bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Count Luffton

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
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 tiny body twitched and jerked spasmodically. He was awake, but not.
He was conscious but not totally cognitive and couldn't discern his surroundings.
It was dark. Pitch dark. It was warm yet his body felt oddly cold. His
eyesight seemed to be strangely sharp, but he couldn't focus his mind as
the numbing terror rushed through him.

His instinct screamed at him to run as his senses searched frantically for the
source of the danger, and although nothing specific presented itself, Luffton
still had no thought other than to escape into the safety of his hole in the wall.

His whiskers beat the air like tiny wings while the sensitive hairs scrutinized the
limited space around him. The rest of his body continued to quiver and flop as
he tried unsuccessfully to coordinate his feet to respond.

Realizing he was somehow crippled and unable to run, Luffton crouched.
He rolled himself into a small protective fur ball and he snarled. It was a
peculiar sound, one that seemed foreign as he could not recall ever making
it before, yet it gave him a feeling of indestructibility. Of power. His lip curled
up on his long pointy snout, revealing two sharp teeth that felt uncomfortable
and new in his mouth.

Gradually Luffton's feelings of fear and uncertainty began to wane, replaced
instead by a growing surge of power and a thirst for vengeance that was alien
and, before now, unknown to him. Luffton wanted to kill. He envisioned
himself running rampant throughout the human world, causing them to scatter
and scream at the very sight of him. Much like the big man that lived here
already did.

Luffton's body slowly came back under his control and he stood proudly under
the orange wool blanket. Luffton Mouse would cower no more!!

As his mental abilities became sharper, one more need came to the forefront.
It began as a tiny seed in the pit of his stomach and it grew by leaps and bounds
until it consumed and overwhelmed him. It was a need, but bigger. It was a
craving that Luffton tried to put title to and failed. The only thing he could
equate it to was Barcus and cheese.

Knowing he would be driven to insanity if the craving were not sated, Luffton
dropped low and started to slink to the edge of the mountain of blanket that
lay on the floor. When he reached a corner, his tiny nose poked out and wiggled
wildly to check the air for danger. What he found instead nearly drove him to

It was an extraordinary scent! It was atoms of amazement that floated through
the air to tickle and coat Luffton's sensitive sinuses where it continued on to
permeated his entire body and flood him with the promise of peace, satisfaction
and happiness. Whatever it was, it was exactly what Luffton needed.

Throwing caution to the wind, Luffton shot like a brown furry bullet from under
the blanket. His small body flew across the room with a speed and agility that
he could not believe possible. If he had been a thinking mouse, he would have
sat and pondered the quickly accumulating list of what-the-hells, but as it was,
he was a mouse of action.

A mouse with a mission and a target. With no hesitation and as his small nose
aimed high in the air, Luffton raced through the living room, darted into the
bedroom, turned left and dashed for the sound of running water in what he had
always referred to as the human's room of many bad odors.

The bathroom.

Spike had stumbled from the sofa into the bathroom, where he swallowed a large
handful of aspirin. The very action of it sent new waves of pain shooting from
the gash behind his left ear throughout his body and left him clutching the rim of
the sink to prevent his toppling over.

When his legs felt less rubbery and slightly more balanced, he let go with one
hand, reached over and jerked the shower knob sharply to the right. Instantly,
the now-familiar ocean of hot water whooshed out and the room filled with steam.

Spike groaned in anticipation. Using all his strength, he pushed off, staggered
back, grabbed the shower curtain and tripped as he tried to traverse the huge
step into the tub, landing flat on his arse as the sting of the hot water shot into
his face. He laid there, grinning like a slug.


Spike slumped in the porcelain paradise feeling his bones mend and the remnants
of the night's debacle flush from his healing skin. When he thought he could, he
slowly stood on wobbly legs and placed his palms against the shower wall as the
wonderful water continued to gush over him.

Finally, he reached for the bottle of shampoo and up-dumped it over his head,
rubbing and massaging it into a thick, rich lather. As he did, he could feel the crust
of crud wash out of his hair. Mud, blood, gravel and glass. Oh, and one small
piece of plastic that clinked when it hit, just before slipping down the drain.

Spike snorted as his fingers gingerly felt around the healing wound behind his ear
where it had fallen from, and he wondered what the hell they had hit him with that
left that piece of debris behind. He then quickly dismissed it from his mind as his
legs again threatened to give out.

Wasting no more time on conjecture, Spike finished bathing and he rinsed off.
He momentarily considered lying down in the tub and letting the hot water pour
over him while he slept, but one of Xander's main bitches was the hot water bill
and the condition of the bathroom after Spike showered.

Not that he cared about the boy's constant rants, but the prospect of Xander
coming home and exploding in that shrill, whiny voice would be like icepicks stuck
in Spike's eyes, and killing his lover to shut him up would just take too much energy.

Spike twisted the knob off and he stood in the steamy stall and sighed. Most of
his wounds had closed over but the deep one behind his ear still seeped and all
he wanted now was to drag his worthless behind back to the sofa and snooze till
his boy came home to take care of him.

With all the strength he could muster, Spike jerked the shower curtain back.
As he did, he was shocked speechless when, out of nowhere, a flying ball of
brown fur came whizzing through the air toward him. Since he was unable to
think or act fast enough to dodge or duck, it latched onto Spike's inner thigh,
dangerously near his precious crotch.

Spike eeped and swatted to no avail, as the demon mouse looked up at him
with beady, blood-red eyes. His razor-sharp claws held tight and Spike had
only a second to realize what was coming next before two needle-sharp
fangs sank into his skin, and the demon mouse began to suck.


Spike screamed! He danced around the wet, foggy room trying to dislodge the
monster from his body as the memory of Xander's warning exploded in his brain.

"Cover your balls! Save your balls!!"

So he did. With both hands firmly clamped over his pot o' gold, Spike waddled
as fast as he could with his legs wide apart toward the bedroom where he threw
himself down on the bed. Once there, flat on his back, Spike was able to get a
good look at the creature that was snarling, growling and tossing his head about
as he continued to steal mouthful after small mouthful of borrowed blood.

"What the bloody fuck?!"

Determining he was in no real imminent danger, Spike propped himself up on his
elbows and stared at the freakishly bizarre mouse-demon. His ears were
slightly pointed and his tail was long and snakelike. His little back was humped
and he had two odd red wounds near his spine.

Spike scowled. A small, growing niggling of 'Oh shit' settled in his gut and he
reached down. With one slightly painful ouch, Spike grabbed the mouse's tail
and he jerked, popping the monster loose. Immediately, the mouse began
squealing its outraged protest. The suckling and the blood had filled its stomach
with nourishment and its entire being with contentment and he greatly resented
the deprivation.

Swinging the rodent towards his face, Spike sniffed the wounds on its back while
at the same time the mouse sniffed something familiar about the man. He smelled
like home, like family. It was a scent that consumed Luffton and brought him peace.
He stopped fighting. His little body swung by its tail and he grinned happily.

Spike wrinkled his nose distastefully as he stared into the hooded eyes and the
crust of his own blood on its deranged tiny face.

And he knew.

Spike dropped the rodent and groaned. He had made a mouse childe.

This had to be the fuckup of the century.
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