Title: Exceptions to Geometry
Chapter: 6/6 (complete)
Chapter Rating: R
Story Rating: R
Warnings: Fluff, smutt, and some 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. Nor is Savage Garden, in case anyone's wondering.
Chapter One: http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/3473293.html
Chapter Two: http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/3473492.html
Chapter Three: http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/3475247.html
Chapter Four: http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/3487760.html?#cutid2
Chapter Five: http://community.livejournal.com/bloodclaim/3488200.html?#cutid1
That night, Spike took him back to the crypt and left him there with a bag of chips and a box of chicken nuggets from McDonalds. He muttered something about not peeing on the recliner, grabbed a couple sharp-looking objects from a crate by the door, and breezed out again.
By the time he’d finished the nuggets, worry had set in full-force. Giles’ words came back to him, a little condescending but mostly just protective.
“I’ll tell the girls when Spike takes you home. I don’t think it would be wise to let him know of your current weakness.”
Jumping up on the recliner, he stretched out onto his back, paws in the air. Okay. So he didn’t exactly… hate Spike. That one he covered. He didn’t even really dislike him. After all the banter, the back and forth, he was left feeling… ambivalent. Ish. Like, maybe all those bad feelings toward this particular evil undead were unnecessary.
Did he find him attractive?
In the simplest terms, Hell Fucking Yes. But that wasn’t the point.
Point was, he had three problems with this, and there was no getting around them.
One, he hadn’t touched a man since Jesse. Jesse was the first, the last, and the only. Getting over him was possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done, and he still wasn’t positive he’d done it completely. The thought of letting another man get that close… It scared the fuck out of him. So naturally, the thought of letting Spike get that close terrified him like nothing ever had before. Spike? Of all the men in the world, Spike? Hell no.
Two, even if he did want another man, it would not be a man of the undead persuasion. That was just a given.
And three, even if he could get over his fears and sleep with the evil undead, Spike was not exactly the most… stable lover. With his moods, his attitude, his ‘Big Bad’ behavior, it would be like screwing a rock star. Probably phenomenal, until all the crazy kicked in. What would happen once he got his fucking chip out? Would he kill him? Turn him, maybe? Make him into a nice, reliable bitewhore he could snack on? None of those options particularly appealed to him at that moment, so he rolled over and shoved his snout into the recliner’s cushion, unable to help wanting more of his scent.
Was that what this was? This feeling of devotion that made him want to follow him everywhere, anywhere, he might go? This protectiveness that made him want to throw himself at the ugliest, scariest monster full-throttle, just to keep him safe? This feeling that made him want to curl up at his feet every night for the rest of his life?
Yeah. That was definitely a weakness.
Groaning a little, he pushed his face deeper into the cushion, half-hoping it would smother him before these feelings got any worse. But all he could smell was Spike, and that wasn’t helping.
Then his ears pricked. He could hear it from a mile away. Spike’s growl.
Diving from the recliner, he scampered up out of the crypt, trotting over the cemetery grass in search of his…
Hell. His Master.
And there he was, all that tightly coiled anger making him look so fucking dangerous he couldn’t breathe. He was game-faced, eyes flashing a deadly amber as he cornered a very familiar demon up against a tombstone.
Oh God- The thought broke off, and he lunged for the two, skidding to a halt in front of the terrified Groeffling. His nerves pricked as he got closer, and he felt his whole body crouch with a low, instinctual growl. He wanted to tear its throat out. But it appeared Spike had it under control.
“Now,” The blond vamp hissed through his fangs, taking another step closer. “I’ll ask once more. Which one of yer bitches is in heat?”
“I do not-” The beast growled through his teeth, looking terrified but clearly standing his ground. “I do not know what you mean, we-”
Spike growled even louder, hands shoving the Groeffling into the tombstone, looking fairly close to ripping his face off. “Do I look stupid? Ye have the boy. I want him back. Gift from me Grandsire, he is. Ye do know me Grandsire, yeah?”
