Feeding the Soul

by
Randy Sex Kitten



The night air weighed heavy in his lungs and he drank it in. He could feel an odd little itch in his brain, a familiar prickle that served to remind him that he was never truly alone in his mind.

Tonight was one of those nights. She wanted out, she wanted to play and hunt and mate and scream into the night. He knew that going home to Anya wasn’t an option. He’d only made that mistake once. The bruises across her back and thighs led to many nights of long conversations that drove him to seek solace someplace far away from her.

He locked the door behind him and moved out across campus, taking the long way back to his car. She whined and his body trembled in response. “Alright, alright. Hunting. I’m doing it. Sheesh, demanding little…”

A hunt would sate her. Find prey, follow it, startle it into submission and she would retreat, her laughter following behind her. Not for the first time, he sought out the common area of Sunnydale University, watching and waiting for something to strike her fancy.

He crouched down behind a tree; his eyes open wide as he waited for her prey. A tickle moved down his spine and he instinctively looked to his right, seeing nothing, but waiting just to be sure. A moment later, a shadow moved slowly through the trees and a feral smile crossed Xander’s face.

The shadow crept slowly through the field, and Xander followed silently as she howled in his mind. The silence required for the hunt felt unnatural to them both and he fought the urge to let her cry out her pleasure.

He finally caught sight of his prey as the figure moved under a light that it could not avoid. Xander frowned. The man was covered head to toe in black-ops gear. She howled in anger as the other came forward, whispering what each piece of equipment was and how best to avoid getting entangled with any of them.

Xander nodded and continued forward, moving outside the range of the light and following as the figure began to race toward a slightly lightened shadow of a man standing on a rise. A weapon appeared in the man’s hand and she would not be restrained. As the man reached his goal and the weapon struck, she screamed out her displeasure at the unfair advantage. The man spun just as the shadowed figure crumpled under the onslaught of the taser.

Xander dove, knocking the man to the ground and rolling them both into the silent figure on the ground. Letting her have her way, he allowed his body to rip and tear, destroying or throwing away each weapon as it was uncovered.

Slowly, her hunt-lust began to fade and Xander felt the all too familiar depression that signaled her departure rush over him. He had done it again; let her out, let her hurt someone. He reached for the soldier, for now he could see that’s what he was, and turned him over, reaching up to check for a pulse. Stillness met his touch and he cried out in fear, tears rushing to fill his eyes. He raked his hands over the still body, yelling soundlessly, falling into shock.

“Bloody Hell.”

Xander’s neck wrenched as he jerked his head to the side, recognizing the voice, but not wanting to be right. He wiped at the tears that blurred his vision and began to slowly back away from the dead body, watching as the figure that the soldier had attacked sat up and defined itself as William the Bloody. Terror flooded his system and he began to shake.

“What in the fuck was that?” Spike leaned forward, looking down the slope. Xander could see that the back of his head was white and black and green, dirt and grass falling away as he shook his head and glanced at the body lying beside him.

He growled and Xander continued to retreat, his hands and knees catching on rocks and twigs as he tried to crawl backward without a sound. Spike turned his head, his eyes landing on Xander and he froze, hoping that Spike wouldn’t notice him if he just didn’t move.

Snot and tears rolled down his face and he could feel his elbows begin to shudder under the strain of holding himself up. Spike stood, still shaking his head as if he were having problem focusing and Xander’s eyes locked onto Spike’s face, where the demon was fading and reappearing in bursts.

“You there,” Spike’s voice was harsh and cold in Xander’s ears and he shook his head, scooting back another few inches and lifting one arm to wipe his face on the sleeve, leaving a trail of dirt in the wake.

“Hey. I’m talking to you.” Spike took a step toward Xander and stumbled, falling hard, catching himself on his hands and growling menacingly. “Fuck,” he muttered, letting him arms buckle and rolling to his back.

As Spike stared up at the sky, Xander’s attention was drawn back to the dead soldier. The ache in his chest warred with the fear-laced adrenalin his brain was feeding him and he gasped, panic digging in.

He’d killed tonight and he was going to be killed.

Spike rolled and propped himself on his elbows, his eyes focusing on Xander. “You, boy. I know you. You’re one of the Slayer’s lackeys.”

Xander trembled. He couldn’t hear Spike’s words through the cacophony of noises in his mind. His breath was harsh in his chest and each gasp hurt, burning at his soul and he retched, his stomach refusing to let go of its contents. His heartbeat throbbed just inside his eardrums and the screaming pain that lingered in his chest began to grow hot. Spike disappeared behind a wave of illumination that made him dizzy. His elbows gave out and the last thing he felt was the cool dampness of the grass followed by the roughness of the soil beneath as his head struck the ground.






When Xander woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his face hurt. His questing fingertips found the damp abrasion on his cheek and he opened his eyes with a hiss of pain, automatically seeking out something to quell the bleeding that he felt there.

“Hush now,” a rough voice muttered. A cool cloth appeared above him and Xander took it gratefully, pressing it to his cheek. A corner dragged across his lips and he caught it with his teeth, sucking at the moisture there.

A cold hand wrapped around the back of his neck and he began to struggle, attempting to roll away, but finding himself trapped. His eyes flew open as he felt a weight settle on his thighs, and he came face to face with Spike as he was lifted effortlessly into a sitting position.

“Drink this,” Spike instructed, lifting a glass to Xander’s lips. He swallowed convulsively, choking as the water flowed too fast into his mouth and throat. He felt his stomach and lungs revolt and felt his face begin to burn as he vomited over Spike and himself.

