The Silent Urge Series
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
49
Views:
25,239
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
49
Views:
25,239
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
34 - D: Possession I
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A happy new year 2005 to everybody! You are great people, thanks for the support and encouragement of this fic!
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The Silent Urge Series
Part D - Interference
Chapter 34 - Possession I
~ Spike ~
Treckle's scream inside of my head wakes me instantly. Can't believe I fell asleep, wasn't that strenuous after all, just felt ... weirdly safe afterwards.
It's about 3 a.m. Time most of the customers go home and some of the nastier things stick their horned hairy heads out and want to have some fun. I'm up and in my clothes before Xander even stirs. Boy turns on his side, shivers. Back in a bit, promise.
I comb my fingers through my hair twice, duster, fag and seconds later I'm at the threshold to the club, lighting the fag and taking a deep drag whilst I try to figure out what's going on.
Why the bloody hell is Treckle dancing like that with *my* sire?
~ Xander ~
The hollow clicking sound of the door closing rips me out of the satisfied darkness in which I was drifting. It's nearly pitch black around me, still I can see pretty well. The apartment is empty, no sound other but my own breathing and heartbeat. I feel cold somehow. Alone.
I sit up, grimacing about the dried cum on my belly, the soreness of my ass. What a night. And still I'm hungry. Blood hungry. Or is that thirsty, blood thirsty, yep.
Why did Spike leave? He's regretting it already? Nah, didn't feel like that. After all it was 'just' sex. Men don't regret having sex. I don't even think Spike gets the concept of regret at all. Vampire, soulless, gorgeous, damn good kisser, lover. I shiver. Cold, feel so cold. Need clothes.
~ Spike ~
Didn't know the poof could dance like that. Angelus, yes, that bastard moved gracefully, light footed, elegantly with the nearly obscene ‘wanna fuck you’ attitude, but Angel? The soul, the guilt and the weight of the bloody world is dragging him down so hard, you'd think he's covered in cement.
I drag at my fag again, take in the smoke, letting it course through my system, enjoying the sensation of being warmed from the inside even if only for a few seconds. I watch the two move to the music. I know that he knows I am here even though he doesn't look up, doesn't give away, he’s concentrating completely on his dancing partner.
Finally he turns Treckle around, grabs the half-demon‘s lean hips, long fingers sprawled on black leathers, nearly reaching the heavy bulge in the front. Angel pulls T back abruptly while he thrusts forward, crotch meeting ass, hard.
Just for a second my eye lids flutter, remembering in detail how that almost brutal thrust feels, with clothes, without them. T throws his head back, the long dark blue hair flowing like a waterfall at night and I concentrate so I can hear T groan, entirely lost in sensations.
At that moment, my sire looks up, grins at me, animalistic lust blazing golden through whiskey eyes and I have to suppress the urge to kneel down and beg. You'd think that one hundred years would be enough to delete eighteen years of intense training - but well, some things just stick with you for eternity.
I take another long, deep drag from my fag while I watch my sire's strong fingers slide over T's body, thighs to chest, tugging at taut nipples and back down, touching the hardness there but not...
Torturing with tenderness, Angelus' real finesse, undiscovered by the bloody Watchers Council, or maybe those wankers just a bunch of homophobes, too inhibited to write down the truth. Pffft - I snort. The Watcher's porn diaries. The world would be better for it, I tell you.
~ Xander ~
Whoa, my ass feels weird. Not bad, nor not good, but weird. Spike's cock was inside my ass. God, I'm gay. I am sooo gay. I got fucked. By a guy. No, by a vampire. I am not only gay, I am a freak. And I am thirsty. I make my way over to the fridge, open it and drink from the orange juice, the milk, try the coke and even eat a couple of twinkies, but still... I need Spike. Spike's blood. Where the hell is he? Need to find him.
