In her endeavor to write this story, the minion had the help of essene, entrenous88 and moosesal who provided support, encouragement and pointy beta sticks. All the wonderful things in the story came out of their input. Any mistakes were the fault of the minion.
In reading this story, the minion suggests that first you read Yin's Hour Series from which the minion received her inspiration.
*Not her real name
ETA: Warnings--bondage, abuse of talented writer's 'verse, NC-17
Spike arrived home from work--yes, he was human and now had a day job, and wasn’t that just a kick in the pants?--and headed up the stairs in the townhouse he shared with his lover of exactly one year, give or take a few amnesiac months. One year ago he and Xander had spent an hour together that had changed everything. Spike looked forward to a night of fucking. And forgetting. Perhaps with a large amount of JD thrown in for good measure.
Why would he want to forget the best thing that had ever happened to him? He did want to remember what he’d gained that night--the most responsive, caring, erotic lover he could ever have imagined. Spike’s vampire-memory growled at the thought. **Better check for your knackers, William. Make sure the feckin’ Powers that bleedin’ Be brought you back dick intact, since clearly you’ve been resurrected as a teenage chit.**
**Shut up, wanker. You don’t seem to complain when you have said dick buried in that tight, hot hole.** The inner vamp wisely bit its tongue, showing even the dead undead could listen to reason.
Okay, so he had good memories of that curiously tender night of domination. But he needed to forget what he’d lost since then.
Snorting at himself, Spike stripped off his work clothes and went to run a shower. He was brooding, and what in the hell did he have to brood about? By all accounts he should be buried in the bottom of a crater, his dust indistinguishable from the rubble that was supposed to be his final resting place. Instead he was alive. REALLY alive. Warm, living, breathing, spending-Saturdays-soaking-in-the-sun-at-t
And staring back at him each morning as he shaved was a happy man. Lines were forming in the corners of his eyes from squinting at the sun he truly couldn’t get enough of, and they matched the laugh lines parenthetically framing his nearly constant grin. He was loved and healthy and life couldn’t be better. Aside from attacks of girlish sensibilities when he lay in strong arms at night, that is.
And yet he brooded. Because in the process of gaining a life, he lost his unlife. The Big Bad was no more. On a normal day, he could count it a decent trade. Chocolate milkshakes instead of blood; sunscreen instead of smoking Army surplus blanket; a reflection instead of invisibility.
This was not a normal day, however. Tonight he was aware of what he was not. No longer the dominating figure who’d placed a collar around Xander’s neck and shown him the freedom that could only be found in obedience.
Xander assured him that he was just as happy to have a boyfriend who could build a sand crypt--complete with rising minions--at the beach on a typical Southern California afternoon. However, it was Spike’s strength and sense of menace that no piece of silicone could control that had made Xander lust after him.
Spike knew one thing: eventually, Xander was going to leave him and go find someone who could be the man Spike, ironically now an *actual* man, couldn’t be.
No wonder Spike wanted to forget their anniversary. If Xander was going to realize Spike’s inability to be a true Master, tonight would be the night.
He emerged from the bathroom drying his hair with the companion poofy towel to the sage green shower curtain. He glared at the towel. He’d picked it out. The fact that it matched the shower curtain was proof: He was no longer a Master. He was Martha Stewart. Except not scary. Or a demon.
He looked at the clock and realization struck. It was nearly 6:30 p.m. Xander should have been home an hour ago. Maybe this anniversary was too much for him, too. Probably having to open that jar of pickles for Spike when the former vampire couldn’t do it was the last straw. He’d probably gone out to get waxed, get spanked and get rid of Spike.
Spike sank to the bed, staring blankly at their dresser, feeling more powerless than when he first took his trip to the vet to be neutered. The Initiative had just taken his bite and reputation. Xander had taken his heart and his soul.
Only when his panic faded to a welcome numbness did he notice the small white envelope propped up against the mirror. As he stood and walked over to the dresser, his heart beat faster--he didn’t think he’d ever get used to *that* sensation again--when he saw his name written on the front in Xander’s scrawl. At least the flower-arrangement size of the envelope afforded some relief. Though Xander was hardly a poet, he would certainly write a Dear John letter longer than, “Gone. See ya’ later, loser.”
