To Be Claimed

Review Responses:

Kitti-chan—Hey, hey, hey, my Muses cliff-hanged me! And the explanation actually started getting written before the sex scene finished, so that shouldn’t be too much longer.

tgray—Glad to have caught your attention!

Kitsune Morgan—Here’s more for ya!

chibifae—I love demon/hyena!Xander, too. I have a hyena!Xander that’s being put off until I finish this one … *dangle, dangle, tease, tease*

mel—I’m BACK! Wow. Uhm, talk about mystery, yes. Actual smut too … *wink*

Amanda—*grabs the manips* Squeal away, girl! *throws Angel at the holy spatula* I need Spike … though I may have to steal Angel back … *tease, tease, tease*

Heather—*scratches Oz off guess list* Nope, not Oz.

Tracey—hee, glad to know that there are other people who slog through backlogs like I do. And I think everyone’s curious about the former master. Can you tell I like being a tease?

OK, for a bit more teasing: there are a couple of clues that are already in the story … a couple more come out in this installment. First correct guess might get a prize ….

Quick Notes Forgotten Earlier: It’s AU (duh), so if I don’t mention it, don’t expect it to show up. IE: No Spike/Anya after the wedding fiasco!

RL: Mid-terms sucked, then papers were dumped on me, then I lost the first three pages and ended up starting in on the ‘morning after’ (which is still being reworked). GAH! And I didn’t particularly want to be hunted down by slathering fan-girls for only posting half of the smut … so I held off ‘til it all got done. TODAY!

And now that the notes may be longer than … on to the actual story:

***********

Xander felt drained. That voice. The hunt hadn’t been too bad, a rather typical night for him, really. It was that compelling, demanding tone in Spike’s voice forcing the words from his mouth. Which, really, he wasn’t supposed to tell potential Masters anything before a proper bond. It had taken all he had to keep the information to an absolute minimum. And damn it, he wanted to scream. Here he was, laid out beneath the vampire, neck bared in open invitation, and what was Spike doing? Talking. He was on the verge of demanding to be fucked. Or shagged. Or whatever the hell Spike wanted, as long as he got claimed!

“Thought Mar’geshun were myths.” Xander blinked.

“You’re a vampire.”

“Ta, pet. Established that.” Xander couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling.

“Pot, kettle, black … any bells ringing in that belfry?” Spike was scowling again.

“Demonic myths, whelp. Why’ld humans have myths of myths?” Xander didn’t have any clue to where that argument could lead. Didn’t really want one, either.

“Lost the plotline, Spike. Me—Mar’geshun, you—Master Vampire.” He could hear his own voice dropping, almost purring. “Me—in need of Master, you—very potential master.” Xander managed to arch against Spike, the small undulation moving from knees to hips, up through his shoulders, stopping with his throat as far forward as he could move it. He felt a growl—possibly a purr—from Spike’s chest. “Once I’m claimed, I can’t say no … to anything.” Spike’s eyes were swirling back into gold, a touch of red at the edges. Xander was panting again. “Fuck me, Master.”

***

Spike didn’t realize he’d moved until heat surrounded his fangs, a tinge of blood touching his tongue. Oh, his boy was tangy—darkly sweet with a biting edge. Blood always held true to personality. His boy was strong, potent, and begging with everything available—blood nearly swimming in need—to be claimed. Taken and ordered and subservient. Spike chuckled at his boy’s faint keening. The body under him went rigid, scent practically ramming pleasure into his nose. He pulled back, tongue pressed firmly against the boy’s wounded neck. Whelp didn’t move, eyes intently unfocused on some distant point above them.

Spike looked down at his pet; with head pulled back and a ring of red teeth marks on his neck, the boy was screaming to be possessed. By him. Spike smirked and let his fingers run down the boy’s sides. Brown eyes nearly black were staring blankly into space while the lithe body arched greedily into his hands. The mesh shirt was rough to his touch; he wanted that hot flesh, slick with sweat and blood yet yielding to his every touch. Spike pushed the shirt up, over the boy’s head. He left the shirt and coat tangled around his pet’s arms, briefly appreciating the view before moving forward to taste more of that tantalizing scent. Boy was like putty, moving wherever Spike wanted—whimpering in pleasure.

He could scent a faint undertone of desperation to the lust and contentment, though—he and the whelp were going to have to talk—he shrugged off his duster and tossed it well out of possible danger—after the sex.

***

Skin. Blessedly cool skin. Xander gasped and arched. Oh, clever fingers. He blinked up at Spike as those wicked nails marked the curve of hipbone before tearing at the buttons of his pants. The blond was comfortably crouched above him; chest hard and solid and bare. He didn’t spare any thought to where the vampire’s coat or shirts had gone—he was quite happy to take advantage of the lovely expanse of pale flesh before him. He moved to run his hands over that skin, only to find his arms trapped above his head. He wriggled and tilted his head to look. His coat? Cool lips wrapped around his throat, teeth teasingly threatening his windpipe. A tongue stroked the delicate skin.

