Warnings: D/s, daddy!kink, derogatory terms and probably more over
Summary: My story muse may be gone, but my smut muse has come back full-force.
This is more crack!fic. Takes place in some random season 5,
wherein Spike decides that Xander needs something and Xander can't
seem to figure out how to say 'no'.
Even if he wanted to. Which he really doesn't.
This is basically kinks with crack and not much more.
Feedback: We are whores for it.
Sharkie beta'd this, but I didn't (have no brain power for it right now) so any mistakes are mine.
Lady Cat and Wolfshark
He just watched. Oh, he wasn't obvious about it -- the watcher, the witch, and the slayer (oh my) did have some sway left and the possibility to stop this regardless of what either wanted. For all their outlandishness in many areas, the three of them were surprisingly... prudish. Oh, Rupert wasn't, when he took off the tweed and the glasses and the responsibility he wore so badly. But the girls were, and it was them that really had the power to do serious damage.
So he kept his stares short, the heat in them limited enough that bonfires weren't about to start blazing. But there was heat, and a kind of twisted amusement that always provoked flushes and squirming. Xander was a big boy, now, full grown and full weight. A man, if he ever convinced himself to act like it instead of the boy he felt he was.
Not that Spike was truly complaining. He liked little boys in grown men's skin.
As the meeting wound down, Willow approached Xander to ask if he was maybe catching a cold. Xander stuttered and stammered his way through a dismissal, citing just being tired from a long day at the site. It wasn't the best of answers, but Willow seemed complacent enough with it while Xander tried so very hard not to look back at Spike for approval.
Such an adorable thing, his boy. About to be his boy, anyway. Spike was tired of the games and wanted all of it already.
He sneaked after Xander as the boy headed home, keeping to shadows in case his friends decided to make an appearance. Right before the apartment, though, Spike materialized out of the shadows to pace at Xander's side; held out his hand for the keys with a single raised eyebrow.
It seemed like every time he looked up all evening, Spike was looking at him. More used to being dismissed than watched, Xander got more and more edgy as the evening wore on, and when Willow asked what was bothering him, it took effort to stammer out an excuse that she'd buy so that Xander could make his escape.
In the cooling evening air, Xander avoided thinking about the signals that Spike had been sending him all night. But like thinking of pink elephants, the harder he tried not to, the more he thought of it.
When Spike materialized out of nothing, holding out his hand for his keys, Xander was so startled that he handed them over without thinking, only to try and take them back a second later.
"What do you think you're doing, fangless?"
Spike quickly transferred the keys to his pocket, smiling genially as he patted Xander's. "Don't you worry, pet. Just going home with you, aren't I? Have a beer, watch some TV." Tease out that secret fantasy you've had for days, now, driving me crazy with the scent of you. "Now, you just relax now."
Xander wasn't relaxing -- well, not much -- continuing to watch in confusion and wariness as they headed up to Xander's apartment. He waited quietly as Spike unlocked the main door, and then again as the inner door was opened, keys jangling cool against Spike's skin. Spike thought about praising Xander for being such a good boy already, but it was oddly sweeter for being so subconscious. Xander wasn't thinking about pleasing Spike; he just was.
"Now, then. Go get me a beer, pet, and a bit of something for yourself." Seating himself on the boy's sofa, Spike waited to see which way the boy was going to jump first.
Xander stood uneasily for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. There wasn't anything that Spike said specifically that was disturbing him. But there was... something happening that Xander didn't understand.
Finally, though, he shrugged and went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator. He started to grab a soda for himself, and then shrugged and grabbed his own beer. He needed to relax.
Spike didn't look up from the TV he'd turned on, simply holding out his hand for his already-opened beer to be pressed against his fingers. There was a delay of a few seconds -- but only a few. Smirking as the figure on the television did something stupid, Spike leaned back to sip at his brew, watching out of the corner of his eye. Xander looked confused, poor thing, dithering over whether to sit on the sofa or the easy chair catty-corner to the sofa or ... nah, not the floor. Boy wasn't ready for that yet. But Spike was fairly sure it wouldn't take long to get him there. Not long at all.
Once Xander was seated -- sofa, nervously sipping his own beer -- Spike kicked off his boots and leaned back, feet on the end table. One hand held his beer against his thigh, condensation making his jeans turn even blacker -- while his other hand rested on Xander's thigh. Just to see. Just to test.
What the hell?
Xander's first impulse was to grab Spike's hand and move it. His second was to say something. So he went with the third. He did nothing. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.
Spike's hand wasn't warm, but it was almost comforting in the weight. When Xander started to realize the direction his thoughts were going, he chugged his beer. This isn't good.
