bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

White Lightnin' 1/37

Title:White Lightnin' 1/37

Author: BmblBee
Rating Adult overall
Paring: S/X
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story and make
no profit from them
Summary: Set in the early 1940's, Spike is a G-man sent on
a mission in the Applachian mountains to search for
and destroy illegal alcohol when he has an accident.
Xander is a moonshiner who takes him in.

Spike was tired. Dead dog tired.
He loosened his tie as he entered the building.
He knew this was not the appearance of a dignified G-man, but fuck it.
He couldn't be in any more trouble than he was already.

He tapped the brim of his fedora and nodded his head in
acknowledgement of women he passed and continued on at an
unrushed pace.

Yea, he knew he was late, but considering they had pulled all his
important assignments and given them to other agents, what
did he have to hurry for?

The most important thing on his desk right now was trying to
locate some missing receipts for a catered lunch of big wigs last

No, he figured he was a far down this ladder as the rungs would go.
He really needed to pull himself together.
He really needed to get his life back on track.
He really needed a cup of coffee and a donut.

Making his way to his cubby hole of an office, Spike used all the
stairways and back hallways he could in an attempt to miss seeing
and being seen by any of the important people.

Slipping in quickly, he shut the door behind him. 'What a shit hole'
He looked around.
'Even a fuck up like me deserves better than this.'
The room in question did not answer.

It was small. Smaller than small.
It had a low three drawer desk and wooden chair.
A short file cabinet, which admittedly held few files, and barred and
bolted window.
"Looks like a fuckin' prison cell. Hell a prison cell probably has more
room than this."

Dropping into his chair, Spike unconsciously let it bounce back and
forth on the old rusty springs.
Barely hearing the repetitious 'squeak squeak' of the wooden seat,
Spike tried for the millionth time to figure how it had all gone so wrong.

Just three years ago he was a young inspector at Scotland yard in
He had his future all mapped out.
Work his way up and some day would run the whole show.

He could see himself sitting down to lunch with Churchill, Roosevelt
and other world dignitaries.

If only he wasn't the way he was.
He winced.
He hated that he was different than all the other men he work
side by side with.

They all wanted to run to the houses after work.
Always talking about getting giggy with some
hot tomato.

He tried. He really did, but his heart, and unfortunately his dick,
were not there for him.
Not until the shower room when they were all together after a hard
day in the field.

All those men, sweaty, and wet together.
He tried not to look.
Hell, he gave himself credit just for not touching.
Lord knows he wanted to.

London in 1938 was a very modern and progressive city.
Unfortunately not progressive enough for a police inspector who
was only attracted to other men.
Pretty soon some of them started to notice.

Not long after some started to complain that he was getting a
hard on around them and they wouldn't shower
with him any more.

Setting aside a time after everyone else was done, Spike took to
washing by himself.
A solution that would have worked except for one small fly in the ointment.
A small blond assistant fly by the name of Andrew.
A fly that took to buzzing around at the exact time Spike was
in the shower.

Finally on the third afternoon, Spike made the first big mistake
of his career.

Both wet, slippery and soapy, they kissed and fumbled around.
Not sure what to do, Spike just knew it all felt right.

Turning around with his hands on the shower wall, Andrew thrust
his ass out and told him to go ahead.
Said he had done it before and it wouldn't hurt him.

Hesitating for only seconds, Spike did what his brain was screaming
not to do.
It was a revelation.
It was everything the other men said they felt with wet pussies,
only better.

Just letting his fingertip brush over Andrew's wrinkled
hole made Spike's legs go weak.

Spike shoved his dick in deep. Jesus it was tight!
Slippery from the soap, Spike moved quickly and smoothly.
He knew after just a minute or two he wouldn't last.
It was just too wonderful.
He pounded erratically and came deep inside Andrew's ass.

Spike knew whatever happened he couldn't go back to pretending
any more. He was happier than he had ever been.

