Fic: Sold (6/11)
Title: Sold(6/11)
Author:Lore
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Spike/Methos
Summary: Harmony accidentally gets Spike sold for an auction, Angel has to get him back
Notes: slave/master relationship, some corporeal punishment and basically crazy Angel
Richie set down his bags while searching his pockets for the keys. He'd tried ringing the bell, but the old man still hadn't opened. Just as he was about ready to slip the key in, the door opened and he almost fell in. Spike's arm held him before he came close to hitting the ground and Richie thanked him for the help. He bowed down to take his bags, but Spike was ahead of him and carried them to the kitchen.
Richie shrugged it off and moved to the living room. Methos sat in a fully spread out sprawl on the couch, the remote right by his hand, a pillow on the floor at his feet. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans and Richie wondered what had been keeping him so busy before. It couldn't really be the TV show he'd been watching?
Spike came out of the kitchen. He was dressed in a shirt too tight to ever have belonged to Methos. Dressed all in white, except for the black studded collar still on his neck. Richie shrugged it off and fell down on the armchair. He tried not to look at Spike who leaned over as he placed the bucket of taco's and a mug on the table before slowly crouching down on the pillow. Methos took one of the taco's , holding one of them to the vampire's lips, Spike's tongue slipped past it, licking it before his mouth touched out and his teeth bit in.
Methos calmly bit into his own, before taking another taco and dripping it into the mug that the vampire had placed on the table as well. Richie's hunger rushed away as soon as he realized exactly what kind of red liquid that the vampire was using as dip sauce.
Don't look at the vampire, don't... Richie cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I met an interesting girl at the Taco Bell."
"Oh, blond, brunette or other?" Methos changed the channel to some kind of history show. The vampire growled softly, but soon started purring as Methos hand slowly moved to brush through his curls. Baring his neck as Methos fingers slid down, slipping over the pale skin.
He liked girls, girls, hear that, girls. "Auburn, actually. She was incredible. I saw her munch down on ten crunchy tacos in less time than it took me to open the bag and grab one of my own."
"Nice, nothing better than a woman who knows how to eat." Spike's legs opened wide as he leaned back against Methos' legs. Richie tried not to look at him. It was hard to ignore.
And to think that only two weeks ago, Methos had wanted to kill the vampire. Now... Who knows what happened between them.
*****
"Nothing."
"Angel. We will find him."
He refused Wesley's comfort. His nerves were screaming, there was a cold emptiness where his connection to Spike had used to be and it was driving him insane. Even when Spike had been dead that connection had lain there as a scar that never stopped hurting. Now it was erased out of existence and it screamed at him like a howling abyss.
This was why sires would sooner kill their get than allow them to be lost to others. The sense of loss was crippling.
Who knows what that monster was doing. He slid into the seat of his car, Wes sliding down next to him. Methos could be holding him down, chained up to his convenience.
Spike had always been pretty in chains, it's one of the few memories him and Angelus agreed on. Spike chained, bruised, his cheeks bright red as he'd slammed them with Drusilla's brush. He remembered this one time when he'd found the boy laid back on top of a mountain of corpses, servant girls, the butler, the entire bloody pantry, killed in one burst of wild abandon. And why? Cause William had gotten bored.
Angelus had grabbed him then, turned him around, crushing his victims under them as he fucked the boy into their dead flesh.
William hadn't stopped laughing through it all, a bright cheerful laughter, demanding for more. He'd turned him around, fucking his mouth, just to get him to shut up. And Spike had stared at him with such devotion...
He'd made sure the boy hadn't been able to sit down for days.
Angel twisted the steering wheel, slamming it to the right to avoid running into the car in front of them. The damn bastard stopped to turn left with no warning, none that he'd seen at least. The car stood there, frozen, before he started again.
Wesley was screaming at him to stop but he didn't care.
He'd carved his name in the boy's thigh, sucking up his blood as it gushed out. Spike was screaming out his name as he came.
