Kept

 

Author: NA14

Fandom: Buffy

Pairing(s): Spike/Xander Xander/Angerl Spike/Xander/FOC

Warnings: Spike is a whore, torture/extreme violence, angst, D/s, past rape mentioned & touches on Incest. 3some m/m/f

Spoilers: N/A - AU

Summary: In a world where vampires can be only whores and gladiators, Xander, a simple gardener, falls in love with Spike, a courtesan. Written in 1st person.

AN: Kept uses a variety of poetic devices. It is not meant to resemble 'normal' text. These are deliberate and used very specifically as a play of language.

 

Nominated Category:

Best Hurt/Comfort Fic

---

Prequel 1 - Quartz Prequel 2 - Candle for Quan Yin Chapter 1 Chapter 2 - The Broken Cup Chapter 3 - Labyrinth Chapter 4 - Secret Garden Interlude - what a courtesan should never do Chapter 5 - Real Love Interlude - The Crushed Lotus Blossom Keptverse ficlet - Robin's Folly White Crane

 

Prequel 1 - Quartz

 

"Real... uh... good with my hands." The boy, Xander Harris, said.

 

"Are you now?" My voice is a silken tease.

 

Soooo easy.

 

He flushes, uncertain of himself.

 

I reach for the book on the Gardens of Versailles and pass it to him through the curtains that separate us. I can see him trying to peer through the veils to see me.

 

"I'd like a fancy garden here, topiaries and such. D'you know the gardens at Villa d'Este at Tivoli?"

 

I know he won't have heard of them.

 

Look at him. Smells like baked bread and fresh apples!

 

Virgin boy. He sleeps with a girl. Can smell her on his skin.

 

Bathes with ivory soap.

 

Beautiful brown eyes in an unfinished sort of a face.

 

"No, I don't." He looks at me as frankly as he can through my protective canopy.

 

"Then how you going to make my garden with the fancies?" I'm not sure why I feel the need to stick a knife in this innocent. But... probably he's like all the rest.

 

If I were helpless under your hands; you'd hurt me, wouldn't you? Plow right into me because I'm not human. I'm nothing.

 

"I guess I'd have to do some reading. Talk it over with you. I've worked with a lot of blue prints in the construction industry, but I'm not an engineer. I'm just... handy."

 

"Right. Why do you want to work for a vampire?" Now we'll see if he can lie. They always do, the dregs that come and ask about the job, and I can smell their lust rising like a cloud of vapor.

 

They all think I belong on my knees.

 

"I don't. I just need work," he said.

 

Interesting.

 

He's the first not to lie about that.

 

"What do you think about what I do?"

 

~~~

 

"I don't like to think about it."

 

Again, so honest!

 

I sit up because even with my enhanced vision I can't see him too well and now I want to.

 

"You don't like to think of me lying under other men?" I ask.

 

"Uhhh. Okay... the short answer is 'No!' And the long one is: hello, in love with yourself much?"

 

Laughter rises like a bubble inside me, but I crush it by reflex.

 

He is beet-red now with annoyance and a sort of resignation comes into his eyes.

 

He thinks he's blown it.

 

Mouthy Little Boy.

 

"I don't even know what you look like and I don't like to think about that kind of thing."

 

"You don't think about sex?" I can't resist.

 

"Okay, look, I know you are screwing with me so I'll just leave you to the Howard Hughes' trip and--"

 

"I didn't say you could leave." I stand up and move closer to the clouds of thin gauze.

 

He shrugs, looking frustrated, pissed off, and a little helpless.

 

Must need the work, sweet boy, hmmmm?

 

"Come closer," I lure him with my voice, trained to compel and control while it seems only to invite.

 

A good whore is never helpless. You lead the dance. Unless...

 

Don't think about that!

 

He hesitates, then stalks nearer, obviously wanting to prove he doesn't find me the Big Bad.

 

Boy has courage.

 

When he hesitates in front of my web; I reach out, and snag him like the pale spider I am.

 

One deep whiff, and then I free him.

 

"What the fuck!"

 

"I had to know. You weren't there. You weren't... one of them."

 

"One of who?" He looks really pissed.

 

Probably he won't take the job now.

 

Just as well.

 

He makes me feel something. Best I don't feel it.

 

"I advertised for a groundskeeper and human bodyguard."

 

I don't want to spell it out.

 

Say that word.

 

As a courtesan, I've been tied up and enjoyed as a party favor at a banquet a few times.

 

How's what they did to me different, then?

 

I keep asking myself that.

 

"Yeah... I'm not sure about the bodyguard stuff. I mean, you're a vampire."

 

I am staring right into those soft brown eyes through the gauze now.

 

Sweet chocolate.

 

"I was raped." I say like it's a dried up fact.

 

Like it... can't hurt me now...

 

He pauses, looking shocked.

 

Now it comes, any minute he'll say:

 

How can you rape a whore?

 

Got what you had coming...

 

Don't have a soul...

 

You're...

 

...NOTHING.

 

"...I'm sorry."

 

He starts down the path and he's almost at my gate when I fling open the drapes.

 

"Wait!"

 

He glances back, a little wary.

 

"What." I have to swallow. "What did you say to me?"

 

He frowns, standing there with hands on hips, wearing cut offs, long shaggy hair, and a confused expression in his brown eyes.

 

"Said 'I'm sorry.' Look: you aren't gonna hire me so I'll just--"

 

"You're hired."

 

"What?" Now he returns, and I back away, and pull the protective curtains closed--

 

His hand meets mine. Stops me.

 

"I want to know why you'd want to hire me?" He demands.

 

This one wants to see inside your heart, even when it's dead.

 

It's too late.

 

He sees what I was trying to hide.

 

"I... didn't realize it just happened," he says.

 

"It didn't," I say, looking away from those frank eyes and what they see.

 

Cut mouth, bruises, swollen eyes...

 

~~~

 

"When do you--" He clears his throat, and looks away. He looks away, and I can bear to look at him again--clean smelling and fresh, where I'm despoiled and marked. "Want me to start?"

 

"Tomorrow morning," I say crisply, as if there is nothing wrong.

 

"Okay. I did walk around your gardens before... It's... nice here."

 

"I use the crop to pay for the land," I tell him.

 

"Good idea." He glances up at my black eyes, which I know look stark against my pale skin, then his gaze drops. "See you tomorrow, then."

 

I swallow.

 

"Right."

 

"Good."

 

He's almost at the gate when he hesitates and then runs back to me.

 

"Found this in your stream. River rock." He hands me... a rock?

 

I take it.

 

"See how it's all black? That's obsidian, but there's a pattern--like a flower, and that's raw quartz. If you put it under water, it sparkles in sunlight."

 

I look up, confused. Why is the boy giving me a rock from my own property?

 

"Quartz is like the... silver lining, see. Like... things get to be okay again sometime, you know? That's what that rock says."

 

 

---

 

Prequel 2 - Candle for Quan Yin

 

"Hey, Willow Tree."

 

"Xan!"

 

Somehow he'd forgotten what she felt like in his arms; so tiny, with bright red hair and those long, pale arms. Her eyes, however, didn't sparkle the way they used to; not since her arranged marriage.

 

He swallowed a lump in his throat, then realized that he was getting sweat and mud all over her pretty dress. He pulled away, pushing his long hair behind his ears, shyly. He saw Willow twisting her hands, and he reached out and took one of them.

 

They held hands.

 

It was a moment so sweet that Xan thought he might cry. He was such a fucking dork.

 

Xander saw his Willow was biting her lip.

 

"So... you're working for a famous courtesan now!" Willow's eyes sparkled with the same suppressed tears that Xan could feel in his own.

 

"Yeah." Xander looked over at the tea patio and saw the swish of a brightly colored kimono. Spike. He must have been watching them, but he'd retreated to give them privacy.

 

"What's that like?" Willow's voice was hushed, her eyes wide. She wanted details. Juicy, sexy details.

 

Xan scratched his bare chest, looking at his cutoffs and wondering what to say to her. She was the first person, other than his fiancee Anya, to know he'd taken this job as a gardener/bodyguard to a vampire courtesan.

 

"I couldn't get a job in construction. My back..." Xander shrugged.

 

"Why did he hire you as a bodyguard? I mean, his job is to... well, you know. And I've heard he's very good at it."

 

Xan's jaw bunched, and he felt the rise of fury that always accompanied his memories of how Spike had hired him, how he'd hidden behind a curtain because he didn't want his human employee to see the bruises all over his face.

 

"Willow... Okay, I'm gonna say this once: he was... roughed up. Raped. So he hired me. Can we talk about something else?"

 

Willow knew him so well now; she saw his upset. "I'm sorry."

 

Xan nodded and looked up at the tea patio. Had Spike heard Willow's words? He didn't know why--it was stupid--but the idea that Spike might have heard and had his pride hurt bothered Xan. He hardly hung out with his employer, and found the vampire's lifestyle freaky, but... Well, fuck. He just didn't like the thought of Spike hurting anymore.

