Disclaimer: This story may not be archived elsewhere without permission. All BtVS and AtS characters belong to Josh Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et. al. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made from this story.
One Frosty Christmas Eve
Spike had only one thought as he roared into Sunnydale and
completely demolished the welcome sign – find the Slayer, her watcher and
friends, and finish them off once and for all. If he could include his grandsire
in that list, all the better. It was her bloody fault.
He should have had the witch do the spell and be done with it.
At least then he wouldn’t have gone back to find his sire shacking up with a Chaos demon. Ignoring every single one of his overtures to win her back.
“Taste like ashes, do I?” he muttered as he climbed out of the DeSoto. “I’ll show you ashes. Bloody bitch. You’ll be beggin’ for my neck before I’m through.”
His nose crinkled at the smell on the air. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was about to snow. Impossible, given that he was in southern California – no matter that it was early Christmas day.
Still his nose didn’t lie, and there was a decided bite in the air. He glanced up, looking for the moon in the predawn hours, but all he saw was clouds. With a shrug of his shoulders, Spike put it from his mind. He had more important things to worry about than some fluke in the weather. A meal was at the top of the list, followed by a place to crash to ride out the daylight hours.
The first was accomplished rather quickly, and surprisingly easily. He was half hoping to run into the Slayer and engage in a little rough and tumble. Announce his return and have himself one good day. Instead, he’d been disappointed at how quiet the Hellmouth actually was.
He was all set to make his way to one of the sewer access points when he felt snowflakes land on his head.
“What the bloody hell?” Brow quirked, he stared up at the sky in disbelief. “Only on the Hellmouth...”
As the snow continued to fall, with no signs of letting up, Spike gave up his plans of finding a place to sleep away the day. Turning away from the sewers for the time being, he prowled the streets of Sunnydale. Practically deserted, given the holiday and the freaky weather.
With no destination in mind, he wandered around the Hellmouth – until a familiar scent tickled his senses. He smiled then, evil intent glimmering in his gaze.
Already his plan was coming together…
He walked around the corner of a house, and his eyes widened momentarily. Laid out before him, just ripe for the picking, was the Slayer’s boy – Xander, he remembered. Tucked into a sleeping bag, pulled up over his head to keep the snow away. A florescent light like a beacon, leading him straight to his prey.
“Almost too bloody easy,” he smirked; his boots crunched snow beneath his feet as he moved closer.
When he reached the sack, he gave it a slight jab with his toe. The boy mumbled under his breath but didn’t wake, so Spike kicked him again. Harder this time.
“Fuck, I’m up, da— Spike!”
“’ello, Whelp,” he grinned.
“Spike!” Xander shrieked again, eyeing the distance to his front door.
“You’d never make it,” Spike told him conversationally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Lighting one and drawing heavily so that the end burned bright red in the semi-darkness. His brow quirked and he gestured to the makeshift camping ensemble. “Any particular reason you’re sleeping outside? Not particularly bright, that… what with livin’ on a Hellmouth and all…”
Xander’s lips thinned. He wasn’t about to discuss the deplorable living conditions that forced him to seek refuge outside his home. Besides, he really doubted the vampire cared.
Spike’s eyes narrowed when the boy remained mute, and he crouched down next to him.
“I asked you a question, boy.”
“So… What do you care anyway?”
“Don’t particularly… but then, I’m the master here. It’s not your place to question me.”
“Pffft… yeah, right,” Xander snorted. Before he thought better of antagonizing the vampire. Then again, his mouth always did have a habit of shooting off without listening to the censoring dictates of his brain. And sparing a glance at Spike, how his eyes bled to amber and his human mask slipped away, he knew he’d pushed his luck too far.
Spike’s fist was like a blur connecting with his jaw, and a second later, Xander’s world exploded into darkness.
He didn’t feel Spike pick him up, still tucked inside his sleeping bag, and sling him over his shoulder. Carrying him off while he hummed a Christmas carol under his breath.
The snow eventually covering his tracks…
Xander woke and could keenly feel each and every one of the two hundred six bones in his body. Damn his parents and their ritualistic drunken revelry to celebrate Christmas – forcing him to seek a bit of peace and quiet by hunkering down in his sleeping bag… outside. He was definitely getting too old to be sleeping on the ground, instead of enjoying the comforts of his not-so-comfortable bed. Maybe he’d invest in a pair of earplugs so he could give up what was becoming a frequent habit of late.
It was with a world-weary sigh that he attempted to pull the edge of his sleeping bag over his head and drift back into the blessed world of unconsciousness. Only, it occurred to him that one, he couldn’t move his arms – or legs for that matter – and two, there was nothing to pull up over his head. There was a three, a very scary three, and an even scarier four, and possibly five, but those he refused to acknowledge. To do so, would mean that his dream where Spike showed up in the early morning hours outside his home, snow clinging to his duster, were, in fact, not dreams. That his mouthiness had earned him a fist to the face. And now he was in the company of said vampire – and not the good kind of company either.
He risked opening his eyes and his heart kicked into overdrive. Three, four, and five rushed up to greet him. He’d been taken captive. He was naked and lay completely exposed, his arms and legs chained in such a way that it was a miracle he still had blood circulating to the limbs. And Spike was at the foot of the bed, staring at him like he was the main course for dinner.