Wesley tried to grab the wheel but Angel pushed him off, he'd seen that truck, he had.
A whip lashing his boy's backside. Red stripes that were healing way too fast till he dipped the whip into holy water. Pushing it between the boy's lips as he begged for mercy, hearing the sissing and kissing the burns away, biting the boy's tongue when he responded.
Wes was aiming his gun at him, telling him to stop. But he wouldn't, wouldn't... The metal back of the gun his his head, he flinched, it hit him a second time and a third, till his head fell down and the last thing he saw was Wesley crawling over him to get the wheel and the brakes...
*****
Fred froze in her captor's grip. He was huge, had short hair and was dressed in clothes she could only identify as expensive. The dark-haired man had her slender upper arm encircled with one hand, gripping firmly while making a conscious effort not to hurt her as he dragged her up the stairs.
Someone was waiting at the door and Fred once again came face to face with Richie. Her face turned a red blush till she realized that he was holding a broadsword. Before he'd seemed nice, almost innocent; now... ready to fight; he was terrifying. He didn't go at ease till he saw the both of them and he was staring at her, surprised, in shock to see her here, like this...She squeaked, trying to make herself look as small, harmless and helpless as possible. Making them underestimate her and think they didn't have to worry about her. Richie confronted her captor, somewhat weary in his approach.
"Mac?"
The dark man stood there silently, almost hesitant to deal with Richie... Richie who...
"Richie help me. I was minding my own business when this big ape grabbed me and oh my God! Spike!"
She managed to pull loose and darted past Richie into the apartment.
Spike was on the floor at the couch, petted by the man on it. He barely glanced at her, a hint of recognition before he turned away, stunned, but silent. She knelt beside him. "You okay? What happened! We've been so worried. What's with the collar, and who the hell are these guys?"
She kept babbling, staring at the collar on his neck, the intricate runes covering it were probably what kept him under control.
Richie blinked several times.
"You know eachother?"
The tall man grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She tried to kick and fight, but he wouldn't let her go even as he glowered towards the man on the couch.
"Damn it Methos. What the hell have you been doing?"
Somehow Fred hadn't expected the demon to look this... human.
The dark-haired kidnapper, Methos stood up, pushing Spike to the floor. Oddly enough Spike let him.
"So you're Methos..." Fred murmured to herself. "I thought you'd be... taller."
"And who are you, exactly?" The ancient demanded, giving her a withering glare.
She gave one more kick to her captor's leg, before standing up as tall as possible.
"I'm Winifred Burkle." She raised her hand almost in a manner of habit.
"What have you done with Spike?"
Richie scratched the back of his head. "She's that girl I told you about." He said quietly.
"How do you know this... monster?" Methos' voice was low and even; the tone sent a chill upon her spine.
Spike wasn't that at all, he was...
"Monster?" The tall guy let her go. "Methos... what have you done?"
A face off went on between the two men, Fred felt herself fade away in a discussion between the two. Wondering if she should just let them at it and grab Spike to safety with her.
"Spike get your chains from my room."
Fred expected the vampire to protest, to say something, anything...
He didn't even hesitate. Still silent, it was starting to scare her. She could only watch with horror at the bowed down shoulders, the instant obedience...
She rushed after the blond and touched his shoulder.
"C'mon, Spike, talk to me!"
But Spike didn't even meet her eyes, he turned to Methos instead.
The hatchet-nosed freak merely cocked an eyebrow.
"Spike, the chains, now."