I go over to my room and search for suitable clothes. The jeans and shirt I wore before are too rumpled, even for the low lights down in the club. Hm. My gaze falls on the bag Spike threw at me yesterday. Or the day before yesterday. God – time's completely going by me unnoticed. Can't remember ever being so free, so light-hearted before. I take a deep breath and pull the black leather pants out of the bag. The material feels cool but soft and I realize I am actually looking forward to feeling it against my skin.
~ Spike ~
When the song finally ends, even I can smell T's precum. Delicious.
Angel gives Treck a shove in the direction of the bar and he stumbles off with weak knees. I drop the fag, crush it out with the heel of my boot and, without looking up, I know my sire is watching me intently. I sigh, shakily and nod to myself before I straighten my shoulders and go over to my creator. Why the hell did he have to come here? I told him everything was fine, is fine, couldn't be better. Xander's upstairs, truly fucked and waiting for me. Why did he come? *grrrr*
When I reach him I look up, meet his intensely speculating eyes and, before I have a chance to say anything, – because I had no intention of dancing with him – he grabs me and pulls me flush against him. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, inhales deeply, scents me and then draws back, seemingly satisfied. I feel tension leaving my body, I feel relieved he didn't try anything weird like claiming me right in front of everybody and then I catch a glimpse of his face. His true face, eyes blazing furiously and his lips half open, showing off razor sharp tips of white fangs. Fuck. What the hell is wrong now?
~ Xander ~
Leather is good. Leather is cool. I stretch and turn in front of the bathroom mirror trying to get a good look of how the trousers fit. Just from the feeling of them surrounding my legs and hips, soft but strong, not restraining but holding tight, I'd say they're like made for me. I feel Spike-ish. Oh god. I laugh out loud.
Now I still need something for the upper half of my body and there was nothing else in the bag anymore. Hm. I go over to Spike's room, I hope he won't mind me borrowing something. Nah. I go through the impressive collection of three red, silk button-up's and five black t-shirts before I grab one of the latter. Just hope it won't be belly free when I finally get into it. I laugh again. I feel so good – if you ignore the nagging hunger in the midst of my chest, calling out for Spike's blood.
I pull the t-shirt over my head and down my body. Damn, that's tight, sits like a second skin. I go back in the bathroom, looking at my chest and the tight little nipples significantly prominent under the black cotton. I watch my arms and flex my biceps experimentally, promptly ripping open the right arm of the shirt. Oops. But it looks way better without the arm. Hm. I grin to myself, and rip off all of the right side, then the left side too. Who'd have thought?
I wash my face, comb my hair with wet fingers so it looks gelled but isn't. Damn, Xannyboy, you look great. Like a callboy. Who am I kidding. I fall back on the Spike-must-have-fucked-my-brains-out-I-am-not-responsible-for-anything-anymore-thought and, without another look in the mirror, I go to get my shoes and leave the apartment to search for my little vamp-lover. As I said, Spike has fucked my brains out. I am not responsible for anything anymore. I giggle and go down the steps, enjoying the tight leather rubbing against my cock and ass, the tight cotton straining against my hardened nipples.
I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts...
~ Spike ~
"His spunk is all over you." My sire growls and crazy possessiveness fills his eyes, making my skin crawl – in a good way. That's bad. That's really bad.
"We had a little..."
"I thought I saved you from being a fuck toy for humans that night." He spits, and I flinch back, images of that night flashing in my head. Soldiers around me, laughing, mocking, degrading and the thick scent of violent lust. Hands, too many to fight off. Feet, kicking too hard, too often to avoid. The pain of the chip going off and off and off...
"You did..." Both our heads whip around to the entrance of the club where, suddenly, Xander stands, confidence and sex practically pouring off him, arrogance and invincibility displayed so blatantly... breathtaking, gorgeous, and just the wrong attitude at the wrong time in the wrong place.
Angel growls and pushes me away. He turns and stalks over to Xander.
Oh bloody fucking hell.
