Fett for Bot
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,181
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,181
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Fett for Bot
Betas: Willshenillshe and Mirax_terrik
Warren grabbed the toy box from Andrew and gestured wildly with it. “Listen Sparky, just put the Boba Fett in the suitcase. He doesn’t have to have his own shipping carton filled with peanuts just to drive back to school.”
“But he’s a First Edition with all his original packaging! How dare you treat him with such a lack of respect?” The two nerds squared off, one at each end of the twin-bed with a suitcase, pillow, book bag, and one First Edition Boba Fett in the original packaging between them.
Time stood still, the two men stared each other in the eyes, waiting for a moment of weakness, a shadow of doubt, a flicker of an eyelash that would declare one or the other the winner. Andrew was weakening. He knew he couldn’t hold off against Warren forever. But this was important
A
Andrew tucked Boba Fett under one arm, spun around on his heel and stalked to the adjoining bathroom. As he grasped the door knob he yelled over his shoulder at Warren. “I don’t know why I let you borrow my things when you don’t treat them with the respect they...” But Warren wasn’t listening. Someone knocking on the bedroom door was more important than anything he had to say. Andrew shut himself and Boba Fett in the adjoining bathroom in a fit of pique.
Warren turned to open the bedroom door. His mother (dumb bitch) had finally learned to knock (after) he went to school. He didn’t know if he should be thankful she’d finally learned (stupid cunt) or angry that it took her so long. “What?” Warren demanded as he yanked the door open. Only instead of his mother, it was a man.
A man ded ied in black, with bleach-blonde hair, a scar running through one eyebrow, the sharpest cheekbones he’d ever seen, bright blue eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, full pouty lips (fuller than April’s had been, maybe softer than Katrina’s) and a coat. A real bad-ass leather coat. Warren didn’t have time to mess around with guys who wore eyeliner for god’s sake. If he didn’t get out of town quick the Slayer would come kick his ass for building April. He was running out of time. “How'd you get in here?” Warren leaned one shoulder into the door frame, blocking the man ( bluer than Andrew’s, the bluest eyes he’s ever seen) from entering the room.
“Your mum let me in.” The evidently British man said as he crowded into Warren’s personal space. “I'm placing an order.”
Warren drug his eyes away from the incredibly delicate bone structure of the man’s face to the box the man held in his hands. A picture of the Slayer stared up at him. Oh god, this guy wanted him to build a robot of the Slayer. “Oh, no, no, I'm not mg ang any more girls.” Warren stammered trying to close the bedroom door in the (absolutely gorgeous, why don’t girls ever look like this?) guy’s face.
With a smirk and an elbow the man kept the door open and further invaded Warren’s personal space. “Sure you are,” he said as he shoved the box at Warren's chest. “Here's your specs.” Warren stared at the manorinoring the box. “You're gonna make her real good for me.”
No matter how sharp the cheekbones, or blue the eyes (needed to get a picture of this guy to use as a template for his next girl) Warren shoved the box away, “I told you I’m not making anymore girls. Get out.” The man, no, not man, vampire rippled into game face and shoved it back at him. Warren backed slowly into his bedroom, clutching the box to his chest. Hoping and praying (empirical evidence does not prove the existence of a higher being) he could get out of this alive. Maybe he could offer the vampire his mother (vampire bait, finally useful for something), or Andrew (bye-bye blue eyes). He’d do anything, anything at all so long as he didn’t get killed.
The vampire inhaled deeply, and Warren knew that it – no, he definitely he - was getting off on the pounding of his heartbeat, the smell of fear that had to be pouring from his body like the sweat that suddenly formed in his armpits, down his back, and under his balls. He kept backing away slowly, so so, slowly. Don’t want to trigger the chase and kill instinct. He could do this. It wasn’t any different than 007 facing off against Khan, or Drax, or Dr. No.
