Originally written as a journal-warming present for savagezeppo
“Oh my god, Xander, you can’t be serious!” Willow howled with laughter as Xander stood in the doorway to Buffy’s house.
“I vant to suck your blood,” he replied in a thick accent as he smiled with his fake vampire teeth. The plastic irritated his mouth, but he needed the fangs for the effect to work. Even with the prices at the new shop, his costume options had been limited, so it was either cheap fangs and cheesy cape, or soldier boy. Tough call, but in the end the cape won him over.
“Is that Angel’s shirt?” Buffy was peering down at him, her squinchy face at odds with her elegant satin gown and tumbles of dark curly hair. As she walked down the stairs the layers of fabric whispered and rustled, not that Xander noticed—he was too busy noticing the way the dress pushed up her chest and pulled in her waist.
“Um,” he looked down at the red silk-covered self. “Sorta,” he admitted.
“I don’t even want to know,” Buffy laughed with a wave of a gloved hand. “I just want to get the kiddies hyped up on sugar and then get them back to the school, so I can still have part of my night off actually off.”
“Ve can do that,” Xander agreed in his best Transylvanian accent, gallantly offering her an arm. Buffy just laughed as the three of them walked out the door: the lady, the ghost, and the vampire.
The smell of demons slammed into Xander so suddenly that he slipped into game face and snarled at the tiny red horned demon that had a hold of his hand. The demon hissed back and pulled his hand free. Xander pushed his velvet cape back as he scanned the street; something was wrong. Why was he here? Where were his minions? And where were all the humans? The street was full of undersized demons darting between bushes and children so small that they were hardly even worth hunting. Xander wanted larger prey, more dangerous prey. Prey worthy of an ancient vampire like himself.
He strode down the dark street with his cape billowing behind him: dramatic, but sometimes it really was all about style. Well, style and killing. And he was ready for the kill as he scented the air. A thin woman dressed as his prey would have dressed a hundred years ago took one look at him and fainted onto a manicured lawn. She wasn’t worthy.
“Xander!” a woman’s voice called, and he turned to see a luscious red-haired beauty rush toward him. Oh yes, she was worthy. Such a bold and wild woman would be worthy of feeling his passion, at least until her heart stopped beating under his fangs. He smiled silkily as she came skidding to a halt. “Oh my god,” she whispered, and Xander was about to make a comment about her poor choice of words when it occurred to him that she had no scent.
“Vhat are you?” he demanded, his native accent still slightly evident in his deep voice. His arm shot out, but all he encountered was air as his hand passed through her body. Ghost. Xander snorted in disgust. He had no interest in a creature he could neither fuck nor drain. Seeking more interesting prey, he continued down the street.
“Xander!” The apparition tagged after him, but he did not even bother to acknowledge her; she was irrelevant. “It’s a spell, it has to be. Just hold on and I’ll get Giles to fix it, and god Xander, don’t eat anyone,” the ghost called out before fleeing, and Xander couldn’t contain a smile. Of course he would eat someone…just as soon as he could find someone worthy of eating.
He closed his eyes and deeply scented the night air. Warm. Much warmer than home. And now he could feel the vibration of an active portal to hell somewhere near him. Ah, a Hellmouth. And one as powerful as any he had felt in seven hundred years, ever since that small mousy slayer had closed the one near his own beloved home. Xander snarled at even the memory and for the thousandth time, he wished he had done more to the girl than simply drain her. Alas, he had been but a youth, and youth causes foolishness. The Hellmouth made his bones sing with evil, and maybe it was time to leave memories of the old country behind, because he couldn’t remember feeling this good in centuries.
Xander turned his head as he caught the spoor of prey. Not human prey, but humans weren’t the only things worth hunting. In fact humans often weren’t worth hunting at all. But now a pack of vampires moved toward him. Fledges with the reek of humanity and their own graves still clinging to their demonic bodies: a good snack. And one smelled of enough years for him to no longer taste of humanity. With a small wicked smile, Xander wrapped his fingers around the sword concealed beneath his cloak as he started down the street toward the evening’s first sport.
“Oi, it’s Angel’s puppy boy,” the oldest of the pack announced with a sneer as they approached one another. Such a strange creature he was, but beautiful in his own way as he moved with the easy grace of a killer and the swagger of youth. Here was their leader, striding at the front of the group. Xander considered playing with his food a bit first. He stood still and allowed the rest of the pack to surround him.
“So, where’s the slayer and her pet vampire?” the blond punk demanded. Such insolence. Xander would take his time to show this young one the error of his ways.
“I assure you, if I had found a slayer tonight, I vould not still be hunting,” Xander said with a slight shrug. That stopped the blond. He tilted his head to one side in such an obvious gesture of confusion that Xander couldn’t resist laughing. Oh to be so young, to feel and show such strong emotions. To so foolishly betray one’s hand to an elder.
“What’s wrong with you, mate?”
“I haven’t given you permission to call me a mate, young one. Vatch your manners.” Xander laughed again as the eyebrows nearly lifted right off the young one’s face.
“Someone hit you upside the head then?” Xander watched as the blond’s nostrils flared, and then the face froze as he considered his mistake. Obviously, the young one had confused him with someone else and now he finally sensed the danger. Xander was tempted to laugh again at the frozen expression, but now the danger turned real as the young one would decide to either flee or order his pack to attack. It had been many years since Xander had faced so many and he held his arms loosely as he prepared for the game to begin.
“You’re a bloody vampire,” the young leader said in his thick English accent.
“For several centuries, igen. But you, not so long I think,” Xander confirmed. “If you had been around more than one or two centuries, you vould know the danger of challenging me with your…minions.” Xander let the last word fall out of his mouth like a stone, the tone making his contempt for such fledges perfectly clear. One of those minions growled, obviously unhappy with the comment, and Xander had the teaching opportunity he wanted. His sword arced clear of his cape and sliced off the head of the offending vamp and his nearest neighbor before any of the brainless pack could even react. And when they did react, Xander gave a sharp hiss of amusement as they scattered like dust into the wind, obviously in fear of becoming dust as had their comrades.
“Soddin’ traitors,” the blond one complained, but he stood his ground. Oh, this was turning out to be a good night after all.
“Your friends appear to have left you to my mercy.” Again with the over-dramatic presentation, but Xander had never been subtle. “Such a pity I have none.”
“Don’t suppose I need those wankers to take care of one challenger.”
“You claim this Hellmouth?” Xander demanded, truly surprised now. This one was young, and while he smelled of more strength than a typical youth, he was not what Xander had imagined for the Master of the Hellmouth.
“Yeah, wot of it?” The young one fell back a step as Xander stepped forward, and Xander had to admire how the body slid into a defensive pose almost elegantly.
