Lady Cat

Part One

He remembered hanging there in that inhumanly strong grip.  His blood freezing in his veins as he was forced still, waiting for one of them to stop the posturing and make a move.  Alpha male to alpha male they squared off, sniffing and growling to determine their ranking, with himself as the prize.

The beast within him whined at the wait, making his body thrum at the thought of either male laying claim.  It hadn’t always been like this, he remembered realizing.  Or maybe it had?  It was so hard to tell, through the terror that was making him sweat and pant.  All he did know was that when he had been grabbed and forced to show his neck in submission, something had changed.  The feeling of closeness, of belonging had been ripped away.  He was pack-less.

Another whine, this time more frantic as the feeling of being alone grew alongside the man’s terror.  The beast was not frightened of death—that was a part of life, and unavoidable.  But this?  The beast knew itself to be no pack-leader.  It was hunt-brother, pack-guard, secondary to whichever alpha claimed him.  If the new pack-leader laid claim, the beast was fine.  If the old pack-leader took it back, that was also fine.  But to be claimed by neither?  Alone. . .

He remembered shivering so hard his teeth chattered and the skin of his cheeks wobbled and shook as he was held down.  Remembered wanting one of them to just pick.  He didn’t even care who.  Just pick him.  Someone please pick him.

And then—there it was.  The new alpha moved closer, reaching towards the proffered prize in acceptance.  The old alpha pushed him forward slightly, and instantly all fear evaporated.  There was still the danger of death, of course, but the beast was content with that.  It had been chosen as pack by this new male, and as pack-leader this male had the right of life or death over its pack.  He felt the new pack-leader lean close and his body hummed in anticipation of the claiming.

Suddenly he was being flung away, landing hard against a wall.  The alpha’s began fighting for dominance again, but the beast inside the other howled its disappointment and rage.  It had been cast out from the old pack, accepted to a new pack, but not claimed in truth.  Not claimed as hunt-brother—but still accepted as pack.  It had a pack

As the impending-death fear lessened, the beast felt its control weakening.  It struggled briefly, but subsided without too much trouble as the human boy again returned.  Patience had been a lesson learned early behind chocolate brown eyes.

He remembered the lingering feeling of anticipation tingle through his skin, even as he levered himself to his feet and ran.  Remembered forcing that feeling away with the thoughts and emotions of a man, giving thanks instead of feeling regret.  Remembered swearing that it would never happen, no matter how much the beast wanted it.  The beast did not control him.  He was a man, and men were not like that.

He remembered the hysterical laughing he heard every time he repeated that in his head.

Perfect.  There was really no other word for it.  This was just perfect.  Anya had been complaining nearly non-stop since they had left Giles’.  And him—he had just been smirking at Xander’s increasing annoyance with his girlfriend.

“Trouble in paradise then, mate?”

“Says the man dumped for a chaos demon.”  Xander fought a wince as he said that.  He wondered if the others knew how hard it was for him to constantly berate and belittle the bleached vampire.  More, he wondered how long before Spike noticed how hard it was.  Giles, I love you man, but did you have to send him home with me?

“Xander!  Are you listening to me?”

Huh?  “Yes, Anya, of course I am.  I don’t want this any more than you do, really.”  Much, much less than you.  Well, part of him felt that way.  Xander resolutely ignored the joyous howling from the back of his mind.  If I don’t believe it exists, it’ll go away, right?  Good.  You don’t exist.  You were banished three years ago.  Stay banished.

“Then why are you putting him in the comfortable chair?  I thought that was my chair.  Put him in the barcalounger.  The springs poke through the vinyl; they will make the experience very uncomfortable for him.”

Xander nodded, pushing Spike away from the recently-purchased-from-the-salvation-army recliner and into the red monstrosity he was fairly certain he’d been conceived in.  Which is why he never sat there.  Spike began bitching—again—and Xander tried very hard to ignore him, too.  The howling in his head grew louder.

“Xander!”  He whirled around, fists up and ready to pound—Anya.  Who was standing next to him, looking concerned and now a little wary.

“Sorry, Ahn, little tense.  What did you say?”

“I said, do you want to leave him here and come back to my place?”

I would love to.  And why does that sound like I’m lying to myself?  “I wish I could,” he said instead, “but G-man doesn’t want him left alone yet.  So, I am Xander, the baby-sitter man.”

“Oi!  Not a baby!  An’ I can’t hurt you, you bloody morons.  You think if I could, I’d let myself be tied to this piece of crap?”

Both humans ignored the vampire.  “You look sick, Xander.  Call Giles and tell him you’re ill and cannot take care of a cranky vampire.”

“Not a sodding baby!”

“I’m not sick, Ahn, just tired.  Look, you don’t have to share my little sojourn to hell.   You go home and we’ll get together tomorrow.”  He held up a hand, forestalling Anya’s obvious request.  “Tomorrow, Anya, I promise, okay?  But I’m beat.”

“All right.”  A perfunctory kiss on the cheek and a withering glare at Spike.  “Don’t you bother him,” she admonished as she gathered up her purse.  “I want many orgasms tomorrow.  And I have no problems killing a helpless vampire.”