*tbc*
more of my fics at my site: http://druffitown.gmxhome.de
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A happy new year 2005 to everybody! You are great people, thanks for the support and encouragement of this fic!
*** *** ***
The Silent Urge Series
Part D - Interference
Chapter 34 - Possession I
~ Spike ~
Treckle's scream inside of my head wakes me instantly. Can't believe I fell asleep, wasn't that strenuous after all, just felt ... weirdly safe afterwards.
It's about 3 a.m. Time most of the customers go home and some of the nastier things stick their horned hairy heads out and want to have some fun. I'm up and in my clothes before Xander even stirs. Boy turns on his side, shivers. Back in a bit, promise.
I comb my fingers through my hair twice, duster, fag and seconds later I'm at the threshold to the club, lighting the fag and taking a deep drag whilst I try to figure out what's going on.
Why the bloody hell is Treckle dancing like that with *my* sire?
~ Xander ~
The hollow clicking sound of the door closing rips me out of the satisfied darkness in which I was drifting. It's nearly pitch black around me, still I can see pretty well. The apartment is empty, no sound other but my own breathing and heartbeat. I feel cold somehow. Alone.
I sit up, grimacing about the dried cum on my belly, the soreness of my ass. What a night. And still I'm hungry. Blood hungry. Or is that thirsty, blood thirsty, yep.
Why did Spike leave? He's regretting it already? Nah, didn't feel like that. After all it was 'just' sex. Men don't regret having sex. I don't even think Spike gets the concept of regret at all. Vampire, soulless, gorgeous, damn good kisser, lover. I shiver. Cold, feel so cold. Need clothes.
~ Spike ~
Didn't know the poof could dance like that. Angelus, yes, that bastard moved gracefully, light footed, elegantly with the nearly obscene ‘wanna fuck you’ attitude, but Angel? The soul, the guilt and the weight of the bloody world is dragging him down so hard, you'd think he's covered in cement.
I drag at my fag again, take in the smoke, letting it course through my system, enjoying the sensation of being warmed from the inside even if only for a few seconds. I watch the two move to the music. I know that he knows I am here even though he doesn't look up, doesn't give away, he’s concentrating completely on his dancing partner.
Finally he turns Treckle around, grabs the half-demon‘s lean hips, long fingers sprawled on black leathers, nearly reaching the heavy bulge in the front. Angel pulls T back abruptly while he thrusts forward, crotch meeting ass, hard.
Just for a second my eye lids flutter, remembering in detail how that almost brutal thrust feels, with clothes, without them. T throws his head back, the long dark blue hair flowing like a waterfall at night and I concentrate so I can hear T groan, entirely lost in sensations.
At that moment, my sire looks up, grins at me, animalistic lust blazing golden through whiskey eyes and I have to suppress the urge to kneel down and beg. You'd think that one hundred years would be enough to delete eighteen years of intense training - but well, some things just stick with you for eternity.
I take another long, deep drag from my fag while I watch my sire's strong fingers slide over T's body, thighs to chest, tugging at taut nipples and back down, touching the hardness there but not...
Torturing with tenderness, Angelus' real finesse, undiscovered by the bloody Watchers Council, or maybe those wankers just a bunch of homophobes, too inhibited to write down the truth. Pffft - I snort. The Watcher's porn diaries. The world would be better for it, I tell you.
~ Xander ~
Whoa, my ass feels weird. Not bad, nor not good, but weird. Spike's cock was inside my ass. God, I'm gay. I am sooo gay. I got fucked. By a guy. No, by a vampire. I am not only gay, I am a freak. And I am thirsty. I make my way over to the fridge, open it and drink from the orange juice, the milk, try the coke and even eat a couple of twinkies, but still... I need Spike. Spike's blood. Where the hell is he? Need to find him.
