Okay, I'm blaming this on [info]cammy_kat. See, she had asked for Trickster, and I admitted that I just can't seem to write Trickster right now (no idea why). She said, "write me something else... what ever pulls your attention.. long as it has Xander, Spike and some BDSM." Yeah, TOYS stuck it's big old bunny feet in there AGAIN.

This is still Spander, still ADULT, and still dirty-wrong!



Part Three

Xander started unbuttoning his shirt as they pushed in through a loose board on the main floor of the church. After months of the ritual, Xander could feel the anxiety and fear pull off with his clothes. A tiny part of him still protested, but Xander needed this. Behind him, Spike's boots clacked over the worn wood floor as they headed for the basement steps.

Pulling his shirt off, Xander stepped to the side to let Spike unlock the door and check their lair. Funny, Xander realized that they had their own rituals, just like any other married couple, only without the marriage… or the love, not that all married people loved each other.

Spike started down the stairs, and Xander slipped into the dark, pulling the door closed and locking it before starting down the stairs. Ahead, a light flicked on, and Xander hurried down the steps now illuminated by the television's glow.

"Hurry up, then," Spike said, already draping his body over the single chair in front of the television. Xander silently obeyed, toeing off his shoes and pushing his pants down before kicking them into the corner near the bed. He tossed his shirt in the same general direction, and then padded across the cold concrete on bare feet.

The minute Spike's fingers closed around his wrist, Xander breathed easier. No more trying to reassure Buffy when it seemed like Adam was well on his way to seriously kicking slayer ass. No more playing the class clown to amuse Buffy and Willow while Riley looked at him with mild disgust. No more pretending that it didn't hurt when Buffy and Willow and Riley and Tara shared some inside joke about the campus or some professor or some other college-type thing that he just didn't get.

Nope. He knew how to give Spike what he wanted; he didn't have to walk a tightrope or guess. Spike pulled him over the arm of the chair so that Xander ended up over Spike's lap. He reached out and braced himself on the cold floor with his fingertips.

"Hands behind your back, pet," Spike ordered. Xander let his head hang off the side of the chair as he complied. Instead of rough cord or cold steel, soft leather gripped his wrists one at a time before Spike fastened them into place. Xander groaned a little. Leather restraints meant that Spike was in the mood for a long session, something that made rope and chains dangerous.

"Open," Spike ordered with a soft slap on the back of Xander's thighs. Xander opened his legs, his toes struggling to keep a firm grip on the floor as he did so. Spike reached between his legs and pushed against the small plug Xander wore all the time now.

Xander remembered in the beginning, he needed the pain to let go. Only when he was forced to accept Spike's touch, beg for it, could he tolerate Spike's fondling. Now his body yielded. Okay, most days it yielded. Sometimes the guilt monster still slimed out from a corner of his mind and called him a sick bastard for letting Spike do these things.

"Bloody hell, don't go gettin' your non-existant knickers in a twist, Harris. Tryin' ta watch some telly and enjoy a bit of warm on my lap," Spike complained as he tightened one hand around Xander's ball sack and the other around his neck.

Xander froze as he felt the strength in those grips. Sure, Spike couldn't technically hurt him, but they had found enough loopholes that Xander's heart stuttered a little. Spike tightened his hold a little more, and Xander forced himself to sag into Spike, to relax his spine until his body draped over the vampire's lap. Only once Xander had submitted did Spike return to playing.

The plug pushed farther in, and Xander gasped, struggling to remain limp as his cock reacted to the stimulus. Think calming thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Think that Maggie woman Willow pointed out to him across campus the other day.

That might have helped except that Spike reached down with talented fingers and stroked the perineum so that a hot shiver danced up Xander's spine and made him arch like a cat as he gasped. Xander sank back down onto Spike's lap immediately, but the unnatural stillness under him suggested that he shouldn't have moved at all.

