by Te


The next thing Xander was really aware of was snapping awake. The room didn't look any different, smell any different than it had before, but he knew he wasn't alone.

Just something in the air. He tried to say something about how good Spike had gotten at lurking over the years, but nothing came out at all.

His voice was gone, and he felt like he'd been punched in the throat. Xander remembered screaming, shivered again because he couldn't remember stopping. Abruptly, he had to piss.

And then Spike was walking into his field of vision, and staring at him intently. The drugs were fading, and Xander could tell the vampire was more... absent than usual. Xander wanted to ask him if all vampires got so bleakly Gothic after a few hundred years. What came out was "Ahhhhhh," only more whispery.

Spike looked quite pleasantly amused by the obvious turn of events. Bastard. Spike just hadn't spent enough time with Xander to be justifiably pleased about his temporarily mute status.

"Unfair!" Xander rasped painfully before collapsing back to the plush, deep pillow...

And then there was the feel of the firm mattress settling down a bit. Xander looked over to find Spike slithercrawling across the bed to lounge half on top of Xander's thighs. Long, black-denimed legs stretched toward the foot of the bed.

One booted toe began to toy casually with the chain on Xander's right ankle. The only words coming to mind were variations on "oh Christ don't want why does he want me let me go let me go..." Xander was beginning to see the potential benefits of being voiceless. Certainly, thinking about it provided a necessary distraction from the unmistakable sensation of leather sliding up and around and over until the vast majority of himself was blanketed in Spike.

Cradled by a snake, perhaps. Spike could move like a snake if he wanted to, though it was probably impractical... but... Yeah. One long, unbroken rope of muscle and sinew and flexible bone and it was all his.


"Hmmm... I've been around quite a few people with throat injuries in my time. Let's see if I can translate, Alex." He made himself more at home as he thought, twining a thigh between Xander's legs and propping his face just right to be able to look down into Xander's.

Xander knew the word "fuck" wasn't even close to comprehensible.

"Are you asking for Zsa Zsa? Hey, don't look at me like that. She used to be fucking hot."

Xander continued to stare as contemptuously as possible.

"All right, all right I'll keep thinking."

The "don't strain yourself" was almost palpable on his tongue. This, this was Hell.

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