Spike sneered at her, but Xander was pretty certain it was half-hearted.  Of all of them, Anya was the one mostly likely to actually stake him—the only thing holding her back was Xander’s disapproval.  Hopefully she thinks that’s my pesky human conscious talking.  Not a—argh.  No, I am a man.  A perfectly normal, human man.

He tried hard to ignore the howling as it turned to that screeching laughter.

“Well, well, alone at last, whelp.”

“Shut up, Spike.  I have work in the morning.”  He went about his nightly ritual as unhurriedly as possible.  I thought vampires didn’t have to breathe?  So why can I hear him breathing, quietly inhaling and exhaling. . . gah!  He turned on the radio, rummaging around in his tiny refrigerator for something easily digestible.  His stomach was roiling, being so close to—

To the thing I lived in hope and terror of through junior year.  To the thing I have dreams about and I wish I could say they were nightmares.  Not when waking up from one of those dreams meant a hardon that used to take an hour in the bathroom to rid himself of.  Now it meant an hour of brutally pounding into Anya while she writhed below him.

And I’ve got a whole week with him chained up in my basement.  With me.  Alone.

He wondered what the hyena would do if he tried to stake the vampire.

“Oi!  Whelp!”  Xander paused to glare at Spike.  “’m hungry.  Demon-girl put some blood in the freezer.  Fetch me a mug.”  Rolling his eyes, Xander was half-way to the microwave before he realized he’d done just that.  He stared at the mug of cold blood in his hands, trying not to let his nervousness show.

I didn’t want to do that!  Not that he wouldn’t have fed Spike, but—I obeyed him!  Oh, crap, I don’t even remember opening the bag!  How much control did the hyena have?  His dreams were one thing, but actually commanding his body. . .

“You gonna stand there all night, or put it in the microwave, already?”  He absently did as Spike requested, watching as the mug turned round and round.  He didn’t notice Spike’s confused expression, or the speculation that bloomed in bright blue eyes.  “You got any marshmallows?  Little ones?”  Xander nodded, still watching the mug turn and trying hard not to think in circles.  “Put ’em in the blood for me.  Wanna see if they turn pink or red.”

“Okay.”  The microwave beeped, and again Xander was halfway through his task before his mind caught up.  A dozen white marshmallows were slowly turning pink in the now-warm blood.

Okay, that’s it.  You wanna play it that way, you caged furball?  Fine.  We play it that way.  Handing Spike the mug, he resolutely finished his nightly routine, ignoring anything that came out of Spike’s mouth.  He caught himself twice trying to obey the vampire’s commands, but stopped himself before actually doing whatever it was Spike wanted.

Tumbling into the bed, Xander buried his head under his pillow.  He knew the dreams would come, because they always did.  Dreams of being claimed, of needle-sharp teeth slicing into his neck and draining just enough blood that it felt so good. . . dreams of belonging, of feeling safe inside the warmth of a pack. . . dreams of obedience and submission. . . dreams of being owned by the pack, and the pack-leader.

“Thank god it’s Saturday!”

Spike thought so, although probably not for the same reasons as the whelp.  Come to think of it, why was Xander so very happy?  No work meant he couldn’t zoom out of the basement the way he did every morning.  No demon-bint for two days—not sure what was up with that, didn’t really care—so no distractions through sex.  Giles was still pretending he was nineteen and holed away with that lovely bit of fluff that’d come over from England.  Slayer and Red had been bitching non-stop about their homework, so unless there was some demon problem—Xander was all alone.

Poor, helpless little boy.  Spike wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew he could use it.  For the past week, he’d been carefully observing and testing Xander, trying to figure out why the boy would suddenly zone out—and do anything Spike told him to.  Granted, he’d been keeping his commands simple and pretty conventional, but why else would the boy have gone out and bought a Sex Pistol’s record?  Not that he ever played the thing.  Just stared at it before carefully putting it back in the bag, to be returned.

More intriguing was that every time Xander realized what he’d done, there would come a blast of fear—and then arousal.  Pheromones would pour off the boy, and he’d sport an impressive bulge until he could find the time to sneak off with the demon-girl.  His resistance was always greater after that.  It was weakest right after the boy woke up.

“All tired from baggin’ other people’s groceries.”

“Shut up, Spike.  I’m exhausted.  It’s seven o’clock on a Friday night and there’s nothing on.  I’m sleeping.  You will not wake me, get it?”

“Hey, Die Hard is on at ten.  I wanna watch that!”  Thank god for the telly, he’d have gone nutters if not for that.  While watching Oprah expound the virtues of her latest diet, Spike had come to the realization that leaving was probably not an option—he couldn’t hunt for himself, nor defend himself against other predators.  Here, at least, he had a ready supply of blood—pig’s blood, disgusting—and an intriguing human to play with.  “Untie me, an’ I won’t turn it up too loud.”

Xander rolled over to glare fuzzily at the vampire.  The boy really was quite attractive, Spike noted again.  The first time had been at two in the morning with nothing to do but watch the boy sleep for hours, but. . .  Chocolate brown hair and eyes, golden skin and long, lean muscles from running away from demons and bullies and—an’ everyone else.  Boy practically screams ‘hurt me’, worse than a bleeding cocker spaniel.  And the way he moves sometimes, ’s like he’s waiting for some Big Bad to come in an’ tell ’im what to do.