Sighing as if exasperated, Spike reached over and gripped the base of Xander's bottle. "Slow, pet. Don't want you choking or passing out on your own vomit, yeah? I can always allow you more, later." If you're good, he amended privately. Or if I think you need the lubrication. Which I don't.
His hand returned to Xander's thigh, this time letting ring finger and pinkie slip in between the boy's legs to brush against the inseam of his jeans. The heat was far more powerful down there, and Spike couldn't wait until he could luxuriate in his own private living hot-pad. Soon, probably; Xander had yet to truly object to anything that was happening, so confused that he couldn't figure out how to say no.
When Spike's hand slid further down, Xander yelped and pulled away. "Hands! What do you think you're doing?"
Spike pulled his hand back and looked at him, and Xander felt like he should apologize or something. Then he shook his head. He wasn't the one touching where he shouldn't be.
Spike modulated his voice to the one Angelus had used so effectively, the one Dru could never quite manage, that humans for centuries had used to put recalcitrant animals into their place.
"Sit still," he ordered firmly, dropping his hand back into place. Then he looked at the television, sipping his beer slowly. "Now. Did you set up the satellite like I asked, or do we still have cable only?"
Xander froze long enough for Spike to start touching him again. His mind raced, trying to figure out what was happening.
"Satellite? Cable? What?" he asked, feeling confused and a little nervous.
"Satellite TV, pet. Did you get it?"
Xander shook his head slowly. "No, just cable..."
Spike snorted in something that sounded like disgust and flipped stations again. Nervously, Xander lifted his beer, only to realize that he didn't dare drink the rest of it as fast as he'd like, because Spike had told him not to.
"Just sip slowly," Spike ordered off-handly, attention still firmly on the television. "This is a good brand, pet, and you've got to learn to savor it."
A good, expensive brand that Spike had suggested Xander buy over a month ago. It'd taken Xander a good week or two, but soon enough when Spike snuck into his place or went home with him after meetings -- innocuous, of course -- the better stuff was waiting in the fridge, several more six-packs in the cupboard for later, exactly as Spike had requested.
He wasn't quite sure how Xander could continue to play so clueless, but again -- no skin off Spike's nose. In fact, the constant surprise was something of an aphrodisiac.
His hand slid further between Xander's legs, palm pressed fully against the scalding warmth within. He wasn't rubbing or stroking or otherwise trying to encourage Xander's erection. Just letting his actions goad the boy's reactions, showing Spike which ways Xander needed to be reigned in yet.
Even as Xander ordered himself to make Spike stop touching him, his legs fell open, spreading wider so that Spike could reach more of his thigh.
"Spike? What are you doing?"
Xander wanted to pretend that he wasn't understanding correctly - this was Spike just trying to freak him out, that's all.
Spike tapped his thumb against Xander's sac -- at least, where he was fairly certain it was, given the way the denim stretched and sagged under his palm -- and flipped channels on the TV.
"Doesn't matter what I'm doing, does it, pet?" Spike asked with a little bit of edge to his voice. Still holding Xander's groin, Spike handed over his beer. "Get me another, will you? And only soda for you."
Too startled not to, Xander took the bottle, but made no effort to move, just looking from the bottle to the hand still so casually draped over his balls. Spike made no effort to move until Xander said, "Uh, Spike?"
Even then, Spike didn't just move his hand. No, he had to drag his fingers over the beginning of an erection that Xander would rather have died than have Spike discover.
Finally, Spike's hand was off his leg, and Xander stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Putting the bottles in the recycling, he grabbed two beers, then put one back and grabbed himself a soda. He wasn't obeying Spike - he wasn't! He just wasn't in the mood for another beer. That was all.
Spike smirked when he heard the second 'click' of something being set down in the refrigerator. Good boy. Again, blindly expecting the beer he was promptly given, Spike didn't allow Xander to regain his seat at the end of the sofa. Oh, no. This time he grabbed a belt loop as Xander passed him, tugging so that Xander sat down next to Spike, close enough that their thighs pressed together.
Then Spike let his hand return to between Xander's legs, waiting to see if Xander would be so helpful and widen them again.
Xander swallowed hard. Spike's hand was casually possessive, as if he had every right to touch him however he liked. Then his thumb pressed on the seam of his jeans - and just incidentally right into Xander's balls, and he gave up.
Spreading his legs, he let out a gasp. "Sp-spike?"
Spike's hand curled down, not hard enough to hurt but to definitely make his intentions very clear. "Yes, pet?"
Biting down on his lip, Xander tried not to whimper. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he said slowly, "I w-want you to st-stop, please?" It was too bad his voice cracked on the last word.