 

"So you and Anya... You're okay?"

 

Xander nodded, even though they weren't; what could he say to Willow? He hadn't seen her in years; her husband didn't like her having any male friends.

 

"Xan... I've left my husband!" Willow broke into tears, and Xander took her in his arms. "My friends and family all say I'm making a terrible mistake!"

 

Xander shook his head. He cupped her cheek. "What took you so long, sweetie?"

 

And then she was cuddled against sun warmed brown skin. Her head fitting into the niche he'd saved for his friend for all the years she'd had to stay away.

 

~~~

 

What did he do with a soggy Willow?

 

Xan wasn't sure he could have coped for much longer, but relief came in the form of an unexpected intervention. Just after Willow had quieted, Spike had summoned them both to his glass atrium for tea.

 

Spike smiled as Willow looked around with huge eyes; it was obvious that he knew she was wondering about what went on in his room. "I entertain here," he said.

 

"Ohhhh!" Willow looked at the pillows, the fragrant cedar burning incense, the flowers floating in bowls of water, the tea set up on a low table, presented in a black iron pot surrounded by celadon tea bowls. Spike had plucked an early water lily from its home and, as Willow sat down, he took it and placed it in a small vase in front of her tea bowl. "Welcome, Willow," he said, very seriously.

 

She looked at him at last, shyly, taking in the gorgeous peach peonies on his kimono, his skin as pale as pearls, the graceful hands; she was taken in by the blue eyes, full of tenderness, as though he'd discovered a small bird stuck up a chimney and was trying to help it find its way.

 

Willow's mouth turned up at the corners, and Xander noticed how immediately enchanted by Spike she was; he felt himself relaxing a little. It had hurt so much to see her after their painful estrangement, but now Spike was deftly offering them some respite.

 

"Taste the tea, pet. It's scented with rosemary and chocolate."

 

"Really?"

 

Xan found himself also very reluctantly enchanted; it would have been difficult not to be, because Will was smiling, relaxing.

 

He swallowed, knowing that soon he'd have to talk to her about painful things. A woman couldn't just up and leave her husband; it wasn't that easy.

 

Willow sipped, closing her eyes to purr over the tea. After that, Spike teased her into letting him read her palm. "I don't believe in this stuff--" she told him, laughing.

 

Willow offered her palm; Spike's face was sober as he examined it.

 

"You have a secret," Spike said after lightly drawing a finger over Willow's lifeline. He looked up and met Xander's dark gaze, full of worry and love for his friend. "But Xander and I will help you, pet. Never fear."

 

~~~

 

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Willow sobbed into her hand. Xander felt his heart breaking. He felt helpless.

 

Spike reached over and cupped her face in his slender white hands. "Tell us, pet. We will help you."

 

"It's my fault he found out that I was seeing her," Willow continued in a whisper. "We hadn't done anything, I swear! I was going to run away with Tara, but he found out, and now they've taken her..."

 

"Tara?" Xander was startled. His Willow and another woman? It was illegal. Women who loved other women were sent to the mining camps by the Initiative. A woman's place was with her family, or with a husband, producing heirs; she could support herself and live alone, but even that was frowned upon. "Oh, God, Willow--"

 

"Never mind that now--if she's a woman, I know who will be in charge of her. They didn't take you because your husband is an important man, Willow." Spike bit his lip and stood, striding around the room more like a warrior than a delicate courtesan.

 

"How could you fall in love with another woman, Will!" Xander couldn't help himself; obviously frightened for his friend.

 

"Xander!" Spike spoke sharply. "Not helping."

 

"But--"

 

Spike crossed to where Xander was standing, staring unblinkingly ahead with tears in his eyes, his calloused gardener's hands balled into fists.

 

He reached out with one pampered, cool hand and cupped the boy's face, watching as those chocolate eyes widened at the intimate touch. He had to force himself to pull his hand away. It was shaking.

 

Xander didn't know that Willow wasn't the only one drawn to someone forbidden...

 

"I can help her," Spike said simply.

 

~~~

 

Xander returned later to the sight of Spike creaming his smooth legs, his kimono primly folded onto his upper thighs.

 

He swallowed, feeling instantly uncomfortable.

 

"Willow's resting then?"

 

Xander nodded. "I should go home and spend some time with Anya."

 

"Yes, of course you should." Spike's hands paused for a moment, then resumed.

 

Xander took a deep breath. "I'm afraid for Willow, Spike."

 

Spike looked up at Xander, and Xander felt himself flush at the tenderness in those blue eyes.

 

"I know you are, but I'll help her. Already got it in motion."

 

"Yeah? How?" Xander wanted to ask the vampire to stop caressing his skin like that. It was distracting.

 

"Can you come back a little later, Xander?" Spike asked, ignoring the question.

 

Xander sighed, running a hand through the long hair that hit the middle of his back. "Okay, but Willow--"

 

"It will be alright, pet. You'll see."

 

Xander nodded, trying to ignore the way his stomach tightened when the pretty vampire called him pet.

 

~~~

 

"You want me to tie you up?" Xander squeaked.

 

"Well, I can't exactly tie myself up, now can I?"

 

"Spike..." Xander didn't know what to say. He was holding a yellow scarf, and trying not to look at Spike. Who was naked. Wearing something on his lips that made them look cherry red and yet soft, so it looked natural. Spike's eyes were lined in kohl, and he wore nothing else but rose quartz nipple rings and anklets with little coins.

 

"Lindsey has a thing for bondage. I give him a toss, and he frees Willow's little friend. Then we send them off somewhere to read all about Sappho without worrying they'll wind up in jail for it."

 

"Sappho?" Xander looked blank.

 

Spike smiled. "Come to me now again, release me from this pain." Spike moved closer to Xander, so close that Xander almost took a step back; locked in the moment, he felt as if he were being stalked by this alluring and frightening creature, so unlike anyone he'd ever met in his life. "Everything my spirit longs to have fulfilled," Spike continued in a whisper, his eyes holding Xander's captive. "Fulfill. That is Sappho, pet."

 

"Yeah, okay." Whoa, Xander thought. He had to wipe his hands on his cutoffs. "This Lindsey won't... hurt you, right?"

 

Spike's smile softened its predatory edge into something that made Xander's insides feel soft. "He's an 'in and out' job. Bit like milking a cow. But..." Now Spike lost his smile. "I haven't done any bondage for a while."

 

Xander recognized what Spike left unsaid, that he hadn't done this since before his rape; Xander felt his chest tighten at the revelation. "Are you sure?" he asked Spike softly.

 

"Just help me get ready for him and then... Look, I know what I do makes you uncomfortable, but... will you stay outside? Just so I know you're there?" Spike's voice was a low and broken thing.

 

"There has to be another way!"

 

"There isn't. Let me do my job and help you... I mean, your friend Willow."

 

Xander took a deep breath, then sucked it up. "Okay. Tell me what I can do to help you," he said.

 

~~~

 

The ankles he tied to both corners of the four poster bed were slender and cool under Xander's hands. He looked at Spike, lying on his back, his eyelashes quivering against his cheeks.

 

"Fuck," Spike said.

 

"What? What did I do wrong? I'm not... you know, a bondage expert here!" Xander said crossly.

 

Spike raised a brow coolly, which made Xander flush. "Sorry. I guess I'm nervous," Xander finished.

 

Spike's eyes warmed to amusement, and Xander realized that he wasn't the one about to be used by another man. So why was he nervous? But then again, Xander was finding the touching of soft pale flesh, and his attempts at avoiding the steady gaze of blue eyes, difficult to endure.

 

"Nothing."

 

"It's not nothing. What's wrong?"

 

"Forgot to lube myself up, is all."

 

"Oh."

 

......

 

"Well... you'll stay close, then?"

 

Xander stared into blue eyes and saw again that elusive trace of vulnerability.

 

"Where do you keep it?"

 

"Xander..."

 

"Look, I don't want you... uncomfortable. I'll just pretend I'm oiling the lawnmower." Xander said.

 

Spike laughed, but Xander saw gratitude in the vampire's face. "I'm a great believer in tradition; you'll find it in the bedside drawer."

 

Xander got it and tried to tell himself it was just like oiling a creaky door hinge. He took a generous amount on his fingers and met Spike's gaze as he awkwardly put it where Spike needed it.

 

He was sweating, and his fingers were shaking, when he finished.

 

Turns out it wasn't like oiling a door hinge at all.

 

He was penetrating Spike, while Spike held his gaze, and Spike's soft sex grew hard and flexed against his belly.

 

"I didn't hurt you?" Xander put away the lube, wishing he was in his garden, pulling up peonies and iris clumps and dividing them with a sharp knife, basically anywhere but here.

 

"No, it felt good." Spike was smiling again.

 

~~~

 

Xander hid behind some curtains, but stayed in the same room. This way, he could see Spike's face, but not... the action.