Spike had no problem being that Big Bad, because the simple fact was—Spike was horny.  Nearly two weeks since he’d had any from that dozy bint, Harmony, and here was this perfectly delectable human, sending out waves of pheromones all week.

“Fine,” Xander said tiredly.  “Watch tv at ten.  I am sleeping until then.”  He flopped onto his back, still fully clothed.

“Least you can do is untie me, first.  I’m not gonna leave, just wanna be more comfortable, like.”  Spike hid a smirk as a half-awake Xander rolled onto his feet, untied Spike, and collapsed back into the bed.

Spike moved onto the bed, careful to make sure his weight didn’t disturb the boy.  “Take off your clothes, pet, you’ll be more comfortable.”  Muttering, Xander again complied.  “All of ’em, pet.  It’s hot out, innit?  So hot tonight.”

“Hot,” Xander agreed as he stripped off his undershirt and boxers.  The boy’s eyes were completely closed as he moved, his breathing and heart-rate telling Spike he was mostly asleep.  Spike hummed under his breath, some old lullaby he used to sing to Dru to keep her calm.  He didn’t know what was causing it, but he recognized trance-like behavior—and a century of caring for and watching Dru had taught him how to manipulate humans in that state.

Spike felt himself harden at the sight of the naked, spread-eagled body before him.  Tan skin glistened as the boy remembered that it was supposed to be hot and began to sweat.  Spike inhaled deeply, trying to understand what happened next.  One minute, all he was smelling was clean, human sweat.  Then the boy began to dream—his eyes twitched in deep rem sleep—and his scent altered.  He grew half-hard as he slept, pheromones pumping out of him, and there was something else, something that humans just didn’t do anymore—not with scent.

It was. . . submission, for lack of a better term.  Directed solely towards Spike, although whether that was because Spike was there, or because it was really for him, he had no idea.  Whichever, Xander’s body was communicating on a very primitive level that it belonged to Spike.  An’ there goes the posture change.  Still on his back, Xander rolled his head so that his neck was exposed—directly to Spike.  It didn’t matter what position Xander had been in, or where Spike was in the basement, the boy’s neck was always bent to him.

So, the boy wants t’ be mine.  Least, his subconscious does.  Right, then, never look a gift horse in the mouth an' all that rot.  I’m horny.  He’s willing—sort of.  Works for me, Spike thought gleefully.

Keeping his voice low and soothing, Spike began to whisper to the slumbering boy.  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Xander?  A very good boy.  Good boys want to make others happy.  You know how to make others happy, pet?  Good boys are obedient boys.  Very obedient little boys. . .”

Continuing to croon at him, Spike ran one hand up the boy’s golden flank toward the now fully hard erection.  Apparently Xander’s subconscious liked what Spike was saying.  Spike carded through the dark curls and began fondling the boy’s heavy sac.  Got a nice piece to him, he does.  This is gonna be fun.  Dragging his fingers back up, he began to stroke the boy with a light, gentle rhythm.  This wasn’t about bringing him off, this was about reinforcing his words.

“You want to do anything I tell you, precious.  You want to be my good boy, my obedient boy.  Yes, you’ll be very good to me.  You’ll do anything for me, to be a good boy.  Do anything I say.  Tell me you’re a good boy, Xander.  Tell me.”

“’m’a go’ boy,” Xander slurred, arching up into Spike’s hand.



“A good boy.”

“Go’ b’y.”

They went on like that for a while, Xander beginning to thrust his hips up in time to his chant.  “You’ll do anything I say, won’t you, precious?”


Spike applied more pressure at the word, rewarding the boy.  “My boy, my good boy.”

“Good, good, ob—yours!”   With the final cry Xander came.  Spike grabbed a few tissues to clean the boy up, deciding to let him sleep for another twenty minutes or so.  Then the fun would begin.

Part Two

Xander gradually became aware of his surrounding.  Okay.  Bruce Willis being gruff and macho, and at a tolerable volume, too.  Go Spike thoughtfulness, never knew you existed.  I’m lying on my bed—naked.  I’m naked.  And spread-eagled.  How did I do that?

Swallowing a wave of nervousness, Xander carefully moved one arm to snag the sheet and cover himself.  He ignored his body’s sudden communication that it was suffocating from heat.  Okay, nakedness covered, what’s next?  Right.  This would be the perfect moment to acknowledge that Spike is untied and sitting next to me.  Shirtless, shoeless, and running his fingers through my hair.

Spike’s running his fingers through my hair.  And it feels good.  Hello, now would be the time to panic, yes?  Um. . . panic?  Xander closed his eyes, wishing with all his might that when he opened them he’d be alone in the basement.  Or at least Spike would be tied up in his chair.  The cool fingers never ceased their gentle rhythm and Xander didn’t need to open his eyes to know he wasn’t five, and life didn’t work that way.

Let’s recap.  I’m lying in bed, stark naked, with a half-naked vampire sitting next to me and petting my hair like I was a puppy.  And I’m not frightened.  Not even a teeny, tiny bit.  If anything I’m. . . content.