“You are very young for such a task. Surely you do not think you can hold the Hellmouth from me, do you?” Xander suddenly realized he wasn’t sure what he wanted. If the young one would only submit, Xander could imagine far more interesting games than mere killing. But he had learned the danger of keeping enemies within his house, so if the creature in front of him refused to submit, Xander would have to content himself with ripping out that long graceful neck.
“I figure I can take care of myself,” the young one snapped back, and oh yes, such interesting prey. Not quite a challenge, but certainly not a willingness to submit.
“And just who are you that you can take such good care of yourself at such a young age?”
“I have never heard of you, but then I do not keep track of the younger lines. I am Xander sired by Nusa the Strigoi over 900 years ago. Nusa was the daughter of Dracul and was one of his favorite women, until she tried to stake him and trapped him in his crypt for a century or so, but that is all past… ” Xander airily waved his hand to dismiss the antics of his own elders, even though he still certainly avoided Dracul.
The blond tilted his chin in a small gesture of defiance. “William the Bloody, turned by Drusilla who was the first child of Angelus,” he arrogantly announced. Ah, so the creature did have some sense of manners after all. Xander considered the young one again.
“And you use ‘Spike’ rather than your true name?” Really, Xander couldn’t understand that.
“William the Bloody promises pain and death and what more could a vampire want in a name?”
“Well it’s not my soddin’ name now. Now I’m Spike.” The blond snarled, and Xander controlled an urge to grab the young one and slam his head into the ground, but he remembered being young and caring passionately for things that didn’t matter. He controlled the urge to roll his eyes as he nodded and quickly changed the subject. Let the child have his silly name, Xander had other goals in mind.
“Angelus.” Xander considered the name; most vampires had heard it, but only as a legend: a horror story fit for creatures of the dark. A vampire cursed with a soul, which was a story Xander had always believed to be made up by the Romany people. “Angelus, eldest of Darla, cursed with a soul?” Xander asked.
“Yeah, mate, that’d be him. Know him then, do you?” Spike narrowed his eyes as he waited for an answer, and Xander was briefly tempted to break open that head and fish around to find the thoughts within.
“I knew Darla, an ungrateful child who turned on her master. Loyalty seems to be a problem vithin the Aurelius line.”
“Bloody tell me about it,” Spike snorted in disgust, and Xander knew he had found a weakness, only the first of many he planned to find on his newest toy. Xander circled Spike and watched as the younger vampire’s shoulders twitched with an urge to turn but he stood unmoving as though unconcerned by the thought of attack.
“You know I’ll vin this fight,” Xander said calmly. It wasn’t a question, and the young one knew it.
“Know you’ll try.” The challenge had finally been issued, and Spike whirled to face him as Xander leapt. He drove out with his right hand and ignored the young one’s attempts to dodge as he thrust forward with superior speed and strength. His hand closed around Spike’s delicate neck, and he kept his forward momentum going even as fingers clawed at his arm and Spike gnashed his fangs. He drove forward until he had the smaller vampire pinned against a tree, helpless and muttering curses. The boy would have been yelling those curses, but for Xander’s hand crushing his throat until only a soft whisper emerged.
With his free hand, Xander pulled his sword and all sound and movement stopped. Huge blue eyes stared, and the scent of fear threaded beneath that of anger. Xander could only imagine the terror of watching death approach, but even now the young one did not tilt his head and beg for mercy.
“And vill you submit now, child?” Xander asked as he loosened his hold. He was prepared for any number of moves: falling to the ground in abject terror, pleading for mercy, a last attempt to flee. He actually was slightly surprised when Spike chose to attack instead. Spike had lowered his gaze when the sword appeared, but now he threw his weight to the side, breaking free from Xander’s grasp and falling to the side even as he struck out hard with his feet. Spike’s body hit the ground, and Xander had to quickly dance to the side to avoid being taken to the ground himself by a child 800 years his junior. But Xander quickly switched to a reversed grasp on his sword’s hilt while Spike still lay on the ground. Even as Spike pulled his legs under him in order to regain his feet and try for another attack, Xander thrust the sword through Spike’s lower back on the right side, forcing Spike back down to the ground where Xander simply drove the sword through Spike’s body and into the ground below.
“Fucking wanker!” Spike cursed. Xander knelt in one smooth motion, reaching down to close his hand around the back of Spike’s neck. His other hand rested lightly on the pommel of the sword pinning his prey to the ground; he could feel the delightful struggles vibrating up through the blade as Spike panted in pain.
“Little one, this is your last chance. Do you submit?” Xander found himself hoping the beautiful boy would yield since he had no wish to kill the creature, and it had been centuries since anyone had fascinated him enough for him to give up the kill.
“Not goin’ ta play bottom boy again, did the worthless bit for Angelus and soddin’ well not doin’ it again.” The voice was quiet but still amazingly full of defiance. Xander thought for a moment; one of the advantages of age was the patience to put aside the instinct the kill, even when the prey was bleeding and squirming so deliciously.
“Is that what you think you’d be? Vorthless?” Xander rocked back on his heels; in his world any vampire that did not behead you on sight was by that act showing his respect for your worth, but this little one had such strange beliefs. The hand that had rested on the sword reached down to gently stroke Spike’s side, and yes, after three hundred years of experiencing lust as no more than a need to fuck someone, Xander was rediscovering the type of lust that could only develop when one craved a particular partner. He could imagine that delicate and yet muscular body writhing under his own larger frame, bucking in pleasure or fighting in pain.
“I promise you that you have worth to me or you vould already be dust.” Xander tightened his grip on Spike’s nape, keeping the young vampire’s face turned to the dust. “Of course, if you refuse to trust me, refuse to give yourself to me, then you vill have no worth because you vill be dust on my boots.”
“Trust?” Spike spit the word out as though it burned his tongue. Xander stood and Spike went silent again, no doubt expecting the end even as he looked up. Xander pulled out the sword and for one moment enjoyed the sight of his prey sprawled on the ground injured and helpless and waiting for the final blow as he smiled down with a grin full of fang.
“Trust me and I place great value on you, my spirited young one,” Xander assured him before sheathing his sword. Spike turned on one side and used his fingers to explore his ripped and bloody shirt.
“Bloody hell, that was my favorite shirt,” he complained, and Xander laughed. Spike twisted and checked the leather coat for damage but the sword had managed to miss it; of course, Xander also understood this was simply a delaying tactic, but one he was willing to indulge. There were no accusations or counterattacks, so Xander suspected that young Spike had just come as close to submitting as he could. Time for harsher lessons later. Right now Xander had to reward the small steps. He held out his hand and Spike ignored it in favor of clambering heavily to his feet on his own, a hand still pressing his stomach where the sword had come out his front.
