dragonyphoenix

Title: A Bad Influence remix
Note: A remix of Hello Spikey's story: A Bad Influence; posted with Hello Spikey's permission, of course.
Note: Yeah, I know I'm supposed to come up with my own title and not just add "remix" to the end of the original title. The title I came up with is going to the sequel, if I write it.
Characters: Rupert/Spike, Rupert/Ethan (suggested)
Disclaimer: They will be mine, oh yes. Once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha!
Rating: R
Potential squicks: caning but not all that graphic, sex between Rupert and Spike, Spike chained in the bathtub – um, wait. Are these squicks or turn-ons?; brainwashing

1/2

Bloody buggery freezing buggery bathtub. Shutting his eyes, as if that could drown out the impossible whiteness of the room, Spike listened as his chains rattled. His back, underneath his black T, resting against the side of the tub, felt like a block of ice. Even through his jeans, his legs were frozen, which was nothing compared to his poor, bare feet. At least the Initiative had been warm. At least in the Initiative, there was some chance that they'd kill you.

He didn't need to open his eyes to see the color: white tub, white walls, white tiles. The whiteness had stolen into him, had gotten under his skin. It wasn't a chip that had stolen away his power. No,it was those soldier gits; they'd drained away all his color and his power had gone with it. And now Rupert had taken up the task. Soon it wouldn't just hurt when he tried to do some damage; soon he wouldn't hurt at all: with his color gone, he'd be dead. Unless he escaped first.

Spike banged his head against the tiles, but not hard enough to damage them. The tweedy Watcher wouldn't kill him, at least not directly, but Rupert could drive Spike out of the apartment. Spike had been starving before he'd convinced the Scooby gang that he had something they needed. He had no illusions. He'd be better off starving than falling into the soldier twits hands. He could feel a scream, as dark as a nest of serpents, slithering its way up his spine; it was dark and red, hot, and tasted sharp, like a knife.

It's the Initiative. I just don't want those gits doing any more damage to my head. The words didn't soothe. Deep down he knew it was more than that. He didn't fear death, but what they'd done was worse than death. They'd stolen his power. He couldn't control his own bloody mind.

When he heard Rupert's key in the door, Spike forced himself to stop shivering. It wasn't easy, but he wasn't about to let them know they were getting to him, not that they cared. No one cared: not 'Gelus, not Dru, not even bloody Harmony. No one could be bothered to save him.

Spike smelled alcohol, not unusual that. Apparently being kicked off the Watcher's Council didn't sit well with Rupert. He smelled another man, which was odd, and lust coming off of the both of them. Well, that was different – Rupert might as well be a monk for all the company he normally brought home. Spike smirked. A well placed comment here and there might just get him out of the bathtub.

When the second man stepped into the doorway, Spike stopped plotting and stared at the danger. The man absolutely reeked of Chaos magic. Earlier, out in the other room, it had been masked by the lust, but this close in, Spike couldn't misidentify it for anything else. He could feel his demon thrashing in its cage at the threat. Strength surged through him but not enough to break his chains. When the man spoke, his words sounded innocent enough, but Spike could sense the threat beneath them. “Ah, I was right.”

Rupert stepped in behind the chaotic git and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Why are you leering at him?”

Spike thought of the thousands of times that he and Dru had found someone to play with, how their eyes would turn as one, trapping their new toy with their mutual gaze. Ah, this is what those poor sods had felt like.

“When I could be leering at you? Probably because you're behind me, where I can't see you. Why are you leering at him?

Rupert blinked. “I didn't know I was.”

The man's eyes narrowed as he stared at Spike. “Just think how much pain it would take to break a vampire.”

“Cut it out,” Rupert said. “I am not abusing a helpless creature for your amusement.”

Spike clenched his fists. I'm not helpless. He wasn't stupid enough to say it.

“Chains, Ripper. Really?” Christ but that bugger didn't give up. “I remember the days when your definition of control was actually subtle.”

White, Spike thought. My hair and skin are already white. All I need to do is get my clothes white, and I can vanish against the tub and tiles. Not taking his eyes off the two men, Spike stilled his body and willed his clothes to turn white, trying to camouflage himself against the bathroom.

“Perhaps you need a reminder, Ethan.” Spike's cock twitched at the power in Rupert's voice. Didn't know he could sound like that.

“Oh please.” Spike stared at Ethan in shock. He couldn't want to unleash that tiger, could he? “He'd look so pretty, all bruised and bleeding.”

“Hey,” Spike shouted without thinking. “I am not pretty.” Just because 'Gelus was as big as an ox, didn't mean that he, Spike, was girly.

The two sets of eyes turned, alarmingly, and gazed at him. Ethan's smirk had a malicious twist, but Rupert was looking at Spike the way Angelus would when he'd thought of a particularly nasty game to play.