"Hush, pet," Spike soothed, staring a rolling motion from palm to fingers, wave-like as they went back and forth over Xander's hardening cock. "You don't really want me to stop, do you pet? It feels good. You like feeling good. Now just hush and watch the TV, pet."
He could taste blood in his mouth as he fought not to cry out. Xander couldn't control his hips, though, and he pressed up into the firm touch.
Xander was trembling as he obeyed, hips gently nudging into Spike's hand. "Shhhh," Spike crooned. "It's all right, pet. You just need to relax a bit, that's all. Relax."
One-handed, Spike quickly opened up Xander's fly and slid his hand underneath the boxers beneath. He didn't touch Xander's cock again, just slowly stroking Xander's belly and rubbing above the line of pubic hair there until the boy stopped shivering quite so much.
"Does it feel good, pet?" he asked, voice low and coaxing against the lowered dialogue from the television. He ran his index and middle finger through the beginnings of Xander's pubic hair, carding it gently while his thumb found the boy's hip to rub. "Tell me. Does this feel good?"
The touch was light, fleeting, and Xander arched into it, trying to intensify the sensation. "I-I don't know. Yessss..."
"There, see? Not so hard to answer me." Spike was still watching the TV, although his body was angled more towards Xander's now, beer resting on the end table. "That's good, pet. Very good."
While Xander blinked, brown eyes wide and spinning in their sockets, Spike nudged his hand down more so that he was rubbing around the base of Xander's erection. "It'd feel better with these off, wouldn't it? Take 'em off, pet. Jeans and boxers, there's a boy."
Xander shuddered as those clever fingers stroked over the root of his cock. He felt dizzy, hot, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Panting, he tried to get enough oxygen to think.
When the hand disappeared, Xander whimpered, hips moving restlessly as he tried to get more touch.. "Jeans, pet."
Still whimpering, Xander lifted his hips from the couch and frantically shoved the material down, kicking off his shoes so that he could free his legs from the denim and cotton. Then he sank back onto the couch, spreading his legs wide.
"Good boy," Spike told him, bypassing the boy's cock to roll and tug at his balls as Xander helpfully widened his thighs for him. "That's very good. I always knew you were greedy for it," he continued, voice a little darker and a little deeper. "Knew you couldn't wait to spread yourself out for me to take. Isn't that right, pet? Isn't this exactly what you want?"
He couldn't stop the whine that rose in his chest as his balls were skillfully played with. It felt so good, but there was part of his brain screaming that this wasn't what he wanted - he didn't want Spike to touch him. Didn't want any man to touch him - he was straight!
Then Spike rolled his balls sharply, in a way that Anya never did, and Xander's eyes practically rolled back in his head. "Yessssss..."
Spike chuckled, well aware that it wasn't a nice sound at all. "Good boy. You like being a good boy for me, don't you Xander? I've noticed it. Been working on you for weeks, little one, slowly getting you comfortable just for this. I'm going to make you come, Xander. Gonna stroke you off with hand and words until you come so hard you cry from it."
While he spoke, Spike concentrated on Xander's balls, tugging the sparse curls there, and manipulating them just to the point of pain. Xander was breathing shallowly, two red spots burning bright in his cheeks, eyes heavy-lidded when they weren't squeezed tight, mouth open as he tried to determine if he needed to speak or to breathe more.
"And you know what'll happen after that, pet? You're going to be mine, then. My little boy to touch and play with however I want. And you aren't gonna do a damned thing, because you'll love every second of it."
Xander wanted to object, to tell Spike that it wasn't going to happen.
But he couldn't find his words, couldn't do anything but spread his legs impossibly wider so that Spike could touch him wherever he wanted. He was acting like a slut, and he didn't care - he just wanted more.
Spike let his fingers drop even lower -- Xander helpfully shifting his hips lower into the sofa -- to rub below Xander's balls and flit very gently against the crack. "You can't wait for me to touch you here, can you, pet? You've been begging for it for weeks. Wiggling it at me, against me, showing off like the greedy little slut you are." Xander jerked very lightly at the insult, making Spike's grin grow even more fierce. "You want me to fuck you, don't you, little one? Want to be on your hands and knees, begging me to fill you up. Clutching your ankles as I use you -- cause you want that too, boy. I'm using you right now, and you love it. You want more of it, don't you, little one? Little whore. Look at your cock, pet. Haven't even touched it, and look how hard it is. How wet at the tip. Touch it."
"I'm not - not a whore, Spike," Xander gasped out, as he fisted his hands to resist the urge to do as he was told. "N-not."
