JossVerse fic - Superstitious
Title: Superstitious
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
W/C - 1150
Summary: Spike doesn’t like his lover looking at someone else.
A/N: written for Nekid Numbers over at nekid_spike. My prompts were Spike/Lindsey, black cat and bondage. Hope I did ok.
Spike had learned more than his fair share of tricks in a hundred-plus years, so Lindsey really had no hope for escape. Not that he wanted to, not really…as much as it turned him on, though, he still had a tough time feeling helpless, constricted, bound.
This time they’d come back to their apartment after an office Halloween party and Spike was clearly annoyed. He didn’t even speak the whole time he worked at getting Lindsey trussed up. One furious glance told Lindsey he ought to follow Spike’s example and just be still and quiet as Spike got everything he needed from that black trunk they kept beside the bed.
Now there he was, leather restraints around his wrists with a chain between them that threaded through two of the slats on the headboard of their bed. A spreader bar at his ankles kept his legs open wide, but his feet weren’t bound to anything. Not that it made a difference, because he still couldn’t move except to crane his neck and try to see what Spike was going to do next.
“Thought you were being subtle, love? Back there at the party? That girl in the Catwoman costume, prowling around like a real black cat, casting her eyes on you all the time? Like I wasn’t going to notice you were looking at her just as much? Honestly?”
Lindsey recognized the edge in his lover’s voice and made a valiant effort to defend himself. “Spike, come on, don’t tell me you were jealous. You’re not - you can’t possibly think that I-”
And then he was cut off as Spike shoved the absolutely worst and most uncomfortable ball gag they owned into his mouth. “Don’t tell me what I think. Don’t tell me a single fucking thing, boy.”
Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even done anything and Spike was already calling him ‘boy’, like he always did when Lindsey was in trouble. Trying hard to even out his breathing through his nose, Lindsey used the only thing he had left - his eyes, looking up at Spike with some mix of fear, confusion and apology.
Spike wasn’t wrong. Lindsey had seen the woman, had noticed her staring at him, couldn’t help but appreciate all her curves and obvious interest in him. But Lindsey would never…Spike had to know that, had to know Lindsey belonged to him and that he’d never touch anyone else, ever.
“Right, I know what you’re thinking. And no, I didn’t suspect you might try to sneak off into a dark corner with whoever that filthy slut was. But that’s of no consequence when everyone we know, everyone who knows you’re mine, saw it. I was standing right there and you were eyeing up some random woman in a sexy outfit. How do you think that made me feel? Or did you think of it at all?”
As Spike kept talking, the fake accent he used in front of everyone else started to fade and his words were carefully measured in his real voice; that posh and educated sound indicating that he’d lost his temper enough that he couldn’t bother with pretense.
Lindsey could only shake his head as Spike continued. “So you can make me look like a fool in front all our friends and think there won’t be some kind of consequence? It’s like you forgot how things work. I figure maybe it’s time for a reminder.”
And yeah, Lindsey was feeling a little scared, a lot guilty, but still exceptionally turned on. No way to hide that, since he was naked and fully erect. Spike still had all his clothes on, faded jeans and leather duster (neither of them had bothered with costumes for the party), which only served to further display his dominance over his bound and completely naked lover.
Spike didn’t waste any time, climbing onto the bed, straddling Lindsey and undoing his jeans just enough to get his own hard cock out. He stroked slowly, and kept talking. “This time, I’m going to mark you up. No bruises or torn flesh. Just what I think you need to remember how sodding stupid it was for you to do that tonight.”
As Lindsey lay helpless and bound, stuck to the headboard and unable to move his legs even an inch, Spike looked him directly in the eye as he jerked himself harder. He tried to close his eyes, but Spike ordered him to keep them open, so he did. He wasn’t stupid enough to disobey such a direct command.
He wished like hell he had use of his hands so he could touch himself, but it was already clear that anything like that was just not on in this particular situation. The knowledge didn’t stop Lindsey from straining against the bonds, though, trying to get closer.
That was only going to result in more bruises, struggling against the bonds, and then another bruise just at his left cheekbone where Spike had backhanded him, hard, in retaliation for his attempt to get a little attention for his own neglected cock.
“Nothing for you, boy. Be still.” Spike continued, “just take what I’m giving you.”
After just a few moments, Spike’s eyes got a little unfocused and it was clear that he was close. He moved upward a little, straddling his lover's chest now. When the moment finally arrived, Spike coated Lindsey’s face with his cum. Lindsey could feel it dripping from his eyelashes, clinging to the skin of his face. It took all his restraint not to lick away the bit he felt across his lips (not that he would have been able to with that godawful gag in the way). Now was not the time for him to do anything he wasn’t told to do, not unless he wanted to make things worse.
So now was the time they were going to make up, Lindsey thought. Spike had gotten out his frustrations and would release him from the restraints and the bar, maybe they’d kiss and cuddle and whisper apologies and love until they fell asleep.
But Spike just stood up and shoved his dick back into his pants. “If you can sleep tonight, this is how you’re going to do it. All bound up and covered with jizz. I’ll be in the other room. Try to get some rest.”
Lindsey was crushed. Spike took the gag out but left the restraints and spreader bar. He wanted to argue, to plead, to beg for forgiveness. The minute his mouth opened, though, Spike held up a hand and told him to save it.
And that was it. Lindsey was left alone, still all tied up in an incredibly uncomfortable position, his own erection painful and neglected. Not even a kiss goodnight.
