Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17/Slash
Spoilers: This story takes place before Buffy arrives in Sunnydale, but anything mentioned in the series is fair game.
Summary: Prior to Buffy’s arrival in Sunnydale, Xander is captured by vampires to be sold as a human slave.
Notes: Non-con; Spike's POV.
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whomever else they really belong to, although I wouldn’t mind having a Spike of my own. Who would? The story is mine, though.
Thanks: To Tammy, for the most excellent beta.
Written: January 31, 2005



Boy


by
Spikedluv


Spike sauntered into the viewing room alongside his ‘escort’ and, paying no attention to the stock Micah had on display, looked around for the man in question. When Spike’s eyes lighted on him, Micah gave a nearly imperceptible incline of his head to let Spike know he’d been spotted, and continued his conversation with the cloaked vampire who was examining the merchandise exhibited on the pedestal before them.

His escort bowed and left him unchaperoned at Micah’s gesture. Spike frowned. He had no desire to spend the entire night waiting for Micah to negotiate a price for the voluptuous blonde chained to the base of the column upon which she was being shown, just so he could deliver Angelus’ message to the other vampire. He grimaced with distaste when the light shimmered off the slave’s blonde hair—hair that had seen better days—when the prospective buyer ran his fingers through it. Blonde reminded him of Darla, and that he could do without.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Dru had taken ill and needed her ‘daddy’, he’d have never returned to Angelus’ fold. Master of Los Angeles or not, Spike had no intention of playing second fiddle to Angelus again. And the pillock could just find someone else to play the postman next time he needed to send a communication to the troll who claimed to be Master of Sunnydale.

As much as he itched to be on his way, Spike knew he couldn’t leave until he supplied Micah with the information Angelus wanted passed on to that old bat Heinrich, Micah’s Master. Bored, he wandered around the room, keeping his hands to himself, and his eyes and ears open for anything that might be of interest to Angelus. Not that he owed his ponce of a grand-sire anything. Unfortunately, the only deals being struck were for the slaves Micah had on offer.

Spike had only once before attended one of Micah’s auctions. Micah collected humans; the best of the lot were sold as slaves, the rest as food. Prior to the auction, those bound to be slaves were put on display and examined by prospective purchasers. Once in a while, as seemed to be happening with the cloaked vampire, Micah was offered a good enough deal that he pulled the slave from the auction and sold it on the spot.

He was getting weary of the raucous laughter, and the discussion of one slave’s attributes over another’s. Spike didn’t need a human slave to do his bidding, as all he had to do was snap his fingers to have humans and minions alike groveling at his feet. In his opinion, human slaves were more trouble than they were worth. Besides, he didn’t have the money to purchase a slave, even if he did want one.

Turning away from the distasteful spectacle in front of him, Spike found himself confronted with a slave who was being given a wide berth. Curious, Spike moved closer. The human, a young male, was kneeling, his head bowed, shaggy brown hair falling over his face, and his hands chained behind his back. His ankles were cuffed together, and a chain led from the gaudy chain collar around his neck to the bolts at the base of the column.

Spike could see that the boy had been whipped; the marks were no longer raw, but he could tell that they were recent. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and ran it down his back, ignoring the slight shudder at his touch, and feeling the slight bumps and ridges of old scars that told the story of a slave who didn’t accept his position and required a great deal of punishment. No wonder he was being disregarded; no one in their right mind would pay the amount Micah got at auction for such a slave. Spike briefly wondered where the boy would end up if no one purchased him; he’d probably be sold at a much lower price for food, or to someone who didn’t want a slave so much as a human to beat whenever the mood struck.

“Interested?” Micah asked from behind him.

Spike had been so involved in his study of the boy that he had been unaware of Micah’s approach. He managed to not give his surprise away to the other vampire, but his hand tightened reflexively on the human and Spike thought he heard a soft snort. He frowned. This one had still not learned his place. Spike wondered why Micah would even include him in the auction.

“No,” Spike said shortly. He turned to face Micah. “I don’t want a human slave, and if I did, this one would be unacceptable. I thought you only offered the best at your auctions.” Spike couldn’t resist the dig; he really didn’t like Micah. He didn’t miss the startled gasp from behind him at his comment and for some reason it pleased him that he’d been able to get a reaction from the captive, though it should have been above him. Who was he kidding? He loved nothing better than getting a reaction from anyone, but enjoyed it even more if they considered themselves his superior.

