tabaqui | Little Runaway2 Part 7

Little Runaway2 Part 7

Sunday, December 5th, 2004 10:23 pm

Yes, finally!
I feel bad that i've taken so long to update this.
And this? 'Specially for

secondverse. Hope you like it!

And i'm all excited about the Spike POV that comes next, so there will NOT be such a big gap between updates - promise!!

Prvious parts here in my memories.

And to everybody that's friended me lately - thank you!! Welcome!!
*bounce*

Okay, here we go!
Enjoy!

"Slow, pet. Got all day, we'll go real...slow..." Spike's hands on his back, rubbing and pressing and stroking, making him feel as limp and boneless as a rag. If he could purr he would, but since he can't he makes no effort to stifle the soft, moaning sounds of pleasure that Spike's hands draw out of him. He can feel Spike's cock, cool and slippery-damp and so, so hard brushing and dipping over his back, his buttocks, the backs of his thighs. Making him squirm, making him shudder. He eases his legs open, wider and wider, wanting that touch there, oh right THERE, and Spike is husking pleased little murmurs of praise and encouragement in his ear - is pushing the tip of his cock gently into the crease there, rubbing and pressing but not actually breaching the muscle and it's all Xander can do not to scream...

"Like this, Xan? Like this, right here?" Spike's fingers, god, INSIDE him, slow, slick glide and teasing twist and pressure and oh GOD, oh god -

"Sss...pike...ohhh..." Xander is head-down on the bed, hair in his face, fingers clutched tight in the sheets. His thighs are over Spike's, his knees slipping on the mattress and Spike is rubbing his back and slowly fucking into him and touching, inside, some little place that makes Xander's whole body fizz and coil and buck. He's already come once like this and he feels as heavy as a sated lion. But this time he wants to feel Spike's weight - wants to feel Spike's chest against his back and Spike's belly tight to his buttocks. Wants to feel Spike's cock, wider than fingers, pushing him to orgasm.

"Please, can you -" Xander whispers, and Spike's fingers twist out and then his cock is pushing in instead, slow and insistent, bigger and softerharder and so DIFFERENT and Spike is pushing Xander's legs up further, is lifting his hips so Xander is on his knees and it feels...feels...

"Xan...pet, that's lovely, you're lovely," Spike breathes, arms around Xander's ribs, holding him tight, his mouth at the nape of Xander's neck, his hips moving slow and sweet and easy; cushion of slippery lube and blood-heated, blood-swollen flesh. Xander can feel his body opening to Spike - can feel the muscles pulling him in and GOD, that spot, pressed and rubbed by the broader head of Spike's cock. So different from his fingers, somehow more intense and Xander is aware that he's gasping - whimpering - is aware that somehow he's gotten one of Spike's hands in his, fingers laced and held tight, tight. It feels good, so good; not just the delirious, body-shivering fact of Spike IN him but the weight of him, the crush of him, holding him still, holding him SAFE, holding him close and gentle and...loved. He feels loved. Even if he's not.

Xander turned in the bed, stretching, smiling to himself, and snuggled back into Spike. The feeling was good enough - he wasn't going to question it, he was just going to revel in it for as long as he could. The next time he woke up, Spike was awake as well; smoking a cigarette, one arm casually around him. Xander blinked sleepily at the slow ribbon of blue smoke that rose up and up in the amber air, his cheek warm against Spike's chest.

"Want you to come with me tonight," Spike said, as if continuing a conversation they've been having and Xander looked up at him, frowning.

"Huh? Go where with you?"

"To the house," Spike said, tamping out his smoke. Then he turned and looked down at Xander and his eyes were hooded and unreadable - his face tense.

"You mean - to the - you mean to where you work?" Spike nodded shortly and Xander reached up and scratched at his cheek, feeling stubble rasping a little under his fingers. "Well, okay, but... Why do you want me to come?"

"I just..." Spike sighed, tucking his arm under his head and blinking up at the ceiling, looking less then happy. "I want you to see...how it is. How I work. So you know." Xander thought about that for a minute - thought about his little 'episode' a few days earlier, and the assumption he had made.

"Oh. Oh. You want me to... Okay. Yeah. Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

Xander hoisted himself up so he could kiss collarbones and biceps and the smooth line of Spike's pale throat, and Spike closed his eyes and smiled a little, humming under his breath. "I'm sorry I said that. I just - didn't know."

"S'okay. You really didn't -"

"I thought I did. I thought... Well, I shouldn't have thought that. I should have...trusted you."