 

"You could just stay outside. I'll call for you when he's finished with me," Spike said softly. "I don't want you to... think less of me than you do already. And Lindsey likes to make me feel small."

 

Xander swallowed. "I'll stay here with you, Spike. I'm not leaving you alone."

 

~~~

 

Xander held Spike's eyes as he saw the pale body bow and give as he took the sex of the other man. Saw the red lips part, the eyelids flicker.

 

He heard the slap of sex and the groan of pleasure from Spike's customer.

 

Through the curtain he could see the hazy outline of one body on top of another.

 

He wanted to look away, but he couldn't, because Spike's eyes opened and he saw him panting a little. Spike held Xander's wide eyes all the time he was with the other man; as if it was Xander he was picturing inside him...

 

Xander covered his mouth and wondered how he could be feeling the things he was feeling and be engaged to marry Anya.

 

~~~

 

Spike and Xan took Willow to Tara.

 

Tara was being kept in a small cell with a little window, barred to let in only a tiny square of light and freedom. Her eyes were red with crying, but she was composed and her chin was up when they first entered the cell.

 

Then, when she saw Willow, her lips trembled a moment before the two women embraced, their hands clasped and forming a circle of two.

 

~~~

 

"Giles said this is a good place. You could open a restaurant; Tara can sell her paintings. It's a fresh start, and because it's in the Bad Lands, no one much cares if the two of you are lovers," Xander told Willow later. He passed her the deed to a house Spike had purchased for the two women to help them get started.

 

"Will you come eat in my restaurant?" Willow asked. Her eyes were full of this new pain of separation, since she knew it was unlikely she'd ever see her Xander again.

 

"God, I hope so, Will." Xander took her awkwardly in his arms. "I'm sorry for what I said. About Tara, I mean."

 

"You were worried about me; I get that," Willow said.

 

"I'm still worried about you, but I bought you this." Xander handed Willow a wrapped gift.

 

Willow opened it and laughed when she saw it was a book of Sappho's collected works.

 

"I tried to find Sappho at the comic store, but turns out they haven't done one yet."

 

"I love you, Alexander Harris. I hope you and Anya have a very happy marriage," Willow told him, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

 

"Yeah, thanks." Xander held her hand until at last, she had to go, and her fingers were parted from his.

 

~~~

 

Xander brought fresh flowers to Spike's atrium for the vampire to arrange later that evening.

 

"So the girls are off," Spike said.

 

"Yeah. You think they'll be safe?"

 

"I asked someone to keep an eye on them."

 

"I can never repay you, Spike, for what you did for Willow and Tara."

 

Spike moved gracefully to the altar he kept for Quan Yin, goddess of mercy. He took some time choosing which flowers to place around her feet before he lit candles under her sad and serene gaze. "You don't owe me a thing, pet."

 

"How can you say that?"

 

For answer, Spike opened the frogs at his throat, revealing the pendant he was wearing: a plain river rock with a band of quartz running through it.

 

Xander flashed back the fresh bruises on Spike's face the day Spike had hired him. He remembered handing him that bit of quartz, and he remembered what he'd said to Spike as he'd done so: "Quartz is like the silver lining. Like... Things get to be okay again sometime, you know? That's what that rock says."

 

The moment held between them, brown eyes locked with blue ones.

 

"I have to go home to Anya now. Promised her I'd take her to a movie," Xander said.

 

Spike nodded.

 

"I gave you a rock, and I'm glad it made you feel better." Xander cleared his throat, standing up and walking to the door to the garden, where he paused for a moment, and looked back over his shoulder at the vampire. "I want you to know I don't look down on you because of what you do, Spike. See... now that I've worked for you a while, I've seen how you are with people, the way you help them. You light a candle for a lot of people. Make things... better."

 

Xander walked out into the garden then, found his tee shirt, pulled it over his chest, and hefted his knap sack. He looked back at Spike's atrium, glowing with warm candle light.

 

"Good night," he whispered softly, before heading home to Anya.

 

 

---

 

Chapter 1

 

I'm out weeding the tulips.

 

From inside I hear William, or Spike as he's known in the "profession," laughing as he entertains his latest. It is some old man. Think he's on city council. Man, I couldn't laugh and let that guy do me. But Spike doesn't seem to care about rolls of fat or the sex or age of his clients. He really seems to get into his work.

 

I'd much rather be working construction, you understand.

 

But I got hurt. My back. And I have a fiancée to support.

 

So I took this job in the city.

 

Pay is good even if it means I have to work for a vamp.

 

I pull away some of the wet, yellowed leaves and hear a slap from inside. Stand up because one of my jobs is to make sure Spike's clients don't take it too far unless Spike consents.

 

Spike is perched as delicately as a cat over the old guy's knees, his open ass raised.

 

He's letting the old man spank him.

 

I stare for a minute, 'cause I've only worked here a while and this is my first guy-on-guy spanking.

 

Spike turns his head lazily and sees my wide eyes and gives me a saucy wink.

 

I turn away, flushing.

 

"That's it, love. Hit me harder. Get the bad boy on his balls."

 

I stand there like a total fuckwad. Sweating, Listening...

 

Then, I decide it might be better to go weed somewhere a little further off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later, I'm working on fixing some loose paving stones. It's hot, so I took off my shirt. I like the feel of the open air on my body.

 

Spike comes out wearing a flowered kimono and sipping his black market human blood. He looks satisfied.

 

"Leo likes it when someone watches, so I thought maybe next time--"

 

"NO!"

 

Spike leans back under his protective awning and laughs softly.

 

I realize he was having one on me. I stand up and study him.

 

He's delicate. He creams his body a few times a day, bathes in rose oil in the tub here in the garden. He has servants who pamper his body and keep him looking and smelling like a pretty girl.

 

In contrast, I'm sweaty and crude, but I wouldn't trade my life breaking my back for laying on it, that's for sure.

 

"So what did you do with pretty Anya on your day off, then?" Spike asks.

 

I stiffen a little. Spike is always asking about her, and she's always asking about him. It's weird, considering the way I don't always get on with my employer, but Anya actually seems a little jealous of him sometimes.

 

"Saw a movie. Went for a walk."

 

"Xander, you know you can always talk to me if you and she... if things aren't what they could be, right?" Spike takes a sip and gives me this gentle look.

 

How the fuck?

 

"I work for you, okay?" I say as I tower over him, a barbarian to his disheveled perfection. "But my personal life is personal: unlike yours." I can't help myself from the last even though it's petty and mean.

 

I know it.

 

He looks down at his cup. "Right. Here if you ever need--"

 

"I don't need advice from a whore!"

 

My voice sounds so loud in this pretty sanctuary of his garden. Without a word, Spike gets up and--

 

"I'm... I'm not any good at it anymore. Okay? Happy?"

 

He turns around and looks at me. He's as pale and perfect as a pearl.

 

"Come sit down and I'll make you some herb tea," he offers.

 

Spike was trained at the highest school for courtesans there is. Part of it is this tea deal he does for some of his clients, but he's never offered to do it for me.

 

Only, I feel like an asshole.

 

We like to dig at each other but, I try not to express how I really feel about what he does. It's not like he has a lot of choice. A vampire must be owned by a human protector. It's the law. They are soulless. They are property. The only profession they may enter into freely is to be a "kept" lover or whore or a gladiator for the games.

 

Spike... likes his freedom. So, instead of taking one lover, he maintains a small business. He's actually pretty good at it. Anyway, his accountant, Giles, seems happy with the profit he turns.

 

Spike makes my tea. His movements are graceful and I feel myself relax as I watch his pale hands handle the celadon cups. Something about the way he caresses all the different textures as he goes about his task makes my throat feel dry.

 

Guess it's the hot day. Guess the tea will be okay though I'd prefer beer and hanging with my bud Larry.

 

"I never asked: why 'Spike?'" I say when he hands me this bowl thing. I hold it awkwardly. Doesn't he have any mugs?

 

"Here, pet." He puts down his own tea and takes mine and then he opens up my palm before replacing the steaming tea. "Breathe it in first. It's scented with wild cherry. Sweet on the tongue." He smiles and shows me a bit of his tongue.

 

My stomach is all tight. Guess it's sitting here with him like this. Usually he only does it with his clients.

 

"K. Uhhhh. Nice tea."

 

"You hate it." He pouts.

 

"NO! It's... kind of rooty, but I like trying new things."

 

"It's Spike cause of me cock. It's big," he says matter of factly.

 

I have no idea what to say to that!

 

He's looking down at the tea, probably expecting my usual sarcasm. I'm actually lucky he can't afford to be choosy about employees, being a vamp and all, 'cause I don't think too many would deal with my mouthing off so much.

 

"First man who owned me. You know, when I had retired from The Games? He gave me that nick and it sort of stuck."

 

I so can't think of what to say to that. We avoid each other's eyes, and the thin and foreign ice I feel underneath us both.

 

"So, you want to talk about why you think you aren't any good?" Spike asks.