Of course knowing Xander wouldn’t kiss him off so callously hadn’t kept Spike from staring at the cryptic card for ten minutes. It was heavy and white, with glossy black, embossed printing.
232 Back Bay Drive
Newport Beach, California
Turning it over, he saw familiar handwriting:
8:00 p.m. – wear black
Spike had no clue where Xander was sending him. Maybe he was going to do the break up in some public place so Spike wouldn’t make a scene. He sighed. Xander should realize by now that Spike didn’t make scenes anymore; he was a normal, average Joe. And it was just that average-Joe status that fueled the break-up scenario in his head.
He’d definitely get rid of this heart if he could. The constantly beating muscle hurt like fuck-all as he fished a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt out of the back of his closet.
At 7:55 p.m. Spike found himself in front of a non-descript, windowless building. The only identifying sign was a small placard that assured him he was at the right address: “232 Back Bay Drive.” Maybe this was one of those super-upscale, no-name restaurants. Just like Xander to want to give him a good last meal.
Spike took a deep, much-needed breath and approached the door. He stared at it uncertainly. Should he knock or just walk right in? **Vampires don’t even think that question,** Spike fumed at his own hesitancy.
The decision was made for him as the door opened soundlessly. Outlined against light flickering from inside was a short, stocky man. He was dressed simply in a tight white t-shirt and equally tight black jeans. Spike felt disoriented, but incongruously noticed the man’s feet were bare.
“Welcome,” the man said as he stepped aside and gestured for Spike to enter. “Please come in.”
The room Spike entered was spacious. Slate tile covered the floor, and the walls glowed from the light of candles that were scattered around the room. Luxurious brown leather love seats and chairs were arranged in small conversational groupings. Spike shifted nervously and looked back at the man who had opened the door. He felt even more uneasy when he realized the man would not meet his eyes.
Spike had no idea what to say, but it didn’t matter. The dark haired man was already speaking to him, his gaze still directed at the floor.
“We have been expecting you, sir. Everything is ready for you. If you will please follow me...” He turned, his soft feet padding in unnatural silence across the tile floor as he led Spike down a candlelit corridor.
This place felt vaguely familiar, but Spike was certain he’d never been here, much less to Newport Beach, before.
He was led past a number of closed doors, until the man stopped at the last door on the left. Spike noticed that it was made of polished mahogany, reflecting absentmindedly that he’d learned a lot about craftsmanship from living with a carpenter. Before he would have seen the door and just thought, “Wood. Avoid if possible.” Now he almost wished someone would put a stake through his aching, beating heart.
He started when he heard his attendant clear his throat. He looked up to see the man standing to the side of the door, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back and eyes still downcast. “It is our pleasure to serve you again. My name is Neil. If there is anything you need or desire, please dial 9, and I will attend you immediately.”
Abruptly, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Spike felt chills run down his spine and then migrate to his dick. He watched Neil walk away, before staring resolutely at the door. Could this really be…? No, it couldn’t. He was no longer a Master. He wasn’t even a slave. He was nobody.
**Hell, just get this travesty over with, you bloody ponce,** he told himself viciously. With that, he squared his shoulders, swallowed his trepidation, and opened the door with a bravado that was no longer innate.
Spike found himself in a familiar, opulently-appointed suite. Just as it had last year, the only light came from the candles flickering around the room. The focal point was a vast, curtained bed centered on the far wall. There was a bar to his left. Deliberately ignoring the figure he knew was kneeling near the bed, Spike went to the bar immediately. He poured himself a generous portion of bourbon and tossed it back, feeling the warmth spread through his working circulatory system. Bonus #394 of being human: Dutch courage actually worked. There was a tentative swagger in his step as he turned and began walking toward the bed.
Spike focused on all the small details about the room: walls covered in dark patterned silk; candlelight sparkling on the polished wood of the massive bed; the faint scent of oil wafting through the air. Finally, swallowing hard, he let his gaze fall to the figure kneeling on the floor facing the foot of the bed.
Spike almost giggled. Had he saved the world only to die of a heart attack upon seeing his lover’s leather-covered ass? Or the leather gauntleted wrists tied together behind the muscled torso, making the well-defined back and shoulder muscles ripple under oiled skin? No. The heart attack was going to come from noticing the thick, plain black leather collar fastened around the neck of the man kneeling so submissively before him. He knew that if he walked around the half-naked man, he would find the supple leather fastened with a silver buckle that rested just under Xander’s protruding Adam’s apple. Spike idly noted that the dark hair glowed in the candlelight with burgundy highlights. Damn. His boy had thought of everything.