Assuming a haughty demeanor that was only a step above his usual arrogance, Spike spoke the formal words he’d been charged with. “I come bearing a message of considerable importance from Angelus, Master of Los Angeles, for Heinrich, Master of Sunnydale and head of the Order of Aurelius. Do you accept it on his behalf?”

Micah straightened, which was hard to see since he normally walked as though he had a stick up his ass, but vampire eyes were very discerning. “I will,” he intoned.

Spike pulled a parchment envelope from his duster pocket—Angelus was enamored of appearances—and handed it over to Micah. As the Master’s right hand, Micah was privy to all communications. Micah opened the envelope and perused the words that Spike had read standing over Angelus’ shoulder while he wrote them, commenting at the time that he was surprised the Irish lout had ever learned to write, and earning himself a backhand that bloodied his lip.

Dear Heinrich, Master of Sunnydale, head of the Order of Aurelius, Sire of Darla, and Grand-Sire of Angelus, Master of Los Angeles,

There is a new Slayer in Los Angeles. She is very strong, though young, and not very bright. It appears that she wasn’t discovered by the Council of Morons, aka Watcher’s Council, until she’d already been called, and she doesn’t seem to believe deeply in her newfound vocation. This should make her easier to eliminate, though I must admit my minions haven’t had much luck as of yet.

Intelligence reports indicate that the WC is sending the Slayer to Sunnydale, supposedly to guard the Hellmouth, but most probably because they have been unable to govern her thoughts and actions as they have slayers in the past, and the WC likes nothing that it cannot control. Perhaps they believe that the next slayer will be easier to manage.

I hope that this information is of some use to you.

Eternally Yours,

Angelus, Master of Los Angelus, sired of Darla

Micah blanched. Spike didn’t think he’d ever seen a vampire do that before. He folded the missive and stuck it back inside the envelope. “Will you wait for the Master’s reply?” he asked.

Spike narrowed his eyes dangerously. He had no intention of hanging around this backwater town any longer than absolutely necessary. “I’d hoped to get back to LA before sunrise,” he said politely, instead of what he really wanted to say.

“I’ll make the wait worth your while,” Micah offered. “Here, you can have this human you were admiring.”

His eyebrows were in danger of falling off his face, he’d raised them so high at this unprecedented offer. Micah was nothing if not frugal. “What’s wrong with ‘im?” Spike asked insultingly. “And I wasn’t admiring him so much as noticing his scars, which lead me to believe that he must be a lot of trouble. More trouble than a human slave is worth, if you ask me.”

“He does need a firm hand,” Micah allowed, “but he’s very beautiful. Well worth the trouble, in my humble opinion,” he added with little humility.

“Then why are you giving him away?” Spike asked. “You’re usually tighter than a virgin on her wedding night.”

Micah sighed impatiently. “Damn it, William,” he hissed.

“Spike,” Spike growled.

“It is important to me that you remain until tomorrow night so that I may discuss this...” He waved the envelope. “...with the Master and see if he has a return message for Angelus. If you do not like the human, you may leave him behind when you depart. Tomorrow night. Please, Spike,” he implored when Spike remained silent.

At a sound behind him, Spike pivoted. The boy had raised his head, and Spike found big brown eyes sparking with anger, and a hint of fear, staring back at him. He hardened in his jeans. He’d always been a sucker for brown hair and brown eyes. Damn Micah for knowing that.

“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly. “I’ll remain until tomorrow night. Is the boy a virgin?” he added meanly as his eyes roved over the slender frame. The boy’s skin turned a mottled shade of red and white, probably as it both paled and blushed at the implications of Spike’s question.

“Of course,” Micah assured him in a relieved tone. “I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with him....”

“I’d better be,” Spike said, cutting him off. “Have someone unchain him. Now. Where will I be staying?”

Micah motioned to someone, and then turned back to Spike as he retrieved a key ring from his pocket. “Josiah will show you to your room,” he said as he unfastened the lock at the base of the column, and then the cuffs around the boy’s ankles.

“Leave his hands,” Spike commanded, and then held his own hand out for the key as he met the boy’s glare.

“If you haven’t eaten yet, Josiah will have someone delivered to your room,” Micah offered hospitably.

“That won’t be necessary,” Spike said, his eyes still locked on the boy’s. “He looks tasty.”

Prior to leaving LA, and after another in a series of arguments with Darla, he’d found a skinny blonde and made her last minutes hell on earth, but he didn’t see any reason to tell the boy that. Besides, he might indulge in a nip or two before nightfall; the boy did look like he’d be a nummy treat. Spike licked his lips. The boy paled and began to tremble.