Unperturbed, Xander waved dismissively at the tattered garment. “And what vould you have me do about that? Give you my own shirt off my back perhaps?” Xander suggested as he stepped forward. Most young vampires would now take this opportunity to run; most young vampires would have died. Spike stood his ground until they stood face to face, chest to chest, and Xander reached up to finger the damaged shirt and to rub the nipple below. Spike flickered into game face and then quickly back out of it, refusing to admit the power that simple gesture had over him, but Xander was a vampire, he knew what it felt like to know that a powerful creature desired you. And he could certainly smell the growing lust as Spike openly considered Xander’s own shirt, red silk flowing over the strong, wide chest of an ancient vampire.
“Hell no, looks like something Peaches would wear,” Spike almost snorted. Almost. “Except the cape, that’s too nancy boyish even for him.” Xander knew nothing of nancy boys nor peaches, but he could recognize a disrespectful tone. He gave the nipple below his fingers a sharp twist.
“Mind your elders, boy,” he admonished, and Spike’s eyes darkened with lust or rebellion or both. Time for a lesson. Xander reached out and cupped the back of Spike’s head, easily overcoming Spike’s attempts to pull back in order to pull those soft lips to his in a bruising kiss. Pressing his parted lips firmly against those of his captured prey, he opened his mouth, fully expecting a fight, but Spike’s mouth opened easily, and Xander tilted his head slightly so that he could better savour the tastes of his delicious lover-to-be.
So many flavors: the tobacco and whiskey he had earlier consumed as well as the taste of blood still strong in his mouth; the faint taste of a woman, a lover whose scent and taste mingled with Spike’s own in faint wisps; the fear and the rebellion and quite frankly the need to submit…that was all there too. A minion needed no more of his master’s time than it took to give an order, but to make a childe, a companion to survive the centuries, that took care and effort. This one who was clearly worthy of surviving the centuries should still have had his maker to hide behind. He should not have been abandoned, left to not only survive on his own but to hold the Hellmouth. Xander pulled back, resisting the urge to smile when Spike unconsciously leaned into him to prolong the kiss. Perhaps this pretty toy would prove even more amusing than he had hoped.
“So, vill you submit and take your place of safety behind me, your place under me?” Xander’s hand slowly trailed down to the thick denim of Spike’s jeans, possessively cupping the crotch. The answering thrust certainly seemed promising enough. “Or will you fight and die?” Xander still held Spike in his arms from the kiss, and now he pressed his second hand to the wound in Spike’s back where the sword had entered him.
“But Dru…” And again with the refusing to either submit or to challenge. This was becoming tiresome. Xander snarled and curled his fingers hard into the wound, feeling Spike’s trapped body buck up against his with a gasp of pain.
“Enough, child. Either you are mine and you vill trust me to do what I vant, or I will turn you to dust right here.” Xander watched as Spike’s held tilted just slightly before he raised his head defiantly and looked straight at the vampire in whose grasp he stood.
“Won’t leave her helpless,” Spike snarled softly, and then Xander connected the name. Dru…Drusilla. The childe sought to protect his sire. Such a surprising little hellcat he had found this night. If he ever discovered who had magicked him to this place, he would surely offer them a great reward.
“I offer your sire either my protection or my permission to leave, whichever she prefers. However, I offer that only so long as you please me. If you turn to dust, I shall make sure your sire follows you to hell before sunrise.” Xander’s fingers still probed deep into the wound, but Spike stopped pulling away from the pain as he stilled. The threat to his sire forced his stillness where his own lust and pain and fear combined could not. Oh yes, one simply had to know where to apply pressure and the prey always responded.
Spike paused, and seemed to draw a small, unnecessary breath, “Dru sees…sees things in the future, possibilities. Bloody knows when the hunters are on our tails or when somethin’s comin’, good or bad.” Xander allowed a small encouraging smile to show on his face as Spike made a case for his sire’s life; obviously this one was not corrupted by Aurelius disloyalty. It was a good sign.
A better sign was that Spike had put his head down on Xander’s shoulder, his hands hanging by his side without trying to push away or claw his way free. Xander pulled his fingers out of the wound and brought the gore-covered fingers to his mouth where he began licking them clean even as he held Spike in place with his other hand. He could feel Spike’s body tremble from time to time, either from the loss of blood or from fear that his sire’s existence was still in danger. Either way, Xander enjoyed the helpless tremors and Spike’s scent, blooming with anger and anxiety. So perfect. Well, all but for the hair, which was held in stiff locks that irritated the skin of Xander’s neck as Spike pressed against him. That would have to change. He would feel his pet’s soft hair against his skin and under his hand.
“She vill not come to harm by me, and such a strega…such a vitch…would be a velcome addition to my court, which I seem to have misplaced. But I shall simply rebuild. Sadly, most of your minions are not acceptable.”
“Most of my minions are soddin’ morons,” Spike corrected him, and this time Xander laughed out loud as his free hand wandered down to explore the curve of Spike’s ass.
“Yes, my lovely little hellcat, I think they are.” Xander nuzzled toward Spike’s neck, and his young one submitted in a way much more significant than saying the words: he dropped his head to the side and exposed his neck. Xander growled with delight as he reached up and pushed the coat off Spike’s one shoulder before fisting the neck of the t-shirt his prey wore and casually ripping it down the front. And still Spike stood, his neck bared, and Xander paused to just admire the sight of the young one with the black fabric hanging in tatters, his long white neck exposed and smelling of fear still.
Such a perfect moment. If only there were the remains of a dozen humans at their feet still warm from the slaughter, he would call it a perfect night. But self-denial wasn’t Xander’s strong suit, so after few exultant seconds he plunged his fangs into that pale neck, feeling the body buck in his arms as he drank the blood of his chosen prey. He felt his own rising lust, which was spurred on by his young one’s moans of pleasure at being taken. He drank as he reached down and pressed Spike’s crotch, unsurprised at the hardness under his hand.
Spike was stronger than he expected, but then he’d had to be without a true master to protect him. Xander reminded himself to watch this one; this was no fledge to be dismissed, but a strong youth verging on becoming a master in his own right. He pulled back as Spike started to weaken and leaned into Xander for support. Yes, Spike needed to learn that; he needed to learn to rely on his new master. Xander ripped his own wrist open and held it to Spike’s lips.
“Drink, my precious hellcat,” he whispered, and a tongue reached out and touched the running blood before the mouth clamped over his wrist and began sucking voraciously while Spike pressed his body to Xander’s own. Xander had expected to give his first punishment, but when the wound closed, his Spike simply licked the remaining drops from his skin without even attempting to open a wound himself. Xander reached out and grabbed Spike by the back of the neck as he pulled him in for another kiss as the reward for knowing his place and his limits.
“Oh god…oh god, oh god, oh god.” Xander pulled back with a snarl. He had not heard or smelled the approach of an enemy, but he quickly realized that it was only the ghost from earlier, babbling. “Oh Xander, what have you done?” she asked with her mouth making a shocked “O”.
“Perhaps your witchy sire knows a spell to rid one of a pesky ghost,” Xander suggested dryly as he slipped an arm around Spike’s waist and used his finger to trace the still red scar of his bite on Spike’s neck.