Then he was out of room. Backed against the wall of his own bedroom, a bloodthirsty vampire burrowing his nose against his throat, inhaling deeply along his ear, neck, collarbone, (and his dick was getting harder by the second. Reaction to the fear that’s all. Chemical reaction in the body and nothing to do with long, sinewy, muscles suddenly pressing against him from bottom to top).
The vampire ran his tongue over his fangs and growled menacingly as he traced Warren’s jugular with the flat of his tongue. “Name’s Spike. What’s yours, Robot Boy,” he whispered when his tongue reached the Warren’s ear.
“W-w-warren,” he choked out, barely above a whisper. His dick was standing at attention now, thank you, harder than it had ever been for April, Katrina, the Slayer, any of adreddred girls he’d admired from afar, (but no harder than it’d get when he caught Andrew looking at him with that adoring-worshipping gaze)
“Warren. You’ve a nice name, mate. Tell you what.” Spike grinned as he rubbed his own erection up and down the boy’s length. “Yo gon gonna make this girl, and you’re gonna make her perfect.” Warren couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, there was a vampire rubbing him off in broad daylight and he was so fucking close to coming.
“And in turn I won’t kill you, or your boyfriend hiding in the loo.” A squeak from the boyfriend had Spike back off of Warren just enough to lightly run one finger over his denim-clad erection. “I’d promise not to rape you too but…” Spike broke off but continued rubbing.
Warren managed to choke out “But what?” He was backed against the wall, vampire threatening his life and all he could think about was how his dick was hard as l, zl, zipper biting into flesh, and if Spike would shift just a hair to the left he could…
“Can’t rape the willin’ now can you? Guess you’d know that Robot Boy, what with building your girls and all.”
The finger kept brushing up and down the length of his erection, drawing him closer and closer to orgasm with every stroke. Warren’s head fell to one side as he stared blindly over Spike’s shoulder. A flicker of movement caught his attention; Andrew was peeking through the crack of the bathroom doorne bne blue eye big as a saucer. Warren started to jerk and thrust against the lone-finger tracing his erection, keeping his eyes locked on Andrew. He watched Andrew’s thin frame hitch in rhythm with his own, his cock throbbing in time with the tongue tracing the pulse point in his throat.
“Bet it’s expensive building a robot like that. Lot’s of special bits and pieces. Not gonna pay ya boy, and if you make her right won’t kill you neither. I’ll stop by when you least expect, give you and your boy a little treat like this till she’s done.” The finger was gone now. Warren cried out at the loss and thrust towards Spike.
“Shh, hush now, Robot-boy.” Strong hands gripped Warren’s hips, yanked him forward and now Warren’s facing the bathroom and he can see all of Andrew’s face and one shoulder, can tell he’s jerking off watching him and Spike. But there’s no time to breathe ‘cause now Spike’s backed up against the wall and he held Warren in a one-armed vice grip to his chest, grinding against him.
He heard the jangle of a belt, and a zipper open and Spike thrust between Warren’s legs, squeezing Warren’s dick with one hand, twisting his head to the side with the other, sucking on his pulse point. And it’s too much, sensory overload, all circuits busy, server overloaded, Red A, Re, Red Alert, alarms ringing, sirens wailing, red, yellow, and blue lights flashing and he can hear Andrew’s moan over everything else and he just explodes.
Warren fell to his knees like pieces of the Second Death Star to Endor. There’s vampire come all over the seat of his jeans and he’s soiled the inside as well. When he catches his breath he finally looks away from Andrew and at Spike. “I’ll build her, I’ll start right now. Anything you want Spike.”
Warren watched as the vampire stuffed himself back in his pants, zipped up, buckled his belt, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lights up. “There now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Spike tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “See you soon, you and your little one.”
When the sounds of Spike’s Docs finally faded away, Andrew opened the bathroom door and shyly walked over to Warren. “Warren?” Andrew asked as he sat on the floor beside him, Boba Fett tucsafesafely under his arm.