Josiah arrived and Micah ordered him to escort Spike and his new human slave to guest quarters, said a hurried goodbye to Spike, and then scurried off to see the Master.

“Help me get him down,” Spike commanded, and he and Josiah lifted the boy down from the pedestal. When the boy’s legs collapsed in under him, probably asleep from kneeling on the pedestal for hours, Spike unceremoniously picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. The boy made a noise that sounded like a protest at his rough treatment, but cut it off with a moan when Spike landed a sharp slap to his bare backside. Spike adjusted himself in his jeans and followed Josiah out of the viewing room.



Spike shut the door in Josiah’s face, and then dumped the boy onto the large bed that took up half the room. Sprawled on the bed, arms trapped beneath him, Spike could see the boy’s ribs. The whippings must not have been the only punishment he received. Ignoring the laser of death the boy was aiming at him, Spike surveyed the spacious and well-appointed room Micah had assign to them. The other vampire was nothing if not concerned with appearances.

Spike took his duster off and tossed it towards the chair in the corner. He turned back to the boy and let his eyes slowly scan his naked form. He was a bit on the skinny side, but nothing a good couple of meals wouldn’t take care of. His chest was bare, but his legs were covered with fine, dark hairs, and a thick patch of black curls framed soft genitals.

“How old are you, boy?” Spike asked suddenly.

“F-fuck you.” The boy’s voice quavered.

Spike grabbed his hair and forced his head back. “I think you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself, boy. Don’t worry, we’ll get to that, though I’ll be the one doing the fucking. Now answer the question,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“S-sixteen,” the boy replied tremulously.

Sixteen was young, but you couldn’t tell with the youth of today, Spike thought in a darkly amused way. “And are you a virgin, boy?”

The boy swallowed hard. “Xander,” he said. Spike looked at him questioningly. “My name...is Xander,” he spoke as firmly as he could, in the position he was in.

“Your name,” Spike snarled, “will be whatever I choose to call you, Boy. Now answer. The question.”

“Y-y-yes,” Boy responded fearfully. Boy had learned enough from the lessons Micah’s handlers taught him to allow himself to be managed, but there was still a spark of anger in his eyes, and he still retained a sense of self. Micah hadn’t been able to break him; Spike wondered if he could.

“Do you know why Micah gave you to me, Boy?” he asked conversationally, running his free hand over Boy’s body. Not waiting for an answer, he went on. “Because you’re worthless to him. He couldn’t turn you in to a docile slave, and so you’d be useless as anything but a snack. I think Micah’s a fool.” Spike cupped and squeezed Boy’s manly bits, smiling as he flinched away from Spike’s touch.

“I don’t like docile,” Spike continued. “But I do require loyalty. I bet I can make you do anything I want you to, and not because I’ve beaten you, or starved you, but because you want to.”

“Fat...chance,” Boy spit out breathlessly as Spike continued to caress his danglies.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you haven’t had a big, fat cock up your pretty ass, making you squeal with pleasure,” Spike hissed as he flipped Boy over.

Boy squeaked in surprise and fear, but Spike ignored him and ran his hands down Boy’s back and over his ass, squeezing his cheeks just enough to get Boy’s heart beating rapidly, and then moving down his legs. When he was done surveying his newest acquisition, Spike unlocked the cuffs and removed the chain from Boy’s wrists.

Spike dropped the chain beside the bed and moved away, unbuttoning the red shirt he wore over his black t-shirt. Without looking back, he could tell that Boy had sat up and was attempting to stand. “Tell me you’re not that stupid,” he said with a sigh as he removed the shirt and tossed it towards the duster. It landed on the edge of the chair and slithered to the floor.

When Spike turned back, Boy was standing unsteadily beside the bed. He lowered his eyes when Spike looked at him, but Spike wasn’t fooled by the meek act.

“Walk around a bit, get the feeling back in your legs,” Spike commanded, knowing that’s exactly what Boy wanted to do, and that he would hate that Spike had ordered it of him.

With one hand on the bed, Boy walked around it. Spike didn’t take his eyes off Boy, deciding that he liked the look of him. Maybe he would keep him. He’d been a gift, after all. Spike lifted his t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the chair, then checked his duster pockets until he found a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and his cell phone. He removed a cigarette and lit it before dropping them onto the bedside table and throwing himself onto the bed.

After blowing the smoke out in a series of practiced rings, Spike said, “Untie my boots,” and then ignored Boy as he dialed the phone.

His call was picked up on the other end by Nicolas, Angelus’ personal assistant. He’d last as long as Darla was willing to allow Angelus to fuck the younger vampire, and then would disappear, just as all the others had.

