rngrdead (rngrdead) wrote in bloodclaim,
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Ghost in the Machine # 12

Title: Ghost in the Machine

Author: josie_h

Pairing: Xander/Spike
Rating: Mature Audiences – for content and themes later on - ie M/M
Summary: Post Black Thorn and final AtS - The PtBs screw with Spike yet again.
Spoilers: Canon is Post S7 BtVS and S5 AtS.
Warnings: M/M – if you don’t like boys together, don’t play here!
Author’s Note: Don’t own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators
Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.
Previous parts here




With thanks to the lovely petxnd for the wonderful banner

Part 12

Xander spent most of the day reorganizing the workshop, although he and Matti took a trip to town to pick up some more wood working supplies, and visit an art shop to obtain a litre of top grade linseed oil.

They also paid a visit to the gallery that now proudly displayed their work, Matti thrilled that two of his original pieces had been sold. Despite Xander’s reassurances, he had worried that they were not yet good enough for sale, but the ornate glass topped coffee table with its display box feature underneath had been snapped up within a day, and there were orders for two more.

The gallery owner, Adrianna Fellini was an effusive, petite woman in her late forties whose ‘upper crust’ English accent seemed to come and go depending on the client. Xander liked her immensely and had learned early on that she loved to flirt with “my boys”. He also knew that she was an astute business woman with a wide network of contacts and loyal clientele.

“Now *Darling*, you *must* tell me, have you finished your ‘Reclining Male’? I do expect to see it.”

Xander looked at Matti who shrugged. Neither could remember putting a name to Spike’s statue – well not for the general public at least.

“I, um, yes. Hence the trip to town for supplies. But it’s not for sale. It is a special project for the big house at Nettlewood… I um…”

“Oh you are a love… I’m just curious… and after all, you can always use photos of your commissioned work in our brochure for this coming summer! I’m sure Yollanda would agree – after all it’s a wonderful opportunity to publicize the callibre of art and craftwork the group at Nettlewood produces. But onto more important matters… Sweetie you *must* let me in on the theme for your next series of works.”

“Um…” Xander looked over to several oil paintings on the wall, one named ‘Pompeii in a day’ then replied, “I thought I’d do a sort of antiquity series, warriors and maidens, that type of thing.”

“Oooh, can’t wait… Anything you do is welcome Darling!”

The conversation went on easily for a few minutes until Adrianna had a customer enter the gallery and she shooed ‘her boys’ away with a promise to contact them regarding a photographer for Xander’s Reclining Male and an air kiss for both men.

The drive home was done in comfortable silence, both men thinking about their conversations with Adrianna.

As Xander turned up the long driveway to the main house, he belatedly realized that he had left Spike alone for the entire day, bar rushing past to search for his keys and wallet prior to departing.

As a consequence, Xander only spent a few minutes with Willow, finding her comfortably resting in the afternoon sun, pale but none the worse for the previous evening’s experience, delivered the purchases to the workshop, grabbed an old soft towel for the oil then made a beeline for his residence, linseed bottle in hand.

“Hi honey I’m home.”

The lounge room was comfortably warm. The figure in the corner unmoved since the morning, but Xander was still distracted by its beauty. Even though it was his own work, he felt he had been guided all the way as old friend coached him “on me finer details”.

He set down his ‘bits and pieces’ then rather self consciously moved to the sculpture and caressed the sun warmed arm thoughtfully with the back of his hand. “I… um… Sorry it took so long in town…”

Spike wished for some measure of contact, but none was forthcoming, so he relished the quiet touch and in his own head, sent thoughts of thanks and love for the mature handsome sculptor, now his maker, that stood looking so lost in front of him.

Xander eventually broke from his pensive mood. “Right well, I’m going to sort some sort of snack for yours truly then we’ll check your investments online and after that I guess it will be time to um… well… the oil. So… food of the good.”

Xander fixed himself a ham and tomato sandwich, grabbed a beer, flicked on the computer and checked the rather substantial investment portfolio on line. The previous week, when Xander had first been instructed in how to logon by Spike he had been utterly amazed by the sheer size and complexity of it all. Spike reassuring him that it “…could all just sit there unless you get word from her ladyship that something is goin’ down.” As it was now he felt relieved to simply read out (for Spike’s benefit) the key numbers and some of the tracked shifts in share prices, the price of gold and one dividend payment of a very substantial sum. There was also a note from a company in Dubai offering Spike ‘an exciting investment opportunity’. Xander felt a little too out of his depth to make any sort of decision and genuinely hoped that they could make contact with Spike again soon.