“Yeah?”
“Will you make me a Spike-bot?”
Warren grabbed the toy box from Andrew and gestured wildly with it. “Listen Sparky, just put the Boba Fett in the suitcase. He doesn’t have to have his own shipping carton filled with peanuts just to drive back to school.”
“But he’s a First Edition with all his original packaging! How dare you treat him with such a lack of respect?” The two nerds squared off, one at each end of the twin-bed with a suitcase, pillow, book bag, and one First Edition Boba Fett in the original packaging between them.
Time stood still, the two men stared each other in the eyes, waiting for a moment of weakness, a shadow of doubt, a flicker of an eyelash that would declare one or the other the winner. Andrew was weakening. He knew he couldn’t hold off against Warren forever. But this was important
A
Andrew tucked Boba Fett under one arm, spun around on his heel and stalked to the adjoining bathroom. As he grasped the door knob he yelled over his shoulder at Warren. “I don’t know why I let you borrow my things when you don’t treat them with the respect they...” But Warren wasn’t listening. Someone knocking on the bedroom door was more important than anything he had to say. Andrew shut himself and Boba Fett in the adjoining bathroom in a fit of pique.
Warren turned to open the bedroom door. His mother (dumb bitch) had finally learned to knock (after) he went to school. He didn’t know if he should be thankful she’d finally learned (stupid cunt) or angry that it took her so long. “What?” Warren demanded as he yanked the door open. Only instead of his mother, it was a man.
A man ded ied in black, with bleach-blonde hair, a scar running through one eyebrow, the sharpest cheekbones he’d ever seen, bright blue eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, full pouty lips (fuller than April’s had been, maybe softer than Katrina’s) and a coat. A real bad-ass leather coat. Warren didn’t have time to mess around with guys who wore eyeliner for god’s sake. If he didn’t get out of town quick the Slayer would come kick his ass for building April. He was running out of time. “How'd you get in here?” Warren leaned one shoulder into the door frame, blocking the man ( bluer than Andrew’s, the bluest eyes he’s ever seen) from entering the room.
“Your mum let me in.” The evidently British man said as he crowded into Warren’s personal space. “I'm placing an order.”
Warren drug his eyes away from the incredibly delicate bone structure of the man’s face to the box the man held in his hands. A picture of the Slayer stared up at him. Oh god, this guy wanted him to build a robot of the Slayer. “Oh, no, no, I'm not mg ang any more girls.” Warren stammered trying to close the bedroom door in the (absolutely gorgeous, why don’t girls ever look like this?) guy’s face.
With a smirk and an elbow the man kept the door open and further invaded Warren’s personal space. “Sure you are,” he said as he shoved the box at Warren's chest. “Here's your specs.” Warren stared at the manorinoring the box. “You're gonna make her real good for me.”
No matter how sharp the cheekbones, or blue the eyes (needed to get a picture of this guy to use as a template for his next girl) Warren shoved the box away, “I told you I’m not making anymore girls. Get out.” The man, no, not man, vampire rippled into game face and shoved it back at him. Warren backed slowly into his bedroom, clutching the box to his chest. Hoping and praying (empirical evidence does not prove the existence of a higher being) he could get out of this alive. Maybe he could offer the vampire his mother (vampire bait, finally useful for something), or Andrew (bye-bye blue eyes). He’d do anything, anything at all so long as he didn’t get killed.
The vampire inhaled deeply, and Warren knew that it – no, he definitely he - was getting off on the pounding of his heartbeat, the smell of fear that had to be pouring from his body like the sweat that suddenly formed in his armpits, down his back, and under his balls. He kept backing away slowly, so so, slowly. Don’t want to trigger the chase and kill instinct. He could do this. It wasn’t any different than 007 facing off against Khan, or Drax, or Dr. No.
