Fic: As Black As Sin, 2/2
Jun. 18th, 2010 05:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: As Black As Sin
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Xander (really, is there any other pairing?)
Summary: It's their second anniversary and Spike has a surprise
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: BDSM, naked Xander (what? That's not a squick?), a bit of bloodplay
Notes: Inspired by a prompt at still_grrr: 171: Black (but not posted there because they do not accept submissions with explicit sex)
Note:: Spike's comment about the taste of Xander's blood is paraphrased off of the poem Song: To Celia by Ben Johnson
Note: Any errors are my own, but... I rarely write stories with either sex or BDSM so I was a bit concerned about this one. Worried that it might be totally idiotic or off or something. The incredibly kindly whichclothes read it over and reassured me that the story is OK. In addition, she found some typos and bad grammar (I only pretend to understand grammar), which I've fixed. So, to whichclothes I say, thank for taking the time to review my story!
Part 1
“Do you want to be manacled or just hold the chains?” Paul asked.
Aww, Spike looked worried. “I'll hold 'em,” Xander said, grabbing onto the chains so that his arms were spread-eagled. Spike came up behind him, placing a hand on Xander's back. “Um, Spike? Can't really get whipped if you're in the way, which, if you've changed your mind, I can totally live with.”
“You've got your safeword, you can stop anytime,” Paul said as he came around before Xander.
“Um, no, I'm good,” Xander said, looking at the two whips Paul held.
“He's just mouthing off,” Spike added.
Holding up the first whip, Paul said, “OK, then. I'm going to start with the crop because it'll give me more control over how hard I hit you. At first it'll be very light, almost as soft as a tickle, but I'll be hitting you harder and harder as we go. When I switch to this,” he held out a whip that looked, to Xander, like Indiana Jones' whip, “the intensity will jump dramatically. There's no way to hit you lightly with this one. Got it?”
Xander nodded. As Paul walked back behind them, Spike gave Xander a quick hug and whispered, “You'll be OK.”
Xander, waiting for the first lash, scrunched his eyes and bit his lip. When the first stroke fell across his back, he startled. There was another. They felt like– feathers being pulled over his skin. Breathing out a sigh, Xander relaxed as the feather strokes continued to brush across his back.
If Willow could see me now popped into his head. It reminded him of a chat she'd forced on him only a few months after he'd started seeing Spike, and wasn't that an old fashioned expression, started seeing. Still, it wasn't like there was a good or easy way to explain their relationship.
“He's hurting you, Xander,” she'd said.
Xander had so wanted to not be having that conversation, that he just stood there, staring at her and hoping she'd stop soon.
“He's manipulative and controlling and...” She threw her hands up. “He's got a chip, not a soul,” she said as she stormed back and forth across the room. “He can't care about you.” Xander winced at that and Willow held a hand out as if to console him.
Xander forced his crossed arms to straighten out down by his sides. They immediately crossed back up. “You don't think I know that? You think I haven't thought about it time and time again? But here's the thing, Willow. No matter how much he hurts me,” Xander stopped, realizing what he'd just admitted. “And I'm not saying he does hurt me,” he started but, realizing he was just digging the hole deeper, he covered his face with his hands. Hey, maybe I can just hide out here forever, he'd thought until Willow placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
“Xander?”
He dropped his hands, not hiding anymore. He remembered how she'd stepped back at the pain on his face. “Here's the thing. No matter what he does to me now, it's going to hurt so much more when he leaves me.”
Willow's eyes widened at that. “You think he's going to leave you?”
“Duh. Look at him and look at me. You're the super genius,” he'd said, tossing out a dagger of his own pain. “You do the math.”
“Ow,” he shouted, drawn out of his memories as the crop landed, much harder now, on his lower back.
“You all right there, pet?” Spike asked as the lash struck him again. His body tensed at the shock of it.
“Um, yeah?” He paused as the lash hit him again. “I just-” He paused again. “Wasn't exp-” Pause. “ecting it-” Pause. “To hurt-” Pause. “So much.”
As the lashes continued, he didn't try to hold back but let out whimpers, hisses, and screams. That's what this was all about, right, and Spike was probably eating up all that pain, but the pain was nothing next to the hurt. He could feel it roiling up in his belly: his father's cutting words; his mother drinking herself into oblivion, never there for him, never there to protect him; the other kids laughing that time the baseball had hit his head and he'd been rushed off to the nurse's office; never being good enough, at anything – Willow always being so super perfect, showing how stupid he was and wasn't that a terrible thing to think; Buffy drooling over the oh-so-perfect Angel, stupid vampire; and Spike. His thoughts stopped there. He could still feel the anger burning a hole through him but his thoughts were clear. Spike had never hurt him. Oh, hell yeah, Spike had caused him pain, but that wasn't the same thing.