“Don’t you ignore me, or else you’ll…you’ll end up doing your trig homework by yourself Mr. ‘I just had to go to Halloween as a vampire’.”
“She been bothering you?” Spike sounded somehow confused, but Xander pulled his young one’s body into his, distracting him by pressing into the bite mark until Spike squirmed in pleasure.
“She’s dead…irrelevant.” Xander whispered as she came even closer. This close he could feel the small hairs on his arms react to her presence.
“Oh Spike, he bit you,” the ghost exclaimed. “It’s a spell, it’s not really him.”
“Think I figured that one out on my own, Red,” Spike commented with an almost human snort of amusement.
“Do you know this annoyance?” Xander demanded, and Spike shrugged at the same time that the ghost made an unhappy noise.
“You are going to be so sorry when this whole spell thing is over, mister,” she insisted as she poked an ethereal finger at him. “And I am so getting Angel.” The ghost turned and ran down the street. Strange town.
“Answer me, little one. Do you know her?” Xander repeated, his tone a little darker than before.
“Yeah, she was one of the slayer’s little minions. Appears the slayer might be havin’ a problem with her followers all bein’ dead one way or another, which is probably why Dru sent me out to kill her tonight.”
“Your sire sent you to kill a slayer?” Xander considered his pet with new respect.
“Oi, taken out two slayers already.” There was a flash of justifiable pride in the young one’s voice. He paused, and finished more thoughtfully, “problem is, this one just keeps gettin’ help from her little band of do-gooders.” Well, that did explain the strength he tasted in Spike’s blood, and he would be even more powerful now with Xander’s own ancient blood flowing through him.
“Ve can deal with the slayer tomorrow. Tonight I vant to hunt and then to show you just how much value I place on your submission.” Xander didn’t miss the flinch on his Spike’s face at the word, but his young one would learn the rules and the joys of submission to his new master… after his new master found a meal. Xander planned on sharing a lot of blood with his Spike, to strengthen both his pet’s body and the bond of ownership.
He would make sure that Spike was strong enough to hunt at his side as they took down this new slayer. Xander salivated at the thought of that rich, nearly demonic blood that the slayers carried, and oh yes, it was time for the hunt.
Xander raised his head from the bloody neck of the pirate who had jumped out from behind a large, metal garbage dumpster to attack him. The man’s blood had been heavy and thick and rich with a diet that never knew hunger or even a meatless meal. So different from back home. The bloodless body, now pale beneath a layer of grime, fell to the ground as he stepped over to Spike who had chosen a gangster dressed in pinstripes, and this truly was a strange town, even by Hellmouth standards.
Xander watched as Spike dropped his own prey to the ground, and then his young one surprised him by stepping forward and seeking a kiss. Xander obliged, grabbing Spike’s jeans and pulling their bodies together so that he could feel young Spike’s erection pressing through the fabric and Spike could feel Xander’s cock, hard with bloodlust and good old fashioned sexual lust. Their mouths met, and Xander tasted Spike’s prey, blood just as rich but with the added flavor of alcohol, which gave the blood a zing his own prey had lacked. Xander pressed harder so that his fangs opened small wounds in Spike’s lips, vampire blood mixing with human blood as Xander started to rub his erection against Spike’s hip. An answering groan told him what he needed to know.
Xander pulled back and Spike stood there with blood trickling down the side of his mouth, his hair hopelessly disarrayed, and his eyes half closed. How funny, his lovers didn’t usually have that sated expression until after Xander had finished with them. The coat was back on both shoulders partially hiding Spike’s newest scar, but his shirt still hung in tatters from his frame so that his clearly defined chest and stomach muscles appeared and disappeared as the fabric fluttered. Xander was two seconds away from pushing Spike up against a wall and fucking him, but the child’s comments about being worthless to Angelus and his refusal to speak his submission suggested that he had been poorly used. Xander needed to show Spike another side to submission if he planned on trusting the young one in his court.
“I vant a safe place to enjoy my beautiful hellcat in private. Where vould you suggest?” Xander asked, intentionally giving Spike both a choice and a chance to betray him. It was always best to test such things up front.
“Wot? Not goin’ ta do it against the dumpster?” Spike demanded, and his face transformed into that sneer that Xander had seen when the vampire first walked down the street toward him. No wonder the Aurelius line fell; how could a master have a court if he did not know how to inspire and manipulate loyalty?
Xander lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Is that what you vant? Do you vant me to need you so badly that I would press you up against the stone and rip your clothes from your body? Do you vant to feel the rough brick pressing into your face and hands as I drive my cock into you, owning you? Do you vant to know that you can drive 900 years of control out of me because I need to feel you under me?”
Xander showed his game face as he slowly walked forward, forcing Spike backwards over the body and past a mountain of cardboard boxes stacked next to the garbage. As he expected, the scent of lust only intensified. He pressed the length of his entire body onto the smaller vampire, trapping Spike between the immovable brick and his own body. He pressed so close that Spike could smell Xander’s lust and feel his hardened cock and know that he was truly wanted. The sneer melted off Spike’s face and a much more appropriate leer took its place.
“Got a place about two blocks from here, a warehouse not even the minions know about, unless you don’t want to wait,” Spike said in a tone a human might have described as casual, but Xander’s sharper hears could hear the slight breathiness, the slightly raised tone of desperation and lust. Xander just smiled both at Spike’s intelligence in not trusting his minions and at his willingness to submit to Xander’s own preferences… that was as it should be.
“Lead away, my young hellcat,” Xander said as he dropped a quick kiss onto Spike’s neck, right over the scar. Spike shivered, still young enough to feel such human reactions and instincts. In some this humanity would be an annoyance capable of driving Xander to homicide, but in this strange beauty it was one more facet of delight. He had no way to hide his excitement, or any of his emotions. Xander stepped back, gesturing for Spike to lead the way. With a victor’s smile on his face, Xander followed his young one down the alley littered with large blue dumpsters and scraps of paper that danced in the breeze and gathered in the corners.
Xander looked around the abandoned warehouse and found any number of items that pleased him: chains hanging from the ceiling, coils of rope, knives and various tools laid out on a shelf, a number of tables and platforms including a large one with fairly clean blankets thrown over it. Of course he also saw things he did not like such as the wide open space with dozens of points of entry and windows near the angled ceiling. He preferred to have something more substantial than darkened glass between him and the sun. A hunter could make survival very difficult by breaking those windows during the day, so Xander knew he had to find more secure quarters before the sun came up. Spike stopped in the middle of the furnished and dimly lit area and turned to face him.