“Hel—.”

“Put Angelus on,” Spike interrupted.

Master Angelus is otherwise engaged, right now....”

“Well tell him to get his mouth off your dick and get to the fucking phone,” Spike suggested, and took another drag off the cigarette. He ignored Nicolas’ implied rebuke for not calling Angelus by his proper title; they’d had the argument too many times in the past weeks. Spike insisted that Angelus wasn’t his master, since he was just visiting. Nicolas found that argument deficient, and Spike’s lack of respect bothersome. Spike didn’t care.

“I’ll see if he can be disturbed,” Nicolas sniffed.

“You do that,” Spike said, glancing down at where Boy was attempting to untie his boots with fingers that still refused to work properly.

When Angelus finally came to the phone, Spike explained that he’d delivered the message and had been invited to spend the night in case the Master of Sunnydale wished to reply. He didn’t think it was necessary to mention Boy. He disconnected the call and dropped the phone on the table beside his cigarettes and lighter, pinched off the cigarette he’d smoked down to nothing while speaking with Angelus, and tossed it towards the ashtray.

Spike sat up and finished untying his boots, then kicked them off. He grabbed Boy’s arm. “Come here,” he growled, pulling Boy onto the bed as he laid back down.

Boy grunted in surprise as he landed atop Spike, and then his eyes got big when he felt the erection poking him through black denim. Spike grinned ferally as he rolled, pinning Boy beneath him. He pulled Boy’s head back and sniffed at his neck, then nudged the chain collar aside and licked over the pulse point, smiling as Boy stiffened.

Spike moved down Boy’s chest and abdomen, sniffing and licking as he went, familiarizing himself with Boy’s scent, taste, but staying away from spots he thought would be arousing. He wasn’t ready for Boy’s thoughts to be dazed with need; wanted him to be conscious of just who...what...was hovering over him. And from the scent of fear wafting off him, Boy was fully aware.

When he reached Boy’s toes, Spike flipped him over and moved back up his body. If he spent more time sniffing and licking at Boy’s ass, Spike told himself it was because the increased output of fear-scent was the cause, rather than the fact that Boy just smelled...more there. At his neck, Spike couldn’t resist a nibble. He shifted into the demon and pressed a fang against the tender skin until he’d created a shallow scratch, lapping and suckling it until he grew uncomfortable in his jeans.

Rolling Boy over, Spike buried one hand in his hair and latched onto his mouth, the desire to taste this part of him overwhelming. While he tasted his fill, Spike’s hand roved over Boy’s body, thumbing a nipple, pinching his side, fondling his bollocks, and then back up to tweak a nipple. Boy moaned and writhed beneath him, and Spike deepened the kiss.

Reluctantly pulling away from kiss-swollen lips, Spike straddled Boy’s hips. “Undo my jeans,” he demanded.

Boy stared at him dumbly.

“Don’t make me tell you again, Boy,” Spike said. “By the time I’m done with you I won’t need the whip to make you mind me, but I’m not adverse to using it.”

Boy’s hands went to the belt at Spike’s waist. He wanted out of his jeans so badly he nearly pushed Boy’s hands away and did it himself, but managed to stop himself, knowing that Boy needed to do this. Needed to realize that he was not the one in control. Would never be the one in control again. That he existed only to serve. To serve Spike.

Boy fumbled with the belt, then slipped the button, pausing before grasping the zip and lowering it. Spike’s cock, hard and red, the tip peeking out from the foreskin, burst forth. Boy jumped as if he’d been shocked.

“Take it in your hand.”

Boy’s hand was shaking, but he managed to wrap his fingers around Spike’s shaft.

“Pump it. Harder.”

Spike loved the look of shock on Boy’s face as he complied with Spike’s commands. Boy nervously licked his lips and the gesture went straight to Spike’s groin. His nuts tingled and he watched as a droplet of pre-come oozed out the slit at the tip of his dick. He grasped Boy’s hand and wiped his finger through the viscous fluid.

“Taste it.”

Boy’s eyes grew wide at the request and he hesitated. Spike shoved the finger towards Boy’s mouth with a brusque, “Open up,” and then into it. “Now lick.” He grinned at the grimace on Boy’s face as he tasted Spike for the first time. “Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled Boy’s hand out of his mouth and towards Spike’s own, “you’ll get used to it.”

Spike stuck Boy’s finger between his lips and sucked on it, the mingled tastes of himself and Boy an intoxicating combination. He sucked the finger clean, and then pulled it farther into his mouth and suckled it some more, before nicking it with a fang. Spike sucked hard enough to draw the blood out to the ineffectual struggles of, and whimpers from the human beneath him.