Then he was out of room. Backed against the wall of his own bedroom, a bloodthirsty vampire burrowing his nose against his throat, inhaling deeply along his ear, neck, collarbone, (and his dick was getting harder by the second. Reaction to the fear that’s all. Chemical reaction in the body and nothing to do with long, sinewy, muscles suddenly pressing against him from bottom to top).
The vampire ran his tongue over his fangs and growled menacingly as he traced Warren’s jugular with the flat of his tongue. “Name’s Spike. What’s yours, Robot Boy,” he whispered when his tongue reached the Warren’s ear.
“W-w-warren,” he choked out, barely above a whisper. His dick was standing at attention now, thank you, harder than it had ever been for April, Katrina, the Slayer, any of adreddred girls he’d admired from afar, (but no harder than it’d get when he caught Andrew looking at him with that adoring-worshipping gaze)
“Warren. You’ve a nice name, mate. Tell you what.” Spike grinned as he rubbed his own erection up and down the boy’s length. “Yo gon gonna make this girl, and you’re gonna make her perfect.” Warren couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, there was a vampire rubbing him off in broad daylight and he was so fucking close to coming.
“And in turn I won’t kill you, or your boyfriend hiding in the loo.” A squeak from the boyfriend had Spike back off of Warren just enough to lightly run one finger over his denim-clad erection. “I’d promise not to rape you too but…” Spike broke off but continued rubbing.
Warren managed to choke out “But what?” He was backed against the wall, vampire threatening his life and all he could think about was how his dick was hard as l, zl, zipper biting into flesh, and if Spike would shift just a hair to the left he could…
“Can’t rape the willin’ now can you? Guess you’d know that Robot Boy, what with building your girls and all.”
The finger kept brushing up and down the length of his erection, drawing him closer and closer to orgasm with every stroke. Warren’s head fell to one side as he stared blindly over Spike’s shoulder. A flicker of movement caught his attention; Andrew was peeking through the crack of the bathroom doorne bne blue eye big as a saucer. Warren started to jerk and thrust against the lone-finger tracing his erection, keeping his eyes locked on Andrew. He watched Andrew’s thin frame hitch in rhythm with his own, his cock throbbing in time with the tongue tracing the pulse point in his throat.
“Bet it’s expensive building a robot like that. Lot’s of special bits and pieces. Not gonna pay ya boy, and if you make her right won’t kill you neither. I’ll stop by when you least expect, give you and your boy a little treat like this till she’s done.” The finger was gone now. Warren cried out at the loss and thrust towards Spike.
“Shh, hush now, Robot-boy.” Strong hands gripped Warren’s hips, yanked him forward and now Warren’s facing the bathroom and he can see all of Andrew’s face and one shoulder, can tell he’s jerking off watching him and Spike. But there’s no time to breathe ‘cause now Spike’s backed up against the wall and he held Warren in a one-armed vice grip to his chest, grinding against him.
He heard the jangle of a belt, and a zipper open and Spike thrust between Warren’s legs, squeezing Warren’s dick with one hand, twisting his head to the side with the other, sucking on his pulse point. And it’s too much, sensory overload, all circuits busy, server overloaded, Red A, Re, Red Alert, alarms ringing, sirens wailing, red, yellow, and blue lights flashing and he can hear Andrew’s moan over everything else and he just explodes.
Warren fell to his knees like pieces of the Second Death Star to Endor. There’s vampire come all over the seat of his jeans and he’s soiled the inside as well. When he catches his breath he finally looks away from Andrew and at Spike. “I’ll build her, I’ll start right now. Anything you want Spike.”
Warren watched as the vampire stuffed himself back in his pants, zipped up, buckled his belt, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lights up. “There now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Spike tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “See you soon, you and your little one.”
When the sounds of Spike’s Docs finally faded away, Andrew opened the bathroom door and shyly walked over to Warren. “Warren?” Andrew asked as he sat on the floor beside him, Boba Fett tucsafesafely under his arm.
“Yeah?”
“Will you make me a Spike-bot?”