bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
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Count Luffton

Title: COUNT LUFFTON
4/26
Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X, AU
Rating: Adult NC17 for language and M/M sexual content.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing including the characters and
products named in this story.
Warnings: Sex, violence and character death. Yes, the mouse
dies.
Summary: This story is a followup to Mouse but it is not necessary
to have read it. Xander brings Spike home to kill a mouse.
The mouse escaped and Spike stayed for the fun, games
and conflicts that S/X always get up to. One night Spike
gets more than a little drunk and does something stupid.

Comments: The last few stories have been drama and trauma. I felt
we needed some lighthearted fluff, comedy and stupidity.

Thanks to: Petxnd for her preread and suggestions and to Silk Labyrinth
for her betaing of boo boos. It should be noted that if any
irregularities remain it is due to the Bee's bullheadedness.






Luffton's nose twitched frantically as he attempted to keep hyper-vigilant
on his trek through the catacombs of the dusty wall spaces. His tiny claw
feet danced through the candy coating of cobwebs that filled every nook
and cranny, leaving a pattern of delicate footprints in his wake.

He still lived on the same floor of the same building, though now not always
alone. His mother, a mouse he had once considered to be a rodent of great
virtue, was apparently spitting out mice babies by the truckload and this
resulted in his being bombarded with a long line of siblings looking to an older
brother who was apparently doing very well for himself in the human world.

While willing to help, Luffton preferred to consider himself more of an
Underground Railroad type of temporary stop rather than a longterm residence.
He would take them in, see that they had the basic understanding of sneak
and snatch when a crumb presented itself, then before they could mistakenly
consider his home their home, he would kick them out. Literally.
Mi casa was NOT su casa.

After all, a mouse needed to look after his own best interests and until his present
situation could be corrected, he was simply not in a position to be overly generous.
Once the interloper was removed from Luffton's original address, he could return
and things would be back to they way they were. Luffton missed his Twinkies
and Cheerios.

Slowing his speed to a crawl, Luffton reached the area of his exile. He crept up
toward one of the many small holes he had left as escape routes when he lived there,
and was stunned and outraged to find the first had been blocked over. How dare
they! It was bad enough to evict him, but then to change the locks!! It was rude!
It was unthinkable! It was also pointless.

Luffton snickered as he moved on. He had other portholes and he knew the stupid
human wouldn't have found them all. He was proven right when the very next one,
a tiny opening in the back of the dark closet, was still unfettered and welcoming.

Luffton poked his tiny, pink nose and red beady eyes out and prepared for an
immediate retreat should any threat present itself. He sniffed and his whiskers
beat the air wildly as he registered the familiar smell of human's old tennis shoes.
His little body shivered with the overload of sensory input and he carefully stepped
from his safe haven inside the wall.

Crouching protectively in the dark, Luffton listened for any sounds of attack.
What he heard was an odd muffled sound of distress that piqued his interest
and coaxed him from his hiding place. Gingerly, he moved toward the closet
doorway and he popped his head out.

There he saw the first human. The one with the dark fur on his head and bare butt.
He was lying on his nest, face down and he was crying. Luffton could taste the
misery in the air. His eyes darted about thoroughly albeit needlessly. He already
knew the other one, the interloper, was not here.

Luffton was not surprised. No matter how often they had tried, neither of them
had produced even one single, solitary little mouse. The other one must have given
up and moved on to a more fertile mate. It was a shameful situation. It was one
that Luffton was confident would never reflect on him. When the time came for
him to select a baby mousie mama, he would knock 'em out of the ballpark.

Luffton grinned. The human's failure was to his benefit. Things could now go
back to normal. The dark one would drape his body in the strange colored
coverings and he would go away while the sun shone, leaving the apartment empty
for Luffton to eat, nap and generally relax after a lovely round of mousturbation
on the human's nestbed.

Luffton hummed a happy mouse tune and he climbed into a large shoebox to wait
for the human to cry himself to sleep, which didn't take long. When the sounds
softened to sighs and the breathing became slow, low and steady, Luffton hopped
quietly from the cardboard cave and he skittered across the warm carpet, his
long tail trailing behind.