Andrew was quiet, but since he had orgasmed also, Spike just
figured he was being careful, especially considering where they were.

After drying and dressing, Spike ask Andrew if he wanted to go
to the pub.
In tears, Andrew rushed away leaving Spike wondering what
had just happened.

Hearing the laughter of several of the officers in the other room was
when Spike first realized he had been set up.
He was crushed.

He was summoned to the office of the chief of the division at a half
eight the next morning.

"Good Morning Mr. Giles, Sir. You wanted to see me" Spike
had entered the office right on time and dressed in his cleanest

He was well prepared to kiss some Giles ass in order to save his own.
Rupert Giles sat stiffly behind his huge oak desk. Flipping
through a stack of papers, he deftly avoided making eye contact.

"Yes, William Beemish is it? Come in lad. Please have a seat.
I'm afraid there have been some very serious charges leveled
against you. Nasty business to have to discuss."

"Charges, Sir?" Spike sat up straight and could feel himself start
to sweat.
"Yes, unseemly and highly irregular charges. Young master
Andrew has alleged that you accosted him in the shower yesterday"

Spike was stunned. He knew some of the other officers hated him,
and also already figured out that Andrew was a set up, but he really
thought it was only to further torture him.

He never dreamed they would bring charges to headquarters.
He was also trying to set aside the hurt he was dealing with over
the betrayal of what to him was a life changing experience.

"No, sir. That is not what happened."
Spike was getting frantic. He could see it all slipping away.
Every thing he had worked for.

"Are you saying you did not have physical contact with that
young man? I trust that as an inspector of The Yard you will
be truthful and forth coming."

Spike knew he was fucked.
If he admitted to the sex he would be thrown out for perverse
acts, a disgraceful charge that there was no recovery from.
If he denied it he would be discharged for dishonesty.
Something in Scotland Yard that could not be forgiven, and
with Andrew testifying against him, he was screwed.

Taking a deep breath, Spike cleared any emotion from his
face and looked Rupert Giles in the eye.
"No sir. I do not deny the situation that occurred yesterday
in the shower room. I do, however, claim that it was agreeable
on both sides and no one was accousted."

"Yes, ahem, well you must understand that is really quite irrelevent,
William, we can't possibly have someone here of less than exemplary

Spike wanted to argue that hot tomatoes and wet pussies somewhat
interferred with the high moral standings of the other inspectors, but
knew at this point it would do no good, so he kept his mouth shut
and waited to be sacked.

Having the most distastful part of the discussion over with, Giles relaxed.
"Look, William, my boy. I understand this is difficult for you. I have
read your file and see that in all areas of the field you do extroidinary
work I know that you had your heart set on working and advancing
here, but this makes it quite impossible."

Spike sat impassively, wondering why he was still here.
Why not just get up and tell the old bird to fuck off.
Break wind in the direction of his oversized desk and cushioned
chair and walk out.
Might even slam the door on.........

"What did you say?"
"I said that we have an agreement with the government of the
United States.
They are interested in an exchange of information and investigative
techniques. They have sent us three agents and we have sent
some to them. If you are interested we could transfer you to
New York to begin work at the bureau there."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you will be sacked. Probably unemployable in any decent
occupation and disgraced. Of course some circles are talking of
a war on the horizon. You could always enlist in the service."
Giles rocked back, his chair making no sound.
A lack of noise that was not lost on William.

With a strained and unpleasant smile on his face, William rose and
offered out his hand.
"Looks like I'm going to the colonies."

Giles also stood and accepted the gesture.
"Excellent. I will make all the arrangements and you will be off
in less than a fortnight. When you arrive you will report directly to
Mr. Liam O'Conner"

Holding William's hand still in both of his, Giles finally looked
William in the eye.
"This is a second chance, my boy. Please don't waste it."

"No sir. Thank you sir." William walked out and gently closed the
door behind him. Looking down at the paper with the name and
address on, William snorted.

"O'Connor. Fuckin' Irishman. Fuckin' figures'

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