"Need ta learn some control, pet. Funny how you can kneel until you can't bloody walk, but ya can't stay still in my lap." Spike's hands lifted him, pushing him to one side so that Xander ended up standing beside the chair, his hands still bound behind him. Taking Spike's words as orders, he started going into a kneel, but Spike's iron hands held him up as though he were nothing more than a doll full of sawdust.

"Stay," Spike ordered as he stood up and started for the other side of the room. Xander let his head drop, hiding behind his mane as he waited to see what Spike would do. The kneeling until he couldn't walk part didn't sound good, especially since Xander remembered the feeling of fire licking up his legs as he struggled to make it the four steps to the bed. And next to the television, the niche where Spike would tie him and then spend the night enjoying the show waited for him. He really didn't want to go in there.

Spike appeared again with a bar in hand. Xander immediately widened his stance so that the manacles on either end would reach his ankles. Okay, this usually meant more personal play than the niche. The niche was all about leaving Xander alone until he stopped misbehaving, but the spreader bar usually meant that Spike wanted a marathon sex session where Xander was bound so tightly he couldn't move.

"You’re my bloody pet, and if you can't learn to just lay there when I order ya to, then I'll have to teach ya a lesson," Spike said as he attached a rope to the ring in the middle of the bar. Spike pulled, and Xander shuffled forward to the side of the chair. "Goin' to miss the part where the bird gets killed cause of you," Spike complained as he threaded the rope under the chair.

Xander would have pointed out that this particular movie had about a dozen 'birds' getting killed, but he really didn't want to make things worse. It didn't look like Spike was putting him in the niche, and that was of the good.

When Spike finally stood up again, he held a collar in his hand, a thick leather one with two heavy buckles at the back and thick rings at the sides and front. Xander let his gaze drop to the floor to avoid showing Spike how much he actually liked that particular toy. More than any of the others, the collar allowed him to believe that he had no control, and if he had no control, nothing could be his fault. He couldn't feel blame in the collar.

And that collar, so thick and heavy, made him feel just a little powerful, as if it took heavy leather and locks to control him. Yeah, Xander knew it probably had more to do with humiliation and Spike's insecurities than anything else, but as the collar slipped around his neck and tightened, Xander let himself wallow in the fantasy.

Spike plopped down in the chair again, the stuffing breathing out a slight musky odor mixed with the leather of the chair. "Bend over," Spike ordered, and Xander did, bending until Spike could grab the ring at the front of the collar and pull Xander down over his lap.

With the spreader bar holding his legs apart, Xander found himself awkwardly bent over the low, wide arms of the chair, his groin now on one of the padded arms rather uncomfortably. Then his legs scooted a half-inch closer to the chair, the skin dragging over the concrete, and it took a moment for Xander to realize that Spike held the rope in his hand. With it threaded under the chair, Spike took the free end and tied it to the ring in the collar.

Xander found himself tied, feet to collar, with the rope going under the chair. And the bindings had so little room that he couldn't even turn his head. With the movie behind him, he found himself staring up at Spike, his cheek deep in one padded arm while his groin rested on the other.

"Little stupid ta fight when ya know you're goin' to lose, innit?" Spike asked casually. He returned to pushing on the plug, and now Xander groaned as his cock tried to harden only to be mushed into the leather arm. "You'll always lose with me, pet. You know why?" Spike asked. His cool fingers trailed down and played with the underside of Xander's balls until Xander nearly lost the ability to think at all.

"Answer your Master, pet," Spike snapped as he delivered a sharp slap on the ass.

"Um… huh?" Xander finally responded, his mind half shut off as he sank into his body's reactions.

"Why will you always lose when you fight me, pet?" Spike asked.

Xander watched Spike's serious expression, trying to find the source of the sudden stillness in Spike's body.

"'Cause I'm good at losing?" Xander tried.

A flicker of something dark fluttered over Spike's expression.

