Part Five

Xander lay on his stomach, legs bent and swaying gently and completely out of sync with the music blaring from the television. Spike ignored the punk band for a second in favor of watching Xander's legs, spread just far enough for Spike to see the base of the plug he'd put in Xander that morning and the undersides of his boy's shaved balls.

The comic book must have gotten interesting because Xander's feet froze in space, his whole body suddenly tight and still.... well, until he flipped the page with so much energy that Spike thought he might tear the paper. The boy didn't even breathe... then his right leg twitched... and there's the explosive sigh. Spike smiled as the legs now started kicking even faster, making arcs in the air as the hero of his comic book did something stupidly self-sacrificing. No matter how many of the books Spike bought, Xander never tired of them, going back and rereading the colorful stories until the edges of the pages wore soft from Xander's fingers.

Xander flipped another page, his breathing fast now, and sometimes Spike wondered exactly how Xander's brain worked. Silly git still saved as many happy meals as he could, quietly distracting Spike as he knelt at Spike's feet, but he still read comic books with a breathless wonder as he waited for good to defeat evil. He'd even begged and risked punishment to save some wanker who clearly needed to get eaten. And yet, every time Spike expected his boy to go all noble, to rebel or snap, the boy yielded, giving himself to Spike, even knowing Spike exemplified evil.

Spike remembered the first time he'd hunted with Xander at his side. In their flight from the slayer, they'd driven through the desert at night, stopping at a crowded bus stop somewhere in New Mexico. The boy was so new to his slavery that he still struggled to even stay silent in public, and he definitely wouldn't have knelt. The most he did was sit next to Spike in the booth, randoming touching the thick collar at his neck and keeping his eyes firmly down. He'd tried to order for himself, falling silent only when Spike had pinched him hard enough to make a deep purple, butterfly-shaped bruise.

Then Spike had seen the girl leaning against one of those stupid machines that offered to read your blood pressure or your fortune or some other piece of human stupidity. She had pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and her face had a shininess from not washing it. If Spike were to guess, he'd say she was pushing hard for some goal, driving until late into the night... until red spider-webbed through her eyes.

Right away, Spike wanted her. She wasn't the prettiest or the youngest in the cafe, but she had this determination swirling around her that made him want to drink her down and possess that strength. He still didn't know what had clued Xander in, but suddenly a human hand clutched his coat and Xander stared at him with wide brown eyes.

"Let go, pet," Spike warned.

"Please." Xander whispered the word. When Spike didn't answer, he dropped his eyes.

"Pet, not your choice."

"If you're hungry..." Xander's words trailed off, but he had tilted his head invitingly. For a second, Spike felt fury at Xander's attempt to manipulate him. But then a smell sifted through the grease and human sweat. Fear. No, more like blind terror. For a second, Spike wondered how Xander could offer his neck when fear drove his heart to trip along dangerously fast. Then the boy glanced toward the girl and Spike knew. His boy feared things other than death... or at least not his own death. Well, it wouldn't do to have the boy die of a heart attack before properly enjoying him.

"Pet, trust me, 'kay?" Spike asked, pulling Xander's hand off his coat. Xander made a disbelieving little snort. Immediately, Spike grabbed Xander's chin and made him look up. "When I tell ya to trust me, you bloody well will, just like you'll do whatever I tell you," he snarled, his fingers making white islands in the flesh of Xander's chin.

Xander froze. Then his eyes had dropped and he'd all but curled in on himself.

Spike slid out of the booth, put on his best smile, and sashayed up to the girl who was almost asleep on her feet. A quick wink and a soft story, and the girl wandered out into the night with him.

When Spike had come back in, the food he'd ordered had arrived, but Xander just stared at it. The boy had stayed sullen and silent until Spike had the waitress bag the food, and Spike had taken him by the hand, pulling him toward the door.

Outside, the heat slapped at them and the rumble of trucks racing down the dark highway made the night tremble. Xander dragged his feet, kicking up a cloud of desert dust, and Spike pulled him forward by a wrist. The DeSoto sat on the far side of the dirt and sand patch passing as a parking lot, but Spike stopped at a blue sedan with an "Envision Whirrled Peas" bumper sticker. Rapping at the window, he watched Xander's eyes go wide when the girl sat up, her bloodshot eyes blinking owlishly as she rubbed her neck.

When she spotted them, she rolled down her window with a confused expression.

"Bloody hell, luv, you're making me all insecure falling asleep in the middle of my best attempt ta seduce ya. You need to get some sleep. Pull the car round the back where people won't bother ya while you catch some, yeah?" Spike suggested, all false concern and smiles.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe I'd better," she muttered confused, then she seemed to gather her wits. "Hey, I'm really sorry I conked out there."