 

Oh, yes! May we, please?

 

I clear my throat.

 

He sips.

 

"She likes a lot of... sex, but with the wedding, I find it so hard to... it's just all she talks about! I can't seem to... I mean, there is nothing wrong with me. I'm healthy. Normal," I blurt, shifting restlessly, and putting down the root drink with relief.

 

He's silent, considering, and oddly his concern for something that has been tearing inside me for weeks unvoiced makes my eyes sting.

 

"You're a right beautiful young man. Sure it's not on you. Weddin' can be stressful."

 

I flush scarlet. I've never been called beautiful, and certainly not by another guy.

 

"Yeah. Look, I should--"

 

"I couldn't... for a while," he says feather soft, and I freeze. "You know why I hired you, right? Was... raped. You'd think it would be nothing to a whore but..."

 

I actually have a hand hovering over his white knuckles holding his tea when I yank it back.

 

What the fuck am I doing?

 

I work for him! And there is just no way I can cross such a barrier.

 

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "I'll keep you safe."

 

Spike smiles, looking a million years old despite his young, alluring face.

 

"It's why I hired you. I knew you wouldn't jump my bum."

 

I laugh, but this is SO not a topic I want to... uh, get into. "I should finish up."

 

"Right, I'm keeping you from your work. You know you are free to use the garden shower afterwards?"

 

I look down to thank him. He's looking at my bare rippled torso. I'm all muddy and my hair is out of it's pony tail. Guess I look rough.

 

"Thanks, I will." I smile, and step off Spike's little pleasure pavilion, and return to my own comfortable and familiar world of moving rock and wood into some kind of order.

 

---

 

Chapter 2 - The Broken Cup

 

There was something odd about Spike's clientele.

 

As my home life began to fall apart, and I worked later and later hours in Spike's gardens, making espaliered patterns for the pear trees which Spike had shown me in a book on the gardens at Versailles, I mulled over it.

 

Take the old man whom was his once-a-week. The guy whom liked to spank Spike.

 

At first it freaked me: Spike letting him do that stuff and seeming to enjoy it. I admit it. I'm pretty open minded but--

 

Fuck. Okay! I'm not.

 

I'm a guy who likes things straight forward. Black and white.

 

Spike... is all these shades of grey.

 

So, the old guy, right.

 

I was working on shaping the boxwood next to the airy glass pleasure pavilion where Spike entertains most of his customers, and I heard weeping.

 

I gripped the sheers in my big fists, and felt my stomach tighten.

 

It wasn't Spike who was crying but that sound, so broken...

 

It made the hair tighten at the back of my neck. It touched on what I was keeping. Locked. Down.

 

My feelings about Anya.

 

Screw it. I'm not going to think about that right now.

 

Then I hear him, Spike, "It's good to let it out, eh? And glad for you and the wife you were able again."

 

"I felt dead. So dead after we heard! My only son! Oh, Spike, I can't thank you enough!"

 

"It's alright. Spike is here if you ever need me, but I understand your wife needs you now. Glad that technique I taught you helped, pet."

 

The sobbing softened until I heard the gentle murmurs of love-making. "Just once more. Love doing this to you!"

 

"My pleasure, pet. You feel... Uhhh, so good!"

 

I start to sweat, picturing it.

 

......

 

Hokay. Time for lunch!

 

But as the hot days of summer pass, I start listening more. Not in a creepy grab-myself-way! I've just never known anyone like Spike before.

 

Hey, I may not be the sharpest blade in the drawer, but I like to watch people. Takes my mind off my upcoming wedding with Anya.

 

Spike's clients are rarely what you'd describe as "attractive." He seems to seek out the unsure and the sad, and even the broken, and all of them need him. The sex, that's one thing and he's... well, even I can see he must be a mind-blowing lay, not that I'd ever--

 

Spike is a healer. He uses sex as a way to get inside his client. They think it's about them getting inside him, but see, I figured it out. Spike somehow twists it around so he is inside them. And he makes them better.

 

Take Robin: Robin is 37, an over-weight waitress with skin that is covered with acne. She is just scraping by, but she saved her tips for months in order to afford one time with Spike.

 

When she first showed up I was tending the patio--all those weeds like to come up through the paving stones--so I'm on my knees outside pulling the weeds up, wearing my cut-offs with my shirt used as a turban around my head, and dripping sweat as usual.

 

I look up and see Spike watching me. I guess I entertain him because he likes me around. Even if we don't exchange many words some days, I often look up from my work and he's standing there in his kimono, watching me work.

 

Anyway, in comes Robin for the first time. She's dressed in this big sack of a thing, her shoulders all hunched. She tosses this huge freaking bag of coins at Spike's feet defensively.

 

"I know there's enough there! I've been saving forever! So now you have to fuck me, because that's the only reason anyone would want to, and I saw you once, you know, buying bread? And I told myself: girl, he's fine-looking even if he is a vampire and so small you'd probably crush him. Also, my friend Lisa knows Alberta and she hired you to dance at Brenda's party. You remember? I wish I could have seen you dance. I hear you've got a really nice big--"

 

"Robin. SIT down," Spike's voice cuts through all Robin's car-crash run on sentences.

 

She sits, her chubby arms folded stiffly over her chest. "I might need help getting back off this thing," She tells Spike as she adjusts the floor pillow.

 

"I'm not going to fuck you," Spike says.

 

Robin's eyes widen as if she's been slapped, and I freeze, feeling like I've taken a punch in the gut in sympathy for the girl.

 

"There's enough here for weeks of visits! So, what I'd like is for you to come see me once a week. Alright?"

 

"But I don't understand?" Her eyes are shiny with tears of shame, nervousness, and a seething resentment which I guess she maybe feels for anyone as pretty as Spike.

 

"I don't "fuck" my clients right off: not my regulars, and you are going to be one of mine. So we'll work up to that. I want to get to know you is all. Don't want to be just a big cock to you. Alright?"

 

Robin's mouth opens and closes before a tear spills. "I'm sure there isn't enough there!"

 

"Don't choose my clients for the quid alone, pet. There now, howabout we share some tea? Then maybe I'll give you a foot massage. You being a waitress I bet you'd like that, eh?"

 

 

"and the thrill of your laugh, which have so stirred the heart

in my own breast, that whenever I catch

sight of you, even if for a moment,

then my voice deserts me

 

and my tongue is struck silent, a delicate fire

suddenly races underneath my skin,

my eyes see nothing, my ears whistle like

the whirling of a top

 

and sweat pours down me and a trembling creeps over

my whole body, I am greener than grass,

at such times, I seem to be no more than

a step away from death;"

 

Okay, so I guess I like poetry.

 

Spike is reading me Sappho as I rake leaves under the spent honey suckle vine. I pause as he reads that line about being a step away from death.

 

"So does that meaning the little death? You know, climax?"

 

"The death of self too, I figure." Spike pulls on his cigarette, and turns the pages. "When you love someone deeply, you let go of all you were and remake yourself into someone whom belongs with and to another."

 

"You... felt like that?"

 

"No, not for a long time."

 

I'm wildly curious about that: who did Spike love? What happened?

 

It's late, but I don't want to go home.

 

Spike pulls out a classic coke, and raises a brow.

 

I grin and take the invite. He doesn't feed me tea-of-root anymore. He always has a cold coke here since I could get hurt with the tools I work with on the job if I have a beer.

 

"I never passed high school," I confess. "Even my friend Willow couldn't help me. Too dumb, I guess." I pour my coke into the celadon bowl 'cause Spike is fastidious and doesn't like the ugly can. He likes to take his tea like a gentleman.

 

"You aren't dumb! You're right quick. Good judge of people," Spike says, still looking at his book, occasionally reading a line softly.

 

"Thanks!" I blush with pleasure. Spike's clients aren't the only people he makes feel better.

 

"Pretty late for you to be here, Xan. And you been staying late all week." He looks up at me and cocks an inquisitive brow.

 

Shit.

 

"We fight. I can't give her what she wants anymore." My eyes are watering. I picture my last day off when she wanted to make love and I couldn't...

 

Oh, fuck.

 

"She's been talking about this guy. Riley." I swallow. "And I guess I'm pretty boring, you know. He's like this army guy. Really cool. Me, I only come here, work with my hands and my back. So when she asks me about my day, I talk about you."

 

Spike sipped his tea, listening.

 

"I mean, uh, I talk about you as my employer."

 

"Of course, maybe if you took off a few days to spend with her?"

 

"NO! I need to work." I need to be here.

 

"Okay, I confess I like havin' you about. You make me feel safe," Spike admits, toying with his own tea.

 

I feel that burn in my throat I do lately: I don't know what happened to him exactly, but I want to ask.

 

"I'm glad. Well, thanks for the coke."

 

"No problem. I was thinking of Byron next if you've a mind to listen."

 

"Sure... Here." I lay my gift down in front of him, feeling stupid. It's a robin's nest. The blue cracked eggs still inside it.