He reflexively scented the air for pheromones his human nose could no longer smell. But it didn’t matter that his olfactory senses were dampened. He could see the evidence of Xander’s arousal as he slowly circled him. It was just like one year earlier, every detail except for one: the dick encased in tight black leather was harder than Spike had ever seen it. He thought it quite possible that even the clearly outlined cock ring would not prevent Xander from coming should Spike give the order.
The thought of giving an order filled Spike with dread. It was generous of Xander to try to give him this gift, but who were they kidding? Spike might have been resurrected, but the Big Bad still rested at the bottom of a pit.
Spike choked back tears. “Xander.” His voice was hoarse and broken. He cleared his throat. “Xander. What are you doing?”
Xander remained silent and still.
“Xander,” Spike pleaded. “I can’t do this. I’m not a Master vampire anymore. I’m just a guy.” Spike closed his eyes against the tears welling up in his eyes. “Please, baby, I can’t be this for you.”
Spike felt a touch against his hip. He looked down and caught his breath at the beautiful sight. Xander, shaggy curls hanging in his down-turned eyes, was rubbing his head against Spike. With a rush Spike realized that Xander was asking permission to speak.
“What is it, Xander?” When there was no response, Spike whispered, “Answer me.”
Xander’s voice was equally hoarse, but with lust, not pain. “Please. I need you, Master.”
Spike froze. Except for his dick. That lengthened and grew impossibly harder.
Spike reached down to tangle his fingers in the lustrous locks of hair, tugging Xander’s head away from his hip. “Xander. Look at me.”
Brown eyes looked up, glazed with surrender. Spike could see Xander’s cock pulsing with arousal. He stared down at his lover kneeling in supplication, legs spread, nipples erect, golden skin peeking out between the laces holding Xander’s pants together.
The look in Xander’s eyes pushed Spike past his insecurities. He put on the Big Bad like he had once donned his duster.
“Eyes down, pet.”
Spike was secretly thrilled when Xander’s eyes remained locked with his own. The look in those eyes was hotter than the flames that consumed Spike while saving the world.
*Twack* Spike smacked his open palm against Xander’s right cheek. The boy’s head swung to the side but his body remained in position. Spike raised his hand to trace the red marks of his fingers appearing on his lover’s cheek.
“You will obey me, Xander. Eyes down.”
Xander flushed as he redirected his eyes to the floor. Spike felt a surge go through him at Xander’s submission. Better than Viagra, that.
Quickly pulling off his shirt, Spike remembered his first command to Xander a year ago.
“Xander, unbutton my jeans with your teeth.”
These jeans weren’t old like the ones Spike had intentionally worn the first time he became Xander’s Master. The buttons tonight were much stiffer, but Xander had learned a lot in a year, deftly opening Spike’s fly with his teeth, freeing Spike’s cock.
Spike’s heavy erection bounced in front of Xander’s face, already dripping with pre-come. He shifted his hips forward slightly and began painting Xander’s face with his fluids, loving how the flickering light from the candles sparkled on the emulsion now covering Xander’s mouth, chin and cheeks.
The kneeling boy quivered. Spike knew he was struggling not to lick at the nectar coating his mouth. Spike groaned when he saw Xander press his lips together surreptitiously to feel the slide of jism-coated lips.
“Xander.” The ghost of a vampiric growl made Xander kneel up straighter, focusing once again on his beloved Master.
“Xander,” Spike continued once his pet’s attention was completely focused again. “Lick my slit.”
Xander obeyed. Delicately, he reached out his tongue and lapped at the remaining drops of pre-come gathered in Spike’s slit.
Spike moaned loudly. That tiny point of connection between the tip of Xander’s tongue and the tip of his cock head was hotter than naked bodies pressed together from head to toe. As Xander pulled away, Spike could see a fine string of creamy fluid connecting the two points. It might as well have been an electrical wire. Just looking at the strand sent sparks up Spike’s prick, through his spine and into the pleasure center of his brain.