Humans, Spike thought with a mental eye roll. Boy had probably stubbornly not uttered a word as Micah’s henchmen whipped him, yet complained at a tiny cut. But Spike didn’t spare much time contemplating that, since Boy’s movement between his legs had caused a stirring of renewed interest in his already excited prick.

Spike knee-walked up Boy’s body, snatched his loose hand, and pinned both of them to the bed above his head in one of Spike’s. He traced Boy’s lips with his thumb. “Open up, pet,” he cajoled. “Bet your mouth is gonna feel so good around my cock.”

Boy turned his head away. “I thought you didn’t want a human slave?”

“Who says I’m keeping you?” Spike snarled, annoyed at being kept waiting for the relief he knew awaited him inside Boy’s mouth. “Now, open your mouth, or I’ll find another hole to fuck.”

Boy’s eyes widened in alarm; his heart rate sped up and his breaths became rapid. He swallowed hard. “You’re gonna fuck me, anyway,” he said desperately.

“Yeah,” Spike agreed and watched all hope fade from Boy’s eyes. “But while I’m fucking your pretty mouth, I’m not fucking your tight little ass.” He forced Boy’s head around and moved his hips so that the tip of his cock brushed Boy’s swollen lips. “Your choice.” Spike slipped his hand around to the back of Boy’s neck and threaded his fingers through Boy’s hair. “Just lick it,” he coaxed. “Just stick your tongue out and.... That’s it,” he moaned approvingly as Boy’s warm tongue slipped out from between his lips and touched the tip of Spike’s dick.

“Lick all around it, now, make it nice and wet.” Boy lapped at the leaking slit, and then swirled his tongue around the entire head that protruded from the retracting foreskin. “Yeah, just like, uhh!” Boy slipped the tip of his tongue beneath the foreskin. “Just bloody like that,” Spike continued to offer encouragement, amazed that he could still speak, and even more amazed at his reaction to the mere feel of Boy’s tongue on him. He wondered what it would feel like to slide into that hot, wet mouth, and then decided not to wait any longer to find out.

“Open up,” he urged. “Nice and wide.” With an expression of defeat, Boy opened his mouth and Spike pushed inside until his head was engulfed. “Now suck. Watch the teeth,” he rasped out as Boy sucked on the head of his cock. Bloody hell! If it felt this good now, he wondered how much better it would feel when he was filling Boy’s mouth.

“Oh, yeah, good, good boy, such a sweet mouth,” he encouraged brokenly. “Slick it up good, pet. Oh, no, don’t close your eyes.” Boy’s eyes shot back open. “Want you to know exactly who’s got their cock in your mouth.”

Spike began to gently pump his hips, his prick sliding farther into Boy’s mouth with each thrust. He felt the ridges on the roof of Boy’s mouth, and then nudged the back of Boy’s throat. Boy’s eyes widened when his air cut off. Spike pulled out. “Breathe through your nose,” he commanded, and then pushed back in deeper. Out, and then in, until he slipped down Boy’s throat.

Boy began to buck beneath him as he gagged around Spike’s dick. Spike held on, and continued to push himself into Boy’s mouth. “Through your nose,” he grunted in reminder, unwilling to pull out and lose the lovely sensation of wet heat surrounding him. Eyes wide with panic, nostrils flaring as he sucked in air, Boy’s struggles slowly subsided.

“Good, that’s good,” Spike said approvingly. “Keep sucking.” Boy’s eyes widened even farther in a ‘you must be kidding’ expression. Spike ignored him. “And use that talented tongue.” He pulled out until his prick lay on Boy’s tongue, then pushed back in and down his throat while Boy sucked as best he could, and pressed his tongue against the underside of Spike’s cock.
Spike held on as long as he could, pushing his orgasm down so he could continue to enjoy Boy’s mouth, but finally it was all too much for him. Spike forced his eyes to remain open and locked on Boy’s when his muscles tensed and his hips jerked, and then his balls tightened and his cock pulsed as he shot burst after burst of come down Boy’s throat. Spike pulled back, making sure that some of his load landed on Boy’s tongue so he could taste it. Taste who he belonged to.

Unaccustomed to swallowing a mouthful of come, Boy gagged and some spilled out. Spike slithered down his body and licked Boy’s chin clean, then kissed him, tasting himself in Boy’s mouth.

“Ever done that before?” Spike asked.

“No!” Boy replied vehemently, shuddering with disgust at the thought, then looking dismayed when he realized that he could no longer make that claim.

