FIC - Four Times and You're Fucked (BtVS)
Title: Four Times and You’re Fucked
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: S/X
Prompt: 145 - Imbroglio
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,856
Previous
Summary: A little imbroglio never stopped Spike.
Xander wakes slowly, comfortable in the security of his little space shut away from the rest of the world, the walls keeping everyone out, and he knows that he’s lying to himself, that there are things that can and will waltz through wood and steel and concrete like it’s one of those Japanese paper door things, flimsy and breakable and falling into nothing at the first hint of rain, but living on the Hellmouth demands a certain level of demon-blindness in order to keep the human brain sane, and Xander figures ignoring this oversight of the home space is just a bit necessary for him to sleep at all so he wakes in slow, easy increments, grunting and pulling blankets over his head like he used to as a kid, hiding from that annoying ray of sunlight trying to pierce his skull. Except, there is no sunlight right now. Actually, the only light is the funny green one from his bathroom night light. He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, blinking around his room and trying to figure out what’s woken him up so early in the morning. There’s only so much sleep he gets around work and slaying, and he treasures it like a hoarding dragon.
“Gonna wake up an’ play?” Spike grins, sure that Xander can’t see him, amused that the human trusts him this close in his sleep because Spike’s seen Xander go from sprawled out and snoring to swinging the large battle axe leaning against his nightstand. A demonstration of years of living next to death, the boy had been bleary-eyed and unresponsive while cleaning the axe and crawling right back into bed. Now, though, Spike hovered not five feet from the attuned human, and not a flicker of tension rode those broad shoulders. Spike licked his lips and leaned forward, Xander’s eyes finally tracking his movement in the limited vision of humans. “Got a treat just for you.”
Xander winced when he heard a switch flip, but it was only the hall light, bright enough to dazzle his eyes for a moment, but not the shock his stupidly high-wattage lamp on the bedside table would have been. Spike shifted back from Xander, standing in the spill of soft white light, nearly posing with his head coyly tilted down and to one side, hands behind his back and hips cocked just enough to display the lines of black fabric and white skin: white throat bared by a deeply cut V-neck shirt, the top wide and nearly falling off of Spike’s delicate shoulders, hugging the long line of thin torso, every sharp muscle surely visible if only there was a bit more light, a black skirt almost surely as tight creating an intriguing little shadow at the very bottom of Spike’s ass where his male curves pushed the material out just enough to tease, all on top of gloriously bare white legs, nicely formed, trim, flowing from lethal muscle to lecherous shadowy dip down to feet, long and fine-boned, wonderfully small toes tipped with black paint. Xander gulped, panted a few breaths, and didn’t even try to stop his blood from dropping out of his brain.
Spike rather liked the slow perusal of those darkening eyes: appreciative, knowing, accepting. The confusion tumbling around in his head ever since the beginning of this Anflr debacle didn’t matter here. Or it mattered more than he’d ever imagined because the reaction he’d expected had been nowhere in sight or scent. This scent was all desire and fear and respect and hunger, and when Spike tilted his head back to breathe it deeper, he wasn’t surprised to find himself pressed against the wall, burning human flesh leaning into him with barely leashed sexual need. He let a satisfied grin curl at the corners of his lips, and opened his eyes to look down at the sparkling brown ones searching his own. The fast, wild grin flashing across Xander’s face startled him for a second. That was when his arms were twisted up behind his back, caught in the ripped shirt, and Spike couldn’t quite get enough leverage with his own weight pressed against them. Xander leaned close, his breath hot and comforting against his throat.
“I’m going to fuck you against the wall, Spike,” Xander whispered, pleased when Spike tried to buck him off, that long expanse of white throat arched beneath his mouth. Not one to pass up such a blatant invitation, Xander pressed his lips to the pulse point, intrigued to find that Spike actually had a very slow thump-ump, and he set his teeth around that heart beat and huffed a very soft, very pleased moan that Anya had hated, called it a growling purr that set all of her demonic memories on edge. Spike stopped wiggling. For a long moment, Xander could swear he’d ruined the entire night, Spike’s body trembling, vibrating with something Xander didn’t pretend to understand, and then Spike breathed a soft moan and practically melted into the wall, body all open and malleable, and Xander ran his hand up a smooth thigh, leather skirt dragging up its short length and exposing Spike’s usual commando state.