For the first time in almost two solid years, Xander had not woken up feeling anxious, nervous, jittery or any of hundreds of words that basically meant ‘not right’.  There was no battle between a young man’s slothfulness and a primitive instinct to find—

What the hell happened while I was asleep!?

“Evenin’, pet,” Spike drawled from above him.  He switched from petting to swirling those cool, strong fingers around his head.  Xander stifled a groan—he loved getting his scalp massaged—and forced his body to not curl up into the caress.  I’m not an animal.  I’m a human, and a man.

“Spike.  What are you doing?”

“Watchin’ the movie, what’s it look like?”  Xander didn’t have to look up to know that Spike was smirking.  “You feelin’ any better?”

Xander blinked, squinting in the blue light to see the ceiling.  Yup, same old mildew stains in their far-too-familiar patterns.  He was still in the Basement of Doom.  So why the hell does this feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone?  Even more than my life usually is?

“Pet?  I asked you a question.  Answer it.”

“Yes, I’m feeling better.”  Xander tried very, very hard to stare at his own mouth.  All it did was make his eyes ache.  He wondered why he still didn’t feel all that worried.  “Sleeping helped and what you’re doing feels good.”

“Good.”  Spike seemed to return his attention to the television, although his hand never stopped moving.  “Are you still tired?”

This time he wasn’t going to wait for his mouth to go on auto-pilot.  “No, not really.  I feel comfortable.”  I feel better than just comfortable.  I feel like everything is right in the world now, and whatever happens I know that—that Spike will take care of me.  Oh, fuck.

Xander frantically began cataloguing every ache or pain in his body.  Sore arms, burning in my calf from where I pulled it yesterday, various cuts and scraps from being a Slayerette, a headache that Spike is getting rid of, and a possibly broken toe, but nothing new and unusual.  So I haven’t been bitten.  Doesn’t explain why my constant companion is quiet after two years of bugging me to fling myself at Spike.  Um.  I didn’t fling myself at Spike, right?

“Um, Spike?”  The vampire tilted his head towards Xander without moving his eyes from the screen.  “How did you get untied?”

“You untied me.”

“I did.  Okay.  Do you know why I untied you?”  There has to be a rational explanation.  Ooh!  It could be a spell—yeah, Willow may have done something because she’s always messing around and it usually backfires, especially on me—I am not a demon magnet, thank you!  It’s a spell, or a curse, or some kind of—

“I asked you to.”

Fuck.  Again.  Notice the creativity of my vocabulary when the world drops out from under me.  “You asked me to.”

“I asked you to strip, too, pet.”

Which would explain why I’m naked.  “And I did what you asked me to.”  Xander’s voice was flat.  It was pretty obvious that he had done just that.  It wasn’t worth questioning what else Spike had asked him to do, he didn’t want to know.  All he did want to know was why Spike was telling him.

“Yup, you did.  Unzip me an’ pull me out.”

Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream.

Xander watched in morbid fascination as he rolled onto his side, reached out and unzipped the faded black jeans Spike habitually wore.  His hand looked sickly in the light from the television as he burrowed it into those same faded jeans.

I’m holding Spike’s cock.

It was flaccid in his hand, even more pale than Spike’s ivory complexion.  “Stroke it.  Gentle, like.  Get used to it.”  Xander found himself lightly running his hand over the length of it, knowing he was teasing Spike but curious about the differences.  He’d never seen another man’s dick in real life, and certainly never touched one.  I am not gay.  I’m not!

It was longer than his own, but thinner.  And Spike had foreskin.  Xander rubbed the extra skin, fascinated by the way it moved around the darkening head.  Making a loose fist, Xander pushed the extra skin up higher, and then slowly fisted it back down, exposing the tip completely.  Spike groaned, making Xander flush in confused pleasure.

He rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself closer so that he could bring his other hand up as well.  Trailing his fingers over the shaft, Xander tried to memorize every bump and crevice.  He licked his lips, suddenly feeling an overwhelming desire to—

No, dammit, I am a man!  I mean, okay, men do this with other men and that’s fine if that’s what they want to do, but I do not want to!  I don’t!  So why am I trying to figure out how he’ll fit in my mouth?

One hand swept up, the other down, tracing along the vein underneath and stroking up over the curling foreskin to the head.  Something wet, lukewarm, and sticky soaked into the pads of his fingers.

I wanna wake up now.  Please?

“Good boy,” Spike said calmly when Xander twitched back like he’d been burned.  “You’re doin’ just fine, precious.  Keep going.”

Yes, sir, of course sir, he snarked inside his head, hands returning to the steadily leaking cock before him.  He wasn’t sure why the precum had startled him so much—it wasn’t like he’d never touched the stuff before.  Oh, no, my hand has a very intimate relationship with precum.  Even after I started dating Anya.  It had just been so cold against him, where he had been expecting body-warmed.

“Put your mouth around the tip, pet.”  He’d gotten into a rhythm, smearing the precum around so that the entire length was glistening.  He was amazed to feel it pump and twitch faintly under his ministrations, the way a living person’s cock would dance to a blood-pressure beat.