Spike smirked. Any thoughts he’d had about not keeping Boy had flown out the window the moment he’d felt Boy’s tongue on his cock, and the window had been slammed closed and locked as he’d pushed into Boy’s mouth. And now he was going to feel how tight Boy’s virgin ass was. His erection, which had never waned despite a magnificent orgasm, twitched once more.

“You have such a sweet mouth,” Spike said as he arched his back so he could tongue a nipple while he rubbed himself against Boy. “Can’t wait to see if your ass feels just as sweet.”

The reminder caused Boy to gasp and stiffen beneath him. “You’re still hard!” he accused.

“Oh, yeah,” Spike agreed, dragging his fang along the skin above Boy’s nipple. He lifted his head and smirked. “I can stay hard for hours.”

Realization quickly set in that he’d been played; he hadn’t saved his ass from being ravaged by giving Spike a blow job, because Spike required no recovery time. “You bastard!” he cried, and began to struggle once again.

Spike laughed with delight. Boy’s battle to free himself was a mere nuisance, and his squirming against Spike only served to arouse him more. “You keep wigglin’ around like that, Boy, you’ll be hard in no time,” Spike observed.

With an expression of horror, Boy immediately ceased moving.

“Aww,” Spike gave a fake pout, and then grinned, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth. “Liked it better when you were wrigglin’ ‘round like a little worm, rubbing up against me.”

Spike let go of Boy’s hands and slid down his body, taking little tastes as he went, but not stopping until his face was buried in Boy’s groin. He sniffed again, noticing that Boy wasn’t giving off a hint of arousal. It wouldn’t lessen his enjoyment if Boy didn’t find it pleasurable to take it up the ass, but it did make a difference in his grand scheme to bind Boy to him.

The embarrassment that would flood Boy when he found pleasure in being taken by Spike would hopefully be outweighed by the desperate need for it to happen again. With that in mind, Spike began his assault by nuzzling into Boy’s groin, placing little kitten licks along his soft prick and over his bollocks.

Boy pushed fruitlessly against Spike’s shoulders. Spike lifted his head and forced Boy’s hands down to the bed. “Keep ‘em there, or I’ll cuff you again. Makes no difference to me.”

Without giving Boy time to distract him further, Spike lowered his head and took Boy’s dick into his mouth. It took no time at all for Boy to stiffen under Spike’s expert ministrations. Satisfied with his progress, Spike rose up and shoved his jeans down, then off, dropping them to the floor. He spread Boy’s legs and knelt between them before lifting them and exposing Boy’s pretty pink hole.

Boy whined in distress, but Spike ignored him and once more set himself to bringing Boy to full arousal. He lapped at Boy’s bollocks, then behind them, pressing his tongue against the smooth skin. Unable to wait any longer, Spike pushed Boy’s legs back farther, spreading him wide open and bringing his hole to Spike’s mouth. He licked around it, then over it.

Boy, unused to being touched in this manner, was clenching the bedding in his fists and whimpering. The whimper turned to a full-out moan when Spike flicked his tongue against Boy’s pucker, and then jabbed his tongue inside. It had been a long time since Spike had been with a man, so he took his time eating Boy’s ass, sucking and licking until Boy was slick and open and writhing with unwelcome desire.

Spike raised his head so he could see the pre-come pooling on the head of Boy’s cock. Having tasted every other bit of his new possession, Spike found himself unable to do anything but stick his tongue out and lick up the drops. The bitter salty flavor exploded on Spike’s tongue and swamped his senses like ambrosia.

Boy’s eyes were closed and the comforter was bunched up under his fisted hands. He was mumbling under his breath, “No, no, no, no.”

Spike lowered Boy’s legs and knelt up between them. “Open your eyes,” he commanded, and Boy’s eyes shot open. Making sure Boy was aware of every move he was making, Spike slowly wrapped his fingers around Boy’s dick and pulled on it. Boy’s eyes widened and his fingers clenched even more tightly into the bed covering. Boy’s mantra continued as Spike worked him while leaning over and sorting through the drawer in the bedside table he knew from his previous visit to Sunnyhell would contain enough lube to slick even Darla, the dry old hag.

Spike held the bottle of lube up in front of Boy’s face and noisily flicked cap open. “Bend your knees,” he instructed.

“Please, no,” Boy pleaded, looking up at Spike with those big brown eyes that had captured him in the first place.

Spike let go of Boy and dribbled some lube into his hand, rubbed it on Boy’s cock and began to slowly wank him again. Boy’s eyes rolled back and his breath hitched. “Do it.” Boy bent his knees, placing his feet flat on the bed.