"Pet, I want ya to think of that answer. Got a little story to tell." Xander would have groaned at having to listen to story telling hour with Spike, especially since Spike's stories usually involved someone getting tied up with their own intestines; however, Xander still didn't quite understand the twist on the game tonight, and he didn't want to sleep on the floor. So he waited and listened.

"In mythology, there's this bloke called Orion. Thought he could bloody do anything and beat anyone. Told the rest of the world just how he felt. Animal kingdom got together, and the strongest challenged the great clod, only to get their arses kicked. Finally, the tiny scorpion asked for a chance, and the animals all laughed. But when the scorpion went ta challenge Orion, the warrior didn't even see him until the scorpion had stung him. Killed the great sod, the scorpion did."

Spike brought his hand down on Xander's exposed ass hard enough to make an echo in the basement, and then he reached down and smoothed the hair out of Xander's eyes.

"Slayer wanted ta kill Adam, and she kept trying to go bigger and badder, but sometimes a person gets beaten by something small."

"You have something to beat Adam?" Xander asked. He could feel an unfamiliar hope twinkle in his stomach just as he resented having real life brought here, where he could lay down his real life and become something simpler… even if the simpler thing he became was prey to Spike's predator.

"Already did, pet. Consider it a magical ebola. By this time tomorrow, a little bugger too small to see will have eaten all his human parts away, and the rest of him will fall apart like soddin' tinker toys."

"Okay, this is of the good, right?" Xander asked, not quite understanding the serious expression on Spike's face.

"What question did I ask ya, pet?" Spike asked again. Xander struggled to put together the pieces of the conversation, but he obviously had missed something.

"Something about why I'm stupid?" he asked. Spike's hand fell on his ass harder, harder enough to sting a little.

"I asked why ya couldn't ever beat me, pet. As much as you fight and sulk and claw, ya never will beat me, and I asked ya why."

"Me human, you demon," Xander pointed out with his best 'no duh' voice. Spike's hand fell harder, and Xander's stomach tightened into a thick knot as his ass stung with the heat of it.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, all his nightmares coming true at once. "How long?" he asked. Spike's hand fell again, three times in succession with the blows spaced over Xander's vulnerable ass.

"One, ya didn't answer my question. Two, ya spoke without permission, a rule I thought we had worked out some time ago. Three, ya used profanity, and ya never speak to me except with respect in your voice. Understand?" Spike asked. Xander closed his eyes to block out the sight of Spike in gameface so calmly laying out the rules for what little life Xander had remaining. He knew the day would come, but he had hoped Spike would make it quick.

The hardest slap yet made his eyes fly open. Spike added a second hit before Xander could even catch his breath.

"One, ya still didn't answer. Two, ya won't close me out. I'm your master for as long as I decide ta keep you around. I wonder how long it will take your friends to figure out you're gone? Seein' as how they didn't even notice that ya moved out of your parents' house, I figure you could probably rot back to dust down here before they found ya, but I don't know how long it would take them to start looking."

Spike looked down, and Xander couldn’t help the tears that slowly gathered at the corners of his eyes, making them burn as hotly as his ass.

"Well, answer one question or the other, pet," Spike said, raising his hand.

"I don't know, a week or so?" Xander hiccupped out as Spike brought the hand down again. Xander swore he could feel the handprint etched into his skin, but he could only curl his hands into worthless fists and lay there.

"Not how ya talk to me, pet. Ya followed the rules better when ya thought I couldn't rip your guts out." Spike trailed a sharp fingernail over Xander's ribs, and skin shivered. With a wicked smile, Spike trailed the fingernail down and over Xander's hot ass. "Try again, pet," he said softly as he pushed on the plug again.

"Maybe a week, sir," Xander said softly. Spike rewarded him with a thumb rubbing over his pucker, teasing the delicate skin before pulling out two or three public hairs so that Xander yelped.

"Please," Xander whispered.

"Please what, little dinner of mine?"