“Like you tied up, pet,” Spike murmured. The rumbling vibrations of that deep voice sent shivers down his body. Spike chuckled and moved back again. Xander closed his eyes and whined. He missed the contact already. The return of his Master’s weight shocked a gasp from him. When had they both gotten naked? He looked up into the smirk hovering on Spike’s face and briefly wondered how long he’d been immersed in pure sensation. He almost wanted to go back to that wonderful loss of thought, yet he knew he couldn’t. The bond was calling. He’d started it by verbally acknowledging Spike as ‘worthy’—there was no way he was going to forget to finish it. He’d heard horror stories. Lived with one for most of his life. Had a half-bond of his own and the pain of loosing that was devastating. Not again. He would die with this Master. Never alone.

Fingers traced the crease between hip and thigh. He wanted to die for and with this Master.

***

Spike snickered. Boy was trying to think. Spike ran cool fingers over his pet’s balls, pressing lightly on the soft skin just behind them. Boy’s whole body rippled with every touch. Rather fun to watch the muscles moving one by one. Spike’s fingers dipped, pressing harder, the skin still smooth, almost hairless, over the puckered hole. Heat. Such glorious, burning heat. He pushed; the tips of two fingers just barely passed the tight pucker. The body under him tensed, though the boy was back to that high keening sound. Spike’s free hand was petting his boy’s squirming body. His smirk hardened. He raked sharp nails down his pet’s side as his other hand twisted and pushed. The scent of blood burst around them. Xander arched, forcing the tearing fingers deeper. The keening never broke, though it wavered. Spike didn’t care. He twisted his fingers again, moving them roughly in the tight, wet heat. He leaned forward, mouthing the angry red scratches. His boy responded beautifully, arching up and pushing down. Moving toward him, never away. Spike let his fangs nip and pull at skin. His boy was going to be good and marked for all to see. Certainly didn’t hurt that his scent was being pushed into all that glistening skin.

Spike pushed up, his fingers leaving his pet empty. That got the whelp’s attention. The keen abruptly turned into a wail, eyes snapping open and desperately locking onto Spike. Letting his blue eyes droop to a slit, he raised sticky, red fingers to his mouth. Boy’s pink tongue darted out as Spike’s did. Perfect. Spike didn’t wait for any more coherency to reach his pet’s eyes. He grabbed the stilled hips and dragged the boy back, and there was no room, no thought, nothing but heat and blood and a tiny scream and movement. Gods, his boy was hot and slick and dripping. He could feel the blood sticking to his own thighs as he watched trapped hands scrabbling to hold something, stop the uncontrolled movement over dirt and rock and root. Keening back, yet broken with gasps and yelps as Spike moved and pushed and took. Boy was his. Four years and the boy … was … HIS!

***

Pain, Xander had expected. Ripping, tearing, gut-wrenching agony—well, still expected, really. It was the thrumming excitement quivering just under his skin that was distracting him. He couldn’t get his breath. Couldn’t scream—whether he wanted to beg for more or for it to stop, he hadn’t figured out yet. Had no idea what would come out of his mouth if it could. Couldn’t get any leverage to stop the tearing movement of back over ground or to push hips up, toward Spike, to get his Master deeper. Could barely twist his hands out of the shirt before hearing Spike’s near-roar of completion. Cold. Sudden cold seeping into his body from his Master, stinging sharply as it coated cuts and tears. The chill cleared his mind enough that Xander could get his hands up and touching his Master. One last defiance, as he managed to gasp out the ritual words. Spike seemed content enough not to care that Xander’s hands were glowing over head and un-beating heart.

“To this man I am bound. By this Master I am owned. All that was is gone. All that is, reform. Magic of Teron to bind me. Will of Master define me.”

Then it was gone. The tingling energy swept through him. He watched Spike shudder a moment as the light flowed from Xander’s hands to Spike’s skin and bled inside. And Xander was empty. Everything was Spike. Was Master. Sight and scent and sound and touch and taste were all connected to nothing save the vampire that now owned him body, mind, and soul. Spike’s head raised from where it had been resting. Blue eyes bore in him, absolute and resolute. Then a twitch of lips broke Xander apart. Cool fingers again dancing along his body, skimming scratches and bites and wrapping lightly over his burning erection. And Mistress, how had he forgotten that?! Palm smoothing over purpling head then pulling. Once, twice.

“Cum, pet,” a dark voice murmured in his ear. Xander shuddered and screamed the first real scream of the night. Pleasure racing down his spine and cool lips soothing over his cheek. “Sleep, pet.” And Xander was gone. Dropping into slumber even as the words echoed in his ears. “We’ll talk when you wake.”