He was so involved in what he was doing, that he didn’t even register Spike’s words until he found himself lying on his stomach, half in Spike’s lap, curling his lips so that he created a seal around the head.


It tasted salty against his tongue, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.  A vaguely coppery taste offset the bitterness he’d expected from tasting his own precum, and it was creamier, too.  I’m sucking Spike’s dick.  I’m sucking him because he told me to.

And I’m hard.

Even as he began to suck on the slightly springy head, using his tongue in a poor imitation of the magic Anya created, Xander felt tears sting in his eyes.  Yes, he had always been curious about what homosexual sex was like—most men were, whether they admitted it or not.  Yes, he had to admit that Spike was incredibly hot and that he was attracted to the blonde vampire. 

But how much of either of those things was because of him, Xander, and how much was the beast?  What had Spike done to him, that he was fondling and sucking another man’s—a vampire’s!—cock without even a hint of protest?  Was he getting hard because of the beast, or because of Spike?  Was he really enjoying the feel of Spike’s cock in his mouth, or was whatever had been done to him manipulating his body’s reactions?

Will I like it when he rapes me?

“Shh, precious.”  Long, cool fingers slipped into his hair, sliding over his neck and down his spine.  Gentling, soothing.  Like you would calm a frightened animal.  That’s all I am to him, Xander realized as something cold and hard twisted in his stomach.  An animal.  A pet.  His pet.

“Sweet boy, good boy with the warm, wet mouth.  Relax for me, pet.  I’m not hurtin’ you, precious.  Know I’m not, ’cause there’s no light show in m’ head.  Relax, pet.  I’ll make it good for you.  Just be a good boy for me, be my good boy.  Lift up, that’s it.  Put your hands there, yesss, good boy, jus’ like that.  Tell me you’re my good boy.”

“I’m a good boy.”  The words were barely audible to himself, but Spike’s special effort to rub at the base of Xander’s spine told him that Spike had heard just fine.

“You’re my good boy.”

“Your good boy.”

“My good boy.”

“Your good boy.”

“Take my jeans off.”

What—what happened? Xander asked himself while he did as he was told.  One second he had been mentally shredding himself into ribbons, and the next—I’m a good boy.  The thought was proud, more so as he looked at Spike’s now very hard erection.  I did that.  I’m a good boy.  I made him hard.  I made him thrust like that, when my wrist brushed his dick when I pulled his pants down.  I’m making him happy.  He wants me to make him happy.  He wants me to make him cum.

“Better now, pet?”  There was a hint of concern in the question, but Xander too lost in giddy amazement to hear it.  “Yeah, you are now, precious.  You’re a good boy.”

“I’m your good boy.”

“You’re my good boy,” Spike agreed, his hand slipping further down Xander’s back, over the rounded flesh to gently stroke across the back of Xander’s balls.  Xander moaned at the touch, spreading his legs wider to give Spike better access.  Good boys get good treats, he thought crazily.

“You like this, pet?  You like me touching you like this?”  While his pinky and ring finger continuing to stroke, Spike moved his forefinger up the dark crevice to rub around the entrance to Xander’s body.

Xander moaned loudly, burying his face in Spike’s thigh.  Good—good—good boys.  Good boy.  I’m a good boy. . .please. . .I’m good—I’ll be good—pleasepleasetakemeclaimme!

“Shh, pet.  ’M not gonna hurt you.  Told you before, gonna make this good.  Gonna make you want it, pet, make you need it.  I don’t want th’ unwilling.”  There was a hint of iron in that deep, sexy voice that made Xander’s hair stand on end.  Something very serious lay underneath those words, something that would take more than the puddle of brains that sloshed inside Xander’s head to understand.  All he could really tell was that it was very old and very painful.

Spike wasn’t supposed to hurt.  Xander was supposed to make Spike happy—he was a good boy!  Good boys make people happy. 

Xander may not have known what to do, but whatever had taken control of his mind and body did.  He nuzzled into Spike’s balls, kissing and licking at the sac, rolling the balls themselves around with his nose.  He sucked on one ball, then the other, trying to fit both of them in his mouth at the same time.  He couldn’t, but Spike didn’t seem to mind his trying—especially when Xander whimpered into the sensitive skin.

“Ahhh, luv, do that again. . .!”

Rocking under Spike’s ministrations, Xander moaned and whimpered as he lapped at the dark hair covering Spike’s groin.  He was making Spike happy!  He was a good boy!  He licked and sucked his way up the long shaft, again taking the head into his mouth and sucking, hard.

“Pet, pet, stop a bit.”  Xander looked up and whined around the flesh in his mouth, making Spike gasp and thrust up.  “No, stop!”  Immediately, he backed off, continuing to whine in confusion and hurt.  But. . . I’m a good boy.  I’m a good—

“Sh, pet, it’s all right.”  Spike was there, caressing Xander’s now exposed chest and stomach.  “You are a good boy,” he annunciated clearly, looking into Xander’s eyes.  “Y’did nothing wrong, pet.  I just don’t want t’ cum yet, and if you kept doin’ that, I would.”

