Here's my late birthday offering. Some more bottom!spike, because it's just so pretty an image. I hope you like it dahling, thanks for being nice about how late it is :)
Spike looks for some fun, bumps into Xander in Oxnard.
Quite dark - rated R
Alcoholic kind of mood,
Lose my clothes, lose my lube,
Cruising for a piece of fun,
Looking out for number one.
Lyrics are from the song Nancy Boy, by Placebo
Free at last. Constraints of the sun thrown aside for the fluorescent flickers in colours that hadn’t existed when he was a boy. Drusilla was looking for his replacement in Brazil, Angel looking for redemption in LA, Darla was looking – well, one couldn’t look for much when they were dust in the wind snorted up by the ignorant masses of Sunnydale, but Darla had been searching for acceptance in the Master.
The Aurelius clan seemed to be cursed with a missing element that drove them insane in their quest to find it. And Spike? Well, Spike was looking for something he hadn’t done in far too long. He was looking for some fun.
He cast his eyes up to the gaudy pink sign, Edwardian script and a winking martini olive in the glass made of pipes of light. Someone stepped outside, said his name thickly. Spike looked down, saw something like resignation in a pair of dark eyes.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here in …” a pause, a glance at his trusty Desoto conked out on in the middle of the road, “wherever the fuck we are.”
“Don’t hurt them,” Xander said, nodding to the people walking in and out of the grimy strip club, crap audio system and horrible music. Spike was intrigued.
“Not in the mood for a massacre. In the mood for something else, though,” lascivious grin, his meaning clear. Xander looked away.
“Go somewhere else, Spike,” something pleading there, a note of desperation.
“Don’t wanna,” he replied, stuck his tongue out and laughed harder than he could have if he needed to breathe. “Good little Slayer’s lackey should be tucked away in Sunnydale with a monster under his bed like he belongs,” he crowed, bottle of jack in one hand, cigarette in the other. A slave to his addictions and looking for a new one to hold his attention … because when something held Spike’s attention it kept holding, until he could think of nothing else – was a nice feeling, that. One he was used to, one that he craved.
“Maybe I wanted a monster in my bed,” Xander replied. Unexpected turn, there. Spike’s hips slid forward, his lips pursed – subconscious preparing for something new, something fun.
“Who was it, then? Who chased you into the arms of a monster?” slick slide of words, a thrill when the boy winced and his face shifted to angry. So beautiful in anger, mortals. Kind of funny too.
“I wasn’t chased anywhere,” he snapped, bare aggression, live wire that flared and sparked far brighter than the ugly lights around them. “I’m on a road trip …” defensive tone now, probably due to the doubtful look Spike shot him.
“All alone?” a low purr now as Spike moved forwards, eyes swept over the dark eyes and darker hair – skin so thin he could hear the heart thumping beneath it, could smell the sex and booze, no words needed for the silent helpless reply Yes. The bottle was dropped, the cigarette flicked into a puddle and the boy hardly fought at all when lips crushed against his. He tasted like cheap drinks, cheaper women and strawberry smoke.
Cat calls and car horns smashed through the bubble and Spike pulled the boy into an ally. He struggled, shouted for a moment, brief flash of who he might have been if he hadn’t bumped into a certain vampire searching for something he didn’t want to name.
“Think of it this way,” Spike whispered, “you’ll die a martyr. After I drain you dry, I’ll leave your little mates alone. Can’t guarantee you won’t, though,” a shudder ran through the boy’s body. Delicious. Spike shifted into his true face, let Xander see the flicker of gold in his eyes as he smiled.
Two days later, Xander Woke. He had a laugh like a hyena and he liked to hunt little blonde girls.
“Fun …” gasp of air he didn’t require as he shuddered, pushed himself into Spike’s cool body.
“Always,” heady sense of accomplishment as he felt himself stretch, catch in his voice, brutal rhythm, heavy tanned body covering every part of him, smothering him in a way Drusilla never could.
This was it – his missing element. And what a pleasant element it was.
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