Set: No particular time. Post-Anya.
Rating: NC-17, a flirtation with many kinks
Summary: Xander wakes up in an unusual position
Disclaimer: Not mine in any way shape or form. Joss said to go play. I listened!
Warnings: hints of non-con, but I treat the boys fairly promise.
A/N:For this community, I thought I'd finally tackle a PWP. I put out a plead on bloodclaim and three ladies stepped up to a challenge. Worlds of thanks to denied_heaven, velvet_virago and debris_k They did above and beyond and this fic barely resembles what I sent them. All errors mine.
His nose itched. A persistent itch that he couldn't ignore as it drew him toward awareness. He scrunched up his nose to shake it. When that didn't work, he tried to scratch it, and found he couldn't move his hand.
Suddenly awake, he pushed himself up, or rather tried to. His hands were bound and chained -- fucking chained! -- to the head board. He tried to kick his legs and confirmed what his eyes were telling him.
He'd been chained spread-eagle to the bed. And he was naked.
Xander drew a deep breath. He wasn't going to panic. He was a Scooby. Hell, he'd dated Anya. He could deal with this. He glanced around the room, hoping for a clue or, better yet, a key. He noticed that the blinds were drawn, but he didn't remember closing them. A worrying suspicion began to form, confirmed a moment later when his captor made an appearance.
Lounging against the door frame, Spike surveyed the bed. With a smirk he sauntered into the room and checked the ankle restraints. Satisfied with his work, he ran a finger up the arch of Xander's left foot, then traced the sole from the roughened heel up to twine gently between the toes. Xander wasn't sure how he did it, but Spike kept the pressure hard enough not to tickle, but light enough that it felt...good? Since when did Spike have a foot fetish? And, as a thread of warmth began crawling up his leg, he started wondering since when did he start having a foot fetish? He'd never paid much attention to his feet. They were there. They didn't like dress shoes, but other than that they rarely bothered him.
Spike switched his attention to the other foot, ghosting a hand over the top then tracing clever fingers on the sole, again with just enough pressure to stimulate but not tickle.
His feet weren't bothering him now, unless it was in the hot'n'bothered way, and no way was he getting turned on while he was chained up and had a vampire playing with his feet. Nope, he knew many things about himself and this was not a turn on, no matter how much evidence to the contrary his dick was trying to provide. Stupid dick.
"Hmm, like that then? Sodding slut you are. Bet I can get you off without any 'naughty touching'; that's what they're calling it, isn't it?"
And why does getting insulted by Spike make him hard, or harder?
Thinking back to Cordy, maybe it was just the insults that turned him on.
"Slightly hairy toes, but you're much too tall for a hobbit." That comment was followed with a smirk that, if Spike could have patented it, would have kept him in booze and smokes for the rest of his unlife. Not that Xander would ever admit to that fact. This was beyond weird, even for his life. No way was he enjoying this, even if the tingling sensation along his skin was telling him otherwise.
Trying to deny what he was feeling, he blurted out, "What is this? I wake up --chained -- and you're making fun of my feet. What the hell is going on here, Spike?"
"Got bored, didn't I? And I'd be careful what you say, if I were you." He reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a key. "Could just wander off with this. Saw Dru do that a number of times, when her toys got uppity."
"Firstly, ewww. Secondly, I am not a toy and no fucking way are you leaving me like this."
"Tied up, or turned on, pet? And I've got a job for that mouth. Want it in good condition, so won't be needing a gag now, will I?"
Xander just glared. He knew enough about Spike to tell the idle threats from the other kind. And the gag? Was the other kind.
"That's a good boy. So where were we? Ah yes, I'd set myself a bit of a challenge."
Xander squirmed as Spike slowly perused his body. Xander felt a wave of heat along the path of Spike's gaze, especially where it lingered at his traitorous cock which was now at full attention.
"Betting it won't be much of a challenge," he sighed, "but, as I said, was bored. Ever heard of reflexology?" His thumb, which had been rubbing the sole of Xander's foot, suddenly pushed hard on a single point.
Xander stiffened as a jolt of electricity ran from his foot to his groin. He didn't even feel his balls draw up as his orgasm slammed through him, leaving him gasping.
In a daze, Xander heard Spike say, "Nifty little spot that, almost as much fun as the prostate itself. And that's one."
"O-One?" he managed to stutter.
"Let's see what we can do to up my score." His hand ran up Xander's right leg, trailing a finger along the inner thigh but pulling away before he reached the "naughty area".
"Hmm, if only I had a whip, or even a bloody riding crop." Spike let out a chuckle as Xander's shaft twitched, trying to stiffen. With a raised eyebrow, he continued, "So the white knight likes a bit of the dark in his play. Things could get interesting."
Xander wanted to complain, and had opened his mouth to do so when...
"Do you want me to bring out the gag? Got me wondering if you'd actually think of it as a punishment."
That had him snapping his mouth shut like one of the hungry, hungry hippos. And his immediate response got a reward as Spike's hands were now rubbing around the wrist cuffs.
"Such delicate skin, here on the inside of the arm. Can feel your pulse jump, watch it too. Marching on like those bands at half-time."
All the while Spike's fingers were making circular motions ranging from his wrist to his elbow. And he liked it, a lot. What was this, night of a thousand new kinks?