Oh.  So he was making Spike too happy?  I’m a good boy?  He whined again, tentatively questioning.  Spike froze, looking startled, but began petting again when Xander tried to shrink back.  “Did nothing wrong.  Bein’ a good, good boy, precious.  So good, pet.”

I’m a good boy!  At least, that’s what he was trying to say in his head.  What came out was more of a rumbling sound.  Again, blue eyes widened but he was distracted by cool fingers circling his nipples, pinching them lightly.  He yipped in surprise, then moaned again as the heat went straight to his cock.  He was leaking a huge amount of precum now, but there was no danger of cumming too soon, not for Xander.  Good boys make others happy.  Good boys get treats only if they make others happy.  I’m a good boy.

“Good boys like to learn things, pet.  Do you want to learn from me?”  Xander nodded happily, panting and whimpering as Spike played with his nipples.  “I’m going to teach you how to make me happy.  Gonna teach you how to be a very good boy.”

I’m a good boy.  Good boys learn how to please, because good boys make people happy.

“Wrap your hand around the base of my dick.  Good boy.  Now, luv, pinch it.  Hard.  Yesss, that’s it, precious.” 

Good boys know how to stop the pack-leader from cumming too soon.  Good boys want to make the pleasure last as long as pack-leader wants.

“I know the demon-girl has gone down on you before.”  Xander nodded excitedly, growling and whining at the same time.  He was twitching with eagerness.  “You ever given head to a bloke before?  Right, you ever done anything with a bloke before?”

Good boys don’t stray!  Good boys belong to the pack-leader.  Xander shook his head back and forth wildly, tentatively growling in offense.

“All right, don’t get upset, boy.”  Instantly, Xander was staring at the bed, motionless.  Spike began playing with his hair.  “So you’re a complete virgin when it comes to blokes?  Lovely.”  Spike’s smirk made Xander give a rumbling yip and rub his face into Spike’s groin in supplication.

“All right, easy, pet.  Start licking me.”  Under Spike’s direction, Xander licked, sucked and nibbled at all the places Spike liked best.  “Good boy.  Gonna make me cum like that, you are.  Mm, harder boy.  God, that’s good.”

Xander tried not to wince as the head of Spike’s cock hit the back of his throat.  Spike said that good boys didn’t gag.  “I know this is hard, pet, but you can do it.  That’s right, relax your muscles.  Good boy.  That’s it, let me in.  Oh, god, you’re so warm and tight. . .”

Soon Xander’s nose was buried in pubic hair, his lips at the base of Spike’s cock.  All the way in.  All the way home.  He inhaled deeply, luxuriating in the scent.  This was where he belonged.  This was where he was supposed to be, forever.  This was what being a good boy meant.

Xander swallowed.

“Christ!  Again!”  He did it once more, but Spike made him back off before he could do it a third time.  “Don’t forget to breathe,” he instructed in a gasping voice, “but—oh, yes, again.  Make me cum, pet.  I’m not gonna do anythin’, not even move.  You make me cum.”

Xander moaned as Spike’s words made him get impossibly harder.  Finding a rhythm he liked, Xander bobbed up and down, sucking hard.  He swallowed whenever Spike was in deep enough, squeezing with his big, warm hands whenever he wasn’t.  He swirled his tongue along every one of Spike’s hot-spots until—

“Suck it, boy, suck it hard, make me cum. . .!”

Spike’s voice hitched on the last word and Xander knew.  He swallowed once more and then backed off until only the head was in his mouth.  Then he sucked as hard as he could, jacking the shaft fiercely.  Spike went deathly silent and began to shoot into Xander’s mouth.

I’m a good boy, I’m a good boy, I’m a good boy!  Xander swallowed every drop, whining in pleasure as he relished the taste of his pack-leader: coppery, like the precum, but so much thicker and sweeter.  He rolled the last bit of it around his tongue, wanting to savor that taste forever.

Rumbling contentedly, Xander used short, hard sweeps of his tongue to clean Spike once he was soft again.  He felt a peace like he had never known before settle over his body, centered around what was in his belly. 

He had pack, again.  He had a pack-leader.  He was claimed.

Licking and kissing his way up Spike’s chest, the deepest part of Xander roared in pleasure.  True, it had been hoping for a different sort of claim, but it was not resentful.  Pack-leader had the right to choose, and right now the euphoria of being claimed was more important than what kind.  I’m a good boy, Xander thought sleepily.  I am pack-brother.

Spike was whispering as he gathered the boy close to his chest.  Telling him what a good boy he was, how perfect he was, how precious and wonderful.  Xander snuggled deeper, reveling in the contact offered.  Suddenly Spike broke off mid-sentence to laugh.

“Well, well what do we have here?”  Xander blinked into Spike’s leering expression.  “Do you want to cum, pet?  Tell me.”

For a split second, he was unsure what to do.  Only pack-leader could give him release—then he understood.  “Please,” he begged hoarsely.  “Please, let me cum, p—Spike.  It hurts so much, please.  I need it.”

“You beg prettily, boy.”  A forefinger was pressed against Xander’s lips and he dutifully sucked it into his mouth.  He swirled his tongue in patterns recently used for something bigger, bobbing his head up and down with a whimper of pleasure.