The beast looked absolutely horrified, and for once Xander thanked God for Deadboy’s existence. “We- We never- We haven’t taken slaves here! We took no one! None of our women-”
Spike hissed, growing livid as he pushed into his face. “The boy is mine. I want him back. So either bring him to me, or I find yer pack and rip ‘em apart one by one.”
The Groeffling cowered before him, whimpering at the threat. “We- We took no boy. No boy.”
“Not even this one?”
Spike shoved a picture into the thing’s face, an old Polaroid of him and Willow at her house one summer. He was thinner then, but it was unmistakably him. The beast breathed in sharply at the sight, eyes jumping from the picture to the dog still growling at him. Spike stared him down.
“I… Have seen this boy.” The Groeffling finally admitted, climbing to his feet. “But he is much better now than he was before.”
“Don’t care,” Spike hissed, dropping the photograph and shoving the beast into the tombstone like a punching bag. “I want him back. Tell yer idiot bitches, paws off. I want him here, right now, an’ if he has so much as a pawprint on his arse, I will hunt every last one of you down personally.”
The thing looked resigned. But then again, who wouldn’t give up against Spike’s war-vamp mode? “So be it.” He growled.
The first thing Xander felt was his heart stop.
Then he felt his lungs expand, growing huge, heavy in his tiny chest which wasn’t so tiny anymore. He felt himself split, and his bones break, and it was the most awful thing he’d felt since he grew paws. But just like the first time, it was over in ten phenomenally painful seconds, and he stood there, once more two-legged, letting the chill of the cemetery skim over his nude form and remembering once again what it’s like to feel cold.
If he had the balls to look at Spike in that moment, he would’ve seen his jaw drop.
“Um…” He settled for looking down at himself. Okay, so he was back. And whole. And fully functional. And naked in the middle of the cemetery, which really wasn’t a good idea, now that he thought about it.
Spike’s eyes slid like water on glass down his form, and suddenly he felt hot all over again.
Raising a scarred eyebrow, the blond vamp dropped his hold on the Groeffling and turned to face Xander completely. “Well, now. Bloody convenient, that.”
Finally, Xander looked up. Met his eyes. Jesus, they were so blue, and they held him frozen in his place until he gave in to the call. He stepped forward, once, then again. Two steps closer to Spike, who was looking at him with confused relief, wonder sneaking past the ice in his eyes to spark within the blue.
The Groeffling tried to speak. “I-”
Spike didn’t look away from him, even as he commanded. “Get your pack out of town by dawn.”
The beast scrambled away, not once looking back, fully intent on getting his pack out of harm’s way. Xander didn’t blame him.
He didn’t know what to do, himself.
Spike took a step closer, eyes trailing back up his body, from the tips of his toes to the dark, uncertainty in his eyes he couldn’t seem to get rid of. Each inch that gaze covered made him shiver. “So yer grandda’ fucked a Rottweiler.”
“Um…” His voice came out rough, and he swallowed a juvenile giggle for the sake of his own pride. “Not that I know of.”
“Then how in-” He broke off, eyes tearing away from his form with a harshly growled curse. Swallowing hard, Xander stood his ground, almost disappointed he wasn’t staring anymore. “Look, ye got clothes in me crypt. We’ll get ahold of the Watcher once yer decent, yeah?”
“I-” His cold tone sunk in, and he felt a cold lump settle in his stomach. “Okay…” He trailed off, following him into the crypt he’d called home for the last week. His senses were still alive, and he could smell everything; the leather, the cigarettes, the old fabric of the recliner, ancient take-out cartons, blood, popcorn…
… And Spike. Always Spike.
The vampire was being cold, back to him as he bent over his box of clothes and belongings, picking out a shirt that was at least somewhat clean. But he was tense all over, as if he expected Xander to come at him with a stake.
Which, at this moment, was the most ridiculous thought anybody could ever have.
He opened his mouth. He wanted to say something like ‘Thanks’, or ‘It’s okay’, but as usual his mouth was faster and bolder than his brain would ever be. Instead, what came out was, “So, where’re the shackles?”