Spike laughed softly and his arms came up to hug Xander close, fingers ruffling through his hair. "Should you have? Trust me? M'a vampire, pet. Evil, soulless -"

"Yadda, yadda, yadda. I know. So they say - so you say. But you did all this to save Dawn, and you were nice to me, even - at the start. You didn't have to be." Xander leaned his chin on Spike's sternum, going a little cross-eyed as he studied Spike's mouth. "I think - you can be as evil or as good as you want to be and before you just...didn't have any reason to be good." Xander glanced up then, because there was something...but no. *Vampires don't cry. SPIKE doesn't. Just...a reflection.* "Spike?"

"Best get showered, pet. Don't want to be late my last night." Spike voice was a little wavery but he twisted and got a kiss on Xander's nose - slid out from under him and climbed off the bed. While Spike did that so-familiar full-body stretch, Xander sat up and winced a little, and got slowly to his feet. "Sore, Xan?"

"A little. Not too much, though. Ummm...can I take a shower with you?" Spike laughed - held his hand out and pulled Xander to his feet.

"Counting on it, pet." He started to pull Xander to the bathroom and Xander admired the bunch and flex of his buttocks - the lean line of thigh and back, now unmarred by any marks, courtesy of the blood in the fridge. Xander reached out and ran his hand down Spike's ribs - curled his fingers around the hip-bone that rose there, jut of bone and muscle.

"Do you think we can...uh...?" Spike turned around, walking backwards into the door and shoving it open with a kick of his foot. He was grinning, his tongue caught for a moment between his teeth.

"Counting on that too, pet," he purred, and Xander grinned.

The name of the club was 'El Séptimo Sello' - The Seventh Seal - and the biblical connotations gave Xander the creeps. It was a huge old building, done in a very 'colonial Spanish' style, and lit up like a Las Vegas strip-joint. Spike strode in through the front door like a rock star, and Xander felt conspicuous and grubby and much, much too young. Spike had loaned him a dark red silk shirt and put a little liner under his eyes - told him he looked good enough to eat and then, half a block from the club had kissed him for five heart-pounding minutes up against a wall. Full-body grind and those fucking hands and Xander could feel every inch of his skin tingling. He was painfully hard and as they walked through rooms that were decorated in plush fabrics and leather and throbbing with music, a number of the vampires turned and stared - shifted to their demon aspects and sniffed after him. Spike just took his hand, snarling, and led him upstairs to what was obviously a 'behind the scenes' area. A small room with racks of clothes and a table full of makeup and other things.

"You were 'bout to get pounced, love, the way you look. The way you...mmmm....smell..." Spike nuzzled into the crook of Xander's neck and Xander felt his knees wobble. Fear, from their walk through the club but mostly desire. Spike had turned something on in him. Or that's what it felt like. Because just the look in those heavy-lidded eyes - just a touch - a purring word in that fucking voice that was like honey and opium... And Xander was lost - gone - so lust-drunk it was like being thirteen all over again and jacking off three times a day - going through school a walking hard-on and here he was right back there. Spike's fingers on the small of his back, Spike's tongue just touching his skin, butterfly-kiss, so, so good.

"Oh...god..." Xander slid his hands around Spike's waist, pulling him close and Spike's hands came up to sink into his hair and hold him - tilt his head and kiss him and Xander just leaned there, hardly able to breathe and so turned on he couldn't think.

"You taste so good," Spike murmured, and then he was pulling away - backing away and shrugging out of his coat. "You can sit down, if you like," he said, nodding, and Xander turned and saw the couch along the opposite wall. He walked stiff-legged to it and sat down gingerly on the edge, watching Spike. The vampire hung his coat up and then stripped, making Xander's heart pound. With a sly look over his shoulder, Spike bent over and began to slowly work on a pair of thin leather pants. By the time they were halfway up his thighs Xander thought he might faint.

"Jesus, Spike - what the fuck?"

"Just keeping you entertained, pet," Spike grinned, and Xander collapsed backwards with a groan.

"I'm so 'entertained' I'm about to...embarrass myself."

"That so?" Spike shimmied the pants the rest of the way up and then slipped on a blood-red shirt that was as thin as cobwebs. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and left the front of it open and turned around, sauntering to the table. The pants were open, and he was hard, and Xander watched the sway of his cock, framed by black leather, and felt his fingers sink into the couch cushion.

