To Be Claimed
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
11,896
Reviews:
62
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
11,896
Reviews:
62
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.
To Be Claimed
*whistles innocently* No, I don't actually have any claim on them. Not mine. Though my MuseBoy's are quite fun to play with. I'll loan them to you, if you're nice to me.
Whoo! Yes, this is going to have a strong D/s relationship between two guys. I hope you'd figured that out before clicking on the link. Bloodplay, bondage, and a type of slavery. Not supposed to be a sappy story, nor an angst. It's completely consenual and totally meant to be just hot sex (though the PWP got lost somewhere in the plot).
Not beta'd. Suspend belief for a bit and keep reading ... it will get explained ... eventually.
**
The leather was soft and supple in his hands. He lifted the thin strip to his nose. He had worn it for so long that it was inundated with his own scent, yet he could still smell the leather itself and traces of his master, of his dead master. He brushed his cheek over the warmed leather, pausing to let the chain links rest against his lips. He felt so alone, isolated, almost broken. He had no direction, no orders. He craved the safety and security to be found in giving control to another. It was his nature, his mother's nature, his....
"Oi, whelp! Yer girls're going to the club!" Xander dropped his hands and frowned as he turned to see his roommate clomp into the bathroom.
"So?" Spike turned to scowl back at him.
"Tol' me to drag ya to 'em, they did. Red said somewhat 'bout gettin over yer demon chit." The door slammed shut after a swirl of leather. "Yer goin, whelp," Spike called through the door. Water started. "Not gonna watch you mope about any longer. Making the place as down as the crypt." Xander knew he wasn't meant to hear the mutterings through a shut door and over running water. He never mentioned his hearing to the others. He sighed and returned to his room. Going out to get over Anya, huh? Like he'd ever really fallen for her. She was demanding and over-bearing, not masterfully dominating. You'd think a vengence demon over a thousand years old would understand the need. So he'd continued the lie. He noticed his fingers still worrying the leather. Maybe it was time to find a new master. A true Master. His hands trembled faintly as he lifted the leather. It settled snuggly just above the hollow between his collarbones. He hadn't worn it as a proper collar for five years. He'd really only worn it on his neck for a few days.
"Flannel and jeans, so not the image to go with this." Xander smirked at his reflection. "Odd summer jobs can come in handy sometimes." He slid open his closet. The box he unburied from the piles of excess was small and light. Pulling off the lid, he smiled in fond remembrance. His short stint of dancing in Oxnard had been a strangely relaxing vacation. He had managed to keep his favorite outfits. He dug passed the policeman's shirt and construction belt. There were only two pants: a pair of cut-off shorts—very short—and a pair of dark brown leathers. Skinning out of his jeans, he managed to wriggle into the pants. They were a bit tighter than he remembered, yet he figured that tight would be better tonight. He slid into a mesh shirt that shimmered from black to red.
"Hurry up, Harris." Spike and his boots were in the kitchen. Xander had a sudden urge to surprise the bleached vampire and grabbed his own trench coat. The others had only seen it on rare occassions. He figured that changing their entire perception of him counted as rare. He buttoned it up so that it mostly hid the collar. Spike might notice, though the girls wouldn't see much of anything until he was ready for them to see. They tended not to notice him. He didn't want them to. Black work boots completed the look.
"Alright, Spike. Let's get this over with." He kept his arms crossed low over his chest. It was a warning that Spike recognized. For some reason, his annoying blond roommate paid attention to body language. And semi-respected Xander's. Spike just huffed in acknowledgement and led him out into the night.
Whoo! Yes, this is going to have a strong D/s relationship between two guys. I hope you'd figured that out before clicking on the link. Bloodplay, bondage, and a type of slavery. Not supposed to be a sappy story, nor an angst. It's completely consenual and totally meant to be just hot sex (though the PWP got lost somewhere in the plot).
Not beta'd. Suspend belief for a bit and keep reading ... it will get explained ... eventually.
**
The leather was soft and supple in his hands. He lifted the thin strip to his nose. He had worn it for so long that it was inundated with his own scent, yet he could still smell the leather itself and traces of his master, of his dead master. He brushed his cheek over the warmed leather, pausing to let the chain links rest against his lips. He felt so alone, isolated, almost broken. He had no direction, no orders. He craved the safety and security to be found in giving control to another. It was his nature, his mother's nature, his....
"Oi, whelp! Yer girls're going to the club!" Xander dropped his hands and frowned as he turned to see his roommate clomp into the bathroom.
"So?" Spike turned to scowl back at him.
"Tol' me to drag ya to 'em, they did. Red said somewhat 'bout gettin over yer demon chit." The door slammed shut after a swirl of leather. "Yer goin, whelp," Spike called through the door. Water started. "Not gonna watch you mope about any longer. Making the place as down as the crypt." Xander knew he wasn't meant to hear the mutterings through a shut door and over running water. He never mentioned his hearing to the others. He sighed and returned to his room. Going out to get over Anya, huh? Like he'd ever really fallen for her. She was demanding and over-bearing, not masterfully dominating. You'd think a vengence demon over a thousand years old would understand the need. So he'd continued the lie. He noticed his fingers still worrying the leather. Maybe it was time to find a new master. A true Master. His hands trembled faintly as he lifted the leather. It settled snuggly just above the hollow between his collarbones. He hadn't worn it as a proper collar for five years. He'd really only worn it on his neck for a few days.
"Flannel and jeans, so not the image to go with this." Xander smirked at his reflection. "Odd summer jobs can come in handy sometimes." He slid open his closet. The box he unburied from the piles of excess was small and light. Pulling off the lid, he smiled in fond remembrance. His short stint of dancing in Oxnard had been a strangely relaxing vacation. He had managed to keep his favorite outfits. He dug passed the policeman's shirt and construction belt. There were only two pants: a pair of cut-off shorts—very short—and a pair of dark brown leathers. Skinning out of his jeans, he managed to wriggle into the pants. They were a bit tighter than he remembered, yet he figured that tight would be better tonight. He slid into a mesh shirt that shimmered from black to red.
"Hurry up, Harris." Spike and his boots were in the kitchen. Xander had a sudden urge to surprise the bleached vampire and grabbed his own trench coat. The others had only seen it on rare occassions. He figured that changing their entire perception of him counted as rare. He buttoned it up so that it mostly hid the collar. Spike might notice, though the girls wouldn't see much of anything until he was ready for them to see. They tended not to notice him. He didn't want them to. Black work boots completed the look.
"Alright, Spike. Let's get this over with." He kept his arms crossed low over his chest. It was a warning that Spike recognized. For some reason, his annoying blond roommate paid attention to body language. And semi-respected Xander's. Spike just huffed in acknowledgement and led him out into the night.