Okay, definitely going to sleep once I post this. So, no more tonight. Probably more tomorrow, though.
Title: Exceptions to Geometry
Author: Qwerty_Lee. Or, me.
Chapter Rating: R. Definitely R.
Story Rating: R
Warnings: Fluff, smut, and (more than) mentions of Xander/Jesse
Summary: Xander gets turned into a dog by an annoyed demon. Spike reluctantly takes him in.
Disclaimer: Nothing in this story is mine. Bah.
The crypt smelled worse than he remembered.
God, what was that? Not just rotting corpses from the cemetery. Not just pig’s blood. Not just the rankness that was Spike and his pack a day habit. It was that damn cold, damp, moldy smell. He hated it. It was already giving him a headache.
“No pissin’ on the furniture neither.” Spike called from where he was apparently heating up blood on a space-heater. “Just dug it up. S’mine, not yours. Dopey mutt.”
Okay, he was getting tired of the insults, too. But then again, that was Spike. Always sniping and growling. He supposed that wouldn’t change, not even for non-humans. So he sauntered over to the Godawful chair that looked about as cozy as a mousetrap, and leaped onto its cushions. A minute later he let his chin fall between his paws and sighed. Okay, it wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was a pretty nice set-up. Chair, table, small TV with a VCR that looked like somebody had ripped half its guts out. A space-heater, a blow-up mattress in the far corner. Pretty sweet.
A couple of comic books, and it’d feel just like home.
“Off.” Spike commanded above him, and he looked up to see him standing there, cup o’ blood in hand. He let out a puff of air to signify his disgust with the idea, then finally jumped off the recliner and curled up on the floor. Best give the vampire his favorite chair. He’s the one being generous right now.
Spike was delighted. “Hah. Least ye know one word.” He dropped a bowl of popcorn on the recliner, then crouched to the floor before the boxes he’d dragged home with him. Xander’s things.
For some reason, he felt an entirely new level of dread prick at his nerves, swelling in his blood. He felt the urge to growl.
“Gotta be some clue here. Boy just doesn’t up and take off.” Flipping the first box open, he dragged the old shirts and jeans from its depths, quickly checking pockets and setting the contents aside. Change, candy wrappers, receipts. The usual. But beneath the clothes were his other things, and he suddenly felt way too protective over what was his. He rolled to his feet, padding over to the box and sticking his head inside.
“Knock it off!” Spike pushed at him half-heartedly, but he didn’t care, because Oh My God, his sneakers looked awesome, so he snapped his jaw around the toe of one and dragged it out, gnawing on its rubbery flesh with relish, tasting dirt and grime but so not caring. Spike laughed. “Bet you piss him off, doin’ that. Give.” He held out his hand, and Xander ignored him, chewing on the sole. Grinning wide, the blonde vamp stuck two fingers into the shoe and tugged.
Thus began the most epic two second game of tug-o’-war Xander had ever played.
He fought valiantly, growling just a little as he whipped his head back and forth, tail wagging in play-mode. Spike, eyes sparking hot blue in amusement, gave a little and let him think he was winning. Then he yanked, and the shoe was snapped from his jaws, and he whimpered as he watched it hang over his head, almost wanting to snap at it.
“You and your master,” He laughed, wagging the shoe over his nose. “I’ll bet he lets ye win, don’t he? Always been a soft heart, that one.” Letting the rubber tap him on the snout, he dropped the shoes to the floor where Xander immediately had to have them. He pawed them over to his left, where he let them stay, sniffing at them and chewing the laces every once in a while.
Then Spike held up the one video he should’ve destroyed a long, long time ago.
It was a recording. It had no label. But on the bottom of the tape, it was marked in white-out pen, in handwriting that wasn’t his.
ME + XAN ‘96
Yelping out loud, he jumped, snapping for the tape like it was a life vest and he was drowning. But it was really the exact fucking opposite. It was an anchor. A lock to a past he didn’t want anyone, anyone, to ever see. Especially not fucking Spike, of all the people on this Godforsaken planet.
“What’s this then?” The stupid vampire didn’t even notice him freaking. He just got up off the floor and popped the tape into the VCR.
Oh God… He dropped to the floor, wishing the demon had just sliced him to ribbons instead of letting him live to see this. Oh God, Oh God No…
Dropping to the recliner, Spike picked up the popcorn and dipped a couple pieces into the blood on the table, eyes on the TV. Xander melted to the floor, wincing as (against all his prayers), the video began to play.
The first thing on the screen was the Jim Morrison poster that had lived on Jesse’s wall for years before this was shot. But the footage panned over a few inches, and there was Xander. All twisted up in Jesse’s dark blue sheets. Naked, sleeping off a round of sex that hadn’t lasted long enough. But hey. They were teenagers.
“Fuck.” His head snapped up, and he looked at Spike, whose eyes were wide with something like fascination at the sight. “Boy’s hung like a horse. Look at that.” He muttered it to himself, whispering almost deadly soft, but something about his tone… It made him shudder, very much in a good way.
“Hey, hey Xan, check it out.”