“All the comforts of home,” Xander said pleasantly, unwilling to put his young one on the defensive at such a crucial time. “Now strip.” Xander watched Spike’s eyes go wide and dark, lust and wariness vying for dominance, and Xander respected both reactions. However his new pet needed to learn that the only dominance was Xander’s will. He strode forward so fast that Spike had not managed to retreat more than a couple of steps before Xander grabbed him by the back of his head.
“Bloody hell, can’t do it when you’re playin’ ‘grab the vampire’ with my head, can I?”
“You do as you’re told, child. I vant to see your form, and you will not hesitate to follow my orders.” Xander balanced his stern tone of voice with his gentle hands, one of which tenderly kneaded the back of Spike’s neck and the other of which slipped under the remains of his shirt to explore the taut muscles. Such fear here.
He stepped back and this time Spike moved, tossing his coat to one side before sitting down on the ground to pull off his boots. Xander smiled at the sight of his young one finding an excuse to sit at an elder’s feet. Dozens of tables and platform and chairs, and his newest toy chose to sit at his feet. He remembered the constant fear of youth, but he had been sitting at Nusa’s feet. Pleasing his sire was his only goal, but how many things did this one have to fear? Now all his precious hellcat had to do was please Xander, and Xander would take care of the rest.
Xander stepped forward, allowing his hand to fall on Spike’s head as the vampire pulled one boot off. Rather than try to escape the touch, Spike ignored him as he continued on his task, and Xander understood that too. The child was old enough that he couldn’t submit without feeling weak but still young enough to feel that urge to submit anyway. Xander simply allowed his hand to rest on Spike’s head, and the hair under his hand was prickly and coarse, much like his pet. Xander would change both his pet and his pet’s atrocious hair.
Xander stepped back as Spike stood and unbuttoned his jeans, allowing them to fall to the ground before stepping out of them, and now he stood naked and hard, his wiry, muscular body exposed. Xander walked around viewing Spike from each side, the smooth buttocks, the well defined shoulders, the corded muscles of his chest and arms. On his third circle, Xander reached out and touched Spike’s backbone, and the young body gave a tremor before stilling again. How long had it been since Xander had taken such a young responsive lover?
“On your knees, little one,” Xander ordered in a soft whisper. He walked around to the front so that his naked and vulnerable cub would be kneeling at his feet while he still wore all his clothes. Psychologically he knew the power of being dressed while another waited naked and trembling for his touch.
“Oi, not little,” Spike complained but he did go to his knees. Xander stood over Spike for several minutes, watching as his pet looked at everything else: the concrete floor, the angled scaffolding in the dim recesses of the warehouse, a wooden chair a few feet away. Finally his pet looked up at him, and Xander allowed himself to smile possessively down. Spike took an unnecessary breath and looked away again. Small steps, Xander reminded himself as he walked over to a pile of chains and considered his options.
“Not little in any vay that counts,” Xander agreed. “Perhaps I used the wrong vord. I meant little as in young. You are very young, and yet your blood speaks of your power and strength.” He touched the leather of a coiled whip before picking it up. He discarded one length of chain for having links too heavy and unwieldy and he picked up a second length and a number of locks.
“You will sit at my feet and demons will tremble in fear of you. You will never again yield to anyone but me, but you will give yourself to me without hesitation: kill when I order, feed when I order, open yourself to me and beg for my cock when I order.” Xander turned around with his tools and Spike had gotten to his feet again.
“I’ll take Dru and bloody leave the Hellmouth, you won’t hear from us again.” Spike insisted, and yet his cock still stood hard and needy.
“Vhat scares you most, child? Are you afraid of sitting at my feet or begging for my cock?” Xander walked slowly towards his prey, this was a game he knew well, and Spike would not escape him now.
“Won’t bloody beg for anythin’ mate,” Spike snarled as he backed up a step for each step Xander took. Spike’s bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the concrete while Xander’s boots struck the concrete with sharp staccato sounds. Yes, Xander had everything perfect, and now his pet’s words had told him where to attack. His pet had revealed the weakness, and Xander knew how to apply the right pressure to bring his prey down.
“Oh, but you will, young one. You will beg for me to take you, to use you and fill you so that you know to whom you belong. You will kiss my cock and beg for me to drive into you as you writhe in pain and pleasure and feel such a need to come that you will promise me anything.” Xander insisted as he continued advancing slowly but steadily.
Xander effortlessly pinned the prey with nothing more than his penetrating eyes and his soft voice. “You will open yourself to me on your knees and feel your own cock harden at the thought of me forcing you down and covering your body vith my own.” Xander continued to walk forward even as Spike retreated, and his shaking head was contradicted by the hardness of his cock. The scent of lust that now trailed from him so strongly as to overpower the scent of dust from the dim corners of the warehouse. Xander moved his wrist so that the chains he held rattled softly.
“Not bloody likely,” Spike whispered harshly.
“Oh, yes, young one. I have tasted you and I will not give up until I see you on your knees begging, your strength and your power and your beauty offered up to me as your master.” That caused Spike to miss a step so that Xander closed the distance.
“You have been used, taken, forced to beg those who do not see your power, igen…yes?” Xander corrected his unconscious use of his native word because he would not have his hellcat misunderstand him now. They stood chest to chest, Xander looking down into the blue eyes. Spike was still, but Xander sensed his struggle to suppress a shiver. And yes, he was still afraid, even in his growing lust.
“I don’t bloody beg anyone.” Spike shifted into game face just as his body took up a defensive pose, and Xander resisted smiling. The young were so predictable.
“Not anymore. But you vant to. You vant someone to value you, to take you and keep you. Your sire, you are loyal but she does not command you, keep you safely by her side.”
“Dru… Dru’s injured.” Spike no longer retreated but instead shifted into a more aggressive stance.
“And so you have no real sire, and you have no line or master to help you care for her. You have no one who values you enough to chain you and keep you, but instead you are tossed aside. The Aurelius line is full of fools if no one has seen your potential. I see that potential.” Xander dropped his voice so that it was low and soft as he made a earnest promise.
“I will chain you and you will submit to me, my precious hellcat—you no longer have a choice in that. If you care for your sire so much, then I will take the strega into my court and she shall have a place of honor, but do not make this harder for yourself.” Xander truly wished to stop talking and act, but he had to make sure his new pet understood his place, both his helplessness to change his fate and the fact that Xander did value him. He had made the mistake of allowing a young one to grow insecure once, and he had paid that price. He would not be forced to kill his newest pet.
“Won’t be chained, not by Angelus and not by you.” Spike nearly hissed, and again the young one’s fear of the past tainted the present. Xander kept his voice low and soothing.
“By Angelus, no. He will never again own you, but you have submitted to me, and you will vear chains until you learn to kneel at my feet. I will not have you injured or lost in your foolishness, and I will not have you raising your hands against your master.”
Xander leapt forward and slammed his body into Spike’s smaller frame. Small, but certainly not weak. Xander flinched as a hunk of his hair was ripped from his head and fingernails trailed down his cheek, but such injuries were little more than foreplay as he felt his own cock harden to a point of pain. He grabbed the offending hands and struggled to flip Spike over onto his stomach.
