Appropriate Ratings: R
Warnings: mentions of non-con, sex, boys loving boys, character death (Let me know if I missed any)
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Someone takes his kitten away and Spike fights to get him back. Set after School Hard, but I don't know how far, goes AU.
Word Count: 2728 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: tamakin and laazikaat
purpledodah requested: Ohhh gets excited. Erm.... my request was Xander being vamped by a strange vampire, possibly just a minion.... Spike takes over his care after finding him and dusting the 'sire'. I'm sure Xan would need lots of training. Scoobies reactions are optional, don't really care what they think, but would assume they would want xander cared for, esp if he was still somehow very much 'Xan'.
I hope I've fulfilled at least part of what you wanted hun.
What I Need
He’d heard the reports; of course he’d heard the reports! He’d had to have been dust to have missed them.
One of the Slayer’s minions was missing.
Thankfully the Snkrfthl’s testicles were fairly near the surface, so he hadn’t had to dig much further than he already was and after a few hours it was more than willing to share what information it had. Though if he hadn’t put the gag in the creature’s mouth, he/she/it/.whatever might have started talking sooner.
It took a little extra digging to find out which one it was though, and Spike admitted to himself that he may have let things get further than he intended, but he got the information anyways; it just took a little longer. Ah well, hindsight 20/20 and all that; besides sometimes torture was fun for torture’s sake. Apparently the moron who’d captured the prize didn’t know the rules. Apparently, they didn’t respect territorial lines.
That was alright.
It hadn’t taken nearly as much time as he’d have liked. A lucky landing on a broken, exposed wooden support beam had turned the poacher to ash. Before he had a chance to vent his frustrations on the newly set up and freshly destroyed Master’s minions, they’d scattered without even offering token protection for their leader. Smarter than most… he chuckled to himself, lighting a cigarette and taking a puff to calm his fidgeting.
He heard it then. He’d been searching for a heartbeat since he’d invaded the lair, searching for that cinnamon and sunshine smell with a heavy layer of chocolate underneath. He didn’t hear a heartbeat, but he heard the shuddered gasp of recognition and the whimper of fear from beside the dead Master’s throne. It drew him, called to him, his demon aching to reclaim a gift freely given that had been rather rudely taken from him.
His prize cowered in a ball, trembling in fear and misery at his feet. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want a broken minion to offer empty praise and die as cannon fodder. He’d wanted his prize, the feisty little kitten that spat insults in the face of death. Not this. He leaned over and unclipped the chain leash from the throne, wrapping the trailing end around his fist as he drew his pet to its feet.
This was precisely the moment his partially feral pet chose to try to make a mad dash for the door.
Spike smiled while he drew the leash shorter and shorter, dragging his newly reclaimed pet forcefully back to him. Wide brown eyes looked defiantly up at him before shifting to gold, that’s when he knew. His prize wasn’t lost after all, and apparently had learned the lesson that vampires don’t need to breathe a lot quicker than he’d made the same realization. Oh I have some lovely ideas to try out on you pet. Gonna take you every way you’ve ever had a dirty thought about and several that you haven’t yet..
His smile suddenly showed a lot more teeth.
He woke up in the plain cement room he’d died in. It was painfully bright and stank of his own fear, excrement and death. His Sire had locked him in here before killing him. He’d spent days in the dank darkness before he was dragged out in front of the court; the light was only turned on after. He’d fought, kicked and swore, used his witty banter to strike annoyance in the unbeating hearts of his tormentors while they dragged him in front of their leader.
It had been useless of course.
He was still dead, still turned, still marked, still owned, still hungry. It clawed at him, ripping and shredding him from the inside out. He used to scream. He used to beg and scream and plead. It hurt, hurt so badly, he just wanted to slake his hunger.
They promised, promised in silky voices and tender caresses that he’d get to feed soon enough; if he behaved. So he stopped screaming, stopped fighting, and found his place changed to being chained to his Sire’s chair, throne, reject from a heavy metal video – it had obviously been too ugly to even trash on camera – whatever the hell it was supposed to be, instead of that cell. He didn’t care, he really didn’t care, as long as he was finally allowed to feed. But it never seemed to happen, but he daren’t misbehave now or all of this would be for nothing. They promised! They promised he’d feed, and he would, eventually… right? They promised! They promised!
He’d heard the fight, saw his Sire slain before his very eyes while he cowered behind the throne -chair- and watched. Everyone had run away, no one was left but the older, stronger invading vampire and himself. When he finally clued in to his leash coming free he realized he’d waited too long, his chance to escape was past; but he tried anyway.