Stiffening hard, Spike turned to face the boy with a deadly scowl.
It didn’t take. Xander was smiling like the cat who caught the canary. Or the dog who caught the vampire, which was a bit more accurate.
“Seriously,” He grinned wider with each step he took, knowing he had Spike kind of pinned and loving it. “If you’re planning on holding me captive here for a few days, you should really get some shackles. Or rope. Rope works too.”
Spike flinched. “Harris-”
“Xander.” A look of pure mirth spread across his features, until his eyes burned honey-brown. “You’ve seen me naked. You’ve seen my best friend suck my cock. You’ve watched me come fourteen times, and now I’m standing here in your crypt, exactly how you wanted me. You’re going to call me Xander now.”
Spike glared, eyes narrowing hot blue as he watched Xander approach with apprehension. But he didn’t speak, and Xander was grateful, because he knew if he said anything at all, he was going to lose his nerve. But it was funny. Because right now, for the first time ever, he held all the cards. And he was still scared shitless of what he was about to do.
What he had to do.
He laughed at his own fears, smirking as he came close enough to touch, to graze a finger along the leather of his duster. “I was hoping you’d at least make good on your threats here. I thought you were the Big Bad. Don’t you want a taste?”
He could hear him breathe, inhale his scent, and it turned Xander on like nothing else. Jesus… For a minute, his eyes looked so deep, so blue with sheer desire that his knees went weak. He sucked in a breath as Spike spoke, voice rough and strained.
“Ye got no idea what yer askin’ for. Boy.” He accentuated the last word, low and deadly with heat that could melt him inside out. God, he shivered with the sound of it.
That voice made him burn, made his body quake, made him feel for the first time that he was hollow without his touch. He licked his lips, and Spike made a barely audible noise.
Jesus Christ, he was really doing this.
“I think I do.” He murmured it, his voice a little shaky with the closeness of him, with the smell of him. “I think I’m asking you to put up or shut up, Spike. You want a taste? Take it.” He hesitated only a second, before meeting his eyes and driving the point home. “I need a Master. You’re it. Act like one.”
Spike froze, his eyes widening at the word. It took a minute for him to come back to earth. But when he did, his voice was strained beyond recognition, and his hands could barely keep themselves pinned to his sides. They were shaking in their fists, losing their resolve. So was the rest of him. “Xander.” He was trying to sound calm. Didn’t quite work. “Do you have any idea what that word means to a vampire?”
A smirk crawled slow and easy over his lips, and suddenly, this didn’t scare him at all. “Yeah. About the same thing ‘Mine’ means to a Primal.”
Those blue eyes widened further, and it finally seemed to dawn on the vamp that there was a reason he’d been turned into a dog. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Xander continued to smirk, fingers reaching out to touch again, unable to help themselves. They landed on his wrist, which is good enough, because Spike watched them slide over his bare skin with more interest than he’d ever seen on his face. “Look, Spike. Those two words aside, I don’t know what’s happening here. And I can’t tell you I’m not scared. But in the immortal words of Savage Garden: I want you, I don’t know if I need you, and at this point I’d die to find out.”
A wide, devilish smirk began to work its way across Spike’s lips, and for a second Xander lost his breath to the sheer beauty of him. But within seconds he lost everything when the vamp took him roughly by the chin and dragged him close enough to smell the hot metallic tang of blood on his breath. “So let’s find out, yeah?” He purred, warm and sexy. And just as Xander thought he’d be shaking there forever beneath his touch, Spike tipped his chin down and steered in for a kiss that made him go completely still.
For a minute, Xander couldn’t move. He went limp beneath the kiss as his mind nearly exploded with the thought of being here, kissing Spike. But if he was expecting awkward, shy, barely-able-to-get-up-the-nerve Jesse, he had another thing coming. Spike was a ruthless kisser. He could force his way into Xander’s mouth, curve his tongue beneath his and take over. Jesus, Xander had never been so thoroughly taken in three seconds. He started to kiss back, letting his tongue caress the vamp’s slow and steady. But Spike knew exactly how to work him. He slicked his own over the edge of Xander’s tongue, then began to roll it in slow wave-like motions that made the mortal nearly lose his fucking mind.