 

"I though the shells are real pretty, and you like nice stuff. But I guess... it's sort of dirty, I'll take it away." I reach for it to toss it, but he stops me.

 

His pale hand covers mine.

 

"Leave it. It is beautiful. The color of new life. I like your gifts. I Like those river rocks you brought me: put them in the fountain so I can see the quartz in them."

 

My hand is strung tight under his. I pull it away, feeling self-conscious. What a fucking clod I am!

 

"Yeah, just stuff. I'll finish up and leave you alone."

 

"Thank you, Xander," he says softly, looking up at me.

 

"No problemo," I say, turning away with my guts twisting.

 

************

 

It was Friday that I was late for work and found Spike testy: "I got a client coming later. Two of them, actually. Two men. Wanted you around." He's smoking.

 

Whoa. That's new. He's usually one-on-one, and his dates with guys are pretty much always regulars.

 

"Yeah, sorry."

 

"Wait, did you get any sleep at all? You look like pure shite."

 

I blink my reddened eyes. "M'okay, alright? Go lie down for your dates!"

 

He stares at me, his eyes hard and brilliant, and I get this sense he only lets me off the hook because I'm such a mess.

 

"I will, and you can be sure I'll enjoy it!"

 

"Fine!"

 

"Right!"

 

We are both panting now. Glaring at each other.

 

I stamp off and blindly pick up some plants I meant to put into the herb bed.

 

Spike stands there, watching me, looking like he'd like to say more.

 

But I'm shut down. I close him out.

 

He curses, and heads inside.

 

I guess I make even Spike want to smash rocks sometimes.

 

When he's gone I sag. The herbs in my hands seem meaningless and I fight the urge to just break down. When my hands stop shaking, I take my trowel and begin to dig a little hole.

 

*******************

 

I hear them: they are rough with him. I find myself halfway to my feet, then I'm at the pavilion door.

 

One of them is using some kind of club!

 

"Are you okay?" I bark, sickened, and trembling.

 

Spike looks up. His eyes are full of tears, but his body is limp, accepting. I can see bloody welts on his back and ass.

 

One of them says, "What are you, his boyfriend?"

 

"S'alright. You don't understand this, go mow the back lawns," Spike tells me wearily.

 

If I do that I'll be out of hearing range, but it's what he wants.

 

He doesn't want me to see this.

 

"Alright," my voice cracks as I leave.

 

When I get to the back lawns I find that the mower is broken. I open it up to see if the grass got stuck where it shouldn't and... I kick it.

 

I beat the fuck out of it!

 

Panting, kicking... collapsing...

 

When I come back to myself, I see I've cut my hand. I sit back on the grass and... don't think. Just lie there.

 

***************

 

I fell asleep out there.

 

Spike finds me.

 

"Mowing in the dark?"

 

I get up, looking him over. He looks fine, but I have this insane urge to rip off his kimono and look at his back and his ass. To make sure he's okay.

 

"I don't like those two!" I growl.

 

"It's... not often they are in town," he says, looking away.

 

"Why do you let them do those things to you?"

 

"They are powerfully connected. Just easier sometimes to get along."

 

He's got that sadness in the back of his eyes. The thing that never goes away because he has no rights in our society: if he so much as grazes the skin of a human being, he can be severely punished.

 

I stare at him. Wishing I could talk to him, but I'm a fucking jumble. I'm a puzzle with most of the pieces missing, and I don't even make sense to myself anymore.

 

"Come have a beer before you go then."

 

I follow because I have nothing else to do. No where to go.

 

He pulls out a beer in my favorite brand with a little smile.

 

My eyes widen. How did he know it was my brand?

 

"I'll pour it for you. Got a beer mug last time I was out. Your favorite team?"

 

I take it from him and just marvel at it. He did this for me?

 

"Thanks!"

 

"Your hand. Let me see it, pet?"

 

I hold it out, and he pouts his lips in sympathy. "Down to the bone almost. Stupid wanker!"

 

"It's nothing."

 

"Xander, I can close it up. Heal it fast if I suck on it for a second. It's a vampire thing. But if you'd rather I didn't, I'll use the regular stuff and bandage it up neat."

 

My heart is thundering. His lips on my skin?

 

He takes my silence for the permission it is, and holding my gaze puts my broken, dirty hand to his beautiful ruby lips and tenderly suckles the wound I made.

 

Then I don't see anything because I close my eyes and just feel it...

 

"Oh God!" I open my eyes and he's right there. In my space. His gaze on my mouth, then rising to my eyes, as if he's asking me something?

 

"Smell so good to me. Your blood goes right to me!"

 

"Spike..."

 

"Fuck! Sorry. You got a lady. You aren't..." He pulls away, leashing the golden beast I glimpsed for a second.

 

And that's when I shatter like brittle glass, "She left me! Kicked me out. I came home last night to find her in bed with Riley." I begin to sob.

 

Softly, he said, "Where did you go?"

 

"Slept in the alley by your house. Guess I lost track of time, which is why I was late this morning."

 

"I'm sorry, Xander." He doesn't tell me it was for the best, and when I broke down, he pulled me in his pale white arms, and held me.

 

Through my tears, I look down and see his beautiful celadon tea cup: I broke it under the weight of my knee when he sucked on my wound. It somehow seems significant.

 

Something has been broken and now what?

 

"You'll stay here then."

 

"No. Can't."

 

A deep sigh as he fights for patience. "There's the garden hut, boy! Is that Mellors enough for you?"

 

"Mellors? Uh, okay." I wipe my eyes and pull away. "Just for a while."

 

I recover, and finish the beer. He picks up the broken pieces of the cup. Then he walks me to the abandoned hut. Takes out a key, and hands it to me.

 

"Get some rest," he says.

 

He walks away, and I open the rusty door to my new life.

 

---

 

Chapter 3 - Labyrinth

 

I found some rosemary that had bloomed late because it lay under the shade of a pine tree I was pruning.

 

I wiped the sweat from my face, knowing I was smearing dirt, fingering the sharp-scented herb.

 

Inside, I could hear the gentle murmurs of Spike entertaining Robin. They were having their nails buffed by Spike's servants, and other stuff Spike does to keep himself looking like he does.

 

Suddenly I couldn't bear my loneliness. Spike had left me alone for days, respecting my need to just do my job.

 

Not talk.

 

Not think.

 

I collected more rosemary and some sage which had fuzzy leaves, and then some of the lavender and chives which were a bit dried now but still had some color in the flowers.

 

I looked at my bouquet and was it missing something? I picked some nasturtiums because the orange and the purple struck me as pleasing. Looked okay together, I guess.

 

Then I went to Spike's pavilion, aware that I was leaving my world for his. Usually we meet up on his tea patio, which is sort of in the middle.

 

Inside, Robin had a face mask on of some kind of green gook, and so did Spike. I met Spike's eyes over her bent head and smirked at him, but he remained serene and lay there in his towel as if even covered in green shit he was the shit.

 

Spike read to Robin from Plutarch's Lives: For her actual beauty, it is said, was not in itself so remarkable that none could be compared with her, or that no one could see her without being struck by it, but the contact of her presence, if you lived with her, was irresistible; the attraction of her person, joining with the charm of her conversation, and the character that attended all she said or did, was something bewitching. It was a pleasure merely to hear the sound of her voice, with which, like an instrument of many strings

 

 

He paused and I waited, thinking about those words.

 

Robin looked at him. "So Cleopatra was a babe because of who she was, not just how she looked?"

 

"According to Plutarch, any rate," Spike said, very casual.

 

Robin considered that, while Spike gave her the space to do it, and I took my cue.

 

"Bought you something." I dropped the bouquet at Robin's feet with a loud thump.

 

 

I felt dorky and awkward: I should have given it to her and said the right stuff. But what?

 

I like you. Don't think because you are overweight you aren't pretty. I like you alot.

 

Probably better I don't say anything, fucking idiot!

 

Like that would make her feel better about herself?

 

"Xan!" She picked up the herbs and gathered them to herself, smelling them.

 

I looked over at Spike and saw he was smiling at me with his eyes.

 

Suddenly I feel so happy for a second it's almost too much. Like being touched.

 

Before I can scramble off, Robin reaches over and takes my hand.

 

"Hey, I'm all I'm dirty, sweety," I said, not wanting to touch her when I'm such a mess.

 

"You are hot looking, Xan," She said emphatically. "Don't you think so, Spike?"

 

Spike looks at me with amusement over my discomfiture.

 

"Yeah." I give a weak laugh. Humor is my default when I don't know WTF to say. Anything to avoid going too deep and getting lost. "'Hot' 'cause I'm all sweaty, and I probably stink too!"

 

"No, Silly!" Robin pulls me down, still holding my hand.

 

She has had tea with me and Spike a few times. She comes now even when she doesn't have an official appointment to see Spike for what seems to me to be nothing more than girl talk and makeovers.

