The Silent Urge Series

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Part A Gotta Get Away

Chapter 02 - First Aid


~ Spike ~

“Ssshh, pet. I’ve got you. Ssh…”

"Yeah, … you really got me for a moment. …. For a moment I thought you really tried to pretend to care.” What the fuck?! I really cared. Why is he struggling out of my grip? Why isn’t he sobbing and breaking down and all that?

“Let me go, Spike. Just have to shut down, okay?” Shut down?

“Your wounds need cleaning and perhaps ribs are broken or …”

“Yeah, get your point Spike. You can have the blood. Just let me lie down and then you can lick it off. ‘kay?” Lick it off? Was not what I meant. Antibiotics and such… Well, vampire saliva will help it heal.

“Vampire saliva will …”

“I already said, you can lick it off – no need for further lies. Shut up now. Don’t worry. As if you would worry! I came back.” Came back? What is he talking about? His back looks bad. All open and still bleeding. Thick ruby drops slide out of some very deep welts.

“Xan, you sure about the licking part? Don’t want the slayer … Xan?” His eyes are closed. But he can’t be asleep already? He must be in great pain and should… check: breathing – very deep, very even, very slow. Heart rate – very slow, very even. Kind of meditation genius?

“Xan?” No reaction. Well okay, let’s clean you up then.

I really contemplate whether to get a wash cloth and antibiotic cream or so - just to show the boy that it isn’t only the blood I care about. And when did I get comfortable with that thought? I care? The chip must be frying my brain, synapse by synapse.

I look down again. His whole back has welts crisscrossing the skin. Blood is oozing out of the wounds. Red, powerful, delicious human blood. Life. Nearly a month since I’d had my last real meal. There is this edge to fresh human blood. Not sure how to describe it without creating bad poetry. No time for such likes. Have to stop the pain – it doesn’t matter for Xan wherever he has locked himself away but it matters for me.

I struggle for control when I bow my head down. The smells of the liquid life alone makes my demon break free. Hesitantly I stick my tongue out and lick on one shallow cut. Just one small drop. Xan’s taste explodes in my mouth, fills all my senses.

His blood is like the warm chocolate Joyce made for me, with a hint of strong coffee and tinged with the juice of ripe oranges. It’s a mix of emotions, there is so much love in his blood but everything is spiked with pain and disappointment. But above all feelings there is always hope. Hope, so strong, like a sunbeam breaking through a clouded sky. Hell, what a boy, no man… I’m instantly hard.

~ Xander ~

I so hoped, Spike would be gone before my dad would get to me again. The older I get, the longer are the time spaces between two encounters. So it’s not predictable anymore. But my skin itched and I knew it would happen soon.

It’s humiliating that Spike knows. Sure he will find a way to get an advantage out of his knowledge. Maybe it’s enough to let him lick my blood. Strange show he made when I came back. Can still hear his voice so near my ear, soothing me. His arms around me felt good. For a second I felt … strange. As if he could protect me. I felt safe. God, it’s ridiculous! I felt safe in the arms of a former serial killer! He would hurt me without thinking twice if he could. But he can’t. Even if he wants to, he can’t. The chip. It’s because of the chip. I know, he is incapable of hurting me. So I could feel safe. Alright.

I try to get to my happy place. I found it when I was six. I needed some place to go. I couldn’t go away physically, so I went in my mind. It’s nothing special – just a place to feel safe. A place to recover. A place to find new power and resistance and hope. It works. But it’s hard with Spike nursing my back. I’m in a relaxed enough state but I can’t shut down.

He is so careful with me. His tongue and fingers are cool and they feel good on the abused flesh. He is making all these little cat-licks and butterfly-kisses on every cut. I can feel his sharp fangs smoothing the edges of some gashes. He is really trying not to hurt me.

I wish it would be because he cares for me and not just because he doesn’t want the chip to react. Nobody ever really cared for me.

~ Spike ~

I really hope Harris has this shut down thing going. I simply can’t stop myself from being tender with his wounds. The chip is based on intention, so no problems there. I could jab my tongue deep in one of his cuts, plough all the way through it to open it again and again and... All with the intention to just clean the wound.

My chip wouldn’t twinge but for Harris it would be very painful. I think he would pass out before I’m half through with his back. Hmm. Or not. Has a lot of control going on. Didn’t make a fucking groan or anything when his father whipped him. Yeah, and look at his back. Nobody can control the pain of whippings of this extent without a lot of… practice. The resistance must be built up – slowly and steadily.

I’m through with nearly all the wounds. Licked them clean, made the edges of the torn flesh smooth for better healing and lesser scarring and fucking kissed them better just because his skin is so hot. I already said I hope he is not awake enough to notice it.