A short command and Spike was moving again, ignoring her. She could see a short look in his eyes before he turned away. He wanted to talk to her, but couldn't. Something in Fred's head snapped, and an almost animal noise emerged from her throat. The next thing she knew, her knuckles were sore. The guy Richie called Mac held her again. Methos stared up at her from the ground. He was holding one cheek and looking startled by her nerve. Richie and Mac pulled her back, holding her in a solid grip while Methos got up from the floor.
tbc
Author:Lore
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Spike/Methos
Summary: Harmony accidentally gets Spike sold for an auction, Angel has to get him back
Notes: slave/master relationship, some corporeal punishment and basically crazy Angel
Richie set down his bags while searching his pockets for the keys. He'd tried ringing the bell, but the old man still hadn't opened. Just as he was about ready to slip the key in, the door opened and he almost fell in. Spike's arm held him before he came close to hitting the ground and Richie thanked him for the help. He bowed down to take his bags, but Spike was ahead of him and carried them to the kitchen.
Richie shrugged it off and moved to the living room. Methos sat in a fully spread out sprawl on the couch, the remote right by his hand, a pillow on the floor at his feet. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans and Richie wondered what had been keeping him so busy before. It couldn't really be the TV show he'd been watching?
Spike came out of the kitchen. He was dressed in a shirt too tight to ever have belonged to Methos. Dressed all in white, except for the black studded collar still on his neck. Richie shrugged it off and fell down on the armchair. He tried not to look at Spike who leaned over as he placed the bucket of taco's and a mug on the table before slowly crouching down on the pillow. Methos took one of the taco's , holding one of them to the vampire's lips, Spike's tongue slipped past it, licking it before his mouth touched out and his teeth bit in.
Methos calmly bit into his own, before taking another taco and dripping it into the mug that the vampire had placed on the table as well. Richie's hunger rushed away as soon as he realized exactly what kind of red liquid that the vampire was using as dip sauce.
Don't look at the vampire, don't... Richie cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I met an interesting girl at the Taco Bell."
"Oh, blond, brunette or other?" Methos changed the channel to some kind of history show. The vampire growled softly, but soon started purring as Methos hand slowly moved to brush through his curls. Baring his neck as Methos fingers slid down, slipping over the pale skin.
He liked girls, girls, hear that, girls. "Auburn, actually. She was incredible. I saw her munch down on ten crunchy tacos in less time than it took me to open the bag and grab one of my own."
"Nice, nothing better than a woman who knows how to eat." Spike's legs opened wide as he leaned back against Methos' legs. Richie tried not to look at him. It was hard to ignore.
And to think that only two weeks ago, Methos had wanted to kill the vampire. Now... Who knows what happened between them.
*****
"Nothing."
"Angel. We will find him."
He refused Wesley's comfort. His nerves were screaming, there was a cold emptiness where his connection to Spike had used to be and it was driving him insane. Even when Spike had been dead that connection had lain there as a scar that never stopped hurting. Now it was erased out of existence and it screamed at him like a howling abyss.
This was why sires would sooner kill their get than allow them to be lost to others. The sense of loss was crippling.
Who knows what that monster was doing. He slid into the seat of his car, Wes sliding down next to him. Methos could be holding him down, chained up to his convenience.
Spike had always been pretty in chains, it's one of the few memories him and Angelus agreed on. Spike chained, bruised, his cheeks bright red as he'd slammed them with Drusilla's brush. He remembered this one time when he'd found the boy laid back on top of a mountain of corpses, servant girls, the butler, the entire bloody pantry, killed in one burst of wild abandon. And why? Cause William had gotten bored.
Angelus had grabbed him then, turned him around, crushing his victims under them as he fucked the boy into their dead flesh.
William hadn't stopped laughing through it all, a bright cheerful laughter, demanding for more. He'd turned him around, fucking his mouth, just to get him to shut up. And Spike had stared at him with such devotion...
He'd made sure the boy hadn't been able to sit down for days.
Angel twisted the steering wheel, slamming it to the right to avoid running into the car in front of them. The damn bastard stopped to turn left with no warning, none that he'd seen at least. The car stood there, frozen, before he started again.
Wesley was screaming at him to stop but he didn't care.
He'd carved his name in the boy's thigh, sucking up his blood as it gushed out. Spike was screaming out his name as he came.