The lashes had stopped and, in that moment of perfect clarity, he wondered, why, why would he do that? Why hasn't he hurt me?
Xander heard a something whistling through the air and then the world pitched under his feet at the pain of it. He screamed. He felt the anger vomiting out of him. As his hands let go of the chains, he looked down, expecting to see the anger or at least some puke at his feet, but there was nothing there. “Huh?” he asked as he slipped to the floor.
Spike caught him before he hit the ground. “Pet? Xander? You OK?”
“Yeah?” Xander asked.
“I got you,” Spike told him from very far away. “Shhh, it's over now. Let's get you on the bed.”
“Gonna have your wicked way with me?” Xander could see only the darkness with through his shut eyes but the bed felt solid beneath him. He buried his face in the pillow, wondering why he was on his tummy. Did Spike want to make sure all that anger drained out? It's possible it would pool up if he were on his back.
Spike laid a hand on his lower back. His thumb circled lazy trails. It was just a featherweight of a touch but it was even more solid than the bed. “You still alive in there?” Spike asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Xander replied. “I'm just gonna lay here, all relaxed and happy with you touching me.”
“Yeah, you're OK,” Spike said, sounding oddly pleased. “You ready to move on?”
Xander chuckled. “You are going to have your wicked way with me.” He heard footsteps and then the door opening and closing but that must have been Paul leaving because Spike's hand was still on his back.
“Something like that.”
Xander winced as the pressure of Spike's hand increased and then he felt Spike licking just below his left shoulder. What the? Oh, yeah. Blood. “How's it taste?”
He felt Spike sit up and heard, “I,” but then Spike was unnaturally silent. Xander tried to keep his eyes open but they kept drifting shut, only to flutter open, again and again. He was barely awake to hear it when Spike finally responded. “Leave but a drop in the cup, and I'll not look for wine.”
“Oh, good. I'm glad you like it,” Xander said between yawns.
“Oh, you are worn out if you understood that,” Spike replied.
The next thing Xander knew, Spike was lying next to him on the bed. Just staring at him. Yawning with a huge stretch, Xander rolled over to face Spike and said, “Hey, my back feels better.”
“Course it does,” Spike said. “Vamp spit heals.”
“Can I say, ewww?”
Spike reached out and brushed Xander's hair back. “Can say anything you want, pet.”
Xander glanced around the room. There was nothing to tell him the time. “How long was I out?”
Spike shrugged. “About an hour.”
“Which you spent licking blood off my back,” Xander said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Don't be stupid, well, stupider than you have to be. I just said my spit healed you up. Wound was closed before you dozed off.”
Xander closed his mouth with a conscious effort. “You didn't get much then.”
Shrugging again, Spike said, “It was enough.”
“So, you got more than a drop then,” Xander said, so overwhelmed by the intimacy of what Spike had just said that he had to make a joke of it.
“A drop is enough. Hell, none is enough, as long as I've got you.”
Spike's words rolled through Xander's mind. Leave but a drop. None is enough. Why does he do these things to me?
“Not that I wouldn't mind trying it again.”
Oh, thank God. We're back to something I can deal with. “There was some mention of next?” Xander asked, reaching out and laying his hand on Spike's chest.
Spike's gaze became very intimate. “That there was.” He looked down, as if embarrassed, but when he looked back up, his expression was frank. “But first, our anniversary exchange.” Xander started to babble that he hadn't brought Spike's gift with him, but Spike shushed him with a finger across the lips. “You answer my question and I'll answer anything you ask. Who goes first?”
Xander hugged himself to Spike. “You ask, but whisper it.”
“Do you regret being with me?”
Spike tried to pull away, to see his lover's reaction, but Xander held him tight. “No,” Xander whispered back. “Never. I've never regretted–” he trailed off. Letting go of the hold, Xander kissed Spike roughly.
As Spike's tongue slipped into Xander's mouth, Spike reached out wildly until he found the lube. A few moments later, Spike rolled onto his back and pulled Xander on top of himself. Easing the tip of his cock into Xander's ass, he said, “Your turn to ask.”
“Now?” Xander shouted, almost desperately.
“Yep.”
Xander gestured vaguely around the room. “Why?”
Spike shoved his hips up, slamming Xander's prostate three times in quick succession. Xander was gasping as Spike slowly inched his cock downwards but not quite pulling out of Xander. “Oh my love, you still don't see it, do you? While the chip may have limited what I can do, my heart's what it's always been – as black as sin.”
No, Xander thought. It's not. “Still the Big Bad?”
“Your Big Bad,” Spike replied as Xander, ever so slowly, slipped down and then back up on his cock.
“Mine?”
“Only. Always.” Spike pulled Xander down for a kiss.