His cry was reflexive, as was the frantic tugging on his chains. Neither did any good. They were obviously somewhere far away from prying eyes, and the steel manacles about his wrists and ankles looked like even the vampire couldn’t break them. This was much worse than the last time Spike had rolled through town and he’d been knocked unconscious and left relatively unharmed.
“Oh, good… you’re awake,” Spike announced, like he hadn’t noticed the boy’s increasing heart rate and sudden burst of fear that perfumed the room.
“Buffy’s gonna find me…” Xander shouted. “And when she does, she’s gonna stake your undead ass.”
“Hardly think a stake to my ass, as you so eloquently put it, is gonna kill me. Beside which, she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at my bloody poof of a grandsire to worry about the likes of you.”
“Yup. Just a matter of time before those two are shackin’ up again and Angelus comes back out to play.”
“Buffy wouldn’t— she’s—”
“Holdin’ hands and seems to only have eyes for tall, dark, and broody.”
“You’re lying… you’re just saying that to… to distract me from… from…” His voice trailed off.
“Oh, no… please continue. Can’t wait to hear what you think I’ve got in store for you. Who knows… maybe you’ll think of something I’ve forgotten.”
Spike sat down on the side of the bed; his finger teased the puckered opening readily visible to his gaze. And such a pretty ass it was too.
“Tell me, boy… what am I distracting you from? This,” he asked, pushing his index finger past the tight ring of muscle.
Xander stiffened at the invasion, biting his bottom lip to prevent crying out in pain. Tears blurred his vision, and he closed his eyes to stem their flow. Forcing his body to relax as one finger became two… and then three.
He felt, rather than saw, Spike move between his outstretched legs. Felt fingers removed and replaced with something bigger. Much bigger.
His breath left him in a rush as it was pushed inside. Heard Spike’s “relax” and let out a hysterical laugh. Felt his body tear when he didn’t.
Tears came then, leaking out of the corners of his eyes as Spike fucked him hard and fast. And he prayed for it to end, for the nightmare to be over.
Then something happened.
As his mind drifted away, his body unconsciously relaxed. Pain gave way to something else. Fullness and a tingly sensation; his cock, which had been lying flaccid against his belly, began to swell. Spike shifted, changing the angle of his thrust and Xander saw stars. Arms and legs jerked against their bonds, his neck arched invitingly. Time seemed to slow as he felt the vampire pull out and push back in, brushing against that spot again.
His eyes flew open and he stared up at the grinning demon above him.
“Like that, do ya?”
Xander shook his head frantically in denial. No! No way! No how! Just… no, no, no!
Spike chuckled in response. He took the boy’s cock in hand and began to stroke it in time to his thrusts.
“Tell me you like it and I’ll let you come.”
“No!” Xander gasped. “No…”
Spike quickened his pace and continued his assault on the boy’s cock, stroking him to a fevered pitch. He watched for telltale signs of his impending climax, and when Xander was about to erupt, squeezed tight at the base of his dick.
The boy cursed a blue streak at being denied and Spike chuckled down at the face shooting daggers of hate and need. Continued to fuck him as he waited for need to slowly eclipse the hate.
Witnessed the boy break so prettily.
“Please,” he finally whimpered.
“Please let me come…”
“I like it,” Xander whispered, tears flowing freely from his eyes.
Spike’s grip relaxed and he began stroking the boy’s cock until come spilled over his hand. Only then did he lean forward and lick the boy’s neck. Finally sinking his fangs in and seeking his own release.
He drained him slowly, drawing out his boy’s pleasure as well as his own. When he heard Xander’s heart start to slow, Spike pulled away and tore into his wrist with his fangs, pressing it against the boy’s open mouth. Xander’s throat worked to swallow the blood in his mouth, and Spike smiled down at the childe he was creating before resuming his place at the boy’s throat. Another handful of swallows and it was done.
The room was quiet except for the soft creak of the bed as Spike shifted off the boy and tucked himself away. He grabbed the key off the bedside table and undid the manacles, allowing arms and legs to fall back against the mattress in a more natural position.
Stealing one of the Slayer’s own and making a childe hadn’t been part of his plan. His plan had been simple. Find the Slayer. Kill her. Kill her friends. Leave the Hellmouth behind, juiced on her blood.
But the freak snowstorm had presented him with a golden opportunity. His very own Christmas gift in the form of one of the Slayer’s boytoys sleeping so soundly out in the open.
Just waiting to be taken.
And who was he to refuse such a perfect gift? It had even been gift-wrapped.
He stood and ruffled his boy’s hair, taking note of his dark locks and boyish form. So like his Dark Princess, he was. Maybe that’s why he’d turned him, rather than kill him outright. A replacement of sorts.
With hours yet before the boy’s awakening, Spike moved off into another part of the abandoned warehouse he’d commandeered from a small nest of fledglings. A quick stake to the one who called himself their leader had resulted in the remaining three scampering off with their tails tucked between their legs.