Xander flinched, but the ropes held him in place. "Please warn the girls," he managed, fear tightening his throat. This wasn't how he'd planned it. He expected Spike to show up, grab him, drain him, and then drop him on Buffy's lawn. But now Spike seemed more interested in playing his games, and that terrified Xander. He remembered when the vamp had first come to town and Giles had pulled out books that described Spike torturing his victims with railroad spikes. Little late to worry about it now.

"Right then, who do you want dialed?" Spike asked, entirely too cheerfully. Xander's throat closed at the thought of hearing Buffy or Willow's voices. He didn't want their last memory to be of this call. He didn't want to talk to them tied down over Spike's lap because he'd allowed it.

"Angel," Xander finally whispered, his throat too tight for anything more. Spike looked down in obvious surprise, one eyebrow crooked up.

"Your dime," he finally shrugged as he dialed the phone and then held it to Xander's face. Xander closed his eyes, struggling to regain some control, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh startled him into opening them before the pain of the spanking soaked into his skin.

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless," a man's voice answered, a man, but not Angel.

"Angel, please," Xander said. There was a pause. "If it's help you're needing, we can—"

"Just get Angel, and tell him if he doesn't come to the phone, I'm slipping Ex-Lax into his blood supply," Xander snapped, the fear turning to anger. Spike smirked, and the person on the other end of the phone spluttered a bit, but then Angel's voice came over the line.

"This is Angel," he said cautiously. Xander's throat closed.

"Hello?" Angel's voice drifted over the phone, sounding annoyed.

Xander took a deep breath, sobbing half way through it, but Spike just watched with his head slightly tilted now.


"Deadboy," Xander finally started, hoping for a light tone, but there was a long silence at the other end.

"Xander? What's wrong?" Angel asked, completely ignoring the insult. Xander struggled to catch his breath, the collar suddenly seeming tighter.

"You have to warn them," he whispered.

"Warn who? Xander, what's going on?" Angel's voice came through the phone louder, and Xander could see the smirk on Spike's face grow wider. Great, he got to be the bocce ball they knocked around to score points on each other… not how he saw himself going out.

"Tell them," Xander paused. Tell them that he was an idiot? Tell them that he'd been playing slave and now Spike decided to make it real? "Tell them Spike got the chip out," Xander settled on.

"Spike?" Angel practically yelled in Xander's ear. "Spike, can you hear me? If you touch him—"

Xander started laughing. Tied to Spike's lap with the vampire's hand resting on his hot ass and the plug Spike had picked out shoved up his ass, he was fairly sure Spike had done more than just touching.

"Xander?" Angel called.

"Little late for that," Xander managed between breaths. "Just tell them—" Xander stopped again, the tears starting as he realized how many things he wanted to tell them. "Tell them I love them," Xander muttered. Then he closed his eyes. It didn't matter if he broke a rule by doing it; he had no illusions about Spike needing an excuse. How many times had Spike chained him in the niche and left him panting in pain, and still Xander hadn't gotten a clue.

Angel was still shouting when Spike thumbed the phone off with a beep. Cool fingers smoothed through his hair, and Xander felt like a leech trying to suck up the last bit of pleasure he could before the real fun started. He sometimes sought pain to erase the other darkness in his life… to force him past a wall he'd built around himself. However, he didn't enjoy pain for pain's sake, so he knew this was going to be ugly.

"Still haven't answered me, pet," Spike crooned, and Xander felt shame wrap around him when his cock still reacted to that tone, to those fingers soothing him.

"Don't know the answer," Xander answered without opening his eyes.

"We have a problem, pet. This isn't goin' to end pretty unless you can figure it out," Spike said, those fingers never halting as they petted him. Xander opened his eyes and looked up into Spike's human face.

"Not going to end pretty anyway. Please don't start lying now," Xander said, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and watch the monster he'd given his life to.

"Pet, you're still fightin'. Not smart. Tell me why you can't win." Spike's hand moved to petting Xander's shoulder.