*Oh my...god. Fuck, he looks...*

Five minutes later Spike turned to face him and Xander couldn't help it, he moaned. But Jesus. Spike had put black eyeliner on - heavy and dark, like a Goth kid. And maybe lipstick, because his lips looked so blood-red - darker than usual. Ladders of silver bracelets up his wrists, rings on every finger. Even a necklace - heavy silver choker of chains and dangling stones that looked like diamonds but were probably just glass. And he looked...unearthly. Not human - better than human. The liner and the shirt made the pallor of his skin even more pronounced and as Xander watched Spike casually ran a little sponge over his chest and throat, leaving behind a faint shimmer of silver.

"Fuck..." Xander whispered, and Spike rose out of the chair with a twist of his body - prowled across the room and Xander couldn't help but stare at him - stare at his bone-white chest between the wings of the shirt, and at this cock, flushed and damp at the tip, jutting up hard and thick from the open pants.

"This is what they want, pet. Whore. Toy. This is what they get. You want some, too?" Spike's voice was a purr; his eyes were huge and so very blue; brimming with some emotion that Xander couldn't interpret. Spike dropped gracefully to his knees, his hands on Xander's thighs, kneading lightly. Stroking towards his groin and Xander wanted to grab Spike's head and drag it down into his lap. *But...can't...oh, god...*

"Spike...I just..." Xander gasped, hips twitching upward, as Spike ran his fingertips over the bulge of flesh under Xander's zipper. "D-don't, okay? This....I'm...not p-paying, I'm..." Spike froze, his face going utterly blank and Xander felt like his heart had stopped. Pain in his chest, and he wanted to scream. "I just want you like...like in bed this afternoon, okay? Just...us. Okay? Please? Don't be mad..." Almost a whisper and Spike just looked at him. And then he smiled - god, smiled like he'd only done once or twice before and leaned forward and kissed Xander. Sweet, slow kiss - a kiss that said he wasn't mad, and that said he wasn't going to be. Xander gave in to it eagerly - easily - because with his eyes closed it was their house, and not this fucked up club full of fucked up people who liked to hurt other people. Who liked to see blood and pain and - *Spike's blood, Spike's pain...oh FUCK.* Xander pulled back, finding his hands all unexpectedly in the hair that Spike had left soft and tousled and free of product.

"Can't we just go home? I mean...can't you just...be done?" Spike's hands tightened on Xander's thighs for one moment and then he smiled again, and leaned back in and kissed Xander lightly on his cheek.

"No, pet. Last night. Got some kind of...party. Something. Big chunk of money and it'll pay off everything." Spike rubbed his hands up and down Xander's thighs, slowly, and Xander let his fingers slip through the silken hair again and again. "Just one more time, and then I'm done, and then we're out of this place, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Xander sighed and pulled Spike close again for one more kiss, then watched as he rose and smoothly did up the fly of the pants. They rode low on his hips - low enough to show the merest swell of the tip of his still-erect cock at the waist and Xander had to catch his breath and look away, because Spike was so... *Fucking sexy. God. No wonder. But this is it, no more after this and then...back to Sunnydale and... What the hell am I gonna DO there?*

"Listen, Xan - after tonight, before we leave... They're gonna do it. Turn this fucking chip off." Spike was staring at him, nervously fiddling with one of the rings and Xander pushed himself to his feet and walked over to him. Used one finger to tidy Spike's liner, flashing back to Willow and Buffy and 'Bronzing' - feeling that hurt in his chest again.

"You were smudged," he explained. He wound his arms around Spike's waist and leaned into him. "I'm... I've gotten used to the idea, you know? It's okay. Do I - I mean, is there anything I'm gonna have to do?"

"Nah. I'll be....a little out of it, I guess. Oliverios - he's the owner - he's gonna have a car for us to get home in." Small grimace at that, because there was no love lost between Spike and the owner of the club. "Just don't invite him in, yeah? Don't invite anybody in."

"Sure." Xander raised a small smile and Spike smiled back - ran a hand back through his hair.

"I'm going up now. There's a place for you to wait - got a TV and stuff... I'll be a while. Okay?"

"Sure. Okay." Xander didn't feel okay, but he wanted this night over, and he followed a barefoot Spike out and down a corridor - up in a small elevator to a quieter, even more opulent floor. Spike ushered him into a small living room type of room with curtains all along one wall and a huge, flat-screen TV in one corner, a full bar in another. Squashy couches and chairs were scattered around, and the room looked comfortable and cozy. It creeped Xander out.

"Okay?" Spike asked, hovering in the doorway and Xander nodded reluctantly.