 

Spike has yet to... you know. I would know if he had. Because it's important to me. It's weird, but I think Spike and I are on the same page about Robin: we want to make her happy.

 

So when he does his job? I want him to do it just right. I want him to make her feel... beautiful.

 

For a second, I picture him over her, moving gently, and her face is glowing, but thinking about Spike having sex has it's usual unsettling effect on me.

 

There is a little towel beside Robin so I take it to wipe my face, but it sort of falls over my lap.

 

"You don't see yourself the way we do!" Robin scolds.

 

She's still holding my other hand, and I like it. It's like a hug or something. Not that I remember what that feels like!

 

Feels like forever since anyone touched me.

 

Sometimes I cry myself to sleep wondering if I'll ever be a good lover, a good boyfriend, or husband or whatever because I fucked up so badly with Anya--I mean, no wonder she dumped me!--I wonder if anyone will ever look under my long hair which is now to the middle of my back and just, a big mess, and my rough body, and my dirty hands and want to be... close to me.

 

Because I let Anya down in the most basic way: I couldn't get it hard anymore.

 

What kind of man am I?

 

I loved her, but once we got to the whole commitment thing I felt trapped.

 

I'd go to the bathroom and take myself in hand and work it for her, but when I did one time get hard, it was because I was thinking of Spike reading poetry to me and a joke I made that made him laugh.

 

I pictured that for just one second and I... got hard.

 

That freaked me so much, I stayed locked in the bathroom until after Anya gave up and went to sleep.

 

"Xan, where'd you go?" Robin reached out a chubby hand and touched my stubbly face. I forgot to shave again. Way to go Wild Man Xander!

 

"Sorry, sweety. I'm glad you like the flowers. I like you. A lot."

 

You are such a smoothie, Harris!

 

Robin flushed scarlet, she started to cry!

 

Oh, shit! What did I do?

 

I screwed up again!

 

"I like you too, Xan. Both you and Spike. You make me feel..." Robin sobbed into the bouquet and I climbed half way to my feet, panicking.

 

Spike gaves me a calm look before taking Robin in his arms. "There now, lamb: I was wondering when you'd let it out."

 

"The only time anyone ever... wanted me?" Robin blurts between these violent sobs that jar her body and make me ball my fists helplessly. "My grandfather. He used to touch me. Until I got fat, and then he stopped."

 

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!

 

I collapse beside her where Spike is holding her, and I see in his eyes that somehow he knew this about her. Somehow he knew, when I never had a clue. I just thought she was fat and lonely, like I'm ugly and lonely.

 

I put my arms around Robin. I close my eyes and will her to not hurt so much.

 

Don't hurt. No one can touch you now. We'll keep you safe.

 

After a while, her sobs soften, and Robin peeks out with a soggy green face and red eyes.

 

Spike's hands are caressing her hair even as mine are.

 

"He's not around anymore, is he?" my voice is like a Doberman, ready to attack. It's something I can't help.

 

"No, he died a long time ago, but I guess I never told anyone about it, so it's kind of like he's been around all these years."

 

I don't know how to express myself, and Spike is silent, seeming to want to let Robin let it out and... trusting me? Fuck, trusting me to say the right thing? "He's gone now and you're ours," I finish.

 

Robin's crying stills, and she leans against me, and I enfold her in my arms while Spike takes us both in his.

 

Spike is a "kept" man, but the truth is he keeps us.

 

Me and Robin, we are like stuff that washed up on his beach. Broken, messy, but he picks us up anyway, and finds a place for us.

 

Spike speaks for the first time, "Ours, little pet."

 

*****************************

 

Spike decides to go to the market and do his own shopping. He never goes out. Long as I've worked for him, anyway.

 

Content to drink tea, read poetry, and watch me slopping around.

 

But today he wants to go and he wants me to go with him.

 

Okay, I'm his bodyguard. His human shield. But the public market? It's pretty tame.

 

"I'll have to get dressed," I said, sort of cross because I had these orchids in the green house I wanted to repot since they'd finished, but now I'll have to get cleaned up, and what if I run into Riley and Anya?

 

Spike is smoking. He usually only does it to relax when he's tense. Out of doors usually, because he can't afford to smell of smoke for his clients. He has to be an appealing flavor for everyone's taste buds: vanilla Spike.

 

"Right, you do that."

 

I glare at him, but he blinks at me peaceably. Spike's way of jabbing at me in my black mood, I guess.

 

I guess when you are a whore, and your body belongs to others more than to yourself, you learn to give your jabs discreetly.

 

"It's just a big act, isn't it?" I blurt out, pausing on my way to the garden shower.

 

"What are you on about?" But he looks away, so I think he knows very well what I mean.

 

"The whole Yoda trip. That's not you."

 

"It's the only me anyone is entitled to see," he admits, taking a drag.

 

I step closer, pissed off for some reason that he's been showing me this mask. "What if I want to see more?"

 

And suddenly, he's Panther Spike, blazing blue eyes, a predator. I feel that twist in my stomach. I forget sometimes what he is: he wants to lull us and throw the sheep's skin over his wolf, and damn, he is good at it.

 

But not with me. I need to see his wolf.

 

"Not a good idea," he growls. "Do you have any idea how good you smell? Like baked bread. No, I don't think it's a good idea at all."

 

I stand there, stirred by his words. I don't know what to do, so I stride off to take my shower.

 

My head is so messed after our encounter.

 

What he said, and what he didn't say.

 

At the shower I realize I forgot a few things. I have no towel and no clean clothes, and I didn't run the water earlier to let it sit in the sun so it's fucking cold!

 

I get under it anyway, resting my palms against the wood, bent forward while the water runs over the long curtain of my hair and cools my mood.

 

But despite all that, I'm hard and full.

 

I can't help but reach down and stroke it... just once.

 

I'm afraid to free myself sexually because I feel like it will be like going into a Labyrinth, and I might get lost there.

 

The labyrinth reminds me of Spike's voice as he told me the story of Theseus the other night.

 

My hand is sliding up and down...

 

A dark place that smells like a secret cave, and inside lives a monster.

 

I picture his lips moving as he tells me the story, and I am in the labyrinth.

 

I put my hand against those walls of earth and stone, trying to ground myself. A man of earth, but I can feel the throbbing of mystery. A prickle of excitement in my skin and in my balls.

 

And when I open my eyes I don't see the minotaur. Instead, I see Spike. Naked and pale and waiting for me in the heart of the maze.

 

I shoot off with a shamed cry, slamming my back against the shower in frustration.

 

I'm. So. Fucked.

 

********************

 

Hey, denial is not just a River in Egypt.

 

So we go out shopping.

 

Spike is wearing charcoal silk pants which ride low on his hips, giving the feeling they might almost slide off on their own. The tunic he wears with them flirts by giving glimpses now and then of his flat belly. He's used rose oil, but he only rubs the scent on the secret places of his body (no, I wasn't there watching when he rubbed himself, okay? He told Robin he does this.) You have to be close to him to catch the rich, spicy aroma of full summer.

 

And let's not forget his jeweled collar studded with Peruvian opals, peridots, carnelian and citrine.

 

I know this stuff 'cause he puts the collar on sometimes for clients who like it. So he wore it once for Robin and she asked him what it was made of.

 

It has a little golden leash glittering with fat, raw-cut loops as it falls over his shoulder to slide suggestively under his shirt and disappear behind his back. It's a discrete sign of his profession.

 

The street walkers wear them too, but usually they are naked, and the collar and chains hang in the center, signaling they are available for use any time.

 

Spike's signals: I'm expensive. Available only be appointment, but I can be yours.

 

I'm torn between being pissed over his pimp outfit and finding it hot.

 

I follow him and his loose way of walking makes sweat break out on my upper lip. Does he have to be so fucking obvious about it?

 

Yet, despite his dressing up like a dream fuck, Spike is tense: I get this weird feeling off him like he's vibrating with some kind of frenetic energy under his calm facade.

 

We pass the blocky shape of the fountain and he tenses as we walk past. What's up with him?

 

At the baker's is the first time since the two young men used him that I get a glimpse of what it's like to be him.

 

"Wait a minute," I say, outraged. "That's twice what your printed price is!"

 

"He's a vampire."

 

"Fine, you can fucking sell them to me, and if you try to rip me off, I'll see the magistrate!" I tell the man, pissed.

 

The baker sacks Spike's purchases in sullen anger. Spike is still tense and oddly subdued. As we leave, the older man leans closer to Spike and whispers: "Remember what you are."

 

I turn back, my big fists ready, but Spike's grip on my arm hurries me outside. "What the hell was that about?"

 

"Lookit, I need to just do this. It's something I've not done since I was..."

 

"Oh, God, your rape: it happened here!"

 

"Not now, Xan," Spike comforts me because I'm trembling with shock. I thought it had been one of his clients. I didn't know it had been here. In a public place.

 

"I don't understand."