As he watched, the strand finally broke, adding one more fine, glistening mark of ownership on Xander’s chin. Spike could stand it no longer. He sank to his knees, impressed that Xander still managed to keep his eyes downcast and not meet his gaze. Spike mimicked the lapping movements of Xander’s tongue, painstakingly licking his essence off of Xander’s face.
He now understood what people meant when they talked about lovers having “chemistry.” Because something happened to his pre-come when it came into contact with Xander’s skin. Some reaction turned the musky fluid into honeyed ambrosia. It was the taste of love, and Spike couldn’t get enough of it.
Standing quickly, Spike dragged off his boots and socks, then stripped off his jeans. He tangled his hands in his boy’s dark waves. Holding Xander’s head still, he moved so that the tip of his cock was millimeters away from Xander’s lips. They both were frozen for a moment, Spike loving the torment of anticipation.
Spike had enough of the Big Bad in him now that patience was unthinkable. He growled one word:
Xander opened his mouth wide but did not move. The head of Spike’s cock seemed to sway from the force of gasping breath coming out of the opened orifice.
And then Spike’s cock was moving slowly into the dark, wet cavern. He shivered from the feel of moist breath caressing his aching hard on.
“Suck me, pet. Nice and slow.”
Spike figured that Xander’s groan was one of frustration at the lazy pace his Master set with the sway of his hips. He didn’t waver from the slow fucking of his boy’s mouth, knowing that to his pet, the only thing better than frenzied sucking on the thick, beloved cock was doing exactly what he was told to do. Spike reveled Xander’s powerlessness. And it appeared so did Xander.
Gradually Spike sped up the thrusting of his hips. The sight of his boy taking him in those full, now slightly bruised lips was too much for him. He began jerking Xander’s head back and forth, fucking him hard, ramming the back of his throat. He knew Xander was loving every minute of it and was aching to swallow his come. He waited until the very last second, as his balls tightened against his body.
As he started to come he abruptly wrenched Xander’s head back, pulling completely out of the warm embrace of Xander’s mouth and throat. He shot load after load of come all over Xander. With a final tug on Xander’s hair he growled out one word: “MINE.”
**Bloody hell.** Breathing heavily, Spike looked at the vision before him. **Why didn’t Xan tell me to bring the camera?**
Xander knelt before him in perfect position: upright, shoulders back, eyes downcast. That was lovely enough. But now his hair, his face, his chest all dripped in generous amounts of come. He was the very picture of debauched innocence. The ghost vampire in Spike roared with satisfaction. The man in Spike roared in agreement.
“Such a good pet. My come is so beautiful on you. I think I might need to take off those tight, black leathers of yours. I want to see you wearing only my spunk. Would you like that, pet? Would you like me to unlace you and rub my come into your sac and your aching dick?” Spike paused, loving Xander’s obedient silence, before commanding, “Answer me.”
Spike chuckled silently, practically hearing Xander swallow an inner cry of, **Yes! Please, god, yes!** Instead Xander answered like the good slave that he was: “If it pleases you, Master.”
That word almost made Spike come spontaneously, even without supernatural vampiric refraction time. It was Spike’s turn to swallow, making his Adam’s apple bob in cadence with his cock.
“Look at me, Xander.” When Xander obeyed, Spike saw drops of semen glittering in his long eyelashes. He brushed his finger along the tips and raised it to his mouth, tasting the droplets he’d gathered. He saw Xander forcibly repress a shudder.
“So lovely. Such a good boy. Deserves to be covered in my come.” Spike massaged the cooling liquid into Xander’s cheeks and lips with his thumbs.
“Eyes down.” Brown eyes deepened with lust immediately trained themselves on Spike’s bare feet, not even hesitating to gaze at Spike’s renewed erection. Spike felt more like a Master every passing moment.
“Stand.” His voice was commanding. However, his touch on Xander, helping the young man to balance with his hands fastened behind his back, was gentle. As Xander stood, Spike continued his methodical smoothing of thick come into Xander’s oiled skin.
Finally, Spike took pity on Xander and knelt down to begin unlacing the left leg of Xander’s pants. He caressed the skin in each exposed hole before drawing the laces through. When he reached the last few grommets, he stopped, then repeated his teasing ministration on Xander’s right leg. Spike stood again, and slowly pulled the laces free, allowing the supple leather to fall and pool at their feet.