Wesley tried to grab the wheel but Angel pushed him off, he'd seen that truck, he had.
A whip lashing his boy's backside. Red stripes that were healing way too fast till he dipped the whip into holy water. Pushing it between the boy's lips as he begged for mercy, hearing the sissing and kissing the burns away, biting the boy's tongue when he responded.
Wes was aiming his gun at him, telling him to stop. But he wouldn't, wouldn't... The metal back of the gun his his head, he flinched, it hit him a second time and a third, till his head fell down and the last thing he saw was Wesley crawling over him to get the wheel and the brakes...
*****
Fred froze in her captor's grip. He was huge, had short hair and was dressed in clothes she could only identify as expensive. The dark-haired man had her slender upper arm encircled with one hand, gripping firmly while making a conscious effort not to hurt her as he dragged her up the stairs.
Someone was waiting at the door and Fred once again came face to face with Richie. Her face turned a red blush till she realized that he was holding a broadsword. Before he'd seemed nice, almost innocent; now... ready to fight; he was terrifying. He didn't go at ease till he saw the both of them and he was staring at her, surprised, in shock to see her here, like this...She squeaked, trying to make herself look as small, harmless and helpless as possible. Making them underestimate her and think they didn't have to worry about her. Richie confronted her captor, somewhat weary in his approach.
"Mac?"
The dark man stood there silently, almost hesitant to deal with Richie... Richie who...
"Richie help me. I was minding my own business when this big ape grabbed me and oh my God! Spike!"
She managed to pull loose and darted past Richie into the apartment.
Spike was on the floor at the couch, petted by the man on it. He barely glanced at her, a hint of recognition before he turned away, stunned, but silent. She knelt beside him. "You okay? What happened! We've been so worried. What's with the collar, and who the hell are these guys?"
She kept babbling, staring at the collar on his neck, the intricate runes covering it were probably what kept him under control.
Richie blinked several times.
"You know eachother?"
The tall man grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She tried to kick and fight, but he wouldn't let her go even as he glowered towards the man on the couch.
"Damn it Methos. What the hell have you been doing?"
Somehow Fred hadn't expected the demon to look this... human.
The dark-haired kidnapper, Methos stood up, pushing Spike to the floor. Oddly enough Spike let him.
"So you're Methos..." Fred murmured to herself. "I thought you'd be... taller."
"And who are you, exactly?" The ancient demanded, giving her a withering glare.
She gave one more kick to her captor's leg, before standing up as tall as possible.
"I'm Winifred Burkle." She raised her hand almost in a manner of habit.
"What have you done with Spike?"
Richie scratched the back of his head. "She's that girl I told you about." He said quietly.
"How do you know this... monster?" Methos' voice was low and even; the tone sent a chill upon her spine.
Spike wasn't that at all, he was...
"Monster?" The tall guy let her go. "Methos... what have you done?"
A face off went on between the two men, Fred felt herself fade away in a discussion between the two. Wondering if she should just let them at it and grab Spike to safety with her.
"Spike get your chains from my room."
Fred expected the vampire to protest, to say something, anything...
He didn't even hesitate. Still silent, it was starting to scare her. She could only watch with horror at the bowed down shoulders, the instant obedience...
She rushed after the blond and touched his shoulder.
"C'mon, Spike, talk to me!"
But Spike didn't even meet her eyes, he turned to Methos instead.
The hatchet-nosed freak merely cocked an eyebrow.
"Spike, the chains, now."
A short command and Spike was moving again, ignoring her. She could see a short look in his eyes before he turned away. He wanted to talk to her, but couldn't. Something in Fred's head snapped, and an almost animal noise emerged from her throat. The next thing she knew, her knuckles were sore. The guy Richie called Mac held her again. Methos stared up at her from the ground. He was holding one cheek and looking startled by her nerve. Richie and Mac pulled her back, holding her in a solid grip while Methos got up from the floor.
tbc