Spike couldn’t stop the begging whine tumbling from his lips as Xander’s smiling lips nipped down his throat and settled just over the hollow of his collarbone. Tremendously thankful that Xander only wore boxers to bed, Spike arched his back and rubbed against that delightfully radiant chest. Xander leaned more weight on Spike, and bugger it all, his hands were going to hurt when this was all over, but the rough fingertips gently hooking under one knee and lifting it begged him not to care. When that same hand tugged those boxers just far enough to let Xander’s cock slide down Spike’s then under his balls, he wished he could see something other than the really boring ceiling. Then Xander’s thumb pressed against his hole, insistent and unrelenting, and Spike squeezed his eyes shut, dragging in a panting gasp. Spike pressed his head to the wall, neck open to whatever Xander wanted next, and grit his teeth as Xander pressed cum-damp cockhead against Spike, shifted his grip on Spike’s waist, and bit down on Spike’s shoulder.
Xander growled until he felt Spike’s body split around his cock. Then he stopped, Spike’s rapid breathing whistling at the back of his throat, Xander’s teeth deep enough for him to taste blood. He shifted a foot, pushing Spike’s one support out just a bit, kneading Spike’s sides with his hands, and breathed for a long moment as they both relaxed, rode out the pain. Once the little hitching breaths slowed, Xander slid his knee forward and wrapped his hands around Spike’s waist. He lifted his head and waited a long moment more until Spike opened his eyes and looked down. Xander wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but when Spike dropped his head onto Xander’s shoulder with a sigh that shuddered down his sides and legs, his back curving with a very inviting tilt of hips, Xander took that final step and leaned into Spike with his whole body, pressing forward with a slow drag that burned his cock. Spike made choking, gasping sounds in the back of his throat, a low, constant whine reverberated in Xander’s ear, and Xander knew this wasn’t all fun and games, yet he could still feel Spike’s very interested cock nudging his stomach. Not like he could have stopped at this point, he’d been wanting to be inside this lithe body ever since that damn chartres dress that brought out Spike’s eyes, and the very thought pushed Xander, made his hands pull and his hips buck.
Spike wailed, that one glancing pleasure slicing through the roiling hot ache, his head snapped against the wall, his voice stuttering as his body throbbed and relaxed, clenched and released, his cum ground between their stomachs as his muscles tensed and twisted, unable to escape as Xander hissed and dug his fingers into Spike’s back. Spike wanted to close his mouth, he didn’t need to breathe, but his body was drooping, melting, and when Xander thrust up again, Spike’s foot lost the ground, scrabbled at the back of Xander’s leg to get some support as the man buried his face in Spike’s throat and controlled both of their bodies, pushing and pulling, forcing his way in and out of Spike’s unresisting form, surging and reaching for his own tumbling pinnacle. Spike grunted, his head fell forward, and he couldn’t do anything but enjoy the stinging scrape inside of his body, the solid heat burrowed deep inside. And when Xander’s teeth dug into his shoulder again, he felt the warmth spread through his stomach, could almost feel warm down to his fingers and toes, and he closed his eyes, tucked his nose into musky dark hair, and lingered in the fleeting companionship, trying not to let the encompassing embrace make him feel safe, secure.
Xander didn’t bother to step back. He didn’t think his legs would keep him up. Using Spike and the wall, he slowly folded downward, keeping Spike’s ass pressed to his hips, reluctant to give up that tight little haven his cock had found. His tongue darted out to soothe the angry red welts he’d put on Spike. For a moment, Xander felt a swirling giddiness at having marked the vampire, then he leaned away and looked at Spike. The blond’s head was tilted back on the wall again, throat not quite so invitingly arched now.
“I’m confused here,” Xander said, oddly relieved when Spike snorted and rolled his head up enough to blearily glare at Xander through heavily lidded eyes.
“I came here to fuck you, pet,” Spike said. Those sneering lips paused, softened and curled into a sardonic, yet content, smile. “Turned the tables just a bit, you did.” Spike tensed his muscles, grin widening at Xander’s soft, choked little gasp. Still had the boy by the bits, he did, even if it wasn’t exactly by the plans. Spike didn’t care for nit-picky operations, anyway.
Xander curled forward, dropped his forehead onto Spike’s shoulder, and wrapped his arms firmly around the other’s waist. “Next time, wear the duster,” Xander murmured, his interrupted sleep and rather athletic exploits dragging him down to sleep, propped up on the floor around Spike.
Spike blinked down at Xander’s soft snore and could have sworn bloody murder. Boy’d actually fallen asleep on him. Spike squirmed, trying to get his arms free or off of Xander’s not-quite soft cock, and wasn’t that going to be interesting when the boy woke in the morning. Xander’s arms tightened, pulling Spike closer, pushing deeper, and Spike was not going to be stuck here with his own bloody hard-on, so he sighed, settled his hands a little lower on his back, curled his leg more comfortably around Xander, and told his brain to go to sleep.
“Right cock up this was,” Spike mumbled to the ceiling. He took a quick look at the tussled hair and lax body and made a note to wear the duster next time.