Spike sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of a very male voice on the other side of that camera. His hands dropped to the arms of the recliner, nails digging in harsh. But he remained silent, tightlipped, listening for more from the man shooting the video.
“Xander…?” Jesse’s voice sing-songed. “C’mon, get up. It’s my birthday. Don’t I get birthday sex?”
“You had your birthday sex…” His former self spoke groggily, rolling over and cracking one sleepy eye open, but not before revealing himself for the camera completely. Scars, bruises and all. Then he popped up from the sheets, waving one hand into the lense. “Christ, Jesse, get that out of my face!” He heard himself laugh, so lighthearted he barely recognized it.
“Shut up and kiss me for the camera.” Jesse laughed back, just as carefree. His hand dipped the camera lopsided, and the view was brilliantly uncontrived. Jesse’s fingers digging into Xan’s rumpled curls, dragging him in for a kiss that still gave him a hormone rush, just watching. He heard himself moan, and rested his chin on his paws to watch, feeling ready to throw up at the sight of it again.
He hadn’t watched that tape since the night Jesse turned to dust.
Dragging back from the kiss, Jesse had picked up the camera again. There was some fumbling as he checked it to see if it was still recording, and he heard himself in the background, “Who gave you that? Your uncle?” Jesse muttered, “Yeah. Lay back down.”
“I wanna look at you.”
“Man, I am so stealing this tape and burning it, pervert.”
“Shut up, you know it’s hot.”
The camera panned up. Xander was wearing nothing but the most deliciously sly smirk he’d ever worn, hands rolling above his head as he laid back down, cock hard with morning wood, thick and pink between his thighs. Jesse’s hand, pale and nimble, wrapped slowly around its girth, and his breath caught in his throat. His smirk flew away into a soft moan, teeth coming down to drag over his bottom lip in need. And for a minute, that’s all you can see. Jesse’s hand, slowly jerking him off, making him grow until he’s red and huge, head bulbous and tight with need. It looked painful, and it was.
His eyes glanced toward Spike.
The vampire was pinned to his chair. Riveted like something was thralling him. His body was stiff, and he looked like an all-grown-up extra from Children of the Damned, eyes all huge and blue like that.
“God, Jesse, don’t stop…”
“So hot, Xan…” Jesse’s whisper made him shudder, and he turned his eyes back to the screen. “Here. Shoot me like this.”
The camera exchanged hands, everything whirling the picture until it was finally set right. His former self tilted the view, a little lopsided and more than a little shaky. But it was excellent, a view of Jesse bowed between his legs, eyes on the lens as he sucked and licked and teased the rapidly swelling head of his cock. He heard himself moan, watched Jesse grin at the audience and drag his tongue from root to tip.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”
“Not before I fuck your brains out…” Jesse grinned gleefully, and Xander’s doggy heart nearly stopped. Because he looked so much like the vampire he eventually became, it broke his heart looking at him. So he slid to his feet, padding over to Spike and sticking his head into the popcorn bowl. Spike didn’t even protest.
He was hard as a rock, jeans tenting, bulging against that bowl in his lap. Xander whined at the sight, breathing in the faint scent of that arousal and going hazy with it. God, no… He tried to snap out of it, shaking his head a bit, but then the vamp’s hand came down to stroke his matted fur, and all he could do was breathe.
And listen. He couldn’t not listen. To the wet, delicious sounds of Jesse’s mouth around his cock, sucking him, pleasing him. God, he wanted that again. He needed…
“God, Jesse- Jesse, stop, I’m gonna-”
Jesse grabbed a tissue from somewhere out of view. Xander’s taut stomach quivered as his thighs split wide, and he was almost there. Jesse’s lips pulled themselves off his cock, and he jerked him fast and heavy-handed, until the whole world heard him cry out, and the camera toppled from his grip. The view just barely caught a glimpse of him coming, writhing in those dark sheets, gripping them, tearing at them… But you could hear every note of pleasure in that last cry, and Xander the Dog dragged his head from the popcorn bowl to lay it on the arm of Spike’s chair, ashamed.
Spike was still hard. Harder now, and breathing fast, though God knows why he’d need to.
The vamp breathed out slowly, hands fighting a small tremor as they slid through the matted fur. “Well. That was… enlightening.”
Closing his eyes, Xander let his head droop on the arm of the recliner, feeling nothing but contempt for himself. So what? He and Jesse had a little gay fling. Or a big one. Or one that lasted a good two years, before Jesse grew fangs.
Spike’s hand dropped to Xander’s wide, flat forehead, and he scratched him behind the ears just right. God, that feels good.
“When I find yer idiot master, I may just have to keep him captive for a couple days.” His voice turned growly, almost down to a purr. “Take a taste for myself, yeah?”
The thought flashed into Xander’s mind in full color, and he whined beneath Spike’s attentive hand, embarrassed and aroused, shuddering in spite of himself. Jesus Christ… His mind tried to be horrified. But it was really, really hard when all his body wanted to do was hump Spike’s leg.
He didn’t, however. He had more self-control than that. Just barely.