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.

No other species that walks the face earth but humans would be arrogantly
ignorant enough to coin the phrase 'only the strong survive'. It is a fallacy best
understood by the huge whales, monsters of the ocean, or the gigantic elephants
whose size towers on the African plain.

Both are creatures rushing head long into extinction while the smallest of
mammals, the rats and mice are seeing their population explode.
No, the animal world understands the truth of survival. They know that
cunning and quickness will win out over muscle and might every time.

Rocky knows this full well. He knows that in the delicate game of predator
and prey, he who acts first and fastest wins. That's why, on this cool quiet
evening when he was minding his own business, copulating repeatedly
with his mate and hoping for a litter of handsome kits, Rocky smelled his

With a shift in the direction of the wind, Rocky's fine tuned sense of smell
detected something more than rain in the air. His nose perked upward and he
filtered through the common to locate the vile. It was the smell of the bad human.
The one who had marked his territory by peeing on Rocky's head.

Rocky chattered angrily and hopped off his mate's back leaving her unsatisfied
and unbred. Both conditions that she highly resented and took great pains to
tell him about. Rocky was contrite but consumed. He skittered off leaving
her to click and squeak furiously.

Rocky took off at a dead run. He darted through the rain soaked, high grass
leaping over the small branches and expertly dodging all the small obstacles
he knew well in the area of his world. He only paused when he needed to
sniff again and keep his direction on track. As he got closer, even that wasn't

When he was within just feet from the clearing, he stopped. He pricked up his
ears and his small furry body crouched, safely hidden, in order to evaluate the situation.
He sniffed. The bad human had marked a tree a short time ago. The smell was still
there, but fading. Rocky dropped his tail low and his claws gripped the ground
as he carefully eased closer.

His nose was now bombarded with the foul odor of human sweat as his ears
listened to the odd sounds they made. Loud, deep, confusing and threatening
sounds. They were nothing like the clicks, squeaks or squeals of the animals
that occupied these woods. They roared and Rocky was frightened.

Slowly, and keeping his body camouflaged, Rocky peeked out to see what
all the ruckus was about. He saw three of them. His eyes darted around
wildly to make sure there were no others. When he was satisfied that there
weren't he focused on them.

One, standing off to the side, was his human. The good one. Rocky's stomach
told him to run over and beg for a hand out. Rocky's instinct for self preservation
told him that would be a mistake. The other two were what interested him.

One was the bad human, the one he had come to exact revenge on for the
disrespect he had suffered. The other was plastered tightly to the bad human's
back. Rocky wondered if they were a breeding pair making pups. It didn't
matter. The mating human was merely an obstacle. A roadblock between predator
and prey. He was unimportant. He must be removed if Rocky's attack on the
bad human was to be successful.

Slowly, Rocky crept around the perimeter of the clearing till he was as close to
the backs of the legs of the two mating humans as he dared get. His beady little
eyes spotted his good human and he was glad he was safely out of the way.

Xander stared into the crazed face of the man who held his lover captive.
The man who now had control over whether Spike lived or died.
Nothing made sense but Xander was positive about one thing. All this
was his fault. His theft cost Joey his life and now could do the same to Spike.

"The earring? All this is about an earring? Fuck, I didn't even remember
taking it. You want it? Then take the fucking thing and go. Just leave us in

Immediately, Spike began squirming in the Columbian's iron grip. He dismissed
the small cut on his neck as minor knowing if it had hit an artery, he would be
soaked in blood by now. He had been hurt worse than this a dozen times at work.

"No! Xander, don't give it to him. There has to be more to this than a small
earring. I don't know what it is but I know if you give it to him, we are both dead."

Carlos tightened his grip on the blond man.

"SHUT UP! You give me NOW! You steal from me. You a filthy boy whore
and you take from me? From ME! Carlos! You come up here to fuck him?
You think I care? I kill him if I want to, then I fuck you and cut your ear off and
take back my property! You give back now and maybe I let you live after I
fuck you."

Xander's heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was afraid it may explode.
His lungs sucked in more air than they could hold and his head was starting
to spin. His fingers itched to remove the earring and toss it over, but Spike
had said not to and in the end, he trusted Spike more than himself.

So, he tried again. He knew no one was coming to save them. He understood
how dire the situation was, but he just kept thinking, if he could only buy some
time. If he could stretch this out, maybe Spike could think of something.

Keeping his voice low and calm, Xander stepped closer. He could see that
the stream of blood on Spike's neck was drying and the wound already
clotted. It gave him hope.

"Wait. Look. We are just a couple of friends on a camping trip. We don't
care what you have done or who you are. I'll give you back the earring.
I'm sorry I stole it. You take it and.........."

Carlos had reached his limit. He shouted his rage and raised the knife, aiming
the point at the wildly pulsing artery in Spike's neck. Throwing his head back
he screamed.

"YOU LIE! He is a fucking cop! You think I'm stupid. How you think I find you?
I own the cops! I own Chief Giles! He lives in my back pocket and he tells me
where you hide. I am done with this bullshit! Your cop dies now and you are next!"

What happened after that was a blur, a frenzy of wild activity, a confused action and
reaction that was nearly impossible to describe later.

Rocky smelled blood. Human blood, and it sent him into a delirium. His need for
caution and control were forgotten as he lurched from his hiding spot and leapt
as high and as hard as he could, hoping for a throat. He quickly realized that his stubby short legs would only propel him a short height off the ground and he had to make due sinking both claws and fangs into the flesh of the other. The one between him and his prey.

Carlos's arm went high in the air and at the exact second the knife plunged toward
Spike's chest, the weeds behind the Columbian parted and a crazed flying ball of fur flew
through the air. It landed directly in the center of Carlos' butt and it sank twenty razor sharp claws and an equal number of fangs deeply into the flesh, clinging with an iron grip that assured he could not be dislodged.

Carlos' eyes bugged with the unexpected shot of agonizing pain that stabbed his ass
and he screamed in shock and fear.

The knife flipped high into the air as Carlos flung both arms up, flailing frantically in
an attempt to reach and pry off the ferocious animal that was causing the piercing
torment that ripped and gouged at his flesh.

The second he felt the grip release, Spike dropped to the ground and scrambled
to gain control of the knife. When he saw that, Carlos, blinded with pain and fury,
lunged at Spike, who at the last instant, held the blade up as the Columbian drug lord
fell on it. Straight through his heart.

A wound that proved far more fatal than the one to his ass.

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