This chapter is for ponders_life, whose birthday it is today. Hope you had a good one, sweetie!
Title: Grungefic (though it may get a real name one day!)
Previous Parts: Here
Rating: R for violence, heard not seen, but still... oh, and a hard cock.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: S1, which means Xander's very young, and he's Spike's pet.
Summary: Xander needed to mourn Jesse so I let him, and he went off and bumped into Spike who took a shine to him and decided he'd make a wonderful pet.
Xander's on his knees in muck, shaking as he falls from his adrenaline-fuelled high back to the world he knows, the world that's filled with shadows and with pain, and oh, he hurts. His knuckles throb, his lip is split, the socket of one eye has its own pulse that's pounding back against his brain and trying to shake loose all his teeth. Ribs and innards, skin and bone and muscle, all are aching now and Xander's trying hard to find a focus, something solid to latch onto, and then suddenly it's there.
A hand extends in silent invitation. Bone white fingers, nails as black as pitch, just hover there, inviting trust, demanding acquiescence. Xander doesn't even stop to think of other choices...
The trembling hand that latches onto his and holds on tight, shows Spike a trust in him he's never seen before today. This boy, this child, who's placed his hand in his, is hurting, in and out, and trusts that Spike will take the pain away. The demon crows with glee and wild delight at such pure faith, and hungers for the chance to break it down. Outwardly he smiles and holds his pugilistic puppy to his chest, all broken sobs and sniffs and shaking shoulders once again.
"There now, Pet. Don't feel so bad. You stood up for yourself, you should be proud. You won, this time; you should be feeling good, so ditch the guilt. We never asked for any bit of this, now did we, eh? Those idiots thought we were easy marks but they were wrong, and they've paid the price for picking on the weak."
Spike gives the shivering bundle in his arms one last hard squeeze, then eases back an inch or two and sighs.
"Chin up, Kitten, let's be on our way and get you clean again. We'll leave this rotten garbage where it lies."
But Xander tries, just once, to see the damage he has done, and Spike moves in again and blocks his view.
"None of that now, luv, you beat the bastard fair and square. No going back for seconds on my watch."
Indignant, Xander lifts his chin, preparing to deny, and just like that Spike's focus is elsewhere.
"Tilt your head back, Pet, so I can see what's to be done. He caught you good and proper under there." And Xander feels the pull and burn of skin sliced roughly open, as, obediently, he does what he is told.
He jumps when Spike swoops in and starts to nuzzle at the wound, that cool, wet, lapping tongue a gentle balm. A near sub-sonic rumble, not quite purr and not quite growl, soothes his nerves and dulls his troubles while it lasts. He's quietly content to stand and wait as Spike administers an odd vampiric version of first aid. He wonders why he has no fear, well, nothing more than usual. It's surprising, with a demon at his throat.
And then that clever mouth and agile tongue are at his lips, seeking out the split to lick away the blood that's almost dried. Two hands, as cold as ice on flesh too hot from nerves and battle, rise up to tangle tightly in his hair. A gentle tug brings forth a whimpering gasp and fast as lightning Spike is in, his tongue exploring every dip and curve and angle it can find.
Xander's arms creep slowly around his waist and Spike's in ecstasy. His pet is coming on in leaps and bounds. The hunger that's inside, that wants to take and take and take, is quickly lost beneath the urge to wait. Those tiny sips of blood, so freely given, burn like lava in his veins, and he has never felt their like before today. He aches to know if everything tastes sweeter when it's given as a gift, not ripped away with brutal force. He needs to know.
Spike pulls off to let his pretty drag in needed breath, and watches as dark eyes blink back their lusty, dazed expression. The cock against his thigh is hard and full, the same as his, and that's enough to put a smile upon his face.
"C'mon, Pet, time's a-wastin'! Let's get you home and clean and see what's what." And with a wink he dives back in for one brief fragile kiss, before entangling their fingers once again.
Once Xander's sense is back from it's impromptu short vacation, he sees that they're already on their way. The alley is just a dark smudge in the distance and already it's a dream, a shadowed nightmare that is fading, crumbling slowly into dust, until the crimson-tinted details are a blur of rusty greys.
Spike has set a pace that keeps them moving through the night, not giving either of them any time to pause. He wants them home and safe, he wants the doors locked tight behind, he wants the beauty by his side tucked in his bed. He wants the whole thing over, wants his princess fit and well, he wants to know what visions she has seen. He wants too much, he hungers for it; knows he has to wait, but patience never was his saving grace.
A sharp tug on his hand and then the sound of frantic wheezing make him stop and turn to see what's going on. His kitten doubles over, bracing hands on shaking thighs before he's drawing in great gouts of night-chilled air. Spike realises while his thoughts were racing, so was he, and this poor human had been struggling to keep up; it makes him proud.
He's glad his little jaunt last night has netted him this prize. He's always had an eye for pretty boys, mostly for Dru. But this one? This is his, his pet, his choice, and what a perfect choice it is indeed. Such eagerness to please, such blind obedience, such trust. Oh yes, his kitten's gonna do him proud.
A cigarette is lit and Spike waits patiently, for him, one booted foot tap-tapping on the ground. He's contemplating lighting up a second when that shaggy head lifts up and jerks about, in search of him?
"S...sorry, Spike. I'm sorry, I just..."
"Had to stop and breathe? I get it, Pet, you're only human after all. Can't hardly put the blame on you for that, now can I, eh?"
A muffled snort that might just be a laugh is his response, and Spike extends a hand to help the human straighten up.
They're halfway up the staircase when they hear the screaming start, the eardrum-piercing shriek that cuts the air. They're barely on the landing, Xander towed along by Spike, before the agonising cry becomes a moan and then is gone. A laugh, as cold as crystal, and as sharp, rings out in glee. Spike flinches at the sound and turns his back.
"You wait here in my room, Pet. Take a shower, take a nap." He opens up the door and looks inside. "Your bag's there on the bed but don't be opening it without me here to see. A little wait wont hurt you none and I insist. I have to see to Dru, she's sounding bored and that's not good, but promise me you'll stay behind this door. A minion gets a hold of you, you're vamp food, understood? I need to know you're in here, safe and sound."
A wide-eyed nervous nod greets his demands, and moments later Xander's safely in the room, the door shut tight. The holdall on the bed sends out a siren call he's helpless to resist. He has to touch this solid, oh-so-very-real reminder of the swiftly fraying fabric of his life.
Standing just outside the door, Spike hears him cross the room. He listens for a sound that never comes. The boy is on the bed, the springs squeak gently, then are still, but he doesn't pull the zipper, not one click. Spike lets out a sigh and turns to face the task at hand. His dark princess will want to play a game...