Bugger, bugger, bugger me. Or no, don't bugger me. Just leave me alone.

Ethan shifted against Rupert, undulating his body, moving the way a snake might, if it had human form, but transforming it into something sexy. “Ripper.” The sound of Ethan's voice was as silky as chocolate melting on the tongue. “He hasn't seen you come out to play yet, has he? He thinks you're all tweed and books. He doesn't know it's a mask.”

“Ethan,” Rupert growled.

Bugger, Spike thought. Didn't know Rupert could sound like that either.

Ethan turned in Rupert's arms until they were face to face. “Every time you back down,” Ethan said, “you let him think you're the Council's minion. You're giving away your power, Rupert.”

Power? Spike almost shrieked inside his own head. What power could I take? I'm bloody well chained up here, thank you very much.

“Enough.” Rupert's shout ricocheted off the walls. Turning his back on Ethan, Rupert walked toward the living room, and then Spike could hear steps on the stairs, the ones that led up to the bedroom.

Ethan turned toward Spike again. He looked annoyed, as if he'd miscalculated. Rupert's voice, calling down the stairs, asking Ethan if he was coming, sounded more like an order than a query. Ethan smirked at Spike once more. “Don't think you're out of the water yet.”

As soon as Ethan was out of sight, Spike started shivering again. He listened to the smacks and yelps coming from up the stairs. Rupert had more of a wallop going than Spike had expected, but it was nothing compared to what Angelus could do. Slightly kinky but mostly vanilla human sex couldn't come close to the things Spike had endured from 'Gelus.

Even with the chip in his head, Spike was still a predator. When Rupert came to the door, hours after Spike had dozed off, he woke immediately, but kept still, pretending he was still asleep. Opening his eyes to mere slits, Spike could see Rupert, dressed in nothing more than a robe, just standing there, not moving. Spike could feel Rupert's gaze.

“Ethan is an impertinent, chaotic malcontent, but he was not entirely without a point.” Apparently the I'm still asleep ruse hadn't fooled Rupert.

While Spike couldn't physically hurt a human, he wasn't entirely without defenses. He had, after all, learned manipulation at Angelus' knee, so to speak. “Gonna spank me, Daddy?” Weakness wouldn't help him here.

Rupert took two steps across the room and crouched down by the bathtub. His eyes still hadn't left Spike's face. “You are so very pretty.”

Bugger, I thought he was going for the discipline. Instead it's let's abuse the pretty boy.

Once, in El Salvador, Spike had watched a jaguar as it hunted, hiding in the shadows, its power held in abeyance as it waited for just the right moment to pounce. Rupert's chuckle reminded him of that night. How had he ever thought of this man as a mere tool?

“You really should try to tone down that wide-eyed, starving orphan look,” Rupert said. “It is so very tempting.”

Which meant, almost certainly, that Rupert had made up his mind. Still, don't show any weakness and all that. “Promises, promises.”

Rupert reached his hand out and laid it on the front of Spike's jeans, squeezing down on Spike's cock. Spike couldn't help it, he could feel his eyes growing wider. Rupert pressed down harder, digging his fingernails into the black jeans. “Why Rupert, whatever will the children think?”

Rupert's grin, as he rubbed his hand over Spike's hard cock said, clearer than words, that he didn't care. Bad, Spike thought. This is bad. Rupert cares about the kiddies. Why isn't he worried that I'll tell 'em? “Is that what they teach at that poncy Watcher's academy?” If love won't work, maybe duty will.

“This is.” Rupert held a stake against Spike's chest. “It can't have escaped your notice that I have complete, unsupervised control over you.” No, Spike thought, hadn't missed that. “I'm going to unchain you.” Spike surreptitiously stretched his legs. Unchained, he could make it to the door. “You can leave if you want,” Rupert added. “I won't stop you.”

What?

“But neither will I help once the Initiative has captured you again,” Rupert added.

Oh.

Rupert continued. “If you stay, you will obey me: no snarky comments, no fighting my will, just obedience. Anything else, and I'll stake you.”

When Spike nodded his agreement, Rupert, the wanker, grinned as if it had never been in doubt. After he'd removed the chains, Rupert gestured for Spike to lead the way to the living room. Ethan was there, sprawled out on the couch, his robe open so Spike couldn't help but notice that Ethan was longer than he'd have given him credit for. No wonder Rupert put up with the annoying little – only not so little where it counted – cretin.

Rupert took some dusty old tome away from Ethan. “It only contains minor transfiguration spells,” Ethan said as Rupert shelved the book. “Not like I could do any real harm with it.”

“You could do harm with a feather,” Rupert replied. They shared a look as if reliving some old memory.

Rupert joined Ethan on the couch, sitting back as if about to enjoy a show. “Undress.” Spike yanked at his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. “Seductively,” Rupert added, his tone of voice asking how he'd gotten stuck with such an idiot.