Sandwich still half eaten, he opted for some television and relaxed for a few minutes, occasionally looking up to ponder the statue in the corner. He had to decide the best way to approach the oiling of such a large figure, in the end it seemed top down was the best option and preferably several thin layers rather with ‘rest’ times in between to allow it to soak in. He would need Matti’s help to lift it away from the tree eventually but for now, would manage solo for the bulk of Spike’s figure.

Oiling the form seemed so much more personal knowing that Spike was inside, whereas the fine hand sanding had simply been to a piece of wood. Finally Xander concluded that he needed to simply start the task, finished his beer quickly and moved to begin.

Spike felt the first tentative stroke over his raised arm, skimming the bicep and ending in a stronger press as the hand found his shoulder. He would have groaned and leaned into it if he could but instead was condemned to wait patiently for the next. Xander was meticulous and careful with the process, always beginning at the top and using long strokes to evenly cover each limb and working the oil into the intricately carved features.

He managed to avoid the private parts for as long as he could, aware that rubbing the well formed buttocks had brought Little Xander to life. Eventually however, after toes, fingers even the soles of Spike’s feet had been carefully covered, the inevitable nether regions were not so clinically massaged with the oil.

Spike was in heaven then hell again, the very essence of his being so aroused it was exquisite torture, intensely ticklish underarms and juncture of hips and legs were rubbed lightly, the backside he wished he could tense out of the way was all but caressed, then… then… he never realized that an explosive desire to reach climax could be so… He began a mantra in his head of “Please! Yes… There… Just… Ohh God in heaven just another stroke there!” Yet nothing could be done to truly relieve the urge, and he was left to calm down while Xander took the inevitable ‘cold shower’.

Spike was left to ponder the experience and Xander’s response to oiling his form later that evening as his sculptor set some music playing softly in the background, opened a window to relieve the room of the linseed smell, and left to attend the first of his lessons in channeling with Willow and Mistress Yollanda.

Xander’s first efforts at relaxing and attempting to commune with Willow were somewhat hampered by his very recent ‘oily’ experience and images of a certain beautiful male physique. Rather than letting the meditation carry him to the ‘quiet secluded beach’ solo he continued to have a peripheral vision version of Spike leaning, very nude, against a palm tree.

Willow must have determined at least in part, the source of distraction and suggested that they include Spike in the relaxing picture, since the whole point of the exercise was to contact him eventually. The Mistress smiled knowingly and included Spike in the relaxing picture. Xander floated into semi consciousness easily on his third attempt and found himself in the sunny beach scene with Spike’s form now lying relaxed and smiling next to him. The blue eyes were the colour of the azure sea in the scene, and he was stretched out on the sand next to Xander utterly nude and smiling. Xander found himself smiling back and reached over to touch Spike’s hand. There was no response but definitely a tingle in the hand doing the touching… then he was back in the reading room with the wiccans, “Warm comfortable and relaxed.”

The experience was related back to Willow and Yollanda who were both thrilled with the response and confident that with some careful planning, Xander would be able to make true contact. Promises of more sessions in the coming days and a quick discussion of the prospect of a photographer visiting the coven concluded the training and Xander took his leave.

His home was on the chilly side, with the window he’d left open allowing in the cold evening air. He turned on some lights then shut it immediately before moving over to check his handiwork.

Spike had been happily relaxed listening to music until rather late in Xander’s absence when his hand began to tingle and itch terribly. He wondered if it was his form changing again or whether there was something untoward happening. He couldn’t angle his eyes to see if anything was different and was relieved when Xander returned, hoping that his maker might notice if there was anything untoward and let him know.

Instead Xander quietly related his experience and touched the hand just as he had in his trancelike state and… the itch was gone. Spike knew at once that his discomfort and Xander’s vision of them on the beach was linked but was unable to relate his side of the experience. His listened as Xander verbalized his worry that he might not be able to learn the channeling techniques quickly enough but that he would try his best. Spike wished he could say something, that he trusted Xander; that the boy, no man, was capable of far more than he ever gave himself credit for; that Spike had come to care for Xander deeply and that he would be forever in his debt, even if he was condemned to remaining made of wood for all eternity.
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