"Hmmm. That's true," Spike agreed, fingering the edge of Xander's inner cheeks, forearm comfortably crushing the boy's balls at the same time. "You're not getting paid for this. You're a slut, Xander. A greedy, horny little boy. A bitch. And you like doing what you're told, little one. Like it a whole lot. Now touch your cock."
His voice wasn't loud, really. Just firm, and controlling, and leaving the boy with no doubts as to Spike's expectations.
Face aflame, Xander resisted for another minute, but when Spike just continued to pet him, he couldn't do it anymore, and his hand wrapped around his cock tightly.
He was harder than he could ever remember being before, and his own touch made him cry out. "F-f-f... Oh, god..."
"Ah ah, pet, you aren't allowed to come. Not yet. Be a good boy for me now and later I'll get you a ring to help. Touch the tip of your cock, pet. I want you to feel just how wet you are for me. How much you want everything I'm doing to you."
Xander was wiggling further down the sofa as Spike's hand slipped further, exposing himself so that Spike could tap very gently at the entrance to Xander's body. He watched, eyes dark and greedy, as Xander ran his fingers over the tip of his cock, panting and shuddering as he did so.
"There, now, that was good, little one. A little toy all for me. Taste it, now, pet. Lick your fingers nice and clean."
Grimacing a little, Xander lifted his fingers to his mouth. The taste was salty, vaguely coppery, and not unpleasant.
Sucking his finger into his mouth, he licked it clean as he was instructed to. When he pulled it out and swapped it with another, Spike's eyes dilated slightly.
Then he smiled, a little nastily, and the finger that had been pressing lightly suddenly breached him with the tip.
He couldn't do much, more's the pity. Not until he had lube and a bed to stretch the boy out on. As much as Spike wanted to finger him raw right then, leaving him come-stained and sodden and gasping, eyes empty as Spike used pain and pleasure to manipulate his body -- Spike wanted a repeat more. That meant being more gentle than he preferred, although gentle had its perks as well.
Carefully, he worked the very tip of his forefinger and in and out of Xander's body, widening the muscles without truly forcing them to spread the way he so dearly wanted to. "Can you come from this, pet?" Spike asked, leaning forward to lick from collarbone to jaw before nipping slightly stubbled skin. "From the feel of me inside you, rearranging you? I bet you want to, don't you, little one? It'd feel so good. Giving everything up to me the way you know you want to. Are you ready, pet? Anxious for it?"
Still playing with Xander's hole, Spike used his right hand to come up and start tugging on Xander's balls again. He knew one good stroke of the boy's cock and he'd be coming, but that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted the boy to come without his cock being touched, something that always impressed blokes who'd never had it done to them before.
It felt weird, but it didn't hurt. And all sorts of nerves that Xander didn't even know he had were sitting up and begging for more. His cock was hard and tight against his belly, drooling steadily.
"Want... pl-please, touch me, Spike. Need to c-come, please?"
"Hm, pet?" Spike purred, rubbing his lips at the point of Xander's jaw again, casually confidant that Xander wasn't going to jerk away at all. The hand playing with Xander's balls tugged just sharp enough that the hardware in Spike's head flared, then settled again as Spike began rubbing the boy's stomach. "You can do better'n that, pet. Tell me what you are, little one. Tell me what I am."
"I-I-" Xander's head spun, as he tried to figure out what Spike wanted him to say. He was completely lost in the sensations of what Spike was doing - it felt like he had at least three hands petting and stroking him.
Then the clever hand on his balls twisted again, and Xander became frantic. "I'm... I'm a sl-slut, a bitch, a l-little b-boy... God, Spike..."
"What am I, pet?"
"I don't... I don't know!" Xander almost wailed.
"What do little boys need, pet?" Spike said, almost crooning as he scratched Xander's stomach before rubbing around the base of his cock again. "You are a little boy, pet. A very good little boy for me. Who are boys good for, hm? What do greedy sluts crave? Come on, pet. I know you know this."
Xander thrashed a little on the sofa, and Spike immediately backed off, leaving everything but the tip of his finger inside Xander's body until the boy calmed down. "There's a boy, come on, calm down. Good boy. Look at your cock, little one. See how hard it's leaking. Watch that, now, keep your eyes on it. What am I, pet? What does a bitch need, to keep her in line? To give her the things she's too stupid to get on her own, the things she needs."
Xander pressed down on the finger still inside him. He still wasn't sure what Spike was going for, but there was one thing that his mind locked on to. Little boy. Who are little boys good for?
"Da-daddy?" Xander blurted out, hopefully.
It was the tone that really did him. Not just the phrase -- he had a whole raft of choices, from sir to master to the favorite Xander had chosen -- but the eager little voice that so desperately wanted to be right. Spike swallowed back a harsh groan, pushing his finger just a little bit deeper.