Spike fought. He fought like the hellcat his master had named him, and yet Xander noticed that Spike’s cock hadn’t softened one bit and despite the struggle, the young one made no move to bite without permission. Xander forced his knee under one of Spike’s legs so that the long limb was forced into the air. Holding both wrists with one hand, he reached down, grabbed Spike’s leg, and used it as leverage to turn Spike onto his stomach.
Spike had no way to stop himself from being maneuvered, but Xander did learn a number of new words as he straddled Spike’s naked body and reached for the chains and locks he had brought. He considered fashioning a collar around Spike’s neck and chaining his hands behind his back and to the collar, but he wanted to be able to feed freely from his little hellcat. Instead he chained Spike’s hands behind his back with about six inches of chain between them. Then he stood and used the long trailing end of the chain to pull Spike to his knees while using a hand on his pet’s shoulder to prevent him from rising any farther.
Xander ignored the words that Spike continued to spit and hiss even as he looped the chain around Spike’s waist in order to keep those hands flat against his back. With Spike secured, Xander took a second to bend over and run his hand under the chain around Spike’s stomach, feeling his pet struggling for breath he didn’t need.
He could smell the panic, and so Xander knelt down in front of Spike and used the chain to pull his pet to him for a kiss. Spike snarled and snapped, and one of his fangs caught Xander’s lip so that Xander tasted his own blood. Spike instantly stilled as Xander reached up and ran a finger over his wounded lip before licking it clean. Xander then did the same for the scratches on the side of his face while Spike watched with fearful yellowed eyes. Xander finished and stood. Almost instantly, the curses resumed.
“You will either be silent, or I will find a way to silence you,” Xander warned, and Spike stilled again. Xander walked away, leaving his chained and naked pet kneeling on the ground and smelling of such despair that Xander could barely contain his lust. At the shelf he pulled off a number of items before returning to Spike who had fallen silent even though Xander could feel those yellow eyes following him around the room.
“On your feet,” Xander ordered, and Spike struggled up, still obviously pulling against the chains with short jerky movements in his shoulders. “Hush little hellion,” Xander soothed him as he stepped close and used the waist chain to pull the helpless vampire into his embrace. Spike’s expression would have cowed lesser creatures, but Xander had always enjoyed the fight, and this one was worth the effort. When he stopped fighting both Xander and his own needs, he would be a child worthy of Xander, killer of slayers and child of Nusa.
With a happy sigh, he lowered his head to Spike’s neck and mouthed the scar from Spike’s submission, and Spike’s body began to press into him. “You’ve displeased me, fought me, used words to curse the name of your master. You know you must be punished.” Xander expected the promise of pain and punishment to excite his hellcat even more, but instead Spike’s cock began to soften for the first time since Xander had ordered Spike to strip.
“Not Dru… just not Dru,” Spike whispered, and Xander pulled back to find Spike wearing his human face. Human faces were so much harder to read and now Spike obviously tried to hide his expression, but Xander could clearly smell the sour stink of fear. He used the waist chain to pull Spike over to a low wood table, and the young vampire’s eyes stayed on the floor as he moved forward without complaint. This was not the type of submission Xander wanted. He growled, and Spike flinched without raising his eyes.
“Vhat about your Dru?” Xander asked.
“Don’t stake her,” Spike almost whispered, and in those words Xander could hear Spike’s fear for his sire as well as his conviction that death approached.
“You think I will kill you.” Xander said as he sat on the table and pulled Spike between his legs.
“Just bloody get it over with,” Spike demanded, but the fire from earlier had gone and his voice was quiet despite his angry words. Xander found himself fighting with the urge to do exactly as Spike asked. He did not want a thing that wallowed in its own fear; he wanted his hellcat back.
“Why vould I kill you?” he asked instead.
“I…” Spike looked up, and Xander saw confusion take the place of certainty. Why would his young one be so sure that the only punishment would be death? Xander had never feared Nusa except when his foolishness warranted fear. Spike had done nothing that deserved death, but then again, Spike had belonged to a clan where sanity was rarer than loyalty. Xander suddenly understood.
“Who tried to kill you?” Xander asked.
“And you had submitted?”
“Yeah. Wanted ta stay with Dru; thought if I didn’t fight her she’d let me stay with my princess.” Xander suddenly understood his pet’s fears. He had submitted to his elders in order to stay with his sire, and his elders had tried to kill him. Normally Xander had no problem with killing those who disappointed, but to accept a young one’s submission and then fail to kill him when you were done? That was simply cruel.
“How old vere you?”
“Been turned thirty, thirty-five years earlier,” Spike nearly whispered. Xander curled his lip. If Darla had not wanted the child, she should never have accepted his submission, and if she had grown tired of him, she would have been kinder to have killed him rather than take one who had known a clan and turn him out like a minion.
Xander reached up and stroked the bare skin of his hellcat’s shoulder. Keeping his touches light, he let his questing fingers explore the curve of the bicep and down to the muscle of Spike’s forearm. He moved his hand to skim over his pet’s pale stomach, touching so softly that he could feel the small body hairs under his sensitive fingers.
Xander watched as Spike’s erection began to recover as Xander’s fingers moved up to touch a small nipple already tightening with lust. Spike gasped and pressed forward as Xander rolled the nipple between his finger and thumb. His pet’s responsiveness made Xander harden. Such strength it must have taken to claim the title of master at such an age, to care for himself and an ailing sire, to escape the murderous hand of Darla. Xander would have that strength unbroken and sitting at his feet yet.
“Darla is a fool,” Xander announced. He would have to get around to killing her later. “You are mine, and I will never release you. I promised you punishment, and you will be punished, but I will never destroy what is mine unless you turn on me,” Xander promised as he pushed Spike out from between his legs and to the side.
The child was obviously too confused for the whip, so instead Xander put a hand behind Spike’s neck and pulled so that Spike was forced to bend over his lap. Then Xander lifted him so that Spike’s upper body lay on the platform next to his master, his ass positioned on his master’s lap. Xander put one hand on the small of Spike’s back, holding him steady and feeling the muscles tighten and relax. His other hand moved small circles on Spike’s buttocks, enjoying the smooth cool flesh that he was about to heat.
“You won’t raise your hand against me and you will do as you are told,” Xander informed Spike an instant before he raised his hand and brought his hand down so hard that his hellcat shouted a “bloody fucking hell,” before settling back down.
“Again,” Xander commanded as he brought the crop down on the backs of Spike’s thighs.
“I serve you; I obey you,” Spike hissed as the crop came whistling down.
“I serve you; I obey you.” Another line on the flesh.
