Story written for buffyholic in the Spikeslashficathon on LJ.
Spike/Xander, set during season 5 of Buffy. R/NC-17.
Thrall
If anyone ever learned about this, Xander already knew what he’d say.
Thrall. He had been under a thrall, and that was the end of it. Nothing
to discuss, nothing to apologize for or feel ashamed about. He already
had proved, in a blindingly clear way, that he was susceptible to
thrall with the whole Dracula fiasco, and might as well make the bitter
experience useful for something. So there, thrall. Not his fault. All
Spike’s. Besides for all he knew, Spike had indeed thralled him. How
else could he explain…
It had started innocently enough. Game of pool, Spike cheating as
usual, buying beer and bourbon with what wasn’t Xander’s hard-earned
cash anymore. Oh, there, another good excuse. Not only had Spike
thralled him, but he had also deliberately made him drink too much. No
chance to resist, was there?
They had talked, as they played. About women. Anya. Ex-demons. Demons. Xander’s curse.
“What do you mean, curse?”
“I mean, if a girl’s interested in me, she’s either a demon or ex-demon. No exception.”
“What about that cheerleader bint of yours I’ve heard about?”
“Cordelia? She only proves my point.”
Spike had laughed. Not really mocked Xander, or at least that was not
what it had sounded like. Then he had asked if the curse worked on male
demons too. At that moment he wasn’t laughing anymore, but rather there
had been a new glint in his eyes, hard, calculating. Like a cat eyeing
a canary.
Now, the cat had definitely caught the canary. And was holding it
tight. Spike squeezed his cock a little harder, almost enough – but not
quite, he had to mind the chip – to hurt.
Xander was grateful for the wall behind him, as it was the only thing
holding him up anymore. Who cared that it was cold, rough, with nothing
for his hands to find purchase on? It was there, it gave him the
dignity of not falling to his knees because of Spike’s touch, so cold
an instant ago, warming up now as he pumped up and down, slow and
strong.
He was grateful also, more than he could say, that he had totally lost
control of his vocal cords. Had he been able to speak, he would
probably have been begging, begging for more, now, please. Who cared if
this was a demon with a hand wrapped around his dick, or that this
particular demon happened to be male and close behind another vampire
on the short list of people Xander hated more than anything? The way he
stroked him was incredible, the touch just right, the pace perfect,
playing Xander’s body with the familiarity reserved for self indulgence
or long time lovers.
Then the hand was gone.
Xander gasped, blinked, and tried to understand why. Why it had
stopped, why Spike was walking away, why he was turning back, smirking,
and crooking a finger in an inviting gesture…
Oh.
That was why.
Seconds became centuries as Xander tried to calm his heartbeat and
summon enough blood back to his brain to actually think for a moment.
It was one thing to let himself be jerked off in a dark alley after a
few too many drinks. It was another to actually follow a man – a
vampire – Spike! - knowing that something was probably going to happen
that Xander had never, ever imagined he’d experience. Nope, no
imagining. None at all.
Spike turned again, and this time his impatience was etched on his
features. Xander stopped thinking, tucked himself back into his pants,
and stifled the screaming voice in the back of his mind.
It was all about gambling. It was gambling – although with pretty good
odds – to play pool with the boy and relieve him of a few bills. It was
gambling to see how many beers and shots of bourbon it would take to
make the human drunk. It was gambling to lure him outside, unzip him,
pull him out, make him hard and aching for more, and then wait to see
if he’d be ready to go home and farther.
When he heard the first hesitant steps in the alley, Spike smiled to
himself and slowed down a little as he lit a fag. He hadn’t finished
taking his first deep pull on it before Xander had caught up with him.
He smelled of lust, but that wasn’t surprising, seeing how close he had
been to coming when Spike had stopped. It was more surprising that the
human could walk at all. He smelled, also, of fear, and that was even
more intoxicating to the vampire. It wasn’t often, these days, that
anyone was afraid of him. The feeling and scent were to be savored like
a fine alcohol, too rare and too precious to spill or waste.
The boy didn’t protest when Spike took the turn that would lead them
toward his apartment rather than Spike’s crypt. He didn’t protest,
didn’t say a word; but his heartbeat jumped wildly, causing Spike to
glance at him.
“Yeah, we’re going to your place. And you’re going to invite me in. Problem with that?”
A few rapid blinks, a catch in the boy’s breath as he caught on the
innuendo, and a small voice answered that there was no problem. The
fear scent increased, but not as much as the aroma of lust. Oh, yes. It
wasn’t just the alcohol talking. The boy wanted it and bad.
They walked to the apartment complex in silence after that, as Spike
finished his cigarette and tried to decide what he would do to the boy
first. Finish jerking him off? Or make him beg for it? Demand a
blowjob? Give one? Take him on his hands and knees? On his back?
Standing? Let him ride his cock?
So many possibilities… and now, as Xander’s choked voice pronounced the
words that allowed him in, it was time to choose. Maybe he’d start with…
In for a penny… How did the end of the saying go? Whatever. It didn’t
matter now. Spike was walking in, all swagger and smirk, and Xander
only had two thoughts in mind. First, wipe that superior grin off the
vampire’s face. Two, get that fine hand where it belonged. On Xander’s
cock. His hand or something else.
Two steps to close and lock the door. One to grab Spike’s collar and
push, shove, struggle the duster off him. Half a step to press his
mouth against the baffled vamp’s. Drunk, remember? And thralled.
Therefore, not Xander’s fault. Not his fault if he was kissing Spike,
tasting alcohol on his tongue, and remnants of something coppery that
he really didn’t want to think about. Not his fault if he moaned when
Spike, the initial surprise passed, took control again, with his mouth,
his hands, his whole body, maneuvering Xander until the back of his
knees touched the edge of the sofa and then pushing him down.
Goal number one reached. For a fleeting second, as Spike looked down at
Xander, there was incredulity, almost appreciation on the blond’s face,
replacing very nicely the usual smirk.
Then the smirk was back in full force.
“Want it bad, do you?” Spike drawled, drawing Xander’s eyes to his
crotch with a cupping hand and a small thrust. The bulge was quite
noticeable, matching Xander’s own; and to his own shock, the human
realized that he wanted to touch almost as much as he wanted to be
touched.
Without waiting for an answer, Spike undid first the button of his
jeans, then slowly slid down the zipper. His cock sprang free and
Xander blinked.
If Spike had still been hesitating, the way the boy licked his lips,
probably not even aware he was doing it, settled the matter. He stepped
as close as he could to the sofa, right between Xander’s legs, giving
his cock a few hard strokes only inches from Xander’s face.
“Want a taste, boy?”
Xander’s eyes widened, as did Spike’s grin.
“Come on, now. Give us a kiss.”
Spike’s free hand settled at the back of the boy’s head, fingers
tangling in soft strands, and guided him forward. There was no
resistance whatsoever, only the barest hesitation as moist lips brushed
against the head of his cock. Spike had only asked for a kiss, but
compliant lips parted and his cock slid into the wet heat, and now
there was suckling and good lord where had the lad learned that
particular trick? Still a lot of fumbling mixed with instants of pure
genius… Oh, it would be so much fun to teach him…
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The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.