 

"It was Ethan Rayne." Spike shook out a pack, his fingers shaking. "Wanted to be my protector, but I said no. Liked going my own way. Liked coming here once a day and buying pretty things. Made me feel proud. Like I..."

 

"Fit in?" I asked him, feeling this gut-twisting sorrow.

 

"Naw. Never that, pet. Like I had a place."

 

"Ethan, he's the commandant of the Initiative branch here in town," I said. Oh, shit. Ethan travels around with a pack of his soldiers. I get a sick feeling.

 

"They did me over the fountain. Lost count how many."

 

Spike is trembling, and I recognize at last, that he is making his own brave stand. Coming here again with me.

 

I take his hand. "We can go home," I say.

 

And I really want that. I ache to take him back home where he's safe in the pretty garden I keep for him.

 

He shakes his head, his nostrils flaring. Stubborn.

 

"Fuck it, I'm gonna see it out. Sorry I didn't say. I haven't been able to talk about it."

 

After that, I'm standing behind him everywhere like a big shaggy guard dog. Anyone who so much as looks at him funny gets a glower from me.

 

On our way home, I stop at the stall with the silk scarves exotic dancers use to entertain with. Some women like them too. There's a special one there, blue as his eyes. It's raw silk and dyed in a wild, undulating pattern.

 

I buy it.

 

Spike waits for me, and then we leave.

 

When we are almost home, I hand it to him.

 

"I know you use these things when you do your dance thing. Uhhhh. Well, here."

 

He takes the wrapped package from me, and when we reach his house he opens it in the shadowy entranceway. Shakes it out and runs his hands over it.

 

For some reason my throat is tight and I'm breathing hard.

 

"It's beautiful, pet, thanks," he says softly.

 

"Figured you could wear it."

 

He shakes his head, looking a little weary, a little sad. "I'd only wear it for someone special."

 

We both study the package in his pale hands, careful to avoid eye contact.

 

"Well..."

 

"Right. I need to get some rest. Got an early one tomorrow."

 

"Yeah. I got to finish up with my orchids."

 

"Good night, then!"

 

"Yeah. Night."

 

He disappears into his world, and I go around to the gate to go to mine.

 

*****************

 

I can't sleep.

 

I wish I could smoke like Spike.

 

I'm haunted with the stuff he told me.

 

How many men hurt him?

 

I get up and wander the garden. One of the long stems of late blooming honeysuckle has fallen over and cracked from the weight of the blooms.

 

I yank it off with my hands and make a note to come back and give it a neat, sharp pruning on the vine.

 

I drift, the branch in my hands, and somehow it seems inevitable he's out there, on our tea pavilion: I see the glow of his cigarette.

 

Tonight's kimono is black with green bamboo.

 

I lay the fragrant stem in front of him like tribute.

 

"Smells like honey all right. Thanks, pet." He picks it up and rubs it against his face with that sensuality that is so much a part of him.

 

Okay, I get hard watching him do that. It's time to stop lying about it.

 

I have no fucking idea why I feel this way, and there is no way we can be together, but looking at him with his eyes closed, and the yellow blossoms of honey suckle stroking over his parted ruby lips makes me want things I shouldn't.

 

And it's not just physical: it's how he is taking care of Robin. He got her a therapist. He's paying for it.

 

It's what he did today. Going to the place where they despoiled him, and tried to crush him, only they couldn't do it because he's so fucking amazing.

 

My throat is tight, looking at him now.

 

"Tell me what he meant, the baker. What he meant when he told you to 'remember what you are?'" I ask him.

 

It's the dead LAST thing I want to hear, but I also need to hear it.

 

He puts the flowers down before saying softly, "When they raped me, the tradesmen I did business with for three years came out. I think some of them had me too, but it's kind of blurry. They... softened me up a bit first, so I was dizzy, but, they wanted me to say. To say..." his voice runs out into the darkness and I want to tell him to leave the words unsaid.

 

"That... I'm nothing. Nothing."

 

Oh, God. I can actually feel it against my chest like a blow. My eyes squint against the tears I hold back.

 

He's shaking, a pale, beautiful moon flower in a sudden shower.

 

This time it's me who takes him in my arms.

 

He lies spread out over my big lap, his hands curved around my bare, thick arms, his eyes closed as tears streak his cheeks in the terrible silence of grief. Like an animal trained to keep its deepest hurts to itself because there is no hope of relief or understanding for its wounds.

 

I can't stop myself from stroking his hair. I wish there was something, anything I could do to make it better.

 

"Did you say those words?" I finally ask him. I feel like he needs this. Like he needs this wound opened.

 

My tears are falling on his face now, mixing with his own.

 

He opens his eyes and looks at me, supine in my arms.

 

"Yeah... finally, I did. I just wanted them to stop. Just wanted it to stop!"

 

I can see the shame at the heart of his pain, and it pisses me off so I feel this terrible rage inside me, like a dragon waking up and moving its wings, ready to fly out and rend and tear, but I can't give into that dragon.

 

Not now. Now he needs me.

 

"Oh, God, baby. I'm so sorry," the endearment slips out so easily, as easily as the flower I offered him. I pull him fully into my arms now, holding him.

 

"S'alright. It was a while ago. And you have your own shit. Your lady leaving you for that prissy arsehole."

 

I laugh a little through my tears. "She had a right. I wasn't a man to her. Not for a long time." I feel my own sadness at what I lack well up. If I felt any sexual confidence, maybe I'd kiss him now. But... I just can't.

 

"She is a right bitch, and if I ever meet her and soldier boy, I'll give them a piece of my mind!"

 

"Uhhh. I picked up one other thing for you when we were out. It doesn't go with the rest of the set, I know, and I'm sorry I broke the other one."

 

Spike sat up in the circle of my arms, but didn't leave it. His head was a little lower than mine. I liked the feel of his small body under my hands.

 

Out of my back pocket I pull out the little cardboard box. He opens it and his delicate fingers trace the edge of the new blue tea bowl. It's the same color as the robin's eggs I gave him a while back.

 

Something was shattered, but now it will be whole...

 

"S'lovely." He reaches up and I feel a cool, silken kiss against the rasp of my unshaven jaw.

 

He puts it down and makes no effort to make any tea tonight: it's enough to just rest together like this.

 

When the sun wakes up to find us, he's still wrapped safe in my arms, my chin resting over his head.

 

We watch a new day begin together.

 

---

 

Chapter 4 - Secret Garden

 

"I want to see you." I whispered to him as the first rosy light crested.

 

More than anything I wanted to see his beautiful body, laid bare just for me.

 

I'd seen...glimpses.

 

Once I'd watched as the old man took him over a chair after spanking him.

 

Fixing a window cracked by a fallen branch...I'd dropped my screw driver and climbed down from the roof to get it and--

 

I mean, I didn't mean to stand there and...watch.

 

I'm not a natural-born voyeur.

 

I'd rather fuck than watch it.

 

You get me, right?

 

But I'd never seen...

 

Spike letting himself be bent over that chair so the other man could mount him, spreading his pale legs wide and raising himself invitingly.

 

Oh...fuck...

 

It was the first time, the very first time I'd ever considered that taking another man could be hot.

 

...watching him purring his pleasure with every slow stroke...a cock sliding in and out of his receptive ass...beautifully passive because the client liked it that way.

 

I'd stood there and...wanted him.

 

My guts had twisted with how much I wanted him!

 

Wanted to be the one behind him, making him sound just like that...

 

But I lied to myself about it for months.

 

Making excuses.

 

Just to be close to him.

 

To hear his voice.

 

See him smile.

 

I'd think up some lame joke or try to be intelligent for once and think about the poems he read to me so I could make some kind of witty comment and see his eyes light up as we...talked about it.

 

But under all the smiles and the poetry like a primitive drum beating.

 

I lived with that image for months.

 

And...sometimes it was me I'd picture doing that to him.

 

Now I want more than for him to just...lie there and take it.

 

His clients make him do that.

 

Now I think about unleashing him.

 

The real Spike.

 

I want the vampire to be my lover.

 

I wanted to break his control and be feasted on by Panther Spike...

 

"I should go inside. Won't pay for the servants to see us together...like this."

 

I catch my breath because he means of course we aren't...

 

Just.

 

Fucking.

 

Fucking between a vampire and a human is natural.

 

But what I'm doing is holding him.

 

Stroking his hair.

 

Tenderly.

 

To anyone who might see us, we might actually look like...lovers.

 

And that is forbidden by every unwritten rule in our society.

 

The human lovers of vampires are despised.

 

Bad shit happens to them.

 

After all, they must be fucking depraved to allow themselves to care about soulless "things."

 

But...the morning still belongs to us and I can't...I can't bear to let him go...

 

Spike looks up at me and his face is open for me alone. Vulnerable.

 

Oh, God.

 

How can I let him go?