"No worries, luv," Spike assured her as he led Xander back toward the DeSoto, only now Xander didn't drag his feet through the dust or resist the pull.

And now, watching his boy kicking his bare feet in the air as he read his comics, Spike only smelled contentment even as Xander gave himself to one of the monsters he still seemed to hate. Reaching out, Spike nudged Xander's leg with the toe of his boot. Xander didn't notice at all, his leg bouncing back like a Punch n' Judy doll as he kept reading. Spike pushed a little harder the second time, and again, Xander ignored him.

"Bloody hell, can't believe you read that rot. Ya should at least read ones with someone less nancy-boyish than soddin' Superman. Now Batman, he's more like it." Spike banged the side of his boot against Xander's foot again.

"As if. Superman could so take Batman," Xander snorted as he pushed back.

Spike clicked off the television, and Xander glanced over his shoulder. "Superman's a ponce," Spike declared imperiously as he leaned forward.

"He could take Batman. Batman doesn't even have powers," Xander huffed.

"Not about the powers, luv, it's about the brains. Wave a piece of kryptonite past the man wonder in tights, and he's about as dangerous as a rug rat with diarrhea. Now Batman, he's got to depend on his wits."

"But Superman could break him in half," Xander pointed out as he rolled to his side. Spike shifted so that he could aim idle kicks at Xander's leg, but Xander bent his knee so that each swing of Spike's boot landed harmlessly on the bottom of Xander's foot.

"Batman's too soddin' clever to get caught."

"Hello! Superspeed? Superman would kick Bat-ass."

"Not bloody likely."

Now Xander shoved back with his foot, making it a proper war. "Oh yeah, and you saying so makes it true?"

"Fucking right. I'm master," Spike said with a jab of his foot.

Xander stopped for a moment, looking up with confusion as Spike landed a kick. "And you being master makes Batman better than Superman?" he demanded before kicking Spike back.

"It does," Spike announced.

"Does not."

"Does, too."

"Does not."

"Bloody well does too."

"Prove it," Xander challenged with a kick of his own foot hard enough to make Spike's leg fall off the arm of the chair where he'd slung it.

"I'll show ya proof," Spike flashed into game face, but he made a show of moving slowly. For a scant second, Xander froze. Then Xander smiled widely as he darted up and scampered over the rug. "Wait til I catch ya," Spike said, and Xander laughed. Not much question who would win this race, but Spike didn't hurry that much as he trailed Xander into the open room that acted as a garage, workroom, training room, and home to the few minions Spike kept around the place.

Right now, the only survivor of Spike's last fit was a thin faced female he'd taken from another Master. She slept in the corner, but as Spike chased Xander into the room, she sat up, awake immediately even though dawn had just broken and most good little vamps were tucked up in bed for the day. With a quick glance toward Xander, she darted for the storeroom, eager to stay out of their way. This one might actually last longer than a bloody week before Spike ripped off her head.

But domestic problems didn't matter when Xander bounced on his toes on the far side of a little mustang they'd picked up outside of Denver.

"Big talk for a little vampire," Xander taunted. Spike shook his head at his boy's stupidity even as he stalked toward the car.

"Gonna blister your butt for that crack," Spike promised. He feigned left, and Xander broke for the left. Spike had already turned to the right before he realized Xander hadn't fallen for it. Reversing with supernatural speed, he dashed around the DeSoto, snatching at Xander as he dashed for the door back to the living room, his bare feet slapping the concrete.

Xander squeaked when Spike caught his wrist, yanking his boy so sharply that Xander's larger body smacked into Spike. Immediately, Spike slipped his free arm around Xander's stomach. Running was all well and good, but he definitely had other uses for his boy.

Spike turned them and pushed Xander stomach down onto the hood of the DeSoto. "Little vampire?" he growled as he pushed his own weight down onto Xander's squirming form. "I'll bloody well show you little," he threatened. Xander put his palms flat on the hood, and pushed with all his might, but for all his struggles, the only scent was the heavy earth smell of lust.

"Stupid, bully-vamp," Xander complained, and now Spike could smell the salt of his boy's precum.

"Oi, I'll teach you some respect," Spike snarled in game face as he grabbed Xander's arm and twisted it up behind Xander's back. Xander gave a gasp, and sagged onto the hood, his cheek against the metal so that with every breath, a ghost appeared in the cold metal, only to vanish in a moment.  He struggled and the thick ring on the front of his collar clacked against the metal.

Spike pushed the arm up a fraction of an inch higher, and Xander's frantic squirming stilled. Leaning forward, Spike breathed in the delicious scent of submission. Oh yeah, he'd never give the boy back to the slayer, didn't matter how many times they had to move. Silly bint didn't know how to take care of his boy.