Spike roared and leapt from the bed in a move that no living body could reproduce, and with his supporting hand gone, Xander fell back, landing on the bed with a thump and rolling as he felt a second wave approach.

After his belly stopped heaving, having nothing else to bring up, Xander turned to look toward the source of the colorful swearing that was bouncing off the walls of the cavern.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, the rawness of his throat making him moan.

Spike glared at him and stripped out of his clothes, wiping down his arm and neck with his t-shirt before wadding them into a ball and flinging them across the room. Xander’s eyes were drawn down Spike’s body cataloging the bruises on his right temple, the deep holes burnt into his side by the taser and his half-hard cock.

Groaning, Xander let his head fall forward, not caring that he was laying in a pile of his own waste. His face, chest and skull rang out their own pain and a he turned to peek at Spike once more.

“Get up. Got to change the sheets,” Spike ordered. He reached out and dragged Xander from the bed, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground and ripping the blankets and sheets from the mattress.

“Get out of those clothes, you reek.”

Xander nodded and let his jacket drop from his shoulders. He peeled his wet shirt off and repeated Spike’s actions, wiping his face before throwing it in the direction Spike had thrown his own clothing. Spike’s cursing continued, and Xander found that he actually recognized several words that he was sure were not dialects that humans used.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, trying to breathe as his stomach lurched again, the pinpricks that had developed just under his skin when he vomited warming up to strike out once again.

Strong arms pulled him to his feet and his eyesight dimmed at the swift change. His jeans loosened and dropped and he stepped out of them gratefully, reaching out to hold onto one bony shoulder as his equilibrium threatened to abandon him.

Spike walked him toward the table, reaching for the abandoned glass of water. “Here, rinse and spit.”

Xander rinsed out his mouth and throat, spitting into an empty glass sitting on the table. He looked at Spike questioningly.

“Drink.”

The glass was lifted to his mouth again and this time he didn’t choke. He swallowed the tepid water eagerly, embracing the burn as it moved down his throat. Spike took the empty glass and placed it back on the table, before turning to Xander once more.

Xander blushed as he was stripped of his boxers and placed back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and rolled away as the mattress buckled and a solid weight settled next to him.

“Now boy. Tell me your name and tell me why you saved me tonight.”

Xander shook his head, crying out when he was yanked upright and turned. Spike rolled to straddle him again.

“Name,” he prompted.

“X…Xander.”

“Good boy,” Spike praised. He shifted and Xander was alarmed to feel a swelling in the thick flesh resting just beside his cock.

Spike’s hand ran down his face, petting him, brushing his hair back. “Now, why did you save me from that wanker that zapped me?”

Xander shook his head again. This time his head snapped back as Spike stuck him with a flat palm, leaving a burning set of fingerprints across his abraded cheek.

He felt his tears threaten once more and began gasping out his answer. “I didn’t know. I was hunting! She needs it. Hunt or mate and after last time, I can’t. I mean, she doesn’t like Anya. She found prey and he was covered in weapons and when he attacked the shad… you, she exploded. Usually we just scare them, we just stalk and frighten, but she… I… killed!”

He screamed, the sound scraping his throat dry. Unexpectedly, he found himself cradled against Spike’s chest and rocked. A soft crooning noise was emanating from the throat just next to his ear and slowly, he felt the tears stop. Slowly he felt his lungs begin to take in air on their own.

He fell asleep like that, his ear pressed to Spike’s collarbone, his mouth open as his mind blissfully drifted.






Rasping noises drew him back out from under the sea of black. He struggled against the sensation, wanting nothing more than to hide himself there where it was safe and dark and quiet. But soon sensations began to filter through his shocky system. Pain was fading, pleasure rising.

Something cool and wet was moving over and around his cock and he groaned as a tunnel closed tightly around it. His hips began to move on their own and a surprised yelp escaped him as his release burst over him.

Panting, he opened his eyes to see Spike kneeling up between his legs, his hand moving up and down a solid pale cock that gleamed slightly in the filtered light. Those same fingers reached toward him and they glinted as well.

The ease with which they slid into him explained their shininess and he stammered and stuttered, his body not realizing that he was the penetrator not the penetrated. But his hips, mind and cock didn’t seem to care and all three responded, moving toward the touch, offering more.

The odd sensation of fingers deep inside him couldn’t distract him from the dark eyes that were boring into his. Spike fell forward, catching himself on one arm and capturing Xander’s mouth in a kiss.

Not Anya, he tried to scream, but this kiss was so familiar. Harder and deeper than the shy kisses shared with Jesse, more passionate and demanding than those given by Oz, but still familiar and he cried out into Spike’s mouth.

The fingers disappeared and Xander shifted uncomfortably as Spike began to slide into him. A sharp pain had him biting down on the soft lip that was pressed against his and Spike pulled away, howling and thrusting deep.

Xander cried out, his arms flying up off the bed to wrap around Spike’s neck and back, pulling him closer, drawing him down to kiss again and again as Spike’s thrusts sped.

“Saved me, you saved me,” Spike panted, and Xander nodded.

The itch announced her presence and Xander was shocked to see recognition in Spike’s eyes. “Beautiful beast,” he muttered, petting Xander once again, pulling him up and forward until Xander sat astride his thighs.

“You saved me, beautiful beast,” Spike repeated as his hands both twined in Xander’s hair.

Xander squirmed, Spike’s motionless penetration driving him to lift and lower himself. He began to struggle when the hands in his hair jerked his head back and back and back and he cried out only once at the burning in his throat before he became lost in the ecstasy.



The End