That night one year ago Spike had been pleasantly surprised to see that the boy had quite a package. His cock was not inconsiderable in size, and blushed a deep shade of red from his lust and the effects of the cock ring. If anything, he’d grown in that time. It could be, though, that Xander was simply more turned on now that he knew what to expect as he surrendered himself to the dominant man he had chosen as his Master. It could also be that Xander looked even more well-endowed than usual with nothing surrounding his cock and balls except for smooth, waxed skin.
Spike dipped his fingers in the pool of come he’d left around Xander’s naval. With torturous, unhurried movements he massaged the fluid into Xander’s denuded sac. He ran one fingertip up the underside of Xander’s erection, circling his glans once, twice, three times. He was impressed with Xander’s ability to stay silent when surely he must be in agony from the light teasing. Spike pulled his hand away and watched the heavy prick bob in the aftermath of his stroking.
“Spread your legs.” Xander stepped his right leg over, his sac and prick swaying from the movement. He was exposed and hard, and Spike knew he was dying to be touched. He did not move, though. He remained still, the perfect picture of total surrender.
Spike ran his hands over Xander’s smooth flanks, then brushed hairless arms and thighs. Warm silken skin greeted his caresses.
Slowly he moved around Xander, never losing contact. Finally he was behind Xander and leaned up against him, letting his hard nipples rub against the defined planes of Xander’s back. He pressed his hips forward slightly, intent on teasing Xander with brushes of his hard cock into the cleft of Xander’s ass.
Spike was stunned to feel resistance. Cool, hard, unnatural resistance. He spread Xander’s cheeks with his palms, feeling along the exposed crevice for the tight aperture. He froze when he realized what was in his way.
Buried in Xander’s hole was a butt plug. The butt plug Spike had forced him to wear on a Scoobie movie night. The butt plug that had prepared Xander to be finger fucked into a daze in the midst of friends who had no clue about his fantasies or the fact that said fantasies were being fulfilled while they watched a romantic comedy.
“What’s this?” His voice was harsh with passion.
Xander remained silent.
Spike pressed against the plug, forcing it against Xander’s sensitive gland. “Answer me.”
“A butt plug, Master. I wanted to prepare myself for your usage of me.”
Spike gave Xander a hard smack across his bare ass, admiring a pink handprint that appeared almost instantaneously.
“Who does this ass belong to, Xander? Answer me.”
“And who gets to decide what gets put up this ass?”
Spike could feel Xander’s hesitation like it was a tangible thing. They both knew Xander was going to be punished. Spike watched Xander’s dick quiver, fighting the cock ring in a vain attempt to come.
“You, Master. You decide what is placed in my ass.”
“Yes, and you better fucking remember that, boy.” Spike shoved the butt plug even farther up Xander’s passage, forcing a groan from the younger man.
“Clearly I need to mark what is mine. Make sure you don’t forget whose slave you are.”
He grabbed Xander by his hair and dragged him over to the bed.
“Bed. On your knees. Now.”
This time Spike didn’t help him. He watched Xander climb awkwardly onto the bed, struggling to get himself in an upright kneeling position.
Once he was on the bed, Spike joined him, untying the gauntlets. He surreptitiously massaged Xander’s numb hands and arms as he brought them forward, fastening them to thoughtfully placed rings on the posts of the immense bed. After spreading Xander’s knees as far apart as they would go, Spike sat back to admire the pretty tableau before him.
The muscles of Xander’s back and shoulders stood out in sharp relief as he was stretched widely by his bound hands. His heavy erection oozed pre-come onto the silken coverlet. But by far the prettiest part of the picture was his ass.
There were still faint pink marks from where Spike had spanked him. But that was nothing compared to the sight of the plug disappearing inside the burning hot depths of his boy.
Abruptly, Spike yanked the plug out of Xander’s ass. He watched as the stretched pucker winked and spasmed against the emptiness. Spike reached out a finger and traced the outer edges of Xander’s entrance, watching as it opened to his touch, beckoning him to the pleasure that awaited him inside.
Spike continued to tease Xander’s hole as he commanded, “Count.”
*Thwak* Spike smacked Xander’s firm ass hard with his left hand as his finger unexpectedly penetrated deep into Xander.
“One!” Xander screamed the number so loudly Spike wondered if he’d have any voice at all by the time they were done. He’d do his best to make sure that answer was no. He wanted to hear screams like he hadn’t heard since before his trip to the vet.