Then Spike's hand encircled his arm and began to glide up and down the forearm, treating it with both the firmness and care that Xander had never used on his arm, but was as familiar as his morning jerk. His breathing turned into panting and anything close to coherent thoughts withdrew with the blood from his brain to points south. His right arm tingled, almost too sensitive for the attention it was receiving. Then Spike leaned up and caught the tips of Xander's fingers in his mouth.
Game over. His brain, lacking blood, must have mixed up the signals because his now stiff cock reacted like it was getting sucked off. It spurted another stream of jizz hard against his chest, causing him to moan through his closed mouth. His head sank back into the pillow as the rest of his muscles tried to relax, only to remain tautly pulled by the chains.
"And that's two. Shall we try for a hat trick?"
Rhetorical or not, Xander had only one response to that question. "Want." What he wanted, he wasn't sure. His body felt like the time he'd ridden the roller coaster five times in a row. It didn't know which way was up, but it wanted more.
"Since you asked so prettily..."
Xander heard some noise beside the bed, but lacked the energy to turn his head to see what the vampire was up to now. The bed dipped and suddenly Spike was beside him, also naked.
"And, just because I like a challenge, still not touching your tackle. But there's all this lovely warm skin, just begging for attention."
Spike positioned himself straddling Xander with knees on each side of Xander's waist. Just high enough that his ass didn't touch Xander's cock which was valiantly trying to stir itself to life, again.
The endurance training from Anya seemed all shot to hell, but at least his ability to re-load, as she called it, hadn't been hampered.
"Gonna try something different. Not going to use my hands." With this, Spike placed one hand on each side of Xander's head, in a modified push up position. Holding his weight mostly on his arms, Spike hovered above Xander. Suddenly he dipped, bringing their chests into contact, briefly rubbing their nipples together.
After all the stimulation his body had received, you wouldn't think that contact from a half inch of skin would do anything. You would be wrong. His nipples were now standing at full attention and the sensations made him open his eyes. He was staring into the hypnotic blue of Spike's eyes. But most of that blue had been swallowed up by enlarged pupils. The knowledge that Spike wanted this sent another wave of lust through Xander.
"Smell good, pet. What did you call yourself, back in the basement? A nummy treat? Moist and delicious? Well, the moist is covered..." With that Spike dipped again, this time dragging his chest up Xander's, ending with his mouth hovering over Xander's lips. "Let's see about delicious, shall we?"
Spike slid his face to the left, stopping a moment to catch the earlobe between blunt teeth. Biting down for a firm, but not hard, grasp, Spike exhaled, sending shivers coursing through Xander. At least this wasn't a new kink. Hell, even Cordy had figured out that one.
With a final tug, Spike dropped the earlobe and worried his way down Xander's neck. He traced the path of the vein and continued along his shoulder. Then he started to retrace his steps, letting his agile tongue trace what felt like little figure eights.
All the while, he'd lifted his body so that his tongue was the only point of contact. Xander's attention shrunk until that contact point was all he could sense, keeping his eyes closed to better process the feelings flooding him. Without conscious thought he tilted his head to give Spike greater access to his neck. He whimpered when the tongue was replaced with a cool breeze of exhaled breath, making the hairs on his skin stand on end. It was almost a relief when Spike's teeth started to nibble along the same path. Up to his ear, then down, pausing at the junction of neck and shoulder, then continuing along the ridge of his collar-bone.
On his next pass, Spike began to trace Xander's scruffy jaw-line. He paused at his chin and removed his lips. This abandonment drew another whimper from Xander.
"Glad I didn't have to gag you. You're making such luscious sounds."
The words of praise were hitting parts of his brain rarely touched. That, combined with the physical sensations, and he was breathing hard, panting, trying to stave off what his body couldn't be ready for, could it? When he'd woken up in chains, he'd expected pain, humiliation, to be used. But Spike, despite his banter, had only focused on him, on his pleasure.
Spike's mouth descended upon one of his already sensitive nipples, laving it, sucking it, then biting down just hard enough, before attending to its neglected partner.
Xander couldn't stay still, his hips were canting up, seeking the sensation and friction which he was being denied. He was dancing on a razor's edge between the pleasure being given and the pain of the frustration of what was withheld. Maybe Spike was still evil.
"None of that." Spike's lower legs squeezed his hips, holding him in place despite his best efforts.
"Look at me." The words were spoken quietly, but in the steely tone of a command.
Xander opened his eyes to see Spike's face hovering over his own. He again stared into the blue depths, but this time they were flecked with gold. He felt caught, unable to turn away.
"Come." Spike growled. Between the tone, the growl, and the vision in front of him, Xander could only comply. He exploded, feeling his release rush through him, draining him. He sunk again into the sheets, wrapped in a cocoon of satiated bliss.
He slowly registered that Spike was moving around the bed. Only when he pulled an arm over his eyes did he realize that Spike had undone the chains.
The bed dipped again. "So, next time, pet, you'll chain me up, ya?"
"Wow. That was..." he shook his head at a loss for words. A thought struck him. If he'd been chained then..."Wait, did you?"
"Bloody right I did. How could I not, you looking so wanton and gorgeous beneath me? But, the chains?"
"'kay. But only if you promise another of those foot massages. Deal?"
"Deal." And they sealed it with a kiss.
I took a little creative license with reflexology, or at least I didn't find out THAT bit of info in my research. Also, in the early days of professional hockey, there was a haberdashery whose owner would give a free hat to any player who scored three goals in one game. This tradition turned into the phrase "hat trick" meaning three successes
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