bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

Hope House

Title: HOPE HOUSE
22/46
Author: BmblBee
Paring: Primarily S/X with a very minor S/OCs.
Rating: NC17 Adult Reading
Disclaimer: The Bee has no claim on any of the characters or
products named in this story and receives no profit from anything.
Warnings: Adult language, Prostitution, Violence, strong sexual
content. NOTE: All the boys working in Hope House are over
the age of 18. The Bee does not do underage!

Summary: Long after the final battle of Sunnydale, Xander is
alone, his life in shambles. Is there anywhere he can go and anyone
who can give him hope? There just might be.





As always, kudos to Petxnd for the wonderful banner.


Spike went to his huge walk-in closet and retrieved a pair of soft grey sweatpants
and matching tee. He kept several on hand for times when one of the boys would
spend the night with him and needed something clean to wear. Jeans and boxers
had a way of getting ripped in the heat of the moment.

Xander laid on the bed and smiled as he watched the vampire hum and hustle
around. It oddly felt natural to be laying here. He thought back on all the days
they has shared a room in Buffy's house. Xander had watched him then too.
He had stared at the smooth, sinewy body as it flowed and moved. He admired
the flex and roll of the taught muscles as Spike fought, and stretched and walked.

He had watched silently because he knew that perfect body was not for him. He
had kept his mouth shut when Spike crushed on Buffy and he had held his tongue
when the vampire had insinuate that he and the Yeti known as Angel had shared
some sort of sexual past. As much as he wanted Spike, he never fooled himself
into thinking the feelings could be returned.

Xander had known in the final weeks that the battle was all that mattered.
It required all their concentration, all their focus and their attention. There was
no time for frivolity. There was no self. Only the group. Only the war at hand.
Anything less would spell disaster and death.

Announcing that he was gay or informing the group that he had a major yearning
and a perpetual woody for the resident vampire was simply out of the question.

Despite that, sometimes, when exhaustion broke down his defenses and when
Xander allowed his ADD mind to slip off track, it always headed in the direction
of the blond vampire and how much Xander wanted him. He could imagine the
heaven of those cool fingers dancing all over his heated flesh.

During those times, Xander would sneak off to the privacy of Buffy's bathroom, lock
the door and allow his mind to find a relief for the stress of his body. He would
close his eyes and pretend. Pretend that Spike would rap lightly on the latched
door, calling out to see if Xander was all right.

Xander would release his hard cock from his pants as he heard himself whisper,
"Yes, I'm o.k." He would imagine that Spike could read the craving in his tone and
smell the pheromones pouring off his body and the semen pooling in his balls. Spike
would then ask if he could come in and Xander would hesitantly reach over and release
the lock as his answer.

Xander would sit on the edge of the closed toilet seat and begin to stroke himself
as his fantasy continued. He imagined Spike would come in, quietly easing the door
shut and kneel down in front of him. The vampire's eyes would drink in the scene of
the boy, pants around his ankles, knees apart, head back resting against the wall
and his rigid erection peeking out of the top of his fist on each downstroke.

He would smile as his own sex stirred restlessly in his tight black denims, and he
would place a cool hand on Xander's cheek, telling him that everything would be
all right. That they would stand together, side by side, and win this fight.

Xander would think about staring deeply into those clear blue eyes and he would
tighten his grip on his cock, squeezing the first drops of promise from the fat, spongy,
wet head. He would glance down at the veins that throbbed with the blood that
pumped from his heart to his cock and he imagined how badly Spike would want to
suck both the cum and the blood from him.

Desperation for release quickened his breathing and turned his cock deep red as his
fingers circled just under the mushroom rim.

Then he would get to the good part. As he stroked faster, Xander would watch
as pretend Spike settled on his knees between Xander's legs. He would place
a hand on each ankle and torturously slow run his cold fingers up the insides of
Xander's calves, knees, thighs and finally reach his crotch, spreading him open wider
and saying,

"You're tense, Xander. Let me make you feel better."

Real Xander's hips would pick up a rocking motion while his other hand rubbed his
stomach, his chest and finally flick sharply first one nipple then the other. The near-pain
sent an electric zing from tit to nut eliciting a grunt or moan.
Imaginary Xander would protest.

"No, Spike. You don't have to do that."

Spike would insist.
"Please, Xander, I want to. I need to smell you and taste you. I want to suck
your cock till you explode and fill my mouth and throat with your hot spunk.
It will feed me and nourish me like the sweetest blood."

By this point in the fantasy, Xander would be humping, pumping his meat
in and out of his fist, bent over at the waist and chasing the cusp of an orgasm
that would start in his toes and shoot northward, through his nuts and out of his
throbbing cockhead.

Sometimes he would try to hold off. He would imagine himself closing his legs
and depriving Spike of the thrill of wrapping his cold tongue and lips around the
thick shaft that pulsed with bulging veins full of hot AB+.

Spike would beg.
"Please. Xander. You know we both want it. We are alike, you and I. We
want the same things. We need each other. Please let me suck you. Please don't
deprive me of your cock in my mouth."

Xander would look down into the pathetic, beautiful face and take pity. He would
admit that the vampire was right and he would magnanimously open himself up,
again exposing the wrinkled, lightly haired sac. Spike would stare at it, fascinated
as the two balls rolled and shifted as Xander's butt scooted on the plastic seat.

Immediately, before he could again be cut off, Spike would lurch forward.
He would suck the head of Xander's cock onto his mouth and drop his face
down till his nose snuffled the crisp, wiry hair. For a moment, Spike didn't move,
preferring to just revel in the taste, smell, sound, and world that was Xander.

When he had no strength of reserve left, Spike's mouth went to town. He licked,
sucked, swallow and whined as Xander's cock bounced off the vampire's tonsils,
tongue and the insides of his cheeks. Spike's own need for an orgasm was secondary
to his desire to please his boy.

At that point, real life Xander would grunt, jerk forward and spurt blob after blob
of stringy white release as his dick twitched in his hand. He would ride it out, feeling
all tension flow out with his orgasm, pooling on Buffy's matching bathroom rugs till
nothing else remained but spent, limp satisfaction. Then he would clean up, tuck up
and join the misery of the rest. He refused to feel guilty and, for an least an hour after,
he was unable to look Spike in the eye.

"Ow, OW, OW!"

Spike dropped the towels he was collecting and rushed back to the bed.
"What is it? Are you hurt? What happened? Did........"

Then Spike took a deep whiff. He was swamped with pheromones that filled
the air and he detected a drastic increase in the boy's body temperature, heart
beat and respiration. Spike just chuckled.

"Easy, Boy. That thing is probably still too sore to be toyed with."

Xander curled up in a near fetal position, his hands cupping a dick that was trying
valiantly to get hard. He rolled himself over on his other side with his back to Spike
and he chuckled.

"Fuck you. Ow. Ow. Damn, that hurts."

Spike burst into laughter at the pitiful sight and Xander had to join him.
Spike was thrilled that the spark that was his boy was not extinguished and
Xander was delighted that apparently after all he had been through, it seemed
as though the Sergeant was still able to salute and report for duty.

Spike pointed sternly at the huddled patient.
"Now you stop that. Don't you know that that causes you to go blind?"

Xander rolled back and seemed to search for the man that was standing right in
front of him. His hands flailed wildly in the air.

"What? Hey, where did you go? I can't see."

Spike dropped on to the bed and together they hooted and laughed.
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