Spike pulled out, once again circling Xander’s entrance with torturously light touches.
*Thwak* This one was even harder, and earned Xander two thrusts of Spike’s finger.
“Two!” No, not hoarse enough by half, thought Spike.
*Thwak* Three thrusts, this time aimed directly at Xander’s prostate.
“Three!” Xander’s voice cracked. Spike smiled.
“Who does this ass belong to, boy?” Spike administered the fourth blow to Xander’s increasingly crimson bottom.
“You, Master!” Xander’s scream was violent.
*Thwack thwack* “Did I give you permission to answer? I told you to count.”
“Four! Five! Six!” Spike punctuated each number with two fingers thrust forcefully into Xander.
Spike stopped with his fingers deep inside Xander, his fingertips resting on, but not pressing, his boy’s prostate. He had no real desire to hurt his lover, at least no more than Xander wanted to hurt.
“So beautiful. Your skin all scarlet for me, the blood rushing to the surface.” Spike began to lave Xander’s abused skin.
Xander didn’t make a sound when Spike removed his fingers and got up off the bed. Striding over to the bar, he pulled an ice cube out of his empty glass. He placed it in his mouth, savoring the hint of sweetness left by the bourbon. He walked back to the bed, and climbed up behind Xander, careful not to touch him.
Moving carefully so as not to give Xander any indication of what was to come, Spike removed the ice cube from his mouth, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Then, he leaned over and ran an ice-cold line with his tongue down the center of the handprints marking Xander’s smooth skin.
Xander shivered as Spike continued his ablutions, repeating the process over all of Xander’s abused skin, until the ice cube had melted away.
Spike slid his tongue across Xander’s ass until it was painting lazy circles around Xander’s pink hole. Clearly this move had been anticipated--the lube was strawberry flavored. He slid his tongue past the tight ring of muscles, savoring fruit-flavored Xander.
Spike pulled away and blew cool air on the warm, wet pucker. “Mmmm. You taste so good, pet. Such a good boy. Need to fuck you. Feel that tight ass of yours squeeze me. Need to fill you and mark you.”
Moving up the bed, he released Xander’s hands and silently indicated for his lover to turn over. Once he was comfortably settled, Spike once again bound his hands to the bedposts.
Spike slid slowly over Xander, pausing to worry at his collarbone with his teeth and suck on pert brown nipples that tasted like Spike. He began licking his way down Xander’s abs, his mind chanting “Mine! Mine! Mine!” as he savored his own flavor all over the boy.
Xander’s erection was a deep purple now, his cock throbbing with the need for release. Spike placed little kitten licks up and down Xander’s shaft, then blew cool breath on his length.
“Xander.” Spike was surprised at how commanding his own voice sounded. “I am going to release your cock ring. You do not have permission to come. Do you understand? Answer me.”
He looked up into glazed brown eyes. “Yes, Spike.”
Spike circled the base of Xander’s cock with a firm grip, then unlatched the ring. He stayed perfectly still, listening to Xander’s panting breaths. When Xander’s breath had evened out and Spike figured he had control, he released his hold.
He moved his palms down to spread his lover’s thighs. He moved closer until his cock head was just tickling Xander’s entrance. Then he stared at his slave. His boy. His lover. He was entranced by what he saw. Xander, his hands fastened, arms spread wide, chest smooth and covered with traces of Spike’s come, was flushed and his skin was gleaming with sweat and oil. His thighs open revealing his slick hole. Spike raised his gaze to Xander’s magnificent dick, pulsing as it sought completion. Stroking Xander with his eyes, he looked up the body spread out in front of him until he reached the face that had been the first thing he remembered when he got this miraculous life. Xander’s eyes were wide and unfocused.
“Look at me.” Xander struggled visibly to follow the command. When finally their eyes met, Spike smiled. “You have been such a good boy. Made me very happy. I am going to fuck you. You are free to speak without permission while I’m inside of you. However, you may not come until I grant you permission. Do you understand? Answer me.”
Without warning, he slammed into Xander, who screamed constantly through the first hard thrusts. Spike could see him struggling at his bonds, trying to fuck back onto Spike. Spike pulled almost completely out of Xander, then pressed harder on his thighs, opening them as widely as possible.