"Good boy," he said, hearing the strain in his voice. "That's right, little slut, you're being very good." Finger still inside him, Spike used the heel of his hand to rub against Xander's body in an awkward massage Spike knew would feel good. "Open my pants, little one. Take me out, nice and slow."
Hands shaking, Xander reached over and tentatively unbuckled Spike's pants. Then he had to take a deep breath, because this was big. This was huge. This was life changing.
Up to this point, Xander could claim that everything had been done to him. If he reached into Spike's pants and pulled out his cock, though, he was choosing to do it. He couldn't deny what was happening anymore if he did this.
Then Spike's thumb pressed into the seam of his balls, and he couldn't not do it. Carefully, he pulled out Spike's hard cock. It filled his hand, soft skin over steel, and as wet as his own was.
Spike nipped the boy's jaw again, sucking the red mark that immediately bloomed while Xander's fingers convulsively tightened around him. "Very good boy," he purred. "Eager little bitch, aren't you? Yeah, I always knew you were, pet. Knew you wanted this so much."
Spike shifted a little to ease the strain on his arms. Xander's hand moved with him, not stroking his cock, just holding it and getting used to the feel of it, which was perfectly fine by Spike. Xander'd done the important bits, so it was time to reward him. Removing his finger, he slicked it in the viscous fluid that leaked from Xander's cock, pressing it in to the first knuckle. Xander jerked, gasping, eyes nothing but black as Spike removed it and began lightly finger-fucking him. His other hand returned to Xander's balls, rubbing and massaging them in encouragement.
"You've been aching for this, haven't you, little bitch? Waiting to be taken, to be shown exactly what you are. What are you, pet? Tell me." He started upping the tempo, forcing Xander closer to orgasm.
Xander's back arched until it cracked as he tried to get more of that touch that felt so good and so forbidden. "I'm a b-bitch, a good little b-bitch."
"More," Spike said, as Xander shook from the orgasm that he could feel approaching.
Suddenly, as if the floodgates had opened, Xander couldn't stop talking. "I'm a slut, a bitch, a little boy. Need it, want it... Fuck, Spike!" The last word was a shout of desperation.
Spike immediately slapped Xander's arse. Not hard enough to make the chip do more than sparkle, but still enough to make Xander jump and cry out in surprise. "wrong, little boy," he snarled, pushing his face right up into Xander's, his finger as far as it would go, Xander's balls held in a tight vise. "What am I, little bitch? What are you?"
When Spike's finger slid even further in, the only thing that stopped Xander from coming right then and there was the tight grip he had on his balls. Xander squirmed, trying to get more of that touch. So close, he was so. Close.
Then there was another slap, and Xander cried out again. "Daddy, you're my daddy!"
"And what does that make you, slut?" Spike said, darting forward to bite Xander's lower lip. "Hm? You're nothing but a greedy bitch, a desperate slut of a little boy, aching for his Daddy. But what else are you, bitch? Tell me."
"Yours! I'm yours!" Xander cried, hoping desperately that was the right answer.
Spike bit his lower lip again, growling directly into his mouth, "Good boy. Now come, bitch."
Xander practically screamed as the vise grip on his balls relaxed just enough to allow him to come, hips pumping his cock into the air.
While Xander shuddered and bucked, sobbing out each breath as he slowly came down, Spike removed his finger and wiped it on Xander's shirt. It was clean, thankfully, but Spike did it for the gross out factor more than anything.
Sitting up straighter, Spike crooned to the gasping boy, pulling him so that Xander could rest his head on Spike chest and shoulder, half-curled up on the couch. His shirt was speckled with come, a little bit sliding down the length of his throat -- it made him look very tan and fit like that. Spike brushed at it, then brought it up for Xander to suckle, the boy doing so automatically.
"There," he soothed, rocking just a little. "Such a good boy for me, pet. My good boy. You liked that, I know you did, little slut. That's right, calm down. Calm down now, pet."
Xander couldn't seem to catch his breath, wheezing and hiccupping. The meaning of what had just happened crashed over him, wiping out his normal post-orgasmic buzz and making him frustrated and confused.
Spike continued to pet and stroke him, telling him what a good boy he was, but Xander wasn't calming down, no matter what he did.
Spike waited while the boy settled some from his orgasm -- and then predictably started reacting to what just happened. Air whistled between his teeth as he sucked in air, chest heaving even as he continued to cling to Spike, hiccuping the way a child might after crying too long.
Fortunately, Spike knew just the thing.
"Oh, I know," he said, allowing a hint of mockery to curdle the soothing tone. He cupped Xander's face, rubbing his thumb along the jaw joint before pushing Xander down. Not all the way down. Just... closer. "All upset, aren't you, little one? That's okay, I know what'll calm you down, baby: suck my cock."