"Yeah, okay." Spike grinned and then he was gone, and Xander sighed. He went over to the bar and got a soda and then sprawled down on a couch. There was a remote on the small coffee table and he clicked the TV on. Die Hard was playing, dubbed in Spanish and Xander amused himself for a while by seeing how much of the mostly-forgotten - and forgettable - dialogue he could glean from the rapidly spoken words. He was actually surprised at his own fluency, and when the movie was over he waited with something like anticipation for the next thing to come on.

"Enjoying yourself, cachorro?" Xander jumped, twisting around on the couch to see a tall, elegantly dressed man coming into the room.

*Cachorro? Cachorro...puppy? Fuck him.* "I'm - fine, thanks." Xander stood up slowly, uneasy. The man was pale, with very black hair and a sleek mustache. His dove-grey suit looked expensive and fitted him perfectly, and he had a heavy gold and diamond ring on his right thumb. His eyes were eerie - a sort of pale green - and Xander found himself taking a step back before he stopped himself, clenching hit teeth. *I'm here with Spike. They KNOW. Nobody's gonna mess with me.* The thought didn't make his heart stop pounding, though.

"Spike has been...very closed-mouth about you. I can see why." The man spoke with a pronounced Spanish accent, and his weird eyes slid over Xander like oil, assessing and greedy. "I'm Oliverios, the owner of El Séptimo Sello. And you are...?"

"Just a friend. You know," Xander said, and then stopped himself. *No damn babble. Not now!* If he knew anything about Spike, he knew he didn't like his private stuff talked about with strangers - or people he didn't like. And Spike really didn't like Oliverios. And Xander really didn't like being in the same room as a vampire older than Angelus.

"Oh, friend? I know what you are, cachorro. It's all over you. You're here to...watch the show?"

Xander glanced, puzzled, at the TV and Oliverios laughed. "No, cachorro, not the TV. The show. The Spike show."

"What?" Xander said, but he felt a horrible twist of fear go through him, making his stomach drop - making him blanch. Oliverios laughed again, low and soft and fucking creepy and Xander flinched away when he came around the couch and brushed past. *Too damn close! God - wanna get out of here. Spike show - what the FUCK?*

Oliverios went over to one of the heavily draped windows and twitched the curtains back, revealing a window. Xander stared for a moment, because what he was seeing really wasn't making any sense. There were eight or ten people in the room beyond, dressed in bits of black, for the most part - leather and silk, he guessed, and what looked like vinyl - very shiny. Expensive, kinky-looking clothes that showed off as much as they covered. A white room, with...red, spattered over it. And a body hanging by its wrists, tattered red silk around the shoulders, tattered black at the ankles. Male body, striped with red - with purple-blue bruises... Spike.

"Oh god -" Xander's hands went up, unconscious motion, and met cold glass and he stared, swallowing and swallowing, trying not to be sick. Not to be sick in front of Oliverios, that fucking bastard, who just stood there, small and nasty smile on his face.

"Oh, perhaps you did not want to see this show," the vampire purred, and Xander closed his eyes, breathing, breathing. Opened them again. One of the black-clad figures - a woman - reached out with a metal and leather gloved hand and did - something - and Spike's head came up sharply, his mouth open in shock and pain. Demon-faced, agonized and screaming, but there was no sound. Oliverios seemed to read his mind. "Shall I turn on the speakers, cachorro?" he asked. Xander saw his finger going toward a sleek, silver panel set flush into the wall and he knew - knew - he'd lose it if he could hear Spike. Knew he'd do something...really stupid.

"No!" he gasped out, and Oliverios chuckled silkily. And Xander felt rage rise up in him - hot and pounding and sharp as a razor. He turned slowly and took two steps - stopped about a foot from the vampire and stared at him. "You know Angelus? He came to our town. Tried to fuck us over. Know what happened to him?" Oliverios was staring at him, eyes narrowed, very, very still. Frozen, even. "We sent him to hell. Now get the fuck away from me." Xander wanted to hit him - make him bleed - but knew he'd gone as far as he could. The vampire hissed at him, morphing to game face and then back. And then without a word he twitched away and stalked out of the room, back ramrod straight, quivering with fury.

*Fuck, Spike, I'm sorry but... Oh god, god...* Xander turned and caught sight of Spike again and his hands reached for the curtain - hesitated, and fell back. *Can't pretend this isn't happening. Can't pretend it's not HIM. This is what he did...for us. For months. For fucking MONEY. Because of us, because of the Initiative, this is what he did...* Shaking, feeling so sick he wanted to lay down, Xander stood there and watched. *Watch this. REMEMBER this. Don't ever, ever forget. Ever.*

And thank you,

reremouse for the once-over and the Spanish help, and

elcazavampiros for the other Spanish!

Tags:

runaway2,
spander

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