What Is A "Witch" (witchway) wrote in bloodclaim,
What Is A "Witch"

Thinking of You

Title:Xander Spike Angel
Pairing: Xander/Spike Spike/Angel
Rating:NC 17
Feedback:Makes me sing and dance....try it and see!
Disclaimer:'Dis is a claimer. I claim I'm not ownin' nobody. (Also they's gettin' it on behind Joss' back!)
Warnings: Graphic sex, roleplay of (consensual) violence

Xander Spike Angel


Thinking Of You


Spike’s ass, bare, was sticking up into the air, his head laying on the old stone floor, looking quite ridiculous, actually. Looking quite humbled. Xander roughly entered him with very little care, no concern about hurting the man beneath him, his only concern was not hurting himself. His hands on lean hips were brutal, fingers digging into the alabaster skin hard enough to bruise a weaker man. His movements were violent, his words harsh and uncaring, but when he entered that delicious clinging tightness he faltered…..

….but only for a moment. Quickly he regained himself, regained his powerful voice, regained his rhythm, resumed playing the rapist.

Ravaging his lover.

Just as Spike had requested. (Begged, really. And, in the end, bribed. A dip into a really big bottle of Olde English 800 later and Xander was willing to give it a go.)

Xander fucked Spike dry, pounding into him until the Big Bad was whimpering. When the whimpering stopped he slammed the lean body down to the floor, causing Spike to cry out, but whether it was in pain, or because in doing so Xander had withdrawn his cock, or because of the fierce movement, he could not tell.

“What do you want?” he growled, stretching his body out across Spike’s body, gripping the strong arms with both hands and *squeezing* as best he could, knowing it was impossible to really *hurt* his lover, but giving it his all anyway. Putting his weight on the heels of his hands so that they would dig into the cold flesh helped….. a little. But the most torture, it seemed, came from depriving the moaning man of what he wanted. The only real way of torturing Spike was to hold back what he wanted the most.

“What do…..” Xander stopped, and cleared his throat. He said it again, lowering his voice, trying to be more forceful. "What do you want? What do you WANT?!" he barked, bringing one hand to the back of the vampire’s neck, then clenching for good measure. “What are you whining about? What are you waiting for?”

“Fuck me, please fuck me…..” came the whispered words.

Xander ground his teeth together to prevent a moan from escaping (and Spike certainly would have never understood the moan,) but he could not help rubbing his aching hardon against the ass that was pushing back, pushing back, pushing back into the air. Spike was *begging him,* begging him silently. Spike was begging, and not wanting Xander to show any weakness.

Xander moaned internally and closed his eyes, lips curling back, teeth bared…..

…..because it wasn’t Spike he was fucking, and it wasn’t Spike that was flat on his face begging for it, no.

It was Angel.

It was Angel he was on top of, Angel ass-up in the air and Angel (somehow) at his mercy. The how and whys mattered not, all that mattered was that he was stronger, he was on top, and he was getting his revenge.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“God yes, please….”

“You want me to fuck you into the floor? You want me to fuck you *like this*”???

“God yes, please Sire, please do it…..”


Spike had his nose facing the cold stone floor, now he turned his head to one side so that he could be heard better. “I said, ‘Please Sir, please do it.”

“Done.” Xander growled and pulled up, taking his hands, momentarily, off the trembling man beneath him. With one rough hand he parted the ivory cheeks, with the other pressed an angry finger into the puckered hole. Roughly penetrating, but not far.

Spike moaned. Two fingers, then three. Never gentle, but neither deep, Xander smirked spitefully at the moans he invoking, sneered when Spike started actually *begging* for his cock.

Begging for his cock and ….. forgiveness? Xander couldn’t quite make it out, but his head was swimming and he didn’t quite care. This was almost exactly like the fantasy, and if he didn’t pull himself together he might accidentally call out the wrong name.

Because in his mind, he wasn’t fucking Spike.

Suddenly, violently, he pulled his fingers away and slapped, then punched the vampire repeatedly in the small of the back and on the buttocks. He pounded his fist over and over again on one buttcheek, hoping construction-worker arms and working-man muscles could actually hope to leave a mark that would last (at LEAST ‘till morning.) Then with no warning he aimed the dripping head of his cock and pushed to.