~JJ~
x-posted tamingthemuse
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: S/X
Prompt: 145 - Imbroglio
Warnings: Cross-dressing
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,856
Previous
Summary: A little imbroglio never stopped Spike.
Xander wakes slowly, comfortable in the security of his little space shut away from the rest of the world, the walls keeping everyone out, and he knows that he’s lying to himself, that there are things that can and will waltz through wood and steel and concrete like it’s one of those Japanese paper door things, flimsy and breakable and falling into nothing at the first hint of rain, but living on the Hellmouth demands a certain level of demon-blindness in order to keep the human brain sane, and Xander figures ignoring this oversight of the home space is just a bit necessary for him to sleep at all so he wakes in slow, easy increments, grunting and pulling blankets over his head like he used to as a kid, hiding from that annoying ray of sunlight trying to pierce his skull. Except, there is no sunlight right now. Actually, the only light is the funny green one from his bathroom night light. He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, blinking around his room and trying to figure out what’s woken him up so early in the morning. There’s only so much sleep he gets around work and slaying, and he treasures it like a hoarding dragon.
“Gonna wake up an’ play?” Spike grins, sure that Xander can’t see him, amused that the human trusts him this close in his sleep because Spike’s seen Xander go from sprawled out and snoring to swinging the large battle axe leaning against his nightstand. A demonstration of years of living next to death, the boy had been bleary-eyed and unresponsive while cleaning the axe and crawling right back into bed. Now, though, Spike hovered not five feet from the attuned human, and not a flicker of tension rode those broad shoulders. Spike licked his lips and leaned forward, Xander’s eyes finally tracking his movement in the limited vision of humans. “Got a treat just for you.”
Xander winced when he heard a switch flip, but it was only the hall light, bright enough to dazzle his eyes for a moment, but not the shock his stupidly high-wattage lamp on the bedside table would have been. Spike shifted back from Xander, standing in the spill of soft white light, nearly posing with his head coyly tilted down and to one side, hands behind his back and hips cocked just enough to display the lines of black fabric and white skin: white throat bared by a deeply cut V-neck shirt, the top wide and nearly falling off of Spike’s delicate shoulders, hugging the long line of thin torso, every sharp muscle surely visible if only there was a bit more light, a black skirt almost surely as tight creating an intriguing little shadow at the very bottom of Spike’s ass where his male curves pushed the material out just enough to tease, all on top of gloriously bare white legs, nicely formed, trim, flowing from lethal muscle to lecherous shadowy dip down to feet, long and fine-boned, wonderfully small toes tipped with black paint. Xander gulped, panted a few breaths, and didn’t even try to stop his blood from dropping out of his brain.
Spike rather liked the slow perusal of those darkening eyes: appreciative, knowing, accepting. The confusion tumbling around in his head ever since the beginning of this Anflr debacle didn’t matter here. Or it mattered more than he’d ever imagined because the reaction he’d expected had been nowhere in sight or scent. This scent was all desire and fear and respect and hunger, and when Spike tilted his head back to breathe it deeper, he wasn’t surprised to find himself pressed against the wall, burning human flesh leaning into him with barely leashed sexual need. He let a satisfied grin curl at the corners of his lips, and opened his eyes to look down at the sparkling brown ones searching his own. The fast, wild grin flashing across Xander’s face startled him for a second. That was when his arms were twisted up behind his back, caught in the ripped shirt, and Spike couldn’t quite get enough leverage with his own weight pressed against them. Xander leaned close, his breath hot and comforting against his throat.
“I’m going to fuck you against the wall, Spike,” Xander whispered, pleased when Spike tried to buck him off, that long expanse of white throat arched beneath his mouth. Not one to pass up such a blatant invitation, Xander pressed his lips to the pulse point, intrigued to find that Spike actually had a very slow thump-ump, and he set his teeth around that heart beat and huffed a very soft, very pleased moan that Anya had hated, called it a growling purr that set all of her demonic memories on edge. Spike stopped wiggling. For a long moment, Xander could swear he’d ruined the entire night, Spike’s body trembling, vibrating with something Xander didn’t pretend to understand, and then Spike breathed a soft moan and practically melted into the wall, body all open and malleable, and Xander ran his hand up a smooth thigh, leather skirt dragging up its short length and exposing Spike’s usual commando state.