Spike froze. While he had seduced Drusilla upon occasion, by the time they'd gotten to the removing of their clothes part of the evening, they'd pretty much just torn at each other, tossing aside dress, shirt and pants as quickly as they could. Spike, not exactly certains what to do, tried moves that humans had fallen for in bars and such. Ethan sat up and leaned forward so the moves couldn't have been that far off the mark, but Rupert looked bored.

“Off,” Rupert said to Ethan, who, with a pout, moved to the leather lounger across the room.

Rupert stared at Spike, catching Spike's gaze with his. Not lowering his eyes, Rupert pulled a cane out from below the couch and placed it on the coffee table. Spike knew it would hurt. It was more than he'd expected but still, compared to the shit Angelus had pulled... Spike knew he could handle it. “Where do you want me?”

A small smile played across Rupert's lips as he gestured toward the fireplace, which was empty, swept clean even of its ashes. “Face the wall.” The first hit stung but was nothing compared to what Angelus could do. Spike kept his victory hidden though. There was no need to tell Rupert that no actual damage was being done. The caning stopped much sooner than he'd expected. Spike hid a smirk, but then Rupert was behind him, drawing his ass cheeks apart.

“Hey, what's this?”

“You didn't think we were done, did you?” Rupert asked.

Spike felt something largish, about the size of a dick, being shoved into his ass. It was vibrating. “Didn't sign up for this.” Something bit into his back, just above his heart. Spike knew it was a stake. He hung his head.

The stake vanished and then the cane hit him, striking below his ass where it pushed the dildo in, shoving it harder against his prostate with each strike. There was a heavy bolt of pain followed by a lightning strike of pleasure: pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure. Spike's cock was twitching. He didn't want to come, not for this bastard who was just playing with him. The cane struck again. Spike cried out, and even he didn't know if it was a scream or a moan. Rupert was behind him, holding him close like he would a lover. One hand pushed the dildo in, pressing it against the prostate and twisting it there, while the other wrapped itself around Spike's cock, giving it three tight jerks. With a shout, Spike spurted his come all over the red bricks. He collapsed. Only Rupert's arms kept him from hitting the floor.

“That was pretty,” came from the chair. Ethan's cock was hard. When he caught Spike looking, Ethan stroked himself.

Spike stood and glanced at the door. He could make it, but even the threat of having to fuck Ethan wasn't worth risking the soldier boys getting their hands on him. Rupert hit Spike's shoulder. “Clean this mess up, well enough that not even a vampire would smell the spunk.”

Spike looked at the ground but nodded his head.

“Once you're done, if I haven't come down for you yet, you can wait in the bathtub. You are, after all, used to it.” Spike looked up at that. By the glitter in Rupert's eyes, the man knew exactly how much Spike hated the tub. “Don't worry,” Rupert added. “You won't be there long.”

Feeling safer in his clothes, even though he knew that safety was an illusion, Spike dressed himself before he cleaned the fireplace. He could hear chanting, in a tongue he didn't recognize and, once, a sharp giggle from Ethan. When he was done with the cleaning, Spike waited by the bathroom door, only jumping into the tub when he heard Rupert coming down the stairs.

“Who said you could dress?”

Spike hadn't known he shouldn't. It wasn't like Rupert had said not to. “No one.”

“Take them off.” The power in Rupert's voice sent shivers down Spike's spine. Uncertain if he was supposed to be seducing Rupert again, Spike hesitated. “Quickly,” Rupert added, sounding annoyed. Spike shucked his clothes off. “Upstairs.”

There was a closet at the top of the stairs. Its door was open although there was nothing in it. “Inside,” Rupert said. Spike hesitated. In there?

Ethan smirked. “In you go.”

It was just a closet, right? Spike stepped in. Rupert shut the door. It wasn't just a closet. Scents that were always in the background, scents he should have smelled even through the closed door, were gone: Rupert's musky scent; Ethan's, sharper than Rupert's, full of sex and lust and chaos; the rich aroma of whiskey which had hung in the air; tea, sweet and bitter and smelling of home; chemicals ever pervasive in carpet, walls, and furniture; soap; shampoo; dish detergent. Spike couldn't smell any of them. He banged against the door, or where he thought the door should be. There was no light, not even enough for him to see by, but that shouldn't have messed up his sense of direction. He should be able to find the bloody door. He slammed his hand against something, he wasn't sure if it was a door or a wall, but it should have made one hell of a bang. It didn't. “Hey,” he shouted. He couldn't even hear his own voice. He slammed the wall again. He'd hit something, he was sure of that, it had stopped his hand, but he hadn't felt it. Spike slammed his hand against his leg. He didn't feel that either. “Hey, what the hell is this?”