bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
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White Lightnin' 9/37

Title:White Lightnin' 9/37
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.



Xander woke up and jumped to his feet instantly when Spike
screamed.
Snatching his 6" skinning knife off the fireplace mantle he turned
in the direction of the voice and raised his arm.

With his eyes closed and lost in the haze of his own pain, Spike
was unaware of the reaction he had caused or the danger he was in.
Moaning in agony, Spike clutched his head and tried to straighten
his legs.

The desperate sound was all it took to snap Xander to alertness
and bring back the flood of memory that explained the stranger,
Mr. Beemish's, presence.

Replacing the knife, he tugged up his overalls and went to the
bed side. "Take it easy, Mr. Beemish"
Xander kept his distance while trying to sound as gentle and
comforting as he could. As Xander's voice slipped into his pain
soaked brain, Spike turned his face to the side and opened his eyes.

Xander involuntarily took a step back.
He had never see eyes that blue.
They gave the man's face a whole different appearance.

Suddenly Xander could see himself gliding closer. Dropping his
bibs from his body as he inched nearer.
He could feel the man's breath on the palm of his hand as
Xander brushed his fingers over the closed eyes, cheek bones,
and lips of this angelic face.

He could imagine lowering himself over the slighter body and
feeling it squirm under him.
Smelling his hair, Tasting his mouth, hearing those moans as he
caressed and entered.....

"Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I? And the name's
Spike, not Mr. Beemish!"

'Oh yea, angel has a potty mouth'

Xander smirked, then checked himself as reality knocked and
entered the picture.
This was still a stranger and Xander had way too much to lose to
risk it on a pretty face and a tight ass.

Easily cloaking himself in his simple hillbilly routine, Xander
looped his thumbs in his bib overalls and smiled openly.
"You hurt pretty bad mister? Ya wrecked yer car up the road
a piece and I brung ya here. Ya been sleeping fer the longest.
Pert'near a whole day."

Spike laid there staring through pain wracked eyes.
'Oh dear God. Just my luck. Best looking guy I've seen in years
and he's a fuckin' imbicile. Christ, I need a drink and a piss
followed immediately by a bullet through my brain'

"See here Lil Abner, I need a piss, a drink, and possibly a doctor.
I think I'm paralyzed."
Spike gritted his teeth trying to control the agony and panic.

Trying not to show to much concern, Xander figured the best thing
to do was keep his distance emotionally and get this guy on his feet
and the hell off Xander's mountain just as soon as was physically
possible.

Everything about him was unsettling. The face, the eyes, the accent.
There were a couple of boys at college that talked like that, so
Xander knew he must be from England. That only added to the
question of what the hell he was doing way out here.

"Well, let's take care of the piss first. Seeing as how ya cain't git
up, yer gonna hafta piss in a bucket."

Xander rushed out of the cabin to the shed for a metal pail.
Taking a few minutes to compose himself, he wandered back the
path and relieved his own full bladder.

Xander had never been one of those men who let his dick rule his life.
He had his priorities and never made a decision with out weighing
all the pros and cons carefully.

He had worked too hard to build up a life and business to let
something as stupid as his cock throw it all away.
Shaking said cock a little harder than usual as warning to it,
he tucked himself away, grabbed the pail and returned to the cabin.

"Christ! I'm about to fuckin' bust here, Joe Bob. You gonna help
me out or what?"
Wincing in pain, Spike did his best to sound brave.
Truth was he was terrified.
He couldn't move his legs and his head was trying to explode
behind his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Xander approached with the bucket on one
hand and reaching for the strangers dick with the other.
""Whoa, what the fuck you doing? I said I couldn't move my legs.
Never said nothing about my hands."

Jumping back Xander mentally slapped himself.
Just what the hell was he doing?

Stepping back in, he held it down while Spike pulled his hard
cock from his boxers.
Xander couldn't help but stare.
It was big.
Long and thick.
Pink and hooded.
Uncut.
Unconsciously Xander licked his lips.

Letting go with what felt like gallons of hot stored piss, Spike let
the relief wash through him.
Just as he finished he shook it off and glanced up in time to see
Xander's pink tongue slip from his mouth to lick his soft full lips.

Spike moaned at the erotic sight.
Assuming the sound was caused by pain, Xander stood quickly.
"I'll go dump this then see to your back."
Before Spike could answer, he was gone.

"Oh My God. Oh My God. Oh My God!" Xander dumped
the bucket and paced frantically.
"Get a grip on yourself. Put your best yokel back on and find
out some information about this guy. You are losing it, Xander"
Setting the bucket back in the shed, he calmed himself down,
pasted on a slow smile and reentered the cabin.

"We ain't got no doctors round these parts, but I been takin' care
of meself for always, and my Momma taught me alot, so let me
take a look K?"

Having played four years of college football, Xander had seen
more than his share of spinal injuries.
He at least knew enough to know when there was real damage
and when it was something the body could heal on its own.

Spike did not want this simple knucklehead poking around his back,
but had to admit the man was in good shape, very good shape,
fuckin' fantastic shape!
So apparently he knew something.

"Yea, O.k., but first I really need a drink. You got anything
around here?"
Frowning, Xander's suspicious side started whispering in his ear.
'This could be a trap. Maybe he just wants to see if you keep any
shine. Maybe he can walk and he is just trying to trip you up.'

"Sorry, ain't got nothin' I don't drink. Not a drop. No sir."
Xander rocked back on his heels and smiled proudly.
He could not be caught that easy.

Trying to hang on to the last thread of sanity he had left, Spike
grabbed Xander's arm and pulled him down so that their faces
were just inches apart.

"Look here you simple hillbilly idiot. I'm in pain and I need a drink.
If you don't have any thing here then go back to where ever my
car is and bring up my cases. One of them has what I need in it.
Do it Abner. Do it Now!"

Jerking his arm back and standing firm over the crippled man,
Xander looked him straight in the eye and scowled.

"First, my name is Xander, not Abner. Second, when you wrecked
yer car ya smelled like you already had plenty to drink. Now
after I look at yer back I'll go get them cases, but fer now ya
need to stop talking so hateful to me."

Knowing he was in a no win situation, Spike decided if he
wanted this mountain moron to do what he needed, he should
shift tactics

"You are very right, Xander. I apologize. I'm just in so much
pain that I really need a drink. Would you please go get my
carry alls for me?"
Looking as miserable as he felt, Spike let his face do his begging.

Close to caving, Xander regained his common sense but held firm.
What if this was a ruse to get him away from the cabin for a while.
What if there was nothing wrong with this guys legs and he searched
the property while Xander was gone.

He couldn't take that chance.
"The back first"
He waited, curious to see how Mr. Beemish would respond.

********************************************

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