He knew the map of this place like the back of his paw and, without hesitation, he
darted happily toward his kitchen for a late night snack. Yes, life for Luffton
was looking up.



Spike dragged himself up the front steps of the brownstone apartment building,
and he stumbled as he reached for the outer door. He was in rough shape.
Partly from the enormous amount of whiskey and vodka he had downed at the
long line of demon bars he had visited tonight and partly from the arse whipping
he had taken at the hands of the Tranny demon. Sheesh, those damn things were
sensitive.

Spike winced in pain and held a hand at what he was certain were several broken
ribs. He used his other hand to swipe across his upper lip to wipe off the blood
from his cracked nose, and he cursed the deep gash in his scalp that would ruin
the smooth line of his hair. It had been a rough five hours.

But the biggest battle Spike had been in tonight was the one with himself. It was
a constant back and forth that seemed to have no solution as he argued the
situation's particulars. He had his pride. He would not be Xander's shameful
secret. He would not live in the boy's closet.

Still, pride was an expensive commodity, and the price of loneliness may be more
than he wanted to pay. Much to his dismay, he had real feelings for Xander and
the thought of just walking away from his boy made the vampire physically ill.
Xander's apartment, his smile, his embrace, they all spelled home to the vamp,
and right now home was what he needed most.

Tomorrow he would swallow his pride and retract his ultimatum. If living in
the shadows was what Xander wanted him to do, at least they would live there
together.

Spike staggered as he silently slipped into the apartment. He listened for the
sounds from the bedroom and was relieved to know his boy was home, safe
and sound and sleeping. Apparently without a care in the fucking world.

Spike snorted in disgust and, as the final wave of the alcohol claimed him, he
flopped onto the couch to sleep and heal. He was in too much pain to remove
his boots, and his heart ached under the weight of the uncertainty of whether
or not he had fucked things up completely with his boy or if their happiness
could still be salvaged.

Lying on his stomach, Spike's arm and face hung down over the side of the sofa.
Just as he was about to doze off, he heard a sound. It was so faint that only a
vampire's hearing would detect it yet it was near, only inches from the end of his
fractured nose.

Easing open one eye, Spike stared directly into the red beady eyes of the very
creature that had started all this trouble and from the expression on the rodent's
face, he shared the same sentiment.

Despite his alcoholic sluggishness, Spike still had the advantage of surprise on
his side and in a quick move, he snatched up the startled mouse and he held
him up by the tail.

"There you are, you bloody little bastard! This is all your fault, you little fucker.
I never would have sunk so low as to kowtow to a human if it weren't for you
being here! I should have killed you straight away and gone back to my crypt
and I wouldn't be in this mess. Well I've got you now, and letting you live is
one mistake that I can correct immediately!"

Luffton was terrified. He was being held upside down by the huge scary man
monster and the monster was yelling at him. Luffton may not understand the
words but he sure knew pissed off when he saw it. Luffton squirmed and
flopped frantically trying to free himself. He squealed and squeaked his pleas
for mercy and freedom, although he could see by the man's eyes that coming
back here had been Luffton's biggest and, very possibly, last mistake.

Spike tried to sit up but the combination of the drink and the pain was too much.
Still, he wanted someone or something to suffer as much as he was and this fucking
mouse seemed the perfect scapegoat. So with no more hesitation, Spike bit.

He sank his fangs into the twitching, terrified mouse and he drank the small
amount of warm, sweet blood that the tiny body held. When it was drained and
the rapid-fire heartbeat slowed and stopped, Spike felt all the anger slip away as
smoothly as the blood had gone down his throat.
He was spent and he was exhausted.

His arm again flopped over the side of the couch as the dead animal slipped from
his fingers to drop to the floor below. Spike felt only a very slight twinge of remorse
before his eyes closed and he fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Luffton was dead. His cold lifeless form lay flat on his back with his eyes closed
and his slack mouth hanging open. Above him, Spike's limp hand hovered and the
blood from his broken nose that still coated his palm ran down to drip from his
fingertips.

Directly into Luffton's dead mouth.

Luffton swallowed.
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