JossVerse fic - In The Dark
Title: In The Dark
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
W/C: ~1000
Summary: They don’t like each other, but they do like to fuck.
A/N: written for the holiday exchange at nekid_spike for ash_carpenter.
They hadn’t bothered turning on the lights in Lindsey’s little shithole of an apartment. Never did. By this time, Spike and Lindsey knew each other’s bodies so well that the dark didn’t hinder their activities.
It wasn’t like they wanted to stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, and Spike was partial to having Lindsey face down while they fucked, anyway.
Of course, they both never thought much about why neither of them wanted to look at the other. Certainly never talked about it. Didn’t talk about anything of consequence, didn’t talk at all, really, aside from the perfunctory get on your knees or be still or I’ll smack you again.
Christmas Eve wasn’t a special day for Spike, and it wasn’t a special day for Lindsey. They weren’t spending the evening to celebrate the holiday together like a pair of lovers. They were just there in the dark, Lindsey kneeling on the floor while Spike sat on the edge of the bed with his hands in Lindsey’s hair. Not hard enough to hurt him, not vampire-strength, not gameface out of control; just hard enough to keep Lindsey still while Spike fucked his mouth, pushed his cock as deep as he could into Lindsey’s throat. Hell, he even pulled back every couple of minutes to let the man get a deep breath.
There were tears on Lindsey’s cheek, falling to mix with the drool and precome leaking from his split lips. Spike smelled the blood and it only pushed him into a higher gear, making him thrust harder.
The tears were just an automatic reflex to the deep-throating, of course. Lindsey wasn’t crying. He wasn’t lonely and he wasn’t humiliated and he wasn’t completely fucking lost in the world - no direction, no friends, no career anymore.
Spike wasn’t desperate and he wasn’t heartbroken and he wasn’t captured by the stench of every failure of the past hundred and twenty years. He was just horny and knew that he could take anything he wanted from Lindsey. That he’d let Lindsey take anything he wanted, too.
As he felt his orgasm approaching, Spike held Lindsey harder, making sure he didn’t move an inch, and thrust in as deep as he could. His cum went straight down Lindsey’s throat without giving Lindsey a chance to taste it or let any of it seep out of the corners of his mouth. Spike held him there for a few minutes, just to telegraph it. You can’t move, I like you right there on your knees so that’s where you’ll stay, he didn’t say, because there was no reason to speak the words when the intention was so clear.
He wanted to rest a bit anyway before they started back up again. They both needed this kind of night, if they were being honest (which of course they usually weren’t). Most of the time these little meet-ups were brief; Spike showing up at Lindsey’s door after midnight or Lindsey letting himself into Spike’s place just as the sun was starting to set. Depending on the mood, they might jerk each other off or exchange blowjobs or just fuck, fast and dirty and rough. There was no kissing, though every now and again they’d bite and suck at each other’s mouths in a twisted parody of a kiss.
It had been a tough week for them both, for reasons that had nothing to do with each other, and it wasn’t going to be like ‘most of the time’ tonight. Spike let Lindsey up and pulled him onto the bed, just reached down with one arm around the man’s waist and tossed him onto the pillows like he weighed nothing.
Lindsey knew Spike could hurt him. Could kill him. He did it in spite of that risk. Maybe he did it because of that risk.
Spike knew Lindsey was turned on by the inherent danger of being alone with a vampire, was turned on by anything that could fit into the descriptive category of scary, was not turned on just because it was Spike providing that threat. He did it in spite of that knowledge. Maybe he did it because of that knowledge.
Landing on his back, his cock still hard and aching. Lindsey grabbed onto Spike’s hips and positioned him just right, taking one hand off Spike and using it to guide his dick into Spike’s hole. Lindsey needed prep, he couldn’t be fucked dry like that, and Spike always did an efficient job with it when it was him fucking Lindsey. It would spoil all the fun if Lindsey was screaming and torn, so Spike prepped him adequately every time. But he wouldn’t ever agree to let Lindsey touch him like that, push his fingers inside and spread him open, loosen him up. Too intimate, probably the same reason they never kissed or fell asleep next to each other.
By the time Spike was all the way down and Lindsey was all the way inside of him, they were both ready for more. Spike lifted himself up just an inch or two, his knees solidly straddling Lindsey on the mattress and his hands on Lindsey’s legs, then slammed back down with a grunt. Two, three more times like that, and then Lindsey started straining upward, his hips matching Spike’s movements so they were meeting halfway.
The only sounds around them were the traffic speeding by outside the window, the smack of flesh colliding and the occasional groan or growl or curse. Spike sped up and controlled the pace when he could tell Lindsey was getting close. He was hard again himself, so he jerked his own cock while he rode Lindsey until they were both spilling, sticky and messy and spent.
Grabbing Lindsey’s t-shirt off the floor, Spike cleaned himself up then threw the shirt to Lindsey, who gave him a shitty look but used it anyway.
As Spike was lacing his boots in the dark, Lindsey finally spoke.
“Why do you think we do this?” he asked as he stared at the ceiling.
“Dunno. Guess I feel like taking off that white hat every now and again. Gets heavy.”
Lindsey didn’t say anything else, which was fine, because Spike didn’t care to hear anything else. He just grabbed his duster and headed for the door.
He was halfway out before he spoke again.
“Don’t just lay there, get up and lock the fucking door after me, moron.”