He figured there was a reason black cats were a symbol of bad luck.
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
W/C - 1150
Summary: Spike doesn’t like his lover looking at someone else.
A/N: written for Nekid Numbers over at nekid_spike. My prompts were Spike/Lindsey, black cat and bondage. Hope I did ok.
Spike had learned more than his fair share of tricks in a hundred-plus years, so Lindsey really had no hope for escape. Not that he wanted to, not really…as much as it turned him on, though, he still had a tough time feeling helpless, constricted, bound.
This time they’d come back to their apartment after an office Halloween party and Spike was clearly annoyed. He didn’t even speak the whole time he worked at getting Lindsey trussed up. One furious glance told Lindsey he ought to follow Spike’s example and just be still and quiet as Spike got everything he needed from that black trunk they kept beside the bed.
Now there he was, leather restraints around his wrists with a chain between them that threaded through two of the slats on the headboard of their bed. A spreader bar at his ankles kept his legs open wide, but his feet weren’t bound to anything. Not that it made a difference, because he still couldn’t move except to crane his neck and try to see what Spike was going to do next.
“Thought you were being subtle, love? Back there at the party? That girl in the Catwoman costume, prowling around like a real black cat, casting her eyes on you all the time? Like I wasn’t going to notice you were looking at her just as much? Honestly?”
Lindsey recognized the edge in his lover’s voice and made a valiant effort to defend himself. “Spike, come on, don’t tell me you were jealous. You’re not - you can’t possibly think that I-”
And then he was cut off as Spike shoved the absolutely worst and most uncomfortable ball gag they owned into his mouth. “Don’t tell me what I think. Don’t tell me a single fucking thing, boy.”
Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even done anything and Spike was already calling him ‘boy’, like he always did when Lindsey was in trouble. Trying hard to even out his breathing through his nose, Lindsey used the only thing he had left - his eyes, looking up at Spike with some mix of fear, confusion and apology.
Spike wasn’t wrong. Lindsey had seen the woman, had noticed her staring at him, couldn’t help but appreciate all her curves and obvious interest in him. But Lindsey would never…Spike had to know that, had to know Lindsey belonged to him and that he’d never touch anyone else, ever.
“Right, I know what you’re thinking. And no, I didn’t suspect you might try to sneak off into a dark corner with whoever that filthy slut was. But that’s of no consequence when everyone we know, everyone who knows you’re mine, saw it. I was standing right there and you were eyeing up some random woman in a sexy outfit. How do you think that made me feel? Or did you think of it at all?”
As Spike kept talking, the fake accent he used in front of everyone else started to fade and his words were carefully measured in his real voice; that posh and educated sound indicating that he’d lost his temper enough that he couldn’t bother with pretense.
Lindsey could only shake his head as Spike continued. “So you can make me look like a fool in front all our friends and think there won’t be some kind of consequence? It’s like you forgot how things work. I figure maybe it’s time for a reminder.”
And yeah, Lindsey was feeling a little scared, a lot guilty, but still exceptionally turned on. No way to hide that, since he was naked and fully erect. Spike still had all his clothes on, faded jeans and leather duster (neither of them had bothered with costumes for the party), which only served to further display his dominance over his bound and completely naked lover.
Spike didn’t waste any time, climbing onto the bed, straddling Lindsey and undoing his jeans just enough to get his own hard cock out. He stroked slowly, and kept talking. “This time, I’m going to mark you up. No bruises or torn flesh. Just what I think you need to remember how sodding stupid it was for you to do that tonight.”
As Lindsey lay helpless and bound, stuck to the headboard and unable to move his legs even an inch, Spike looked him directly in the eye as he jerked himself harder. He tried to close his eyes, but Spike ordered him to keep them open, so he did. He wasn’t stupid enough to disobey such a direct command.
He wished like hell he had use of his hands so he could touch himself, but it was already clear that anything like that was just not on in this particular situation. The knowledge didn’t stop Lindsey from straining against the bonds, though, trying to get closer.
That was only going to result in more bruises, struggling against the bonds, and then another bruise just at his left cheekbone where Spike had backhanded him, hard, in retaliation for his attempt to get a little attention for his own neglected cock.
“Nothing for you, boy. Be still.” Spike continued, “just take what I’m giving you.”
After just a few moments, Spike’s eyes got a little unfocused and it was clear that he was close. He moved upward a little, straddling his lover's chest now. When the moment finally arrived, Spike coated Lindsey’s face with his cum. Lindsey could feel it dripping from his eyelashes, clinging to the skin of his face. It took all his restraint not to lick away the bit he felt across his lips (not that he would have been able to with that godawful gag in the way). Now was not the time for him to do anything he wasn’t told to do, not unless he wanted to make things worse.
So now was the time they were going to make up, Lindsey thought. Spike had gotten out his frustrations and would release him from the restraints and the bar, maybe they’d kiss and cuddle and whisper apologies and love until they fell asleep.
But Spike just stood up and shoved his dick back into his pants. “If you can sleep tonight, this is how you’re going to do it. All bound up and covered with jizz. I’ll be in the other room. Try to get some rest.”
Lindsey was crushed. Spike took the gag out but left the restraints and spreader bar. He wanted to argue, to plead, to beg for forgiveness. The minute his mouth opened, though, Spike held up a hand and told him to save it.
And that was it. Lindsey was left alone, still all tied up in an incredibly uncomfortable position, his own erection painful and neglected. Not even a kiss goodnight.
He figured there was a reason black cats were a symbol of bad luck.