“You’re so hard for me, pet,” Spike whispered, his other hand stroking lightly along the rigid shaft.  Xander’s whimper turned into a muted scream, his entire body jerking under that gentle touch.  “Yes, you hurt for me, don’t you, boy?  An’ not a whisper from this bloody chip.  Gonna make you scream for me, luv.  You need me, pet, need my touch on you, in you.  Gonna play with you, precious, tease and use you.”  Xander sucked harder, trying to communicate his agreement.  “You’ve been a very good boy, and good boys get rewarded.  Get on your hands and knees.”

Xander whined at the loss of the fingers, but instantly did as Spike asked.  “Wanna see that pretty pussy of yours.  Wish I could take you there, pet.  Wish I could slam into you, ride you hard and long.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pet?  Yes, you want me in you, in your pretty pussy.  You want me to take you, push my way in deep.”

Spike took the wet digits and ran them up and down Xander’s opening, chuckling at how it convulsed in time with his words.  “Good boy, such a pretty boy.  I’d take you if I could, luv, but first times always hurt.  An’ I doubt the sodding chip they shoved up my head knows the difference.  Oh, I could hurt you, pet, could make you scream so nice.  Push down, now.”  One finger slowly eased its way into Xander’s body.

Xander’s shoulders dropped, pushing his ass back against Spike’s hand.  “Yes, boy, you want this.  Want me inside of you, moving like this.  Tell me, pretty boy.  Tell me how much you want me.”

This time Xander hesitated as he tried to change moans, whimpers, and screams into coherent words.  “W-want you,” he gasped out.  He felt Spike kneel beside his bent body, running his free hand up and down Xander’s spine.  “F-fuck me.  Please fuck me.  Use me to c-cum.  Please!”  Xander screamed out, blue sparks blinding him as a place deep inside him was pressed.  “Oh, god, please, Spike!”

“Are you a good boy?”

“’M a good boy!  Your boy, your good boy!  Ob—obedient.”  He was panting harshly, gasping for enough breath to speak.  His body rocked back and forth violently under the pressure of Spike’s finger-fuck.  Little bursts of light were flashing before his eyes every time Spike brushed against something he’d never believed existed.  It felt so good.  “G-good boys are o-obedient boys.”

“Yes, you are a good boy.  Cum, now!”

Xander threw back his head and howled, his entire body pulsing as he came hard into the sheets.  Spike held him while he shook and kept him up when his body went totally limp.  Xander struggled to hold himself up long enough for Spike to stretch out on the dry half of the bed, then crawled over to become a living blanket.  He sighed, nuzzling his face into Spike’s neck.

Inside his head, the beast snarled and howled in fierce pleasure, finally claimed.

“Good boy.”

Part Three

Spike stared at the dark-haired boy curled up in his lap, blinking as slivers of dawn burrowed past blackout curtains.  He’d sat like that for almost two hours, just thinking.  About what had happened.  About why it had happened.  About how he could make it continue.  About whether he should.

An’ give up that mouth?  Or a chance at that arse?  Not likely.

But that wasn’t the question, was it.  Yes, he wanted to keep this boy for as long as he possibly could.  The question, however, was what he wanted to keep.  Or maybe he meant what combination.

Sweet, mad Dru.  All of this rot comes back to you, doesn’t it? 

Did he want another Drusilla?  If he kept Xander, it seemed he had one.  Perhaps not as broken as she was, but humans did not normally regress into little boys when being gentled and calmed.  They certainly didn’t act like animals—’least not without some torture an’ some serious mind games.  Lot more’n what I was doin’.

Something was obviously wrong with him.  Should I even care?  Man, boy, and puppy had all shown they were slavishly devoted to Spike, and he had liked that.  Boy was all set to go to sleep, since I was sated.  Dunno how he could’ve with his erection almost black, but he barely seemed t’ notice.  He liked how, despite the agony of that too-hard dick and Spike pressing down on the boy’s prostate, he’d still cum only when Spike said he could.

But that still didn’t answer the question.  Or the other two important issues.  One bein’ this thrice-damned chip.  The other, what Slutty’s gonna do when she finds out I’ve made her puppy mine?

Hang about.  Mine?  Spike glanced down, surprised to realize that he was petting the boy, probably had been for some time.  Xander was rolling under the caress, arching up into it like a contented cat.  There was a little hum with every breath and Spike decided if the boy knew how to purr, he’d be purring.  Mine.  Maybe.

Which made the whole question of which Spike wanted a moot point, didn’t it?  He wanted Xander.  The boy wanted him—at least, part of him did.  An’ wasn’t that somethin’ straight out of Dru’s world.  One second he’s sucking me, mouth so warm and so sweet, smelling of innocence and lust, and then. . .

Then there had been self-loathing, and resignation, and the salt-scent of tears.  The boy’s body wasn’t going to stop and it was still aroused, but whatever was controlling the body wasn’t controlling the mind.

For one split second, Spike had almost ended it.  I don’t rape.  Drusilla used to beg him to take some girl so that Dru could watch.  He supposed that it reminded her of Angelus, and that was enough of a reason not to do it.  Wasn’t the whole reason, but enough of one.  He wasn’t above seduction and making the unwilling willing, but no one left his bed unsatisfied.