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: NC-17
W/C: ~1000
Summary: They don’t like each other, but they do like to fuck.
A/N: written for the holiday exchange at nekid_spike for ash_carpenter.
They hadn’t bothered turning on the lights in Lindsey’s little shithole of an apartment. Never did. By this time, Spike and Lindsey knew each other’s bodies so well that the dark didn’t hinder their activities.
It wasn’t like they wanted to stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, and Spike was partial to having Lindsey face down while they fucked, anyway.
Of course, they both never thought much about why neither of them wanted to look at the other. Certainly never talked about it. Didn’t talk about anything of consequence, didn’t talk at all, really, aside from the perfunctory get on your knees or be still or I’ll smack you again.
Christmas Eve wasn’t a special day for Spike, and it wasn’t a special day for Lindsey. They weren’t spending the evening to celebrate the holiday together like a pair of lovers. They were just there in the dark, Lindsey kneeling on the floor while Spike sat on the edge of the bed with his hands in Lindsey’s hair. Not hard enough to hurt him, not vampire-strength, not gameface out of control; just hard enough to keep Lindsey still while Spike fucked his mouth, pushed his cock as deep as he could into Lindsey’s throat. Hell, he even pulled back every couple of minutes to let the man get a deep breath.
There were tears on Lindsey’s cheek, falling to mix with the drool and precome leaking from his split lips. Spike smelled the blood and it only pushed him into a higher gear, making him thrust harder.
The tears were just an automatic reflex to the deep-throating, of course. Lindsey wasn’t crying. He wasn’t lonely and he wasn’t humiliated and he wasn’t completely fucking lost in the world - no direction, no friends, no career anymore.
Spike wasn’t desperate and he wasn’t heartbroken and he wasn’t captured by the stench of every failure of the past hundred and twenty years. He was just horny and knew that he could take anything he wanted from Lindsey. That he’d let Lindsey take anything he wanted, too.
As he felt his orgasm approaching, Spike held Lindsey harder, making sure he didn’t move an inch, and thrust in as deep as he could. His cum went straight down Lindsey’s throat without giving Lindsey a chance to taste it or let any of it seep out of the corners of his mouth. Spike held him there for a few minutes, just to telegraph it. You can’t move, I like you right there on your knees so that’s where you’ll stay, he didn’t say, because there was no reason to speak the words when the intention was so clear.
He wanted to rest a bit anyway before they started back up again. They both needed this kind of night, if they were being honest (which of course they usually weren’t). Most of the time these little meet-ups were brief; Spike showing up at Lindsey’s door after midnight or Lindsey letting himself into Spike’s place just as the sun was starting to set. Depending on the mood, they might jerk each other off or exchange blowjobs or just fuck, fast and dirty and rough. There was no kissing, though every now and again they’d bite and suck at each other’s mouths in a twisted parody of a kiss.
It had been a tough week for them both, for reasons that had nothing to do with each other, and it wasn’t going to be like ‘most of the time’ tonight. Spike let Lindsey up and pulled him onto the bed, just reached down with one arm around the man’s waist and tossed him onto the pillows like he weighed nothing.
Lindsey knew Spike could hurt him. Could kill him. He did it in spite of that risk. Maybe he did it because of that risk.
Spike knew Lindsey was turned on by the inherent danger of being alone with a vampire, was turned on by anything that could fit into the descriptive category of scary, was not turned on just because it was Spike providing that threat. He did it in spite of that knowledge. Maybe he did it because of that knowledge.
Landing on his back, his cock still hard and aching. Lindsey grabbed onto Spike’s hips and positioned him just right, taking one hand off Spike and using it to guide his dick into Spike’s hole. Lindsey needed prep, he couldn’t be fucked dry like that, and Spike always did an efficient job with it when it was him fucking Lindsey. It would spoil all the fun if Lindsey was screaming and torn, so Spike prepped him adequately every time. But he wouldn’t ever agree to let Lindsey touch him like that, push his fingers inside and spread him open, loosen him up. Too intimate, probably the same reason they never kissed or fell asleep next to each other.
By the time Spike was all the way down and Lindsey was all the way inside of him, they were both ready for more. Spike lifted himself up just an inch or two, his knees solidly straddling Lindsey on the mattress and his hands on Lindsey’s legs, then slammed back down with a grunt. Two, three more times like that, and then Lindsey started straining upward, his hips matching Spike’s movements so they were meeting halfway.
The only sounds around them were the traffic speeding by outside the window, the smack of flesh colliding and the occasional groan or growl or curse. Spike sped up and controlled the pace when he could tell Lindsey was getting close. He was hard again himself, so he jerked his own cock while he rode Lindsey until they were both spilling, sticky and messy and spent.
Grabbing Lindsey’s t-shirt off the floor, Spike cleaned himself up then threw the shirt to Lindsey, who gave him a shitty look but used it anyway.
As Spike was lacing his boots in the dark, Lindsey finally spoke.
“Why do you think we do this?” he asked as he stared at the ceiling.
“Dunno. Guess I feel like taking off that white hat every now and again. Gets heavy.”
Lindsey didn’t say anything else, which was fine, because Spike didn’t care to hear anything else. He just grabbed his duster and headed for the door.
He was halfway out before he spoke again.
“Don’t just lay there, get up and lock the fucking door after me, moron.”