darkhavens (darkhavens) wrote,

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Seven Rings, a drabble sequence for the community open_on_sunday

I wasn't gonna do this this week. Nothing grabbed me, my muse was quiet. And then a couple of hours ago I was bitten by the drabble faerie. She was relentless. So...

Author: darkhavens
Title: Seven Rings
Pairing: S/X always
Spoilers/warnings: None/excessive schmoop?
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. no harm, no foul, no money made.

First Ring

The first ring was a bracelet of bruises; a circlet of purples and greens that lingered for days. Whenever Xander touched the marks he felt a thrill, deep down inside. And every time his attention was drawn to the fingermarks on his skin, he would search out the one who put them there. Spike, the not-quite-enemy, who had saved his life only two nights before by grabbing his wrist and hauling him backwards out of the path of a raging Grazn’rth demon, while yelling at Xander for putting himself into danger like that. He was still yelling when chip fired.

Second Ring

Xander crawled back to consciousness through surreal dreams of neon-coloured pool games and dancing bottles of beer, which distracted him from the business of waking until his bladder screamed for mercy.

His pillow was unusually misshapen… Curiosity won out and Xander turned his head to see that he was resting comfortably on black denim covered thighs. He squeaked, and in one move was up and locked inside his bathroom, trying to deny that his head had spent the night on Spike’s groin. He peed and washed his face before he saw it: the imprint of a button on his cheek.

Third Ring

When he heard the phone ring, Xander dropped his keys, and when he hadn’t managed to pick them up and unlock the door by the third ring, his machine clicked on to take a message.

“Um… Xan? You there, mate? I hate these bloody things. Never know if the git you’re calling’s out or just sitting there ignoring you. So, want to play some pool tonight? I emptied a nest just now and found the fledges’ crummy stash so I can afford a round or two. Well… Come by the crypt if you decide to play. I’ll be there… waiting.”

Fourth Ring

A nipple ring. Xander couldn’t quite believe he’d let that scheming vampire trick him into something quite as permanent as body piercing. Couldn’t quite believe he’d let that self-same vampire ‘lick it better’, adding a drop of vampire blood to help it heal up nice and quick so he could prove to Xander just how erotic it could feel to have someone tugging on the metal through his flesh. Couldn’t quite believe how erotic it had felt to have that mouth, thattongue, caress his skin. Really couldn’t believe that he had volunteered to return the favour. Couldn’t believe he was

Fifth Ring

Shirt after shirt was tossed aside in a panicked attempt to find one sufficiently high-collared to cover the ring of purpling love bites around his neck. Xander’s vampire had a fetish, and completely understandable as it was, it would doubtless be unappreciated by his closest friends: a vampire slayer and a witch.

“Come on, Spike! Quick! Get dressed before the girls arrive! You know they’ll end up asking awkward questions if they find you here without a shirt on…”

“Calm down, Pet. Coulda bin worse. If they’d dropped by without calling they’d’ve caught us missing more than just our shirts.”

Sixth Ring

It was made of burnished steel; of leather so soft and supple that it felt like baby’s skin under his fingers. Spike had finally found the perfect gift to give his boy for their first anniversary. It was so special he had even paid in cash, not slipped it into his deepest pocket the way he usually did. He was love’s bitch and no mistake.

That evening, when he had his boy splayed out, so naked and so pretty, he offered up his gift: a cockring, steel engraved with stylised initials, S&X.

Xander’s gift was love. He told his friends.

Seventh Ring(s)

They’d considered silver, platinum and gold. They both agreed they wanted something tangible; something that non-demons would be able to recognise as their commitment to each other. But rings could catch, could snag, could be too dangerous in a fight, and so they thought again.

It took three months for them to find someone who could produce the right design. Demonic inkers are few and far between but they are damn good at their jobs. Bespelled ink, faerie needles and a heal-all poultice later, and they were out the door, their hands entwined, with matching permanent reminders of their troth.

Tags: btvs:s/x:misc

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