"So, ya goin' to say you're sorry?" Spike demanded. Without letting go of Xander's arm, he kicked at the inside of the boy's feet, forcing him to widen his stance until the boy stood with all his vulnerable bits even more vulnerable.

"No?" Xander breathed out heavily.

"Stubborn git. You'll bloody well apologize, or you're not going to bloody well sit down for a month." Spike kept Xander in a place with the trapped arm while he stepped to the side. The first slap echoed in the large room, and Xander jerked, automatically bringing his legs back together.

"Boy," Spike warned with his darkest tone of voice. Xander silently shuffled his feet apart again.

Spike struck again and again, spreading the blows so that Xander's butt turned a bright pink. Xander's silence had broken into fragment of mews and strangled cries, but still he didn't apologize. Spike paused in the punishment to press the base of the plug.

"Fuck!" Xander swore as he bucked up and threw his head back. Thick curls flopped back and then forward so that hair draped over his face as he sagged back onto the hood of the car.

"Pretty little pet," Spike crooned, and then he landed the hardest hit yet on the fleshiest part of Xander's ass, leaving four perfect finger-shaped licks of red. Knowing how to torture his boy, Spike shifted, leaning his hip into Xander's ass, trapping him as he ran a delicate fingernail over the hot flesh. Xander's body shivered as the boy made incoherent noise

"Such an evil boy, back-chatting his master. Usually, I'm all for evil, but you've got a lesson ta learn, pet. Get that cheeky attitude going with me, and you'll bloody well pay." Spike let his fingers trace the edge of a half-hand print down to the crease. Reaching down, he gently scraped a fingernail over the perineum, enjoying the needy whine from his boy.

Spike brushed the curls back from Xander's face so he could see the eyes pressed tightly shut and the open mouth gasping for air. "So pretty when ya suffer," Spike whispered, and then he reached between Xander's open legs and teased the back of his boy's shaved balls.

"Master, please," Xander finally begged.

"You got something ta say to me?" Spike asked as he bent forward so that he could palm the soft sacs.

"Sorry, Master. God, I'm sorry," Xander babbled. Spike smirked as he gave the balls one last caress before letting go. Xander's heart thrumped so strongly that Spike could feel it in his own body. Quickly, he unzipped his jeans without letting go of Xander's arm. "Master, please. Please." Xander whispered a mantra as his feet inched outward, subtly spreading his legs even farther.

"I know wot ya need," Spike promised as he pulled the thick plug out. Without any further warning, he plunged into Xander, thrusting so hard that Xander grunted. Neither one of them could last much longer, so Spike pulled out and then slammed back, feeling the heat from the abused skin warm his cold body.

"Fuck yeah," he swore as he thrust. Finally, he let go of the trapped arm and grabbed Xander's hips as he blindly drove forward, the sound of Xander's panted, desperate cries whipping him to move faster until finally Spike felt the wave crest, and he dropped down onto Xander's back, sinking his fangs into vulnerable flesh.

As the heat of lust slowly cleared, Spike licked the wound on Xander's shoulder closed, watching the red marks shrink to puckers in the center of a constellation shaped scar formed by hundreds of feedings. The collar might mark Xander as a pet in the eyes of other humans, but for demons, this scar that proved Xander's submission to his Master's fangs over and over made a far clearer statement.  It wasn't decoration, it showed the trust Xander placed in Spike and the value Spike put on his boy.

Xander breathed heavily, and the scent of human come filled the air. The first time the boy had come without even a hand on his cock, he'd stared at his own body in shock, but now Spike could fairly well count on it.

"Shit," Xander swore softly, and Spike stood up, pulled Xander off the cold hood of the car.

"Silly bugger. What? You can't run for the bedroom where it's warm?" he complained. Xander didn't answer; he just limply followed as Spike pulled him back to the living room. This time, Spike grabbed the remote and dropped onto the couch.

Wordlessly, Xander followed, curling up so that his top half lay in Spike's lap. Spike shifted down a bit, getting comfortable as he flicked on the television again. Punk rock pounded out of the television as Spike smoothed Xander's sweat-damp curls.

"Superman would still win," Xander muttered, his eyes still closed as he lay in Spike's lap.

"Never know, will we?" Spike pointed out as he looked at the abandoned comics spread across the floor. "Too bad they're on the same side."

"Not really. I wouldn't want to see them fight." Xander sighed and arched his back. Seemed like every day the boy acted more and more like the kitten Dru had once called him. Spike twirled a curl between his fingers.

"Suppose not," Spike finally answered.

"Yep," Xander agreed faintly, his heartbeat slowing into the patterns of sleep. Spike turned the television down a couple of notches as he listened to his pet's heartbeat's steady thrump.

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