“That's alright, then,” Xander whispered against Spike's lips.
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Xander (really, is there any other pairing?)
Summary: It's their second anniversary and Spike has a surprise
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: BDSM, naked Xander (what? That's not a squick?), a bit of bloodplay
Notes: Inspired by a prompt at still_grrr: 171: Black (but not posted there because they do not accept submissions with explicit sex)
Note:: Spike's comment about the taste of Xander's blood is paraphrased off of the poem Song: To Celia by Ben Johnson
Note: Any errors are my own, but... I rarely write stories with either sex or BDSM so I was a bit concerned about this one. Worried that it might be totally idiotic or off or something. The incredibly kindly whichclothes read it over and reassured me that the story is OK. In addition, she found some typos and bad grammar (I only pretend to understand grammar), which I've fixed. So, to whichclothes I say, thank for taking the time to review my story!
Part 1
“Do you want to be manacled or just hold the chains?” Paul asked.
Aww, Spike looked worried. “I'll hold 'em,” Xander said, grabbing onto the chains so that his arms were spread-eagled. Spike came up behind him, placing a hand on Xander's back. “Um, Spike? Can't really get whipped if you're in the way, which, if you've changed your mind, I can totally live with.”
“You've got your safeword, you can stop anytime,” Paul said as he came around before Xander.
“Um, no, I'm good,” Xander said, looking at the two whips Paul held.
“He's just mouthing off,” Spike added.
Holding up the first whip, Paul said, “OK, then. I'm going to start with the crop because it'll give me more control over how hard I hit you. At first it'll be very light, almost as soft as a tickle, but I'll be hitting you harder and harder as we go. When I switch to this,” he held out a whip that looked, to Xander, like Indiana Jones' whip, “the intensity will jump dramatically. There's no way to hit you lightly with this one. Got it?”
Xander nodded. As Paul walked back behind them, Spike gave Xander a quick hug and whispered, “You'll be OK.”
Xander, waiting for the first lash, scrunched his eyes and bit his lip. When the first stroke fell across his back, he startled. There was another. They felt like– feathers being pulled over his skin. Breathing out a sigh, Xander relaxed as the feather strokes continued to brush across his back.
If Willow could see me now popped into his head. It reminded him of a chat she'd forced on him only a few months after he'd started seeing Spike, and wasn't that an old fashioned expression, started seeing. Still, it wasn't like there was a good or easy way to explain their relationship.
“He's hurting you, Xander,” she'd said.
Xander had so wanted to not be having that conversation, that he just stood there, staring at her and hoping she'd stop soon.
“He's manipulative and controlling and...” She threw her hands up. “He's got a chip, not a soul,” she said as she stormed back and forth across the room. “He can't care about you.” Xander winced at that and Willow held a hand out as if to console him.
Xander forced his crossed arms to straighten out down by his sides. They immediately crossed back up. “You don't think I know that? You think I haven't thought about it time and time again? But here's the thing, Willow. No matter how much he hurts me,” Xander stopped, realizing what he'd just admitted. “And I'm not saying he does hurt me,” he started but, realizing he was just digging the hole deeper, he covered his face with his hands. Hey, maybe I can just hide out here forever, he'd thought until Willow placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
“Xander?”
He dropped his hands, not hiding anymore. He remembered how she'd stepped back at the pain on his face. “Here's the thing. No matter what he does to me now, it's going to hurt so much more when he leaves me.”
Willow's eyes widened at that. “You think he's going to leave you?”
“Duh. Look at him and look at me. You're the super genius,” he'd said, tossing out a dagger of his own pain. “You do the math.”
“Ow,” he shouted, drawn out of his memories as the crop landed, much harder now, on his lower back.
“You all right there, pet?” Spike asked as the lash struck him again. His body tensed at the shock of it.
“Um, yeah?” He paused as the lash hit him again. “I just-” He paused again. “Wasn't exp-” Pause. “ecting it-” Pause. “To hurt-” Pause. “So much.”
As the lashes continued, he didn't try to hold back but let out whimpers, hisses, and screams. That's what this was all about, right, and Spike was probably eating up all that pain, but the pain was nothing next to the hurt. He could feel it roiling up in his belly: his father's cutting words; his mother drinking herself into oblivion, never there for him, never there to protect him; the other kids laughing that time the baseball had hit his head and he'd been rushed off to the nurse's office; never being good enough, at anything – Willow always being so super perfect, showing how stupid he was and wasn't that a terrible thing to think; Buffy drooling over the oh-so-perfect Angel, stupid vampire; and Spike. His thoughts stopped there. He could still feel the anger burning a hole through him but his thoughts were clear. Spike had never hurt him. Oh, hell yeah, Spike had caused him pain, but that wasn't the same thing.
