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 prostitue. 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.

Spike sat by himself at the small round bar table and considered where
he had gone wrong. As a general rule, he avoided places that had a higher
germ and contamination rate per square inch than the county land fill, yet here
he sat in this disgusting bar. Why? Spike easily knew the answer to that one.
Because he wanted to please Xander and, on that front, he had obviously
succeeded admirably.

As soon as they got there, Xander had slammed back one whisky and followed it
with a glass of beer before promptly ordering a second. Apparently, despite his
age, Xander and jack are on a first name basis. Spike continued to nurse his
one bottle of beer and fight the urge to snap on the gloves.

Xander had stayed by Spike's side for as long as he was able but the constant parade
of men and women coaxing him away was finally too much to resist. By the third
beer, and by Spike's accurate count, the tenth time Xander had leaned over and
shouted "Ain't this place the tits?" the boy was lured away.

It all began with a blond floozie in a pair of Daisy Duke shorts and a tank top that
displayed her nipples through the too tight stretch fabric. She had popped out of
nowhere and flopped down to sit on Xander's lap, wiggling and squiggling her
ass on his knee. She acted as though Spike did not exist. Spike was stunned by
the force of the jealousy that raged through him.

With her arm around his shoulder, she leaned in and kissed Xander lightly on the lips.

"Hi, I'm Janet and you are hot as a fucking bon fire. Want to with me?"

Spike's eyes bugged and he waited for Xander to shoo the disease ridden harlot away.
He wished they had never left the cabin. He wondered if he would ever be able
to kiss Xander's lips again knowing that he had allowed those red painted ones to
touch him. It only served to remind Spike of some of the other things Xander
had pressed against his mouth and Spike had to fight the urge to gag.

He hated this place and he wanted them to leave. When his companion just
whooped and actually started to get up, Spike panicked and grabbed the boy's
wrist, shouting to be heard over the din of the room.

"NO! Xander, you can't. You have to stay here where I can watch you."

Xander leaned down so his face was close enough to Spike's that the detective
could smell the rich heady whisky on the boy's breath. It was a startlingly erotic
odor that went straight to Spike's crotch.

"Then come with me Spike. Dance with me."

Spike shrank back. It was inconceivable. It was impossible. It was tempting
but he knew it was out of the question. His expression and lack of response was all
the answer Xander needed. Before they could discuss it, Janet grabbed the
boy's arm and shouted back.

"You just sit tight Mister and I'll take real good care of your son."

Spike was flustered and unaccustomed to catty insults.
"WHA? Wha? I'll have you know....."

Anything else Spike could have sputtered out was lost as his Xander was
dragged to the far side of the room where a large gathering of both men and
women slapped him on the back and welcomed him warmly into their circle.
Spike fumed and fussed as he scooted his chair around to assure himself a clear
line of sight to where Xander was.

He watched as a disconnected arm seemed to come out of nowhere and hand
Xander another shot of whisky that he tossed back in one gulp as the slutty
Janet went to the jukebox and dropped in some money.

Within seconds, the volume of voices seemed to be turned down as the driving
booming beat of the music began. Slowly and rhythmically, like jungle drums
it started with a 'boom, boom, boom' that had the circle of new friends reacting
with a deep dip on each sound. Spike's eyes never left his charge as he sipped
his beer.

When the tempo picked up, so did the responding movement of the crowd until
they were one writhing, churning mass of sweat and sexual gyration. Gradually,
however, as the song played on, the people started to fall back. Beginning with
those on the outside fringe of the circle, they stopped dancing and contented
themselves to watch those closest to the music machine. Spike was confused.

From where he sat, the detective was no longer able to see anything more of Xander
than the top of his cowboy hat and it was hard to discern why the others were no
longer moving to the beat. As the rest of the group stepped back and parted like
the Red Sea, Spike knew.

There in the center of the dance floor, with the sleazy Janet in front of him and a
tall, bald, black man plastered to his back, was Xander. His Xander. Moving
and dancing in a way Spike had never seen any one dance. His whole body
flowed, rolled, and identified the synchronism of the beat.

Without realizing what he was doing, Spike slowly rose out of his chair to get a
better look. At this point, it would have seemed odd if he hadn't. Every eye
in the bar was on the young man who was dancing like sex on legs.

With his head thrown back and his eyes closed, Xander was clearly lost in the
sound that vibrated from the wooden floor, up this thighs and settled in his
obvious erection. His hips would hump forward then circle and grind back
on the man behind him. He rolled and slithered like a snake.

The temperature in the room rose as every observant, Spike included, felt
the heat of sexuality pour from the dance floor. It swamped and encompassed
the entire bar as the three dancers continued to engage in the pseudo act of sex.

Spike was vaguely aware of the others who were now groped, kissing and
dry humping in couples and groups as the erotic sight continued to feed and
fuel them. Spike's was only slightly aware of his own raging erection as his
feet carried him forward, one small step at a time.

Suddenly, when he was halfway across the room, the music stopped and the spell
was broken. For a second or two, the room fell silent before a collective shout and
cheer rocked the walls of the barn and the mob circled the three entertainers.

When that happened, Spike lost all sight of Xander and he panicked. Forgetting his
gloves and the potential for infection, he shoved through the cluster of bodies, pushing
people aside as his eyes sought the familiar face. When he reached the center of the
circle, he realized Xander was gone.

His eyes darted about wildly till he spotted the familiar bent over ass hanging out
of the cut off denim shorts by the juke box and he rushed to her, demanding.

"Where is he? Where did he go?"

Janet turned to face the undercover cop and she laughed as she made a point
of straightening the very familiar cowboy hat that was obviously too large for
her head.

"What's the matter, Pops? Lose your son? Last time I saw him, he was headed
out back with Charlie Gunn. Give them a few minutes, they'll be back. Charlie
don't never take long."

She then turned her back on him as a wave of fury and nausea swept him away.
Immediately, Spike ran for the direction of the back door.

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