“I serve you; I obey you.” This time Xander brought down his bare hand to slap the thighs and then he stopped, running his hand over the heated skin and feeling the welts under his fingertips as his hand glided up the shivering thighs and over the pink ass. Spike’s chained hands clenched tightly, and Xander could tell his pet was struggling to hold back his orgasm. Xander unfastened his cloak and brought it around to arrange the soft velvet over the naked body draped so appealing on his lap.
“And I forgive you, my little one,” Xander said as he stroked his pet’s legs through the cape, knowing that the soft fabric running against that sensitive skin would make Spike struggle even harder. At his words, the tension drained from Spike’s form and he sagged, no longer even trying to keep his toes on the ground but trusting Xander to hold his weight. Smiling, Xander closed his own thighs around Spike’s erection, creating even more friction around that fully engorged cock. Xander was just as excited, but in 900 years, he’d learned the tricks of controlling his own impetuous nature. Nusa had seen to that.
“Not bloody little,” Spike snarled tensely, and Xander laughed softly. Someone had made his pet sensitive to such comments, and Xander decided to continue calling his pet ‘little one’ until Spike could hear it without reacting so defensively.
“No, you are not. You are strong and mouthy and full of the foolishness of youth,” Xander agreed, and Spike was left groaning when Xander tightened his thighs even more. Now that body squirmed with a need that had nothing to do with escaping pain. Really he had been quite surprised that Spike hadn’t come yet, but he had to remind himself that this young one had to grow up quickly.
“Of course you have less foolishness in you than I had at my age,” Xander admitted. “If I had tried to hold a Hellmouth at your age, I would have quickly fallen, and I did not take my first slayer until 200. Even at that, Nusa whipped me raw for not coming and telling her that a slayer had invaded our territory.” He paused, tenderly stroking the trembling body under the velvet cape. “I would not choose to have you at my feet if you were not so beautiful and strong.” Xander didn’t miss the small flinch when he mentioned Spike being at his feet, but at least he wasn’t fighting him. A hundred repetitions of ‘I serve you; I obey you’ had a way of drilling a new reality into one’s head.
“So now you shall show your master how much you have learned,” Xander stood, and Spike all but fell to his knees as he slid off Xander’s lap and down to the cold ground. “I like this sight,” Xander murmured as he reached down for Spike’s head, both petting him and preventing him from getting off his knees. “But you have other duties right now,” Xander gestured for Spike to stand as he walked to a taller table with smooth varnished wood. He contained a victorious smile when Spike followed obediently.
“On your stomach,” Xander ordered, and he expected Spike to hesitate or complain or perhaps even fight. Instead his young one went quickly enough that one might call it willing. He bent over the table so that his cock hung off the edge and then, wonderfully, he spread his legs without even being ordered. Xander stood back and enjoyed the sight of his pet exposing himself, his heavy balls framing that hanging cock that made his pet so needy, and so compliant.
The pink was fading from Spike’s bare ass, but the welts stood out even in the dim light. And as Spike lay face down on the table, his hands flexed open and closed in a way Xander found almost hypnotic. Spike wanted to act, to move, to do something, but yet he lay waiting, and Xander had never seen a more perfect sight than Spike’s marked backside framed by the heavy cock and the restless, chained hands.
“Impatient, pet?” Xander asked.
“Just bloody bugger me before my soddin’ cock falls off, ya wanker,” Spike snarked, and Xander had to laugh at such impudence even as he slapped a pink cheek hard enough to cause a yelp. “In nine centuries, I’ve yet to see one fall off,” he chuckled as he knelt down behind his pet and tied one ankle to a table leg using rope. He didn’t think Spike would fight him now, but he would not have his pet’s submission undone in a moment of panic. Checking that the bonds were not too tight, he tied a second ankle to a table leg.
Once the ropes secured him in place, Spike started reflexively moving against the bindings, unconsciously testing them. Xander knelt there after he had tied the last knot. He lay one hand against his pet’s thigh, feeling the muscle strain and relax. He slipped his second hand inside his pants, reveling in his own aching need as he teased himself by rubbing along the slit. How many centuries had it been since he had so desired another? This hunger, this desire, it was intoxicating. Xander leaned his forehead against the back of Spike’s leg for a moment before pushing himself to his feet.
“To whom do you belong?” Xander asked as he let a cool fingertip trace the path of Spike’s backbone allowing his finger to glide over the chained hands when he reached the small of Spike’s back. Spike’s own fingers caught his and held them for just a fraction before releasing him, and Xander continued past the chained hands down to mere centimeters from his ultimate goal. So responsive.
“You,” Spike panted even as Xander licked a finger and explored the outside shape of the small pucker. Turned as a virgin no doubt.
“You know better than that,” Xander admonished as he slapped Spike on the inside of a thigh. Spike bucked his chest up and off the table with a groan even though his lower half was tied in place.
“To whom do you belong?”
“I belong to Xander sired by Nusa the Strigoi, killer of knights,” Spike answered properly, and Xander approvingly stroked the tender skin between the balls and the pucker. Spike shivered so strongly that the chains imprisoning his hand rattled.
“Who do you serve?”
“I serve you; I obey you.” Xander rewarded the answer by slipping his wet finger into the pucker, feeling inside for that small bump which could offer ever-increasing need and pressure, or release and pleasure. When he found it, he gently tickled his finger over the surface so that Spike again bucked up snarling with frustration.
“And what do you vant, my beautiful hellcat?” His tone like honey and thick with his native accent, Xander tickled the prostate again.
“Oh bloody hell, just fuck me,” Spike demanded in a quivering voice. Xander had heard that phrased more elegantly, but an invitation was an invitation. He quickly spit-slicked two fingers, driving them in and loosening Spike just enough to avoid major tearing. The young were so hungry when they bled, and he didn’t want to have to go hunt again tonight; tonight was for teaching his new child.
Gasping, Spike started squirming and flexing his hands into fists and quietly insisting, “Fuck me already ya soddin’ wanker, fuck me.” Xander pulled down his own pants and fisted his erection as he lined it up. Xander stopped and closed his eyes as he struggled for control that he hadn’t needed since his own sire’s death, because no one since had created such need in him. Now this rebellious little hellcat with his desperate whimpers and half-hearted struggles and impudent mouth made his cock ache with need, and he was determined to control himself. After all, he was a master of 900 years.
“You’re mine, my precious, and you’ll always be mine.” Xander drove forward, giving Spike no chance to adjust but instead creating heat as he forced his way into the minimally prepared channel. Spike hissed and growled and writhed helplessly as he tried to rub his own cock against the table. Xander used his strength to hold Spike’s hips still as the younger vampire adjusted to his master’s size.
“Mine,” Xander bent over and growled in Spike’s ear, “I decide if you have earned release, and I provide the release, little one. Only me.” The body under him shivered and stilled. Xander pulled back slowly, feeling the skin of his cock drag against the sides of Spike’s channel until the pain and pleasure reached equal proportions for both of them. He thrust in a second time and his own precum and tiny tears releasing drops of blood provided just enough lubrication for his cock to slide in more smoothly. Xander’s demon rose up demanding the fast and brutal mating of demons, but Xander wanted to torture his toy more.