Whining sharp and unsteady beneath this torture, Xander’s hands found their way around Spike’s waist. They climbed, splaying out over the muscles of his back and dragging back down every few seconds with the tips of his nails. God, that made Spike groan, and he’d never heard anything so sexy in all his life. The rolls of his tongue curved to touch his teeth, and soon his hips were mimicking them, rutting against Spike’s thigh, his bare cock rolling up over rough denim. Cursing hard against his mouth, Spike slid his hands down the boy’s chest, down his hips, to feel it.
Pulling away, just enough to speak, he murmured low against his lips. “Yer cock’s a fucking work of art.”
Slyly, Xander leaned in to drag his tongue over Spike’s lower lip, fully intending to bite once the pesky banter was out of the way. “I expect you to do amazing things with it.”
Grinning wide, Spike dragged his fingers along its head teasingly, pressing his thigh up against that quickly hardening length until Xander’s head fell back with a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I do plan to, Pet. I do.”
Fuck… His mind formed that one coherent thought before it switched off completely, and he was reduced to a panted, breathless moan. “Now?” He begged, nails digging into his shoulders and tearing at his shirt. “Now? Please?”
Instead of the laugh he was expecting (after all, this was Spike), the vampire hissed sharp, dangerous. “Don’t tempt me, Boy. I’ll bite that pretty neck, I don’t care if the chip fucking fries me.”
His eyes popped open wide, and he yanked his gaze back down to Spike, who was staring at his pulse with hungry eyes. Somehow, it didn’t even register on Xander’s fear-meter.
Probably because his thigh was still grinding into his cock.
“Fuck-” He cursed, his hands slinking lower down Spike’s hips as his eyes shot down to where his cock was rutting off. “Jesus, Spike…” Eyes narrowing on the sight, he began to slow, letting it move fluidly with a rock and a twist of his hips. Hard, pink, heavy with need as his balls hung low. He was so turned on, the head had swollen to a bulbous point. It looked fucking delicious, and if he thought so, he knew Spike thought so.
“Gorgeous, Pet…” The vamp whispered in his ear, his hand spidering down Xander’s muscled chest to reach for his need. “Get me-”
“-Yeah.” Xander didn’t need to be told twice. He dragged the duster from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, and when that was done with, he yanked his too-tight black t-shirt over his head like it was on fire. Spike dragged his belt loose, but before he could get his jeans undone, Harris pushed him into his recliner and straddled his waist, slicking his tongue over the shell of his ear as he whispered to him. “You taste…” He crushed his weeping cock against the tent in Spike’s jeans, spreading the denim with need as he sucked his earlobe between his lips and bit down, just on the good side of too hard.
“Fuck-” Spike hissed out through clenched teeth, fingers sliding down Xander’s back to dig into the globes of his ass, spreading them wide open as he squeezed them firmly, but not quite as rough as he wanted to. “Don’t do that.”
Xander chuckled, nipping all the way down his throat as he teased him. “Doesn’t it just suck that I can bite, and you can’t?”
“Fuckin’ Brat-”Spike had never in his whole life wanted to spank anyone more. And his ass was right there. He spread those cheeks even wider, just barely fighting back the urge. After all, a shock from the chip right now? That would be a buzzkill.
Chewing his own lip raw at the feel of those rough hands spreading him, Xander groaned out loud, hips twisting and grinding into Spike’s over and over. He was close. Too close now, the way Spike was watching him move, like he was a prize. His hands clambered up to the vamp’s shoulders and held on tight as he began to lose his mind to little electric shocks, rubbing tight and heavy against the tent in those jeans. His body turned feverish and slick with sweat, heat and friction turning him red. He- God- He’d never felt so good, not ever. Chest stuttering as he tried to keep up with his erratic breaths, he loomed over Spike, a golden god in heat, eyes a molten honey brown and lips caught between his teeth, holding back moans that could shake the crypt.