Spike squeezed the lube onto Boy’s bollocks and watched as it dribbled past them, aiming for the hole Spike couldn’t wait to fill. “More. Pull your legs back, open yourself up for me,” he added at Boy’s confused expression. Boy did as he was bid.

“Good boy,” Spike breathed as he rubbed the lube into Boy’s sac and the smooth skin behind it, then stroked his fingers over Boy’s quivering pucker.

“Nononono,” Boy was mumbling again and his eyes had slid closed.

Spike slapped Boy’s ass, and his eyes flew open at the sting. “Keep ‘em open; don’t make me tell you again.” Boy blinked startled eyes at him, and the mantra had ceased. Thankfully. The only thing Spike wanted to hear out of his mouth right now was, “Yesyesyes.”

Spike circled his finger in the slick around Boy’s hole. “Tell me you want it,” he directed. Boy’s mouth closed in a tight, mutinous line. Spike gave Boy’s dick an extra squeeze and twist move as he pumped him, and Boy’s mouth went slack. “Tell me.”

“I-I, ungh, I want it,” Boy managed to get out.

“Tell me you want to feel my finger in your ass, fucking you.” Spike pushed a little more firmly, teasing Boy’s hole while he continued to stroke his prick.

“Yes,” Boy gasped. “I-I want you to fuck my ass with your finger.”

“I knew it,” Spike muttered as he pushed his finger through the ring of muscle and into the snug tunnel of Boy’s ass. “The minute I saw those brown eyes, I knew it.” He twisted his finger, relaxing the muscle, and then pumped it in and out, enjoying the heat of Boy’s body. “You’d be a slut for it. Now tell me you want more.”

The pained expression on Boy’s face had just eased, but when Spike spoke, worry immediately filled his countenance once again. Spike continued with the simultaneous stimulation of Boy’s cock and ass, not letting the discomfort of being buggered allow his erection to wane. Despite Boy’s effort to remain silent, Spike’s fingers coaxed the words out of him as they soon would his orgasm.

“More,” Boy grunted. “Please, uhuhuh, give me more!”

Before the words had left Boy’s mouth, Spike was easing one finger out and replacing it with two. Spike alternated between watching the expressions on Boy’s face, his trembling body, and the way his ass opened around Spike’s fingers as he moved them in and out. When he finally had Boy loosened to his satisfaction, Spike reached for his prostate. Boy nearly jumped off the bed when he found it.

“Ahahahah!” Boy cried out; Spike’s fingers stroking the nub inside his body, along with the hand on his cock, urging him towards climax. Boy’s trembling had increased; he was practically writhing between Spike’s hands, as if he didn’t know whether he wanted to fuck himself on Spike’s fingers, or into Spike’s hand.

Boy came with a silent scream, his ass tightening around Spike’s fingers. Bursts of come spurted out to cover his stomach and chest, drops landing on his chin; Spike continued to milk his cock until Boy whimpered in protest. While Boy was recovering from his orgasm, little moans issuing from his throat, body shuddering with after effects, Spike added a third finger. His body, lax and satiated, easily opened to admit the additional intrusion.

Spike brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean while he watched his fingers slide in and out of Boy’s body. Grasping the back of one thigh, Spike pushed Boy’s leg back farther, spreading him open wider and raising his ass so Spike had a better view. He nearly got lost in the sight of his fingers disappearing into Boy’s hole as it opened and practically sucked them in, and then reappearing.

He waited until Boy’s breathing became more regular before stimulating his prostate once again. Boy whined and jerked as if he’d been electrocuted; the pain probably more potent than the pleasure to his wrung out prick. Spike’s own dick was hard and drooling, and more than ready to take its rightful place inside Boy’s ass.

“Tell me you want my cock,” Spike ordered.

Boy rolled his head on the bed, lashes fluttering, fingers flexing. Spike knew he wanted to say ‘no’, or at the least, remain silent. Knowing his traitorous body would lead him down the path Spike had set for him, Spike once more brushed Boy’s prostate. Again, and again, until Boy’s cock was showing signs of reawakening.

“W-w-want...cock,” Boy panted.

That was good enough for Spike. He slowly withdrew his fingers, feeling a pang of sadness as Boy’s hole closed up. Shaking it off, Spike wiped the lube from his fingers onto his cock, squeezed some more one-handed from the bottle directly onto the head of his dick, gave it a cursory rub to spread it, and then guided the head to Boy’s hole.