Now there are two really deep long welts crossing his back. All the time I nursed the smaller cuts I thought about what I should do with them.

They need stitches.

The boy will never go to the hospital.

I can do stitches but I could do more.

I could ask him.

Tell him, what I want to do and that then he won’t have ugly scars.

Scars which he will need to hide ‘cause everybody just knows from looking at them that he was whipped.

I think he would say yes.

He wouldn’t want scars.

He wouldn’t want *anybody* to know.

So it’s not necessary to ask him, right?

Right.

He will never know.

Good plan.

Let’s do this.

I bite into my right wrist, drag the fangs deeper to open the punctured marks wider and hold it over the middle of his back where the bad cuts meet. My left hand starts to rub my blood gently into the wounds and generally on his back in growing circles and I can’t stop.

I just keep massaging my blood into his body until…

… The smaller cuts have vanished completely after a few minutes and the deeper cuts will be faded by morning. No scars, no more pain for my boy.

I stand up and go to the sink, wetting a new towel and clean my own and his blood from the back. There is not much of my blood. His skin has nearly absorbed what it could get.

Will not do any damage.

For a moment I just look at him. He looks good. I like the hair this long, the soft curls on his neck are inviting me to grab them, pull his head back to reveal his throat… Yeah, little Me is twitching in my jeans. I’ll just tuck my Xanpet in and go for a smoke and a wank outside.

~ Xander ~

I have to be pretty fucked up if a vampire – a vampire like Spike aka William The Bloody – feels sorry for me. Or he was really thankful for ‘the-human-blood-from-a-warm-body-slurping’. Yeah but it was not exactly slurping, more like soft kisses and nearly playful hesi lic licks. I really had to suppress a moan when he dipped his tongue deep into a cut or his fangs scraped along my flesh. Kinky much? I’m turned on by a vampire gently licking my belt-whipped bleeding back. It has to be the gently part. Gently doesn’t happen often in Xanderland.

My back feels better. The cool liquid cream Spike massaged in my skin has numbed the pain a lot. I have to ask him later which of my resources he used so I can replace it. By the amount he applied it must be nearly empty. I don’t want to not have the cream in my first aid supply when he… ahm, when I am injured again.

Part of me is sad, that he stopped nursing me. Hmm. He washed my back and then tucked me in. He carefully wrapped the blanket round my shoulders, sees to it that it doesn’t touch my ears and shoves it under my upper arms so it can’t get away. He hesitates a moment as if he wants to say or do something but he decides against it and just goes away. I hear the leather of his duster cracking and then the door clicks shut.

I’m so tired. I only want to sleep. But I can’t get it out of my head: How the hell does he know, that I can’t sleep when the blanket is over my ears?

~ Spike ~

Bloody hell. That was close. I am so stupid simesimes. When I tucked the boy in I KNEW the boy was *back* – accelerated heart rate and breathing and all but all I can think of is bowing down and kissing him and promising him to keep him safe.

Yeah.

As if he would believe me.

As if he would let me.

Aaarghh. I AM A fucking MASTER VAMPIRE I DON’T…

I don’t what?

A master vampire does what he wants to do. Right.

I want to have the BOY.

And chip or no chip if I want the boy giving himself WILLINGLY to me I have to play along.

Therefore I have to be gentle and careful and that entire rot.

The chance to get him is nearly non-existent.

He’s straight. He hates me. He adores me in a way for my coolness. He hates me more ‘cause he adores me. He doesn’t believe in himself. He doesn’t believe that he could be wanted as person. He is… unattainable for me.m inm insane.

I have to wait, be patient. Maybe tomorrow he opens his mouth and says something like: ‘I hate you down to the bones. You can choose now: Do you want to go willingly in the sun or may I give you a shove? Nice afterlife fangless.’ And then I forget that I cared. Yeah, right.

The fag is still unlit in my hand. I don’t want to spoil the taste of the boy’s blood lingering on my tongue.

God, creamy chocolate melting in hot coffee in the sunshine. Delicate. Precious. It makes me dizzy – or that’s all the blood rushing so fast to my groin. Doesn’t matter. I need relief - now.

Wish my hands were not so cold. Makes it hard to pretend, his hands would work my cock and caress my balls. My tongue gliding around in my mouth searches for hints of his blood and the memory of my lips on his burning skin, *upanddownupanddownupdownupdown* painted with fresh hot blood, *moan* and my tongue dipping in the wounds, *deep*, seeking more *moremoremore* of the delicious red fluid and *cumingcumingcuming*.

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