There was a small television in an upper office, a couch set against one wall. Spike plopped down on the ratty cushions after cutting on the power and picking a channel – it was an old TV and didn’t have a remote. He listened to the midday newscast; the top story being the freak snowstorm that had hit Sunnydale. The man droned on about lows and fronts and other weather terms that Spike could care less about. His eyes eventually closed and he drifted off to sleep.
Spike woke instantly, thanks partly at having grown used to the heavy hand of Angelus, and from being the sole caretaker of a slightly crazed vampiress who had a habit of wandering off during daylight hours. He lay there unmoving, waiting for whatever it was that had woken him to sound again.
No one was around; he detected no heartbeat – so the Slayer was out. And there was no telltale sign of family, save his childe downstairs, which meant that his grandsire hadn’t noticed his presence back in Sunnydale either.
Then he heard it again… a slight twitch. A scrape across cotton.
He was on his feet in an instant and hurrying down the stairs. As he walked around the corner and stared at the bed, Spike was thankful for his master vampire status that prevented the shock from showing on his face.
His childe was awake already… and was staring up at him with something akin to hero worship in his eyes.
“Sire,” he breathed, and Spike thought that was the best sound he had ever heard. His childe’s voice was husky as he tried to figure out how to force air into dead lungs so he could speak.
But even without it, his boy’s hungry gaze had an instant effect on his cock. Making it push against the steel teeth of his jeans. His eyes honed in on the tongue that moistened dry lips.
“Something you want?” he asked, hands working the button and zip of his jeans.
Xander nodded, his eyes locked on the cock slowly being revealed.
“Well, come here then,” Spike commanded, moving to stand at the end of the bed. “Open up and sheathe the fangs.” His hands gripped either side of his boy’s head, and Spike watched as his cock slowly disappeared between his parted lips. “Fuck yeah,” he moaned and began fucking his childe’s mouth. Slowly at first as the boy familiarized himself with the process, knowing that it was his first time. Spike smiled when he eagerly complied with what he told him to do. How to stroke him with his tongue and hands. How to swallow when he was buried balls deep in his throat.
“Gonna come, boy, and you’re gonna drink it all down and know your sire. You ready?”
At his hum and nod, Spike increased his pace; his eyes rolled up when his childe hollowed out his cheeks and sucked him hard. He thrust one last time and came with a grunt. Xander sucked and swallowed and laved at his dick long after his orgasm was through.
Until he began to grow hard again.
Spike carded his fingers in his boy’s hair then ran a hand down his cheek. Reluctantly pulling free from his suctioning mouth.
“Turn around,” Spike told him, and smiled at how eagerly his boy did so. Legs splayed wide, ass up in the air... waiting to be taken.
Spike shucked his clothes, letting them fall where they may, and climbed up on the bed behind him.
“Tell me you want it,” Spike commanded, fingers teasing his childe’s hole.
No hesitation this time.
“Want it… please, Sire.”
Xander felt the burn and tearing of flesh as his Sire rammed his way home. It felt good – perfect even. Then he felt Spike drape himself over his back and nuzzle at his neck.
“Yes…” he hissed. “Please, Sire.” He tilted his head back invitingly, begging without words. The sting of fangs in his neck caused his cock to twitch and he would have come if not for the sudden, hard squeeze.
“Not without me,” Spike growled in his ear.
Xander whimpered and his body twitched beneath Spike’s.
“Yes… yes… with you. Please, Sire. I need you. Need… Make me yours…”
“You are mine. I took you. I made you,” Spike grunted. “You’re mine.”
“Yours… yes… Sire…”
“Come for me. Show me that you’re mine.”
Xander did as his Sire commanded, soaking the sheets beneath him.
“Mmm… feel so good, pet. Gonna bathe you with my come. Everyone’ll know who you belong to.”
“That’s right. Spike.” Spike pushed his forearm in front of his childe’s face. “Bite me.”
Xander obeyed without question and damned if he didn’t come again at the taste of his sire on his lips.
Spike bit into his childe’s back, sucking hard at the blood that immediately pooled in the open wound. His hips slapped against his boy’s ass, his fingers dug into his hips hard enough to draw blood.
“Mine,” he growled around the flesh in his mouth. Hearing the whimpered submission of his childe, Spike pulled out and stroked himself to completion, marking Xander’s back and ass with his come. “Mine,” he growled again when he was finished.
Xander nodded and collapsed upon the bed, uncaring that he lay in his own ejaculate. His body was buzzing from orgasm and Sire’s blood – he felt on top of the world.
“Rest,” Spike whispered and he lay down beside him, draping an arm and leg over his lax body. “We’ve time yet before the sun sets.”
Spike heard his childe mumble his assent, knew he was almost asleep. A smile came unbidden to his lips imagining the fun he was going to have with the Slayer now. Imagining her kicked puppy expression when she got a look at her friend. A real good look.
If he played his cards right, he might even be able to lure the girl to his side with the help of his childe. His eyes closed and scenarios ran through his mind.
His last thought before sleep claimed him again was that it had turned out to be a merry Christmas after all. And with a bit of luck, it would be an even happier New Year.
|Feed the Author|
|Home||Categories||New Stories||Non Spander|