Spike cried out, Xander did not. “Yes yes yes” Spike chanted, while Xander was bit his own lip so hard he drew blood.

“Take it” he was shouting, roaring in his head. “This is for what you did to my friends. This is for taking a shine to Jenny Calendar and nearly driving Giles over the edge. This is for taking Buffy’s cherry and then breaking Buffy’s heart but NOT showing up for the end of the world, NOT coming in and SAVING her. You even had Cordi, you even making Willow swoon over your useless brooding ass.” (And this was the part of the fantasy where he took the black hair and pounded the head repeatedly into the stone floor, marring that handsome face and piercing eyes with blood.) “This is for fucking Spike’s girlfriend Drusilla and even giving Faith the idea she’d get a roll in the hay and for Never. Looking. AT. ME.”

Xander cried out loud as he felt his orgasm overtake him suddenly, violently. Spike was whimpering beneath him, but Xander was a million miles away, sinking his teeth into Angel’s neck leaving a mark that would last him a lifetime. “Do you see me now, deadboy?

Do you want me now?”



“You want me to fuck you?”

“God yes, please….”

“You want me to fuck you into the floor, Childe? You want me to fuck you *like this*”???

“God yes, please Sire, please do it…..”


Spike bit into his tongue hard enough to slice through on one side.

Stay awake. Stay in the game. He turned his head to one side and spoke clearly; “I said, ‘Please Sir, please do it.”

“Done.” Angel growled and pulled himself up, withdrawing his cock, taking his hands off his pathetic Childe. Toying with him, of course. Not really committed to the act. Casually, Angelus parted is asscheeks, absently poking a finger into Spike’s anus. NOT hurting him, NOT pleasing him, only using perfunctory movements to let him know how completely beneath him this brief was. Angelus, house of Aurelius, actually work up the energy to fuck William the Bloody, the fucked-up creation of his fucked-up creation? Not likely. No. Maybe roger him a bit for a laugh and then go off to find something more interesting to do.

Spike moaned out loud, (don’t speak don’t let Xander know don’t speak don’t speak don’t speak.) He dug his teeth into his tongue, again, and in his head he begged “Forgive me, please forgive me Sire. Dru left me because I wanted the slayer, but the slayer wouldn't have me, and now the slayer is dead. Take me back, please take me back, oh bloody hell grandsire take me back.”

Angel poked him with two fingers, then three, not deep, not really giving a damn. Spike moaned and…..he couldn’t help it, started begging out loud “your cock, oh god please your cock, oh bloody hell please fuck me with your cock please fuck me, fuck me, forgive me, fuck me…….”

Suddenly Xander (because it WAS Xander, he could FEEL it was Xander. He could SMELL it was Xander) pulled his fingers away and SHOVED Spike flat onto the stone floor and began slapping, then beating him so hard it seemed too good to be true. Bricklaying and demonkilling was good for the boy, yes. The whelp was getting strong.

And for one moment (but only one) the pain was enough to bring Spike completely back to the moment……then Xander began to fuck him dry and it was Angelus all over again, and his deepest dearest fantasy was here. Angelus was fucking him, Angelus was using him, and it meant Angelus might forgive him, too.

“Yes yes yes” Spike was chanting, urging his Sire on, urging him to USE his grand-Childe the way he used to, just like in the old days, and Spike found himself pleading, begging outright to be taken back to the clan.

But it wasn’t working.

But Angelus was just toying with him, not using his real strength, not really giving his whelp what he wanted, not really using him at all. Just stroking him, teasing him, then going off to find something interesting to do. Not really letting him back into the house of Aurelius, not really bringing him into the fold. Not really forgiving him for leaving with Drusilla, not really forgetting that Spike got the sodding chip put in his head in the first place.

Not really giving a damn.

Then it was just Xander again and Xander came and Spike, whimpering, was back in the moment. Xander was coming and the smell and the sensation and the tiny little gasping noises all belonged to the boy. His boy. His broken, hurting, human boy.

And Spike was glad to be there, glad to be there with Xander in the crypt, yes. Glad to be with the human whelp. Glad he had brought the lad some comfort, some solace. It was good, yes, good to be the provider of such pleasure. Yes. Spike grinned. They were both two men in need of comfort and solace. It was good. It was good to be the source of solace.

But the fantasy, sadly, was over.

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