The lashes had stopped and, in that moment of perfect clarity, he wondered, why, why would he do that? Why hasn't he hurt me?
Xander heard a something whistling through the air and then the world pitched under his feet at the pain of it. He screamed. He felt the anger vomiting out of him. As his hands let go of the chains, he looked down, expecting to see the anger or at least some puke at his feet, but there was nothing there. “Huh?” he asked as he slipped to the floor.
Spike caught him before he hit the ground. “Pet? Xander? You OK?”
“Yeah?” Xander asked.
“I got you,” Spike told him from very far away. “Shhh, it's over now. Let's get you on the bed.”
“Gonna have your wicked way with me?” Xander could see only the darkness with through his shut eyes but the bed felt solid beneath him. He buried his face in the pillow, wondering why he was on his tummy. Did Spike want to make sure all that anger drained out? It's possible it would pool up if he were on his back.
Spike laid a hand on his lower back. His thumb circled lazy trails. It was just a featherweight of a touch but it was even more solid than the bed. “You still alive in there?” Spike asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Xander replied. “I'm just gonna lay here, all relaxed and happy with you touching me.”
“Yeah, you're OK,” Spike said, sounding oddly pleased. “You ready to move on?”
Xander chuckled. “You are going to have your wicked way with me.” He heard footsteps and then the door opening and closing but that must have been Paul leaving because Spike's hand was still on his back.
“Something like that.”
Xander winced as the pressure of Spike's hand increased and then he felt Spike licking just below his left shoulder. What the? Oh, yeah. Blood. “How's it taste?”
He felt Spike sit up and heard, “I,” but then Spike was unnaturally silent. Xander tried to keep his eyes open but they kept drifting shut, only to flutter open, again and again. He was barely awake to hear it when Spike finally responded. “Leave but a drop in the cup, and I'll not look for wine.”
“Oh, good. I'm glad you like it,” Xander said between yawns.
“Oh, you are worn out if you understood that,” Spike replied.
The next thing Xander knew, Spike was lying next to him on the bed. Just staring at him. Yawning with a huge stretch, Xander rolled over to face Spike and said, “Hey, my back feels better.”
“Course it does,” Spike said. “Vamp spit heals.”
“Can I say, ewww?”
Spike reached out and brushed Xander's hair back. “Can say anything you want, pet.”
Xander glanced around the room. There was nothing to tell him the time. “How long was I out?”
Spike shrugged. “About an hour.”
“Which you spent licking blood off my back,” Xander said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Don't be stupid, well, stupider than you have to be. I just said my spit healed you up. Wound was closed before you dozed off.”
Xander closed his mouth with a conscious effort. “You didn't get much then.”
Shrugging again, Spike said, “It was enough.”
“So, you got more than a drop then,” Xander said, so overwhelmed by the intimacy of what Spike had just said that he had to make a joke of it.
“A drop is enough. Hell, none is enough, as long as I've got you.”
Spike's words rolled through Xander's mind. Leave but a drop. None is enough. Why does he do these things to me?
“Not that I wouldn't mind trying it again.”
Oh, thank God. We're back to something I can deal with. “There was some mention of next?” Xander asked, reaching out and laying his hand on Spike's chest.
Spike's gaze became very intimate. “That there was.” He looked down, as if embarrassed, but when he looked back up, his expression was frank. “But first, our anniversary exchange.” Xander started to babble that he hadn't brought Spike's gift with him, but Spike shushed him with a finger across the lips. “You answer my question and I'll answer anything you ask. Who goes first?”
Xander hugged himself to Spike. “You ask, but whisper it.”
“Do you regret being with me?”
Spike tried to pull away, to see his lover's reaction, but Xander held him tight. “No,” Xander whispered back. “Never. I've never regretted–” he trailed off. Letting go of the hold, Xander kissed Spike roughly.
As Spike's tongue slipped into Xander's mouth, Spike reached out wildly until he found the lube. A few moments later, Spike rolled onto his back and pulled Xander on top of himself. Easing the tip of his cock into Xander's ass, he said, “Your turn to ask.”
“Now?” Xander shouted, almost desperately.
“Yep.”
Xander gestured vaguely around the room. “Why?”
Spike shoved his hips up, slamming Xander's prostate three times in quick succession. Xander was gasping as Spike slowly inched his cock downwards but not quite pulling out of Xander. “Oh my love, you still don't see it, do you? While the chip may have limited what I can do, my heart's what it's always been – as black as sin.”
No, Xander thought. It's not. “Still the Big Bad?”
“Your Big Bad,” Spike replied as Xander, ever so slowly, slipped down and then back up on his cock.
“Mine?”
“Only. Always.” Spike pulled Xander down for a kiss.
“That's alright, then,” Xander whispered against Spike's lips.