He smirked in the darkness, remembering the game he’d devised to please Drusilla and keep himself pleased, as well.  An’ that’s the answer, innit it? he realized, suddenly.  It didn’t matter what he ended up with when the boy woke, because regardless, he’d make him belong to Spike.  Just like all those pretty girls who swore they’d never do what I made them beg for.

He felt himself harden as he pictured what he would do to sweet, innocent Xander.  He almost hoped that it would be just the man who woke; this was going to be fun.  Gonna train you, boy, he thought as he reached under the bed.  Anya had stashed a bag there before, telling Xander to at least look at them while she was away.  When she got back, if he had any questions, she would be more than happy to explain and demonstrate.

Sorry, Anyanka.  Don’t think he’ll have questions, time I’m through with him.

Pawing through the assorted toys, Spike nearly laughed aloud.  Anya!  Never knew you were such a kink!  Well, actually, he did, after a week of living in the basement.  Or maybe the first time Anya opened her mouth.  He pulled out a long, thin piece of plastic, a box with assorted tubes inside, and a special prize if the boy was good.

Hm.  Cherry seems appropriate.  Popping the appropriate top, he slathered the plastic thickly with the sweet-smelling lube.  Alright, you miserable chip.  Not hurtin’ him, right?  Trying t’ make him feel good.  Gotta train this boy right.

Xander moaned lightly when Spike rolled him into a better position and spread his cheeks, but did not wake.  Squeezing a bit directly onto the boy, Spike began to massage it in and around the boy’s opening.  He crooned softly as he worked, murmuring like he had not twelve hours before.

It slid in like silk, and not a whisper from the chip.  Beautiful.  Spike kept the rhythm slow, wanting to build this gradually.  When Xander started gasping for air and thrusting back against Spike, he knew it was time.


Xander screamed, hips bucking wildly as Spike made sure he brushed the boy’s sweet spot every time.  Oh, god, that’s good!  Spike flicked the vibrator to a higher speed, enjoying as Xander continued to scream and moan against his balls.

“Wanna cum, boy?  Wanna cum for me?”  Xander thrashed against him, babbling incoherently.  Spike chuckled, pumping the whirring vibrator with increased speed.  “Good boys get to cum,” he said, hoping that would be enough.

He was rewarded when Xander reared up slightly and swallowed Spike down to the root.  Spike was so glad that he’d been patient the night before, letting the boy set his own pace learning how to deep-throat.  This time, he thrust his hips into the boy’s warm, wet mouth, fucking him hard while still manipulating the vibrator. 

Spike didn’t take long to cum, flooding Xander’s mouth with cool liquid.  Rolling him onto his back, Spike turned the vibrator up one notch higher and wrapped his hands around the boy’s straining dick.  “You were a good boy,” he whispered, jacking the boy three times.

Xander threw his head back and howled as he came.

Spike kept his hand on the boy, milking him and prolonging the orgasm as long as he could.  While the boy jerked and shot, he used his other hand to work a butt plug into the boy’s tight ass.

An’ not one whisper from the metal in m’head.  Maybe I can fuck him.  Gonna have to test this careful-like.  Unlike Dru, intense pain was not a turn-on for him.

Xander was panting harshly, squirming from the pressure of Spike’s hand still rubbing him.  Chuckling, Spike released him and traced patterns in the semen pooling on the boy’s stomach.  “Liked that, hey?”  Xander just looked at him, dark eyes unreadable in the dim light.  “You stink, pet.  Forgot how mortals sweat.  We should shower.”

Spike pushed at the boy, rolling him off the bed and towards the bathroom.  He kept his arm around his waist, ostensibly to steer him around any objects normal human vision might miss, but actually to make sure he went where Spike wanted him to.

Xander began washing Spike as soon as they stepped into the nearly scalding spray, without any prompting from the vampire.  Once clean, he had the boy kneel before him.  “Lick, but don’t suck,” he instructed.  Picking up the bottle of shampoo, he began washing the boy’s hair.  They stayed like that for nearly ten minutes, Spike hands working in white-lathered hair, the boy licking at his cock like it was a lollipop.

When the water began to cool, he made Xander finish washing himself and rinsed them both off.  Xander dried him, again without prompting, still docile when Spike told him to kneel again.

He looked surprised when Spike batted his hands away.  “Hold still.”  He fisted himself, picturing how Xander had looked, begging for Spike to use him.  The first spurt hit Xander directly between his eyes, dripping down his nose.  The second hit his right cheek, then his chin and forehead.

“Don’t wash it off.  Let it dry like that.”  Spike tilted his head, admiring the cum-stained boy.  Pleased, he left the bathroom and heated himself a mug of blood.  While it turned, he fixed a bowl of cereal for the boy.  Xander slowly walked towards the table, staring at the cereal and then up at Spike.  Already, the cum was starting to harden, turning white and flakey.

“This means you’re mine now.  You’ve accepted my cum, you belong to me.”  The microwave beeped.  Seating himself across from the boy, sipping at his breakfast, Spike waited.

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