He pulled back slowly, resting his hands on the table on either side of Spike’s bound body.
“Bloody hell, fuck me already,” Spike demanded.
“Who do you serve?”
“I serve you; I obey you,” Spike instantly responded. Xander rewarded him by slamming back in hard enough to elicit a savage and happy growl.
“So if I vant to enjoy your body slowly, feeling my cock surrounded by your trembling muscles as you beg for release I do not grant… if I vant this, what do you say, my precious hellcat?”
“Yes, Master,” Spike hissed even as he tried his best to wriggle invitingly and clamped down hard with his ass muscles. Xander shivered in delight. Oh yes, that was acceptable. Xander didn’t want a minion who mindlessly followed; a young hellion who obeyed and then tried to tempt his master was far more Xander’s style. But his young rebel would have to learn that Xander had enough control for both of them.
Ignoring his own need for a more active coupling, he pulled out of Spike as slowly as he could, feeling Spike’s thighs tremble as he tried to fight the bonds and push himself back onto his master’s cock. Xander laughed again, and honestly he couldn’t remember feeling this good since he had been tied face up on a table with Nusa riding him and forbidding him his own release.
This time Xander pushed in slowly as he put his hands on Spike’s chained arms, enjoying the feeling of his prey writhing beneath him. “You’re mine, my beautiful pet. Will you sit at my feet?”
“Yes,” Spike immediately answered. Xander noticed the ‘Master’ part had disappeared. Oh his little one was going to provide endless amusement.
“And will you kill when I order?”
“Bloody hell, yes.”
“And will you beg for my cock?” Xander started pulling out slowly enough to make his pet tremble.
“Yes, I’ll bloody beg for your cock, so fuck me already. Please. Please fuck me. Fuck me fuck me...” As if a floodgate had been opened, the demand disappeared and Spike begged. Xander had intended far more torture before he allowed either of them completion, but the fierce begging and struggling body shredded the last of his control as Xander released his own demon and did exactly that.
Pulling back out mid-thrust, he slammed into Spike’s body, slipping a hand around so that the force of this drive would push Spike’s cock forward into that tight grasp. Spike reared up from the table, and Xander caught his young lover around the front of his neck, pulling Spike nearly upright as he slammed in again and again, and now Spike was incoherent with need, using his small freedom of movement to press back to meet Xander’s heavy thrusts.
Xander tightened his grip around Spike’s neck, reminding him who controlled his body as he whispered “come” in Spike’s ear right before burying his fangs in his pet’s neck. Spike roared out his orgasm and jerked madly against the rope and chains as Xander drank deeply… so deeply that for the second time that night Spike leaned against his new master for support.
Xander changed his grip so that he held Spike around the waist as he pulled out of the young one’s neck and ass. Oh to have someone so trusting as to lay with his neck exposed- Xander suppressed a shiver of pleasure. Spike sagged against him with his head tilted back and resting on Xander’s shoulder, bonelessly supple in his completion.
After several minutes of simply holding his new pet—his new lover— still slumped motionless in his embrace, Xander slowly lowered him back down to the table and stepped away to retrieve his cloak and adjust his clothing. He paused, drinking in the sight of his bound pet, ass still welted, come leaking down the insides of his thighs, softly rattling his chains as he murmured in sleepy contentment. Xander smelled that delicious aroma of lust and release, and realized he did not even need the slaughtered humans at his feet to make this moment perfect.
He walked up and ran a finger through the trickle of come before bringing it around to Spike’s mouth. “Taste your master,” Xander ordered softly, and the mouth obediently opened and Spike sucked on the finger that Xander presented, without even opening his eyes
“Are you mine?” Xander asked curiously. With so little blood in him, Spike would probably not be able to form the coherent thoughts needed to lie. The system wasn’t foolproof, but with young vampires it generally worked.
“Yeah,” Spike agreed without even a hint of rebellion in his voice. Xander smiled triumphantly as he unfastened the silver button of his cuff and pushed up the sleeve.
“Drink, pet, you’ve earned your master’s blood.” Spike’s eyes flashed open at that, brilliant blue eyes that searched his face, and Xander wondered what the young one wanted to see, or perhaps if a question was what he feared seeing.
Xander waited patiently. Spike was his now and he could afford patience as his young one learned to trust him. Spike’s face shifted to his true form before he reached out and sank his teeth into Xander’s arm. Xander threw back his head and felt his lust and cock respond to the feeling of having another feed directly from him. Why had he allowed one disastrous child to stop him from taking another, he wondered as he smelled Spike’s own lust rising.
“Enough, little one,” Xander said, and Spike immediately pulled out his teeth although he did continue licking the wound.
“Right, goin’ ta let me up then?” Spike asked salaciously with a wiggle of his body, and Xander heard the chains rattle under the cloak. So his little hellcat was ready for more? The young one was going to have to learn that he had to accept affection on his new Master’s terms.
“No, I rather enjoy the sight of you helpless and at my mercy,” Xander answered.
“Thought you didn’t have mercy?” Spike quickly replied, and Xander smoothed the hair away from his young one’s face.
“Good,” Spike said, with a ghost of a naughty little grin. He closed his eyes again, head resting in Xander’s lap, body relaxing into his bonds. Such a perfect child, Xander thought as he sat on the table with his own cock starting to demand release again. Well, what was the point of vampire stamina if not to enjoy it?
Xander was considering how he wanted to use Spike’s body for the second round when he caught the smell. Another master trespassed on his territory. Really it was Spike’s territory, but what had belonged to his pet was now his. Xander slid off the table with a growl, and Spike stiffened.
“Xander?” a low voice rumbled from the shadows under the scaffolding. Xander moved off to the side, keeping his body between the unseen intruder and his pet. He would protect what was his: both his territory and his cherished pet.
Spike raised his head from the table and sighed. “Oi, like my bloody unlife couldn’t get any worse. Got great timin’ there, Peaches.” Xander narrowed his eyes as he prepared for the intruder’s attack.
“Who is out there, little one?” Xander demanded of his pet who still lay bound to the table, covered with only the cloak.
“That’d be Peaches, otherwise known as the worthless sire of my sire, Angelus.”
Xander hissed dangerously. He would have killed Angelus anyway, but now that he had claimed his hellcat, he had a more personal reason to destroy a vampire who had harmed what was now his own.
“Shut up, Spike,” the voice commanded even as the shadowy figured advanced. “Xander, we need to talk.”
“Donut boy’s not home right now,” Spike answered.
“Shut up, Spike,” Angelus repeated as he now stepped out of the shadows, and Xander could see that the large vampire had not even switched into his demonic form, a mistake that would be his last.
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