Boy was breathing so hard Spike worried he would hyperventilate. “Relax,” he instructed calmly. “Take a deep breath.” Surprisingly, Boy did as he asked. “Now let it out.” Boy exhaled, and Spike pushed. Boy groaned with pain.

“Keep breathing. Deep breath in, and out. In, and out,” Spike encouraged.

Boy’s eyes locked onto Spike’s as if Spike was his salvation. Spike decided he liked that look, and would endeavor to see it on Boy’s face often. While Boy was breathing, Spike slowly slid inside, an inch at a time, until he was in all the way, his bollocks snugged up against Boy’s ass. A nudge of his shoulder against Boy’s leg had him lifting it and placing it over Spike’s shoulder. Spike leaned forward to brace himself on the bed with one hand, and he slid in even deeper. Boy grunted.

Boy’s ass was just as hot and tight as Spike had thought it would be, and he had to force himself to hold still so Boy could adjust to being stretched. He could just fuck him, Spike thought, and to hell with the plan of using the boy’s desire against him, to keep him by Spike’s side. But then he looked into Boy’s eyes, and Spike knew that he wanted to see them filled with hunger for him; wanted the only pain to be that of knowing he’d do anything for Spike because his body had betrayed him into craving this so much.

So Spike held himself in check while the cloud of pain lifted from Boy’s eyes, then began with slight pumps of his hip, getting Boy used to the feel of a cock moving inside him, increasing each thrust in increments until he was pulling almost all the way out. Once Boy had grown used to being buggered, Spike sped up and drove in with deep thrusts. A change in angle had him jabbing Boy’s prostate with each plunge.

Boy moaned breathlessly and his cock twitched back to life. Feel that? Spike thought. That marks the beginning of your downfall, my pet.

Unfortunately, it worked both ways. The sounds Boy made when his prostate was stimulated went straight to Spike’s groin, and he sped up even more, slamming his cock into Boy’s ass. It felt so good to be buried in Boy’s ass that Spike didn’t ever want to stop, but it was too good for him to last. He forced himself to pull out of Boy, lower his legs to one side, and flip him over. Once Boy was on his knees, legs spread, Spike grabbed his hips and rammed back into him, too far gone to care about any pain he caused.

Boy was making little noises that were muffled by the bed as Spike fucked him fast and deep. The first time Boy pushed back nearly threw Spike off his stride, but he recovered and began to thrust harder. When Boy reached one hand beneath him, Spike leaned over his back and grabbed him by the wrist, pinned his hand to the bed. “No touching,” he panted.

He licked Boy’s back, and his eyes caught on the chain around his neck. He dragged his fingers up Boy’s arm and shoulder, then slipped them beneath the chain. “We’ll have to get this replaced when we get to LA,” Spike said between bone-melting thrusts. “I like leather.”

Boy whimpered and stiffened beneath him, then tightened around Spike as he came. Before he’d stopped pulsing, Spike knelt up and pulled Boy back with him so that Boy was sitting on his lap, his cock buried even deeper inside Boy’s ass. He held Boy’s hip with one hand and dragged his head back with the other, eager to taste the blood swirling through Boy’s veins now that he’d infused it with enough pheromones to send a lesser vamp into spontaneous orgasm.

Spike licked and sucked at Boy’s pulse point, then morphed and bit down, sucking his blood as he fucked his ass. The taste of Boy’s blood was even more intoxicating than the taste of his come. Boy screamed, overcome by a dry-orgasm, and the demon in Spike roared as his climax crashed through him. He slumped forward, sated, and Boy collapsed to the bed. Spike landed atop him, but managed to lift himself and take just enough of his weight so Boy could breathe.

Spike nuzzled into Boy’s neck, lapping at the oozing blood. “Who am I?” he asked lethargically.

“Huh? Who you...? What?” Boy’s voice reflected his current sluggish mental capabilities.

“Who am I?” Spike repeated.

“Oh, uh, Spike?” Boy replied uncertainly.

Spike managed to raise his hand and land a stinging slap to Boy’s ass. “Who am I to you?”

“Ow! Oh, uh, um, Master?” Boy tentatively responded.

“Oh, yes,” Spike agreed with a gentle thrust of the cock still inside Boy. He liked the sound of that. “And are you my good boy?”

Boy quivered in response to Spike’s lazy thrusts. “Mmm, yes,” he whispered.

Spike knew Boy’s defenses would be back in place tomorrow, but for now, it was enough.




The End





Feed the Author

 Visit the Author's Live Journal  Visit the Author's Web Site

Home Categories New Stories Non Spander