“MINE!” Spike growled as he forcefully thrust once again deep into Xander’s tunnel, hitting his prostate with tremendous force. Xander paused for breath then screamed more. The hoarseness of his voice nearly pushed Spike over the edge.
“You are so beautiful, Xander. Flushed and taking it, letting me use you. Fucking gorgeous, pet.” He slid one hand up the smooth body laid out before him and ran a finger just under the edge of the black collar. Xander’s breath hitched at the caress.
“I belong to you, Spike. Master. Mark me inside. Fill me, please.” Xander’s voice shook as Spike locked eyes with his slave. “Please, I need you. I need this.”
“Shhhhh, Xander. I’ll make it all better, paint you inside like I did outside. Make you know you are mine.” He began a slow, thorough fuck, twisting his hips so that he could touch every inch of Xander inside. It was torturous for them both, but Spike was intent on making this last.
Xander squirmed underneath him, trying to get Spike to fuck him faster, harder, begging to be owned. Each whimper made Spike feel more powerful and yet more benevolent. Taking pity on them both, he increased the speed and pressure of his thrusts. “Do you want me to mark you, pet? Fill you?”
“If it pleases you, Master.”
“It pleases me, boy.” Spike began to breathe raggedly as he fucked Xander harder and harder. He reveled in the way his heart thrummed within his chest, no longer a sign of his human weakness. It beat strong and hard and drove him to the edge of completion.
“Look at me, Xander.” Wide, dark eyes met his and he gave his final command. “Come.”
As he buried his cock deep inside Xander and painted his ownership over the pulsing walls, Xander came with a howl, his own dick spraying come over them both. Spike collapsed onto his boy, spent in a way a vampire never would be. And that was a good thing. He felt like he’d poured his entire being into his boy. He’d marked Xander as his, and in the process marked himself as Xander’s.
Neither said a word as they lay there, waiting for their breathing and pounding hearts to slow back to normal. When he could finally move again, Spike lifted himself off of Xander and proceeded to meticulously lick their combined essence until he’d consumed every trace. He then reached up and unfastened Xander’s wrists, removing the gauntlets and massaging the color back into his hands and arms. He reached up and turned Xander’s face until he had the boy’s attention. With great care he unfastened the collar from his lover’s neck and placed it reverently on the bed stand. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. Even though it was only one word, he could barely get it past the lump in his throat. “Shower.”
Xander inclined his head in acquiescence and climbed down from the bed to disappear soundlessly into the bathroom. Spike waited until he heard the water turn on before he dialed 9. He let the phone ring once, then hung up and followed his slave into the bathroom.
The déjà vu was almost overwhelming as he saw Xander kneeling in the shower on the rubber mat, just outside of the spray of the shower. Spike climbed in and pulled Xander to his feet. He washed him slowly, enjoying the feel of his soapy hands gliding over the smooth, hairless skin. When he finished, he allowed Xander to do the same for him, falling into a hypnotic daze at the feeling of those warm hands reverentially touching every part of him. He almost didn’t notice when Xander turned off the water and began drying him off with a warm, fluffy towel. Huh. It was sage green.
Xander quickly dried himself and they went into the now spotless room to dress before silently exiting through the deserted halls and foyer to Xander’s car. The drive home was equally quiet. When they reached the parking lot of their apartment, Xander turned off the car, but they remained unspeaking in the car.
Finally Spike broke the silence. “Xander.” Damn, his heart was doing that aching “just letting you know you are alive” pounding thing again. “Xander, I can’t tell you what that meant to me. To give that to me, well,--“
He was silenced by a warm finger placed on his lips. “My choice,” Xander said huskily but firmly, before leaning in to kiss him gently, the barest slide of his mouth over Spike’s. Spike tried to deepen the kiss, but Xander pulled away, grinning at him.
They climbed out of the car, Spike carrying the bag containing the leather pants, the collar and the other supplies. Their shoulders brushed intimately as they ascended the stairs to enter their apartment. Still no words as they undressed each other, slowed only by the exchange of soft, sleepy kisses. They climbed under the covers, and Spike wrapped himself around his strong lover. As he began to drift off to sleep, Xander spoke.
“Yeah, Xan?” Spike murmured sleepily.
“Wanna go to the beach tomorrow?”
Spike placed a kiss at the juncture of Xander’s throat and shoulder. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do, luv.”
In the space of a single heartbeat, they were both asleep.