looked utterly debauched, head thrown back as he panted, wriggling but never lifting up to give them both the friction they craved. This position always made Xander feel so big, able to surround Spike's gasping, jerking body the way he had a woman's, fitting it against his own. Reaching up to cup Spike's face, he tilted it back down and rubbed a thumb over a wet lower lip.


Spike pushed himself up, pace languid and slow as he took Xander deeper and steadily deeper inside his body. He whimpered on every downstroke, air exhaling from his body in a rush before he sucked it back in as his body rose up. Xander let him, pace and pressure entirely up to Spike. Anything Spike did like this felt good, but knowing that he did it all for Xander's pleasure made it better.

"That's good, boy."

Faster and faster he moved, his own cock slapping against his belly with each lunge. The sound mixed with their breathing, as loud as the night before when Xander had been too scared to scream, the moment passing too quickly for him to ever voice it. Spike, bloody and alive, collapsing at Xander's feet, rasping harshly as he clung to knees that shivered and knocked.

But that was gone, now, lost in the heat of Spike's warming body, the way he moaned, eyes open and fixed on Xander's face. He didn't beg, for all his lips shaped the words. He just moved his body, each repetition promising that he would never, ever stop.

When the moans started, low and almost melodic, Xander let himself go just a little bit. Just enough to feel the scrape and slide around his cock, the tension as Spike held himself removed, working for the one goal he craved. And once he'd let go that little bit, there was nothing else to hold on to.

Groaning harshly, Xander thrust up in Spike's body, fucking while he was fucked, working himself higher, closer. And in that final moment before he tumbled, he said, "My boy."

Spike's howls were the sweetest music he knew.

The End

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