At first, Xander shook his head, folding his lips. He couldn't - didn't Spike understand that?
Spike pushed lightly on his head and repeated his instruction in that same soft, patient tone, though, and all Xander could think was that Spike had just given him the best orgasm of his life. Why couldn't he do this? Just, stick out his tongue and lick it once or twice and then he could say he'd tried it and didn't like it. That would be fair, wouldn't it?
Before he could think about it any further, he'd taken a deep breath and licked the head of Spike's cock.
Spike threaded his fingers in Xander's hair, sighing softly as the boy obeyed. He wasn't trying to force Xander -- oh, no, this little filly had to be led very carefully -- but he wasn't about to let Xander do anything stupid like try to bite him, or jerk away.
"Isn't that better?" he said. "Take the whole head in your mouth, little one, that's right. Isn't that better, little one?"
It didn't taste bad, and Xander opened his mouth a little wider, taking the head of Spike's cock into his mouth. Suckling it softly, Xander found his breathing slowing, his heart calming.
When Spike asked again if it was better, Xander nodded slightly, not letting go of the cock in his mouth.
Wet sounds of sucking filled the room, the TV long ago muted so that Spike could hear every gasp and groan Xander made. He stroked Xander's skull, petting him, as a little more of his cock was taken within Xander's mouth.
"Knew you were a born cock-sucker, pet. Makes you feel nice and calm, doesn't it? Makes you feel good. Take a little more, bitch. That's right."
Xander tried to take Spike deeper and choked a little. Shifting slightly, he tried again, this time managing to get about half of Spike's cock into his mouth. Wrapping his hand around the base of it, he tried to remember what he liked about getting blowjobs.
Moving slowly and cautiously, he started to bob his head, trying to tune out what Spike was saying, because he knew he should be upset over being called a cocksucker, but he couldn't. So he tried to focus on doing the best job he could and pretending that he wasn't blushing.
As Xander grew more enthusiastic -- boy was actually curling his tongue in a way that felt damned good, a legacy of Anya's probably -- Spike leaned back against the sofa, one arm stretched out along the back of it. The other continued petting the boy's head, rubbing cheeks that bulged with his cock, absently massaging Xander's neck and back -- basically gentling the boy and treating him like a puppy you stroked more for your own comfort than its.
"Gonna be doing this a lot, little one," Spike told him absently. "Gonna see you're damned good at it. Teeth are all right, pet, but if you bite me I'll make you regret it."
Xander whimpered as he pressed up into the caress. As he started to relax, he found he could take more and more of Spike's cock into his mouth and throat. Then he got overconfident and tried to take too much, choking and coughing.
Spike slid his arm around Xander's torso, helping him sit up. He chuckled at Xander's mulishly unhappy expression, leaning forward to bite the same spot on Xander's lower lip as before. He could taste bitter precome and licked where he'd just bitten. "Easy, little one. Got lots of time. Can you breathe all right? Good boy. Back you go, cocksucker, nice and slow."
Xander bit his tongue at being called a cocksucker again, but didn't say anything. What could he say? He was the one with his mouth on Spike's cock, sucking it and licking every inch that he could fit in his mouth.
Spike returned to absently caressing and massaging Xander, enjoying the wet heat that encased him. Sucking really was calming Xander down, confirming Spike's belief that the boy had the mother of all oral fixations. Give him something to suck on and he was happy as a baby with its bottle.
This wasn't really so much about getting off, but as Xander slowly grew more confident Spike wasn't above making little noises to show his appreciation for something. Rarely, he had to yank on Xander's hair or tap his face on one side or the other in reprimand, but mostly ... the boy really was a damned fine cock-sucker and Spike was vocal with his praise.
Every time Spike moaned or sighed in pleasure, Xander relaxed further. He was already well past the depth that had caused him to choke once, and as he moved on Spike's cock he finally managed to get his face down to the sparse hair surrounding it.
Spike's cock pressed down his throat, and Xander groaned at the feel. The little Xander voice that lived in his head was babbling - torn between outrage at the things that Spike was saying and pleasure at how well he was doing.
Spike growled when Xander managed to take him nearly all the way in, rubbing Xander's throat so that they both could feel it. Hell, it was hot: a horny, willing little bitch-boy who not only was obeying him but reveling in everything Spike had ordered him to do.
It pushed him damned close to orgasm.
"Want to taste me, little one? Want to feel me spill inside your mouth, filling you up?"
Xander couldn't nod and damn certain couldn't speak, so he did the only thing he could think of - he moaned loudly.