Spike couldn’t stop the begging whine tumbling from his lips as Xander’s smiling lips nipped down his throat and settled just over the hollow of his collarbone. Tremendously thankful that Xander only wore boxers to bed, Spike arched his back and rubbed against that delightfully radiant chest. Xander leaned more weight on Spike, and bugger it all, his hands were going to hurt when this was all over, but the rough fingertips gently hooking under one knee and lifting it begged him not to care. When that same hand tugged those boxers just far enough to let Xander’s cock slide down Spike’s then under his balls, he wished he could see something other than the really boring ceiling. Then Xander’s thumb pressed against his hole, insistent and unrelenting, and Spike squeezed his eyes shut, dragging in a panting gasp. Spike pressed his head to the wall, neck open to whatever Xander wanted next, and grit his teeth as Xander pressed cum-damp cockhead against Spike, shifted his grip on Spike’s waist, and bit down on Spike’s shoulder.
Xander growled until he felt Spike’s body split around his cock. Then he stopped, Spike’s rapid breathing whistling at the back of his throat, Xander’s teeth deep enough for him to taste blood. He shifted a foot, pushing Spike’s one support out just a bit, kneading Spike’s sides with his hands, and breathed for a long moment as they both relaxed, rode out the pain. Once the little hitching breaths slowed, Xander slid his knee forward and wrapped his hands around Spike’s waist. He lifted his head and waited a long moment more until Spike opened his eyes and looked down. Xander wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but when Spike dropped his head onto Xander’s shoulder with a sigh that shuddered down his sides and legs, his back curving with a very inviting tilt of hips, Xander took that final step and leaned into Spike with his whole body, pressing forward with a slow drag that burned his cock. Spike made choking, gasping sounds in the back of his throat, a low, constant whine reverberated in Xander’s ear, and Xander knew this wasn’t all fun and games, yet he could still feel Spike’s very interested cock nudging his stomach. Not like he could have stopped at this point, he’d been wanting to be inside this lithe body ever since that damn chartres dress that brought out Spike’s eyes, and the very thought pushed Xander, made his hands pull and his hips buck.
Spike wailed, that one glancing pleasure slicing through the roiling hot ache, his head snapped against the wall, his voice stuttering as his body throbbed and relaxed, clenched and released, his cum ground between their stomachs as his muscles tensed and twisted, unable to escape as Xander hissed and dug his fingers into Spike’s back. Spike wanted to close his mouth, he didn’t need to breathe, but his body was drooping, melting, and when Xander thrust up again, Spike’s foot lost the ground, scrabbled at the back of Xander’s leg to get some support as the man buried his face in Spike’s throat and controlled both of their bodies, pushing and pulling, forcing his way in and out of Spike’s unresisting form, surging and reaching for his own tumbling pinnacle. Spike grunted, his head fell forward, and he couldn’t do anything but enjoy the stinging scrape inside of his body, the solid heat burrowed deep inside. And when Xander’s teeth dug into his shoulder again, he felt the warmth spread through his stomach, could almost feel warm down to his fingers and toes, and he closed his eyes, tucked his nose into musky dark hair, and lingered in the fleeting companionship, trying not to let the encompassing embrace make him feel safe, secure.
Xander didn’t bother to step back. He didn’t think his legs would keep him up. Using Spike and the wall, he slowly folded downward, keeping Spike’s ass pressed to his hips, reluctant to give up that tight little haven his cock had found. His tongue darted out to soothe the angry red welts he’d put on Spike. For a moment, Xander felt a swirling giddiness at having marked the vampire, then he leaned away and looked at Spike. The blond’s head was tilted back on the wall again, throat not quite so invitingly arched now.
“I’m confused here,” Xander said, oddly relieved when Spike snorted and rolled his head up enough to blearily glare at Xander through heavily lidded eyes.
“I came here to fuck you, pet,” Spike said. Those sneering lips paused, softened and curled into a sardonic, yet content, smile. “Turned the tables just a bit, you did.” Spike tensed his muscles, grin widening at Xander’s soft, choked little gasp. Still had the boy by the bits, he did, even if it wasn’t exactly by the plans. Spike didn’t care for nit-picky operations, anyway.
Xander curled forward, dropped his forehead onto Spike’s shoulder, and wrapped his arms firmly around the other’s waist. “Next time, wear the duster,” Xander murmured, his interrupted sleep and rather athletic exploits dragging him down to sleep, propped up on the floor around Spike.
Spike blinked down at Xander’s soft snore and could have sworn bloody murder. Boy’d actually fallen asleep on him. Spike squirmed, trying to get his arms free or off of Xander’s not-quite soft cock, and wasn’t that going to be interesting when the boy woke in the morning. Xander’s arms tightened, pulling Spike closer, pushing deeper, and Spike was not going to be stuck here with his own bloody hard-on, so he sighed, settled his hands a little lower on his back, curled his leg more comfortably around Xander, and told his brain to go to sleep.
“Right cock up this was,” Spike mumbled to the ceiling. He took a quick look at the tussled hair and lax body and made a note to wear the duster next time.
~JJ~
x-posted tamingthemuse