He didn’t remember much after that, just trying to claw his way out, free, to feed and waking up here. It was so bright, it made his eyes burn, even with his eyelids closed. He cowered in a corner, curled up on his knees with his head pressed into the white stone wall. His head hurt, but that was okay, it didn’t hurt as much as the hunger. He didn’t know why he wasn’t dead, why the new Master had spared him, he didn’t care, he just hoped he’d let him feed.
He heard the door slowly creak open and started rocking gently, hitting his head against the walls in a steadily increasing tempo. A barked command stilled him, but he couldn’t stop the trembling. He wished it didn’t hurt, he’d do anything to make the hurt stop.
“Bugger didn’t feed you at all, did he? Left you to starve to show his power over one of the Slayer’s minions,” he stroked fingers through filthy matted hair. Soothing, calming and claiming all at the same time. He was gonna drop you in the middle of ‘em, you know. Let you do the most damage before they dusted you. He didn’t know, it seems.”
He felt the boy beneath him start to relax, lulled into an odd hypnotic state. “You’re not broken yet, pet… it’s the hunger that’s got you now. It’ll pass.” The rocking form stilled at that, the head lifted and turned, baring a single baleful gold eye.
“It’ll pass if you submit. If you accept me as your new Sire,” the eye narrowed in distrust. “I take care of what’s mine!” said with possibly more conviction than strictly necessary, but it’s true, and it works.
The filthy starving minion then sat up and bared his throat, not even bothering to turn around, a soft yearning keening coming from his throat. “Shhh pet… it’ll be alright. Gonna make everything alright.”
Pale fingers twisted in sable hair, wrenching the bowed head further to the side to bare the vulnerable curve even more. His pet gasped when his skin was parted by razor sharp teeth, then shivered and moaned helplessly while Spike drank the weak fluid left in his veins. It left him elated, ecstatic and downright horny. He rubbed his body once more against Spike’s, whimpering needily.
Strong hands flipped and turned him so the boy was facing him for the first time. Xander’s eyes were clouded with lust and recognition was slow to dawn, but when it did it was everything Spike had been waiting for. Recognition, fear, respect, it was all there, that and lust. Lust poured off the boy, filling the room with the cloying seductive scent and Spike felt his body responding.
“Know who I am, then?”
Eyes drifted half closed as he nodded, and once more bared his throat, uncaring who it was as long as he got to feed. Spike saw it all painted clear as day on his face, vibrating along the tenuous bond the first bite had produced.
“Know you’re mine?” He shook the boy once, making sure he was being paid attention to. A lazy nod was his response, that and the forcefully bared throat. The wound still seeped, dribbling blood down his bare chest, ridged face lax in bliss, his chest heaved in each hungry breath. Spike leaned down and lapped at the tepid flow, agile tongue stimulating a steady stream of blood while pulling gasping moans from the boy, leaving his pet almost comatose from blood loss and lust.
Spike pressed the nail of his thumb against his own pectoral muscle and slashed a deep, short cut. His pet’s eyes snapped open and stared with a heated gaze at the crimson flow, focus returning to them. Still, Xander waited, waited in a tense tangle of muscles at Spike’s feet, waited for permission to be given, to be released to feed.
By the time the command came, Xander was so mindless with hunger that he was already drinking before he noticed he’d moved. The gush of barely warm, power laced blood into his waiting and unprepared mouth made it flood with saliva in response. He swallowed he first mouthful, barely tasting it, and consciously drew the next one in. He felt his toes curl while his eyes rolled back in his head as the taste finally registered with his brain.
He was happy he didn’t have to breathe anymore, or he would have blacked out rather quickly. The heady drink was old, rich, full, like licking a live wire that stroked every nerve. It was divine and he wanted more. He felt his belly trembling, filling with the rich bounty after so long with nothing, and still his new Master urged him to drink.
No… not new Master… new Sire.
He didn’t feel nearly as hopeless as he had before. In fact, the longer he drank, the easier it was to feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface. His thinking became clearer, more defined and less distracted and single minded. His cock bloomed against his thigh, thickening and filling out with each pull of heady drink. He whimpered and slid his body against Spike’s, rubbing it in rhythm to each pull.
For the first time in his existence he finally understood what it meant to be home.
Spike continued to pet Xander’s hair and felt the moment Xander went from minion to childe. It felt like an easing of pressure somewhere deep inside and suddenly he was connected to Xander on a deeply primal level. He felt Xander relax into him during that same instant, felt the cool tears spill from brown eyes and heard the soft keening Xander could no longer hold back. There’s my boy, not gonna lose him. Gonna keep what’s mine.