"I'm human and you're a fucking bloodsucker?" Xander quipped. The strikes came hard and fast, trailing down to his exposed thighs. They didn't end until Xander cried and begged between ragged breaths.

Then Spike stopped and looked down where Xander lay, bound so tightly he couldn't even squirm more than an inch.

"Why can't you win, pet?" Spike asked again, and this time, a cool hand traced over Xander's ass, the sensitive skin shivering under the cool touch. "What scorpion has stung ya, pet?"

Xander struggled to pull his legs together and Spike reached between them and played with the undersides of Xander's balls before pushing his hand in and teasing Xander's excited cock. Great… he got to die a perv.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Xander cried, careful to keep his voice respectful even as he struggled against the chains on his ankles and the leather around his wrists and the collar that kept his face pressed to the now-warm leather.

"Want ya to understand yourself well enough to see why you're never going to win. Want ya to admit why I'm always going to end up on top, even if I still had the chip, even if I were still in a soddin wheelchair, even if Buffy came chargin' in that door right now."

As Spike glanced toward the door, Xander felt a flare of hope, but then again, Buffy walking in would lead to questions of the sort Xander didn't want to answer. Pieces shifted in Xander's memory… the night Spike had first glued Legos to his body, thinking he would just pull an annoying prank… the first time Spike had dropped him stomach down on the bed and fucked him until Xander screamed Spike's name and nearly passed out… the many times Xander knelt in the niche crying and Spike took him out, petting him and carrying him to the bed.

"I—" Xander stopped. If he wanted to die with a little dignity, he would keep his mouth shut and let Spike torture him.

"Pet, out with it," Spike ordered, pinching a bit of skin sharply so that Xander gasped.

"I want you to win," Xander finally let it go. The guilt beast clawed up his stomach, making his gag reflex trigger as he nearly vomited out the pain.

"Oi," Spike snarled, and fingers pulled at his neck, releasing the rope before Spike nearly shoved him off the chair and to the floor. Xander landed with a thud, ignoring the pain in his knees as he faced the guilt monster that had crawled out his mouth.

"I don't want my friends hurt; I don't want the bad guys to win," he choked out. And he didn't.

Spike's hands, which had shoved at him, now petted him as he knelt awkwardly with his legs still held open by the spreader bar.

"Yeah, if one of those other twits had taken ya as a pet, this wouldn't be so hard. But you're mine. I'm the one who bloody saw that black hole of fear and need in ya, and I filled it."

Spike reached down and unhooked the shackles so that Xander could bring his legs together. When Spike released his hands, Xander could only sit on the floor with his sore knees and sore ass and look up in confusion.

"Slayer's goin' to be out looking in a couple of minutes, so get our kit packed," Spike ordered as he threw a leg over one arm of the chair in a familiar pose.

"Spike?" Xander asked in confusion.

Spike reached out and hooked the front ring on the collar, using it to pull Xander close.

"You're mine, boy, and I don't walk away from anything that's mine. Now, I told you to pack up our kit so we can head out, but if ya don't want to obey, I'll put a few stripes on you and leave ya in the niche while I pack," Spike threatened, his eyes turning yellow.

"Packing, I can pack, packing champ here," Xander rambled. Spike cocked one eyebrow and held Xander in place for a second before letting go. Xander stood and looked around the room, shadows in the corners where the light of the television didn't reach and Spike looking no different than he had on a hundred other nights.

"Spike," Xander said tentatively, "I still can't, you know…"

Spike turned his head slowly.

"Should probably point out that you're mine and you'll do as your told," he mused, his tongue pushing at his lower lip. "But I'll make ya a deal. You remember that your place is at my feet, and I won't ask ya to be anything other than a white knight," Spike offered.

Xander ducked his head, his hair falling in front of his face as he hid his overwhelming relief.

"Get ta work, boy," Spike said in a firmer voice. Xander turned toward the bed where clothes lay flung over the bedspread.

Gathering the shirts into a pile, Xander whispered.

"Thank you, Master."

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