"Yeah, you want it. A cocksucking bitch, pet, that's what you are. Suck me harder and bob your head a bit. That's right." Spike gripped the back of Xander's neck, forcing Xander to find the pace and movements he best preferred. "Gonna remember this, little one. Because you'll want to do this again, sucking on me like I'm a lolly, and this is the best way to make me feel good."
With his right hand he grabbed Xander's, curling warm fingers around his balls. "Help me come, little slut. You want it, yeah? Gotta earn it. Get me off, baby. Be a good boy for me."
Closing his eyes, Xander focused on the feel of the cock in his mouth. Relaxing his neck, he let Spike guide him in the rhythm he wanted, carefully fondling his balls as he did so.
Moaning, he worked his tongue busily. Right now, he wanted to know that he'd done good.
Spike groaned harshly as Xander gave in, letting Spike move and use his body as Spike wanted. "Yess," he hissed. "That's right, little slut. That's perfect. An obedient, willing bitch ..."
He would've said more. He wanted to say more, enjoying the way the words turned winter-cold on his tongue before he finally spoke them, the way Xander shuddered as he was belittled and used -- but Spike was coming too hard to do anything but moan as he filled Xander's mouth with his release, hand locked around Xander's neck so the boy would have to swallow at least some of it.
He tried to swallow as much of Spike's come as he could, but he ended up choking on it a little, and had to pull back against the restraining hand.
He couldn't help the little moan as Spike finally released him, and he didn't even try not to give a parting lick to the softening cock.
Sitting back up, he stared at the floor, knowing that his face was bright red and his lips coated in white. He wasn't sure what Spike wanted him to do now.
Sated in ways he hadn't been in ages, Spike groaned and let his head fall back against the sofa. "Good bitch," he praised, curling a hand around Xander's cheek and chin. His thumb collected some of his come and pressed inside Xander's mouth. He carefully didn't order Xander to do anything --
And grinned, very pleased when Xander obediently began to suck the slick fluid off Spike's
"Very good little bitch. I knew training you would be worth it. Gonna make a very good pet,
pet. Now, then, go get yourself fed and show me where we'll be sleeping, yeah? Knackered, and I'll bet you are
ander nodded sleepily and stumbled to his feet, tugging his shirt more firmly
around himself. In the fridge, he found some leftover pizza that he inhaled cold, and then he led Spike
to the bed.
Satisfied that the boy had eaten enough, Spike let himself be led to
the bedroom. It was a cozy little place, thankfully, spare in furniture except for a very large, very
comfortable looking bed. He checked the windows, glad to note that there were already very thick, heavy
blinds on the windows. Spike lowered them, enjoying the way the braided cord sped
through his fingers.
Xander was shifting nervously from foot to foot near the
bedroom doorway, clearly uncertain as to what was going on. "Go wash up, little one," Spike
told him, stripping off his own shirt and testing the mattress -- firm, good. "Then take off that
shirt of yours and come to bed, yeah?"
Gladly retreating to the bathroom,
Xander used the facilities and washed his hands and brushed his teeth. Evening routine finished,
he went to pull off his t-shirt to put in the hamper, but stopped.
Why was he doing what Spike told him to do? Why wasn't he objecting loudly and
throwing the fangless one to the curb?
He didn't want to think what it meant,
but now that he'd started he couldn't stop. Leaning against the bathroom counter, he tried
to piece everything together, tried to figure out when things had gotten so far out of his
Spike kept his pants on, waiting for the boy to come out.
When the sound of water stopped, the slow and steady drip the only sound beyond Xander's heart, Spike sat up and stared at the bedroom door. Oh, he knew what Xander was doing; the boy wasn't all
that stupid, and while he was more suggestible and desperate for approval than anyone Spike had ever met
-- he wasn't a push over.
Good, that. Pushovers weren't much fun.
After a few minutes
turned into nearly ten, Spike rose and opened the door, leaning casually against the jamb. Xander was standing
there, shirt still on, staring at the floor with his eyes dark and alive with curiosity and wonder. Fear.
And a bit of hopeless self-disgust that Spike knew he could easily work to his advantage.
himself around Xander's body, Spike rubbed a thumb down the strong line of muscle in Xander's neck before
threading his fingers in damp curls. "Gonna spend the whole night standing in here, little one?"
Xander shivered at the casually possessive touch. It felt good - that was the hell of it.
His mind spun in all sorts of directions. The worst part was that he was completely lost in the touching - no one had touched him like this since he and Anya split, and that was what he missed the most. But he didn't want to be involved with Spike and he certainly didn't want to be his bottom-boy.
"I'm not your little one, Spike - I'm bigger than you, remember?"
