bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
bloodclaim

Count Luffton

Title: COUNT LUFFTON
15/26
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.






The following fracas was a frantic fight of fists, fangs and fury. Big Bufford,
the biker, punched and pushed with all his might but found the smaller man
had him overpowered at every turn. He had already spit out two teeth and
was vaguely aware of a couple broken ribs, however he had no intention
of conceding just yet.

Spike, on the other hand, was nearly giddy with delight! After the first solid
punch had landed in Bufford's beer belly and there had been no corresponding
snap of electricity in his brain, he knew the chip was dead. Spike was a fully
restored vampire!

It was his dream come true and he wanted to share that delight with Big Bu
by kicking the shit out of him. A sort of a celebratory arse whooping.

Of course Spike could, at any time, simply crack the fat neck on this funky-
smelling adversary but he was having far too much fun. Even when the biker
got in a solid punch of his own, Spike would just laugh. He ate the pain like
candy and begged for more.

In the beginning, he had stolen quick glances to assure himself that Luffton
was all right, but quickly realized he needn't worry. Luff had attached himself
to Buster's throat and was hanging on like a bucking bronco at the rodent
rodeo while the pit bull exhausted himself by flipping, spinning and trying in
vain to turn his head far enough to snap at the mouse who had bitten him
and was happily sucking his blood.

The only thing that caused Spike some shred of embarrassment was the fact
that Luffton was humping the fuck out of the dog as he fed. It was a condition
not lost on Big Bufford as he spit blood and screamed at Spike, demanding
that he dislodge his perverted mouse from poor Buster.

Spike responded by applying one last powerful punch that knocked Bufford
high in the air, up off his feet and finally flat on his back, out cold. Spike
marched over to where the man lay and he stood, straddled over top of him.
With his fists high and reaching for the stars, Spike roared in victory.

"WAHOOOOOOO!!!"

William the Bloody was back!!

He briefly considered draining the blood from the worthless slug but rejected the
idea. He preferred to leave the man nursing his injuries and contemplating his
fear of a mysterious short blond man who effortlessly kicked the shit out of him.

Spike then spun around on his heels and he pointed a stern finger toward Buster,
commanding.

"Sit! Stay!"

Recognizing a master's voice, the dog obeyed, dropping down on his butt and
panting from the exertion of trying to free himself from the painful sting of the
parasite on his throat. Spike then strode over and plucked his bloated, sated
mouse from the dog's hide and he dropped him back on his shoulder.

Together they marched proudly for the gates at the cemetery entrance, but by
the time they reached the access road an odd thing happened. Suddenly,
as they began the trek back down the hill toward town, Spike found himself
almost overwhelmed as his eyes filled with unexpected tears and a myriad of
conflicting emotions spun within him.

Having his vamphood restored was what he had prayed for. It was the first
thought on his mind when he woke in the afternoon and the last thing he wished
for when the sun rose in the morning. It was all he wanted for Christmas as well
as the other 364 days of the year.

The chip was the disease that was killing him. It was what he had sworn to find
a cure for, although to be honest, he had all but given up hope. Now, in a manner
so mundane as a smack-down from a demon, his day had come.

The event that he imagined would occur on the wings of a benevolent angel, in
the midst of explosive fireworks and trumpets had, instead, arrived on a whisper
and a blow to exactly the right spot on his head. And he was unshackled. The
thing that he often thought of as a cancerous tumor was gone and he was
resurrected.

So why wasn't he happy? He was. Yet there was something preventing that
happiness from becoming total elation and at first he couldn't quite put his finger
on what it was. Oh, yes. Xander.

His brain was a quagmire of thoughts that he didn't know how to deal with. A
big part of him wanted to rush home to Xander and give him the good news
but knew that was not an option. Not yet. This was a situation that, like a good
steak, took thought and a great deal of careful preparation before it was ready
to be served.

So instead, when they reached the bottom of the hill, Spike turned right and
headed for the park. Nothing cleared the mind and flushed the soul, figuratively
speaking, like a stroll in the cool night air.

When they reached the grove of oak trees, Spike's gait slowed and he clasped
his hands behind his back as they walked and talked. It was good to have someone
to bounce ideas off of. Especially if that someone was not prone to contradiction.

"So, Luffton, my good man. That was quite an adventure, yes?"

Luffton immediately responded to the sound of his sire's voice by nuzzling, purring
and wrapping his long tail around the shell of Spike's ear.

"There is just one minor detail we need to address. I know that feeding can be a
very stimulating sensation, however you may want to be a bit more subtle. Old
Buster there did not appreciate your imposing your mouse dick on him. Of course
as a vampire, our general motto towards life is 'what the fuck' so if you want to
humpty bump then just hang on tight and make it good."

Spike and Luffton continued to stroll leisurely down one of the jogging paths and
Spike nodded pleasantly at a young woman who ran past. He had some big
decisions to make before, and if, he started killing again.

"Ya know, Luff, my man, Xander is a really good egg. He's very open minded
which not a lot of humans are. He is kind, generous, honest and faithful. I
know about the faithful part because whenever I sniff him there is never a trace
of anyone else. Now, I realize the two of you have had your differences, but
I'm sure we can all come to an understanding. Oh...."

Spike stopped walking as a new thought crossed his mind. He just realized that
now that he was fully functional again he no longer needed the handouts that
Xander so eagerly supplied. He didn't have to count on a human for bagged
blood or a roof over his head or a warm body in his bed.

Spike could leave. He could just pick up and go. He was entirely self sufficient
and could, by hook or by crook, acquire anything he wanted.

"The world is our oyster, Luffton, so what is it we want the most?"

Luffton gave no response. He had curled up on his master's shoulder, safe, sound
and thoroughly sated, and he had fallen asleep. It didn't matter. Spike carried on
the conversation as though Luffton had expressed an opinion and the two were
engaged in a lively debate.

"Do we want a mansion? Nah, the apartment is very comfortable and more than
adequate for our purposes. Do we want to start killing and feeding? Well, duh,
we are vamps. Although really, one does not automatically assume the other.
It is possible to feed without murder and mayhem. And the big question. Do we
go off in search of our precious Dru? Hmmm. It is what I always assumed I would
do if this day ever came, so what's holding us back? Xander."

Spike scowled at the sleeping rodent as if the word had come from his mousy
mouth rather than Spike's own brain. Quickly, however, his anger melted and
he dropped to sit on one of the park benches.

"Bollocks. I guess we really do love him, don't we? Well isn't this just a fine
kettle of fish?"
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