bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Rough Diamond

Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters or products named in this story.
Warning: This story contains mention of prostitution, group sex, violence, m/m orgies
and one wild raccoon.

Summary: Xander is a male prostitute. It is his chosen occupation and he is very
happy with it. One night he takes on a group of clients with a friend and things
do not go as planned. When his friend is found murdered, homicide is called in.
Spike is a brilliant detective with OCD issues. When he is told to hide out in the
woods with the witness to protect, he gets more than he could have imagined.

Special thanks to Petxnd for the wonderful banners, the story idea and for holding my
hand during the writing.

The main room of the cabin was large. Much larger than one would estimate
from the outside. It was square with windows on every side that, if cleaned,
would allow the cabin to be flooded with light. Bright morning on the eastern
side and soft evening light from the west.

The entire back wall that faced the front door was stone, built by hand to form
a huge fireplace and chimney. Constructed from giant river biscuits, the stones
were large, round and polished to a golden color which had now dulled from
neglect and age.

The cabin was sparsely furnished. The white sheets that covered everything
confirmed Spike's suspicion that the furniture, ashamed to be seen here, had
committed suicide and was now nothing more than ghostly apparitions.

Spike had remained where he stood. His feet glued just inches from the front
threshold. His brain was spinning, grasping for a possible out to this madness.
They hadn't passed a decent hotel in miles and even if they had, it was out of
the question. They were here because of security issues. They were here because
of the job. Spike whimpered with stark realization. They were here.

Xander, on the other hand, was like a whirling dervish, spinning from one spot to
another. This was exactly like the cabins he had read about as a child in the
Davy Crockett books he used to love. Back when reading was his escape.
Before life became so unbearable that physical escape became necessary.

Noticing the small doorway to the far right of the fireplace, Xander bolted
in, reappearing in just seconds, the grin on his face only bigger.


Running across the length of the room to the left side, he lurched through another
door. Less than three seconds later, he was filing his report on that one.


Not giving himself a moment to catch his breath, Xander stood with his hands
on his hips.

"Well, we got a ton of stuff to do so I think we better get started."

With that, he whipped one of the sheets from the pitiful sofa it was concealing
and the room lit up as the millions of dust mites sparkled and winked in the muted
sunlight from the windows. To Xander it looked like pictures he had seen of
snow falling and blanketing a winter field.

To Spike it resembled particles of radiation pouring contamination down
over their heads. He could already feel it coating his throat and lungs and he
staggered back, his hands clutching his neck. Using the last bit of vocal power
he had, he screamed and ran from the cabin.


Xander didn't care. If he was gone, he was gone. Xander was here to stay
for as long as they would let him. With a repetitious snap of his wrist, he
went around the room and jerked each sheet off, rolling them all together in
a large bundle as he went.

"Now stop that! You're just making things worse."

Xander spun back around at the order and nearly burst out laughing. Spike
stood just inside the doorway wearing rubber gloves, a paper face filter over
his nose and mouth and a blue paper surgical cap over his hair. In his hand
he carried a heavy, oversized metal case. The kind Xander had seen
CSI carry on TV.

Without further ado, Spike set down the case, popped it open and began
extracting bottle after bottle of cleaning solution, disinfectant sprays and clean,
neatly folded scrub rags. Xander suspected they had been ironed.

Everything was laid out on the floor in a straight line by order of use
beginning with the basics of Pine Sol and ammonia.

"All right. If we are stuck here, we might as well make it livable. Well,
at least tolerable. You are going to start in here. I want everything
dusted with this." Spike pushed one of the cans forward on the floor
with the toe of his dress shoe.

Xander took off his cowboy hat and tossed it on the ugly red checkered
sofa. For once, he didn't mind being ordered around. Truth was, he
couldn't wait to get started. He wanted the place clean, tidy, and cozy
before the sun dipped and the night turned cool.

Although it was now only 3 in the afternoon, he knew it would take all
day. He tried not to openly snicker at the muffled orders being spoken
through the paper barrier.

"After everything is polished and dusted, TWICE, you will start on those
windows. Immediately remove the curtains. They are old, torn, and
no doubt infested with fleas, tics and countless deadly microorganisms.
They will be piled up in the back yard to be burned. Luckily, I have a
stack of while towels in the boot of my car that will cover the glass and
serve as substitution. Now, while you are doing all that, I will tackle the
kitchen. We will consider the bedrooms later."

The corners of Xander's mouth twitched. This was to be a double whammy.
First, he could just imagine Spike's response when he saw the filth and greasy mess
in the kitchen and second, he couldn't wait to see the man's face when he dropped
this bomb.


Spike looked up from where he had squatted, already beginning to select the
products he would take in to the kitchen with him.


"Bedroom. Singular. One. You said bedroomS, but there is only one. We are
going to have to share."

Spike's face went white as he remembered his impromptu erection and the
unwanted fantasies he had allowed his mind to conjure up in the car. Thinking the
expression of shock on the detective's face was due to the close quarters he was
being forced in to with a whore, Xander nodded and grinned. This was getting
better and better by the minute.

"That's right Buddy. It's you and me together, tumblin' tween the sheets of
a big 'ole double bed in a cabin deep in the woods."

Spike stood upright, his arms overloaded with cleaning supplies and he huffed.

"Oh, I think not, young man. Remember why we're here. This is not a party
house and we are not frat boys. There will be no tumbling. Not between
the sheets which I suspect are foul anyway, nor anywhere else. Now, you need
to get started on this disgusting mess and I will begin in there."

Spike waved a hand in the general direction of the kitchen. He had
already made up his mind that he would be sleeping in his car tonight and the
limited arrangements only cemented that resolution.

Xander's smile faltered as he wondered if the detective was really serious.
Xander was no pussy but the thought of being all alone in here scared him.
This was a totally foreign environment. He knew the old saying of 'Does a
bear shit in the woods?' He just hoped it wasn't THESE woods.

Not noticing the insecurity on the boy's face, Spike went about the task of
inventorying the massive amount of bottles and cans he held in his arms.
When he assured himself that he had everything that could possibly be needed,
he hustled quickly across the room to the doorway and into the kitchen.

When the door swung closed behind him, Xander heard all the cans and
bottles as they hit the floor and the now familiar, slightly muffled scream
as the detective faced the unimaginable squalor.


His grin returned full force and was now accompanied by a hop, skip and
a dance as he began swiping the dust rag around the room.
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