"Doesn't stop you from being little," Spike said as Xander's head lowered and bent to one side so Spike could touch and play as much as he wished. The subconscious movements were always the ones that got to Spike the most, the way Xander adopted the perfect pose of a submissive without even trying. His cock twitched as Xander exposed his neck to Spike, but Spike ignored it; there'd be time for that later.
Now, he moved up closer to Xander, other arm sliding around Xander's waist to pull him closer -- being mostly ambidextrous had its perks. Cuddling and petting the boy, Spike waited until Xander's body relaxed before cupping and fondling the softened cock. "Telling me you didn't like that, pet?" he asked, voice a low, soothing rumble in Xander's ear. "Didn't like me touching you, showing you how good it can feel? What'd you call me, little one? Remember that? Say it again. Remember how good it felt."
Xander couldn't help the soft whimper that rose in his throat at what Spike was doing. It felt so good, so gentle and yet so demanding at the same time.
Tipping his head even further, Xander tried to get more of the touch without saying anything, but the hand that Spike had in his hair tightened and tears pricked his eyes at the pain. "D-daddy."
"That's right, little one," Spike told him, abandoning Xander's cock to tease and fondle the boy's balls instead. He was very sensitive there, evidenced by the way Xander's legs widened to give Spike more room. "It feels good when you call me that, doesn't it? Say it, little one. Tell me how much you like it."
Spike's wicked hands were slowly driving Xander out of what was left of his mind. Each soft touch was just perfect in its intensity, and the part of Xander's brain that wouldn't shut up was saying so that's the advantage to a lover who's more than a hundred years old
His voice was soft and cracking when he finally managed to force it to say something, anything. "Dad-daddy. It... feels good, feels... safe. But it's not!"
Spike brushed his lips over Xander's ear, humming a quiet tune until the boy stopped breathing hard again. "Why isn't it, hmmm? Not hurting you, little one. Not doing anything to you that you don't like. Am I." It wasn't a question, not with Xander letting his legs spread even wider, allowing Spike to tickle over his perineum. "You like it, little one. It feels good. Nothing wrong with that at all."
Xander couldn't think why it wasn't safe, he just knew it wasn't. He knew that if it wasn't for the chip, Spike would be hurting him.
Just like he knew that he wouldn't stop him.
Finally, in frustration, he just gave up, allowing his body to melt even further into the touch. "I- I - don't know. Just... don't stop..."
"There now, little one. Doesn't that feel better?" Giving the boy's balls a final tap, Spike took a step back. Xander swayed but stayed upright, looking up at Spike like he'd torn the head off his stuffed teddy bear just by not touching him anymore.
"Take your shirt off, little one, and then into bed with you. And you should thank me for taking such good care of you, you know. It'd make you a polite little boy."
Before he could lose himself in doubt or confusion again, Xander stripped off his shirt and then stopped, staring at the floor. "Th-thank you, daddy."
Spike smiled and waved him towards the bed, where Xander went, pulling the blanket up over himself, curling into a ball and waiting to see what Spike would do
Tsking, Spike stripped off his pants before tugging the blankets free of Xander's death-grip and sliding under. "Not much of a thank you, love, but that's okay. We'll work on that."
Xander was shivering, out of nerves as well as temperature, but Spike was warm to the point of being toasty. Lovely human heat sped through him in waves, radiating from the boy Spike tugged up against his body, head pillowed on Spike's chest.
"You've work in the morning, right, little one?" Spike asked, stroking down to the boy's arse and playing with the firm, rounded buttocks there -- outside, mostly, very rarely brushing against the crack and never actually spreading it. "Gonna have to be a good boy and get yourself up and dressed. Can you do that, little one? Take care of yourself while I kip a bit more?"
Pride stung, Xander lifted his head to look at Spike. "I get up on my own every morning, Spike. I don't need someone to get me up!"
Spike smiled indulgently. "Course you don't, pet."
Xander grumbled but didn't pull away. Spike might not generate heat on his own, but he reflected it, and it felt good to be held. Xander had never felt like he was being cared for before.
"Sleep, little one. Want you to come back here after work tomorrow. No hanging out with those friends of yours before seeing me. Understand, pet?"
Grumbling, Xander closed his eyes. He wanted to argue, but between being warm and being tired, he didn't have the energy. "Okay."
Spike fingered a lock of hair, tugging on it sharply. "Is that how you address me, pet?"
Xander yawned, unable to keep his eyes open. "Yes, daddy."
Spike hesitated a moment, unsure if Xander was trying to be sarcastic -- but the boy was clearly mostly asleep, eyes fluttering as he tried to open them, his heart already slowing.
"Go to sleep, pet," Spike told him. "Whole new world tomorrow morning."