“Christ, Boy-” Spike hissed, thrusting himself up in time. “So pretty… You have no idea how you look right now…”
“Spike…” He whined out the name, delirious, and he wondered if he could come before he burst into flames. “Spike, I’m so close…”
“Xander…” Spike whispered in awe, hands sliding up the boy’s chest, needing to touch what’s there. The taut stomach, those nipples pert and begging for his tongue, the muscles that corded all the way up his form… He could hear his pulse beating three times as fast as it should, and he knew he was coming, but Hell. If he could make him look like this forever, he would. “S’alright, Pet. Wanna see it. Wanna see you.”
“God-!” Xander choked, his body shuddering still as he let go, spurting his hot need over Spike’s pale stomach, letting it dribble to his jeans. His head snapped back, and for a minute he didn’t breathe. His heart stopped. He looked like the most glorious statue in the world, and Spike was completely entranced.
After those shudders of pleasure subsided, Xander let his head fall to Spike’s shoulder and took a long, shaky breath. “M’still alive. Jesus Christ, I’m still alive.”
Smirking wide, the vampire chuckled good-naturedly, running his fingers back down his chest. “Yeah. Sure know how to put on a show, Pet.”
Snorting at that, Xander slowly struggled off the recliner and slid to the floor between his knees, hands sliding up his jean-clad thighs as he leaned in and swept his tongue over Spike’s stomach. He started with a nip just beneath his navel, then slowly dragged his tongue over the pale skin in long, lazy strokes.
Spike watched him, jaw unhinging in shock. And a more than a little lust. Because he’s still hard as a rock, and watching Xander lick his own cum up like a thirsty kitten has to be at least one of his top ten hottest sights ever. Finally, he reached down and gripped Xander’s dark waves, pulling him up to meet his eyes. “Ye know ye… don’t have to do that.”
The boy just blinked up at him, a small frown creasing his features. “Me and Jesse always used to clean each other up. It’s no big. Why? Do guys… I mean, do you think it’s weird?”
Spike choked a little.
“I mean, I used to blow him afterward, because he was always hard again by the time he was clean. But if you don’t want-”
With that, Spike politely but firmly shoved Xander’s face back into his mess.
Twenty minutes later, Xander was happily curled up in Spike’s blanket, lounging between his feet, head resting on his thigh. They were both naked now, and halfway through the video.
This time, Xander could comment.
“You know, I do look fucking hot right there.”
“Sure. Once ye get past that gigantic black eye yer sportin’. What’cha do, run into a door?”
Rolling his eyes, Xander sighed. “Nope.” He left the rest unspoken, because he knew Spike understood. They had both lived with abusive psychopaths, after all. “Should we call Giles? Tell him I’m back?”
“D’ye feel like gettin’ dressed and leavin’ the crypt?”
Snorting softly, he ran his hand over Spike’s thigh. “No.”
“Right then.” Silence reigned again, and their eyes stayed glued to the screen, even as Xander’s hand wandered.
“God, I did not know how to use a video camera.”
“Yer little friend looks like a weasel.”
“Shut up, Spike.”
“M’serious! Look at the little rat! Who in God’s name sired ‘im? He’d look like a rabid little ferret in game-face.”
“Oh.” For a minute, Spike shut up. Then he had to comment. “Always did have the worst taste.”
“Hey.” Xander snapped at him, a little annoyed. “Jesse was my friend, okay? Knock it off.”
Spike glared back. “More like yer fuck-buddy, wouldn’t you say?”
For a split-second, he was livid. And then…
… Well, then he realized Spike was jealous. Which was probably the most hilarious thing in the world, and Dear God, he was going to milk this one for all it’s worth.
“Yeah…” He sighed, hiding a grin against Spike’s thigh. “He gave the best head. Ever. Swear to God, I saw stars every time.”
“Did he now?”
“Best head ever?”
“Hell yes. The things he could do with his tongue…”
Spike turned off the TV, and dragged Xander into his lap.