Spike felt his new childe start to fall asleep and caught him before he hit the floor. He carried his cool burden back to the sumptuous bedroom he’d found earlier, slid Xander between the sheets and lit the fireplace to shed some warmth into the chilled room. He heard the soft whimpers Xander made in his sleep, saw the hands twitching as if to ward something, or someone, off, and he felt his anger rise.
Sodding imbecilic fools What did they do to my poor kitten? Didn’t want him broken. Well, okay, broken, but my way! And rebuilt into the master vampire I know he can be. Now this sniveling little lump is my only claim.
He trained the whelp for a grueling and intense four months before he was truly convinced Xander was a fit Master Vampire of the Arelius line and able to be present with outside company. This meant Xander could accompany him to Willies bar or a hunting scene or the Bronze or even attend a formal gathering and Spike was confident he’d have nothing to worry about. It also meant he could hunt and feed without waiting for his Master’s consent. Spike wondered who the first prey for his brunet beauty would be and shivered in anticipation.
He’s so beautiful when he stalks his prey, all deadly grace and quiet calm. I made that, created that, and he’s mine, now and forever. Knows it too, accepts it, sometimes I swear he enjoys it. Spike mused to himself while his eyes danced down Xander’s body, consuming him with a look. The brunet wiggled his ass with each step in response, he knew how to play the game.
The door to the factory-turned-club opened and a red haired girl stumbled out. She was half blind in the darkness, barely able to make out large objects to avoid as she made her way home, head bowed between two hunched shoulders. Spike saw his boy stiffen in recognition and subtly change his stance from confident hunter to awkward teenager. He snuck up behind the redhead and called softly “Willow?”
“Xander? XANDER!” She ran over and gave Xander a tight hug, holding him close and gulping back sobs. “We didn’t hear from you in in-in a really long time and and-and now here you are, right in front of me. We’ve been looking for you and searching but the last place we heard you might be in had been cleared out already, but you’re here! You’re here with me! And alive! You are alive, right?”
Xander smiled slowly in response, and held Willow tight in his arms, one hand at her head, the other wrapped around her waist. “You’d think, after all this time, that that would be the question you asked first, Will. You might have lasted a little longer that way.”
Spike watched the whelp’s features change to that of his demon, watched as he bit deeply into the redhead’s throat, watched as he drank his fill of her, squeezing her to the rhythm of her heart beat to get every single drop until she was spent.
Xander dropped the body against the alley wall in a pile of trash, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before walking back to his Master’s side. He rubbed his trapped erection against Spike’s thigh, while kissing him deeply, moaning when Spike’s hands began roaming his body.
He fell to his knees at the gentle nudging down of his shoulder and quickly undid the blond’s belt and pants before taking the already hard cock into his mouth. He heard Spike hiss softly when his pierced tongue started playing with his foreskin and soft head hidden in the folds, he liked that sound so he did it again before swallowing the whole thing down. Spike grunted in lust and grabbed the back of Xander’s head, forcing him down further, deeper, harder.
Not breathing had never come in more handy, he thought to himself while swallowing the length of cock Spike was force-feeding him.
“Play with yourself,” his Sire commanded between grunts, making Xander squirm in delight before complying. He unzipped his fly and pulled himself out, fucking his fist while Spike fucked his face. He loved this; pleasing him, keeping him happy. He groaned when Spike’s words were grunted at him again, “Can come when I do whelp, my pretty little whore, fuck, yes…”
He loved this part, the part where Spike couldn’t form coherent words no matter how hard he tried, when he knew he was pleasing his Sire to the best of his trained abilities. He closed his eyes and hummed low in his throat, sending the vibrations up Spike’s shaft. The answering groan made him smirk around the cock in his mouth, right before he plied every trick he knew into making Spike spill his tepid seed down his yielding throat.
Minutes later Spike emptied his completion down the pliant throat and Xander coated the wall with his. Xander put Spike and himself together before nibbling at the dead pulse point along the throat with soft lips, “Was it good for you, Sire?”
“Aye boy, take it you knew the chit before?”
“Yeah, she was a friend… my only real friend. I did everything with her and another friend named Jesse.”
Spike tucked a shaggy lock of hair behind Xander’s ear, “So why’d you kill her then, if she’d done you no harm?”
“Because I have you now, you’re my everything, I don’t need her anymore, I have you.”
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