?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
darkhavens
14 December 2005 @ 12:44 am
'Is Nothing Sacred?', three for open_on_sunday challenge #142 - Brought To you By...
Author: darkhavens
Title: Is Nothing Sacred?
Pairing: Spike/Xander of Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Abuse of song lyrics, mention of gimp masks, and semi-graphic oral action.
Summary: The Count isn't the only vampire who loves Sesame Street.
Previous chapters: More of the baby!vamp!Xander 'verse.
Notes: All lyrics taken from here. No desecration of childhood memories intended. ;)



Brought To You by the Letter 'C' and the Number '1938'

Spike tracked the caterwauling down to the living room sofa, where his childe was sprawled on the sofa watching… Broadway Melody of 1938? Huh. And then Spike actually listened to the lyrics and debated slinking back to the bedroom to hide his head under a pillow.

"...made me love you
And all the time you knew it
Me guess you always knew it
Me love all kind of cookies
Like chocolate-chip crunchies, oooh
But one look at you and
Me always get the munchies…"

Spike was sure there wasn't enough whisky in the world to erase the memories of this.



Brought To You by the Letter 'D' and the Number '1'

It was the last thing Spike expected to hear being sung in an adult toyshop, and, really, that said something rather terrifying about his boy. But still, as soon as Spike heard the lilting, insane lyrics, he knew exactly where to find his warped, twisted childe.

"Rubber Duckie, you're the one
You make bathtime lots of fun
Rubber Duckie, I'm awfully fond of you…"

"Xander?"

"Spike! Look! They have bondage duckies! There's even one in a gimp mask like that guy at the club last week. Can we get one?"

Spike sighed and the clerk rolled his eyes.

"Kids, eh?"



Brought To You by the Letters 'S' and 'X' and the Number '69'

Xander concentrated on remembering not to breathe, a habit he still had trouble with during sex, especially this position.

The column of cool flesh that blocked his throat and rubbed across his tongue tasted saltsweetbitter better than blood and chocolate. Leather, copper, salt and cotton - flavours that spelled 'Spike' in neon letters flashed wildly in great arcs across his shuttered eyelids. Blood and lube and nicotine, latex from the latest toys, the slightest zing of cinnamon body oil…

The throat around his own cock swallowed hard and Xander clenched and came, whimpering, begging, whining until Spike had done the same.




NEXT
 
I am Derek's vocal eyebrows: dt; want this [me]literati on December 14th, 2005 12:56 am (UTC)
hee! you so clever. ;)

I love all three!

Spike was sure there wasn't enough whisky in the world to erase the memories of this.

Love this line. :D