I go over to my room and search for suitable clothes. The jeans and shirt I wore before are too rumpled, even for the low lights down in the club. Hm. My gaze falls on the bag Spike threw at me yesterday. Or the day before yesterday. God – time's completely going by me unnoticed. Can't remember ever being so free, so light-hearted before. I take a deep breath and pull the black leather pants out of the bag. The material feels cool but soft and I realize I am actually looking forward to feeling it against my skin.
~ Spike ~
When the song finally ends, even I can smell T's precum. Delicious.
Angel gives Treck a shove in the direction of the bar and he stumbles off with weak knees. I drop the fag, crush it out with the heel of my boot and, without looking up, I know my sire is watching me intently. I sigh, shakily and nod to myself before I straighten my shoulders and go over to my creator. Why the hell did he have to come here? I told him everything was fine, is fine, couldn't be better. Xander's upstairs, truly fucked and waiting for me. Why did he come? *grrrr*
When I reach him I look up, meet his intensely speculating eyes and, before I have a chance to say anything, – because I had no intention of dancing with him – he grabs me and pulls me flush against him. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, inhales deeply, scents me and then draws back, seemingly satisfied. I feel tension leaving my body, I feel relieved he didn't try anything weird like claiming me right in front of everybody and then I catch a glimpse of his face. His true face, eyes blazing furiously and his lips half open, showing off razor sharp tips of white fangs. Fuck. What the hell is wrong now?
~ Xander ~
Leather is good. Leather is cool. I stretch and turn in front of the bathroom mirror trying to get a good look of how the trousers fit. Just from the feeling of them surrounding my legs and hips, soft but strong, not restraining but holding tight, I'd say they're like made for me. I feel Spike-ish. Oh god. I laugh out loud.
Now I still need something for the upper half of my body and there was nothing else in the bag anymore. Hm. I go over to Spike's room, I hope he won't mind me borrowing something. Nah. I go through the impressive collection of three red, silk button-up's and five black t-shirts before I grab one of the latter. Just hope it won't be belly free when I finally get into it. I laugh again. I feel so good – if you ignore the nagging hunger in the midst of my chest, calling out for Spike's blood.
I pull the t-shirt over my head and down my body. Damn, that's tight, sits like a second skin. I go back in the bathroom, looking at my chest and the tight little nipples significantly prominent under the black cotton. I watch my arms and flex my biceps experimentally, promptly ripping open the right arm of the shirt. Oops. But it looks way better without the arm. Hm. I grin to myself, and rip off all of the right side, then the left side too. Who'd have thought?
I wash my face, comb my hair with wet fingers so it looks gelled but isn't. Damn, Xannyboy, you look great. Like a callboy. Who am I kidding. I fall back on the Spike-must-have-fucked-my-brains-out-I-am-not-responsible-for-anything-anymore-thought and, without another look in the mirror, I go to get my shoes and leave the apartment to search for my little vamp-lover. As I said, Spike has fucked my brains out. I am not responsible for anything anymore. I giggle and go down the steps, enjoying the tight leather rubbing against my cock and ass, the tight cotton straining against my hardened nipples.
I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts...
~ Spike ~
"His spunk is all over you." My sire growls and crazy possessiveness fills his eyes, making my skin crawl – in a good way. That's bad. That's really bad.
"We had a little..."
"I thought I saved you from being a fuck toy for humans that night." He spits, and I flinch back, images of that night flashing in my head. Soldiers around me, laughing, mocking, degrading and the thick scent of violent lust. Hands, too many to fight off. Feet, kicking too hard, too often to avoid. The pain of the chip going off and off and off...
"You did..." Both our heads whip around to the entrance of the club where, suddenly, Xander stands, confidence and sex practically pouring off him, arrogance and invincibility displayed so blatantly... breathtaking, gorgeous, and just the wrong attitude at the wrong time in the wrong place.
Angel growls and pushes me away. He turns and stalks over to Xander.
Oh bloody fucking hell.
*tbc*
more of my fics at my site: http://druffitown.gmxhome.de
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