 

 

"Is it me? I know I'm not...pretty like you are." I feel that wound Anya left in my manhood. Like I've got this big chunk of my gut and bone lying open all the time and sometimes I forget for a moment...but it always goes back to ground zero and...how I'm not a man.

 

Only...Spike makes me feel like one.

 

...I lie awake at night and my cock and my heart both want him.

 

"No, love, never that." He cups my rough cheek and I feel the rasp of our meeting of textures.

 

Spike hands, smooth and soft and pampered and expensive.

 

Xander face, raw and untended like an abandoned wild garden...

 

He sits up a little so we are eye to eye.

 

"If you take me, how will you bear it when someone else does? I'm a courtesan."

 

He only needs to be rescued. He doesn't...he can't...want to be a whore...?

 

"Xan, LISTEN to me, love. I'm a fuck anyone can pay for. I'm lucky I can have a say in it atall. Sometimes, not always. But I'm one of the lucky ones. I could be on the streets, used like a urinal by every passin' prick...I'm not free to shag for love."

 

I pull away and he looks at me sadly, unsurprised.

 

"I want your cock buried in me more than...but can you touch me now and then let me share my body with my Ten A.M.? I'm gonna blow one of my regulars. He likes to use a ruler from school on my arse...sometimes IN my arse. When he cums he likes to spray it over my chest." Spike is hammering it home to me. A reality I can't--

 

I'm panting.

 

His words knocking all these breezy dreams from my head.

 

It's. Too. Much.

 

I can still feel him.

 

Lying in my arms.

 

I put a fist on the edge of his kimono and...see my own hand shaking because--

 

I want to yank it open and see him but--

 

I'm lost.

 

"It's okay. You aren't missing anything. I'm not much of a fuck," I tell him.

 

"It's not that--"

 

"Sure. Yeah. Not like I've even done a guy before. I'd probably..."

 

disappoint him...

 

I start to pull away but his soft white hands are strong.

 

He pulls me close even when I turn my head away.

 

"We're going to have to do something about your self-image, Pet." He says.

 

"Great. I'll be another of your self-help cases." I say bitterly.

 

"I know you're an innocent. Can smell it on your skin how you've never known a man." He kisses me but I'm still locked up and tense.

 

How can I be falling in love with someone anyone can have if they have enough change in their pockets?

 

Just because it's not his choice doesn't mean...

 

Look.

 

I feel like an asshole for feeling this way but--

 

I was loyal to Anya.

 

I believe in monogamy.

 

I'm a simple guy.

 

You fall in love.

 

You fuck the one you love.

 

You don't fuck other people while fucking the one you love.

 

It's not his choice but taking other lovers into his body makes me feel like Anya made me feel.

 

...saying my cock is not enough.

 

He reads this on my face.

 

What can't pass my lips.

 

He reaches up and gives me my very first man to man kiss.

 

A kiss of comfort.

 

A kiss that offers himself, even though he knows he shouldn't.

 

I crush his mouth with mine, punishing him for being who and what he is.

 

He digs his fingers into my hair and...lets me.

 

And that passivity and acceptance of my hurting his lips when I should be worshiping them makes me stop.

 

Jesus, I don't want to hurt him!

 

I pull back and look at him.

 

He's always there ahead of me.

 

The man to my boy.

 

It pisses me off because I want to be a man to him.

 

HIS man.

 

"Spread my legs for you now and welcome...but come Ten A.M. I go inside." He says softly.

 

Laying down his gauntlet with tenderness but laying it down nevertheless.

 

I stiffen.

 

Terrified and aroused.

 

But...

 

Letting him go will put my guts in a blender.

 

I pull away from him a little at a time, almost feeling like it's a physical tearing.

 

Like we share the same skin now and I'm ripping that delicate membrane.

 

The skin we share is so new it shouldn't hurt this much to go back to being Xander alone and Spike alone.

 

His eyes are so accepting of not getting what he wants.

 

Is he even wired to his own heart anymore?

 

Well, I am.

 

And I feel like he hit it dead center with a wrecking ball.

 

"What you want from me not so different, love." Spike says. "Part of what you want is the vampire whore who can't say 'no.'"

 

"Yeah? Maybe..." I'm breathing heavily as I get in his face. "And what about you? You don't want to sink your fangs into my thighs? You don't want to use all that strength to--"

 

He jerks me closer by my long curtain of hair, his eyes blue gasoline which I just lit with a match.

 

"I want to take you now, boy. Your blood, your arse..."

 

I can feel our frustration raging to free itself.

 

"Before I go in...I want you to see me too." He says with quiet dignity.

 

As I watch, my mouth bone dry, my throat aching with tears I'm too pissed off to shed, he opens all these complex belt things and then...

 

He's as bare and beautiful as the marble statue Cupid in the garden.

 

"You're so...smooth..." I run a hand down the center of his chest.

 

He's panting at my touch.

 

Offering himself to me.

 

"W-Waxing. Usually I do my cock fur too but lately...thought maybe you'd like it."

 

"You left it...for me?" My hand delves inside it. Pale brown and soft like down.

 

"Who do you think I think about when I'm on my knees then?" He confesses and his eyes are wet with tears as I take his long smooth pole in my hand at last. "I watch you out in the sun. My wild man...I think about how big an' lusty you probably are. Not that I'd know."

 

He pouts and it's adorable.

 

"Well, I do shower in the raw twice a day." I tease him, trying to give him a little sugar because...I blame him and I know that's fucked.

 

"You keep your back turned most times..." He sounds annoyed.

 

I grin at him, sliding my hands over that beautiful cock, smooth and sculpted and nothing like my thick one. I can see why he's Spike because it's oversized for his delicate frame.

 

"Watched me? Naughty." I give his crown this little pinch which I like on my own. It hurts but it feels...

 

He catches his breath, closing his eyes and pushing that lovely cock deeper into my keeping.

 

"Not like you haven't been watching me for months, now is it?" He growls as I pet and toy with him.

 

His passivity is sexy.

 

I might want his beast, but I also like this part of him.

 

The trained whore.

 

"We...have to stop. I couldn't bear it...anything happenin' to you." He whispers.

 

"I can't stop."

 

"Then...then I'll have to for the both of us." He sits up and my hand falls silent on his thigh. "Gotta get ready for my client."

 

I know he's right.

 

We can't...

 

A vampire who takes a human as his lover must be using the blood of his human.

 

It's assumed.

 

And if he or she is drinking from their human...

 

Forbidden. Unclean.

 

Before I go he gives me a tender hug. I feel his bare chest and the coolness of silk.

 

"Shhhhh. Go work in the pasture...in the afternoon come back to me."

 

I rest my forehead against his.

 

I hear the clock inside mark the late hour.

 

He has to go now.

 

He can only belong to me here in our garden.

 

*********************

 

I do what he says because it's unbearable to stick around knowing he's lying down for someone else.

 

I'm in a bitch of a mood and take it out pruning the shit out of some trees.

 

And they look like shit by the time I'm done, panting and sweating and scratched up.

 

I do find an old rose bush buried in some weeds. I spend the rest of the day carefully digging it up.

 

It has this wonderful flower that I know Spike will love the scent of. I can plant it near the patio for him...

 

And all the time I do this.

 

For him.

 

I feel this heavy sadness riding me.

 

***********************

 

He's wearing a fresh kimono on our tea patio that evening.

 

"What's this, then?" He says as I lay down my wild bouquet at his feet.

 

"Its..still warm from the sun. You know. 'Cause you can't feel that." I tell him.

 

Wheat and some heather and wild daisies.

 

"My wild boy." he brushes my cheek with a cool kiss and...

 

Oh, God.

 

Can a kiss heal a broken heart?

 

Because that's what it feels like when he does that.

 

I sit beside him and take my coke.

 

"Naw. I'm just a stupid ox with a good back. That's me."

 

"Don't say that about yourself!"

 

His jaw flexes and he looks pissed.

 

I can't think of anything to say.

 

I'm my usual mess. Showered before coming to him but...my hair is a heavy weight on my damp shoulders. I'm just wearing torn up cut offs. Left my shirt by the shower.

 

Could we be any different?

 

I'm like that dude in Peanuts who walked around with a cloud of dirt. What was his name?

 

Oh, yeah.

 

Pig Pen.

 

"I should...probably cut my hair." I duck my head.

 

"Let me comb and braid it for you?" He asks me.

 

"Uhhh."

 

"It's okay. I won't do anything you aren't ready for, love." He says gently.

 

"K...fine." My face is flushed. I'm not sure why he wants to fuck around with my hair.

 

He smiles and pulls out this little fancy set of combs made out of sea shells.

 

Of course he doesn't have like a normal comb like normal people.

 

Spike likes pretty things.

 

I roll my eyes at the dainty thing.

 

"I got a LOT of hair."

 

"So I'll just have to take my time grooming my sexy merman, won't I?" He says.

 

...Uhhhh...

 

"Lean back, pet." I let my head relax back and my hair fall in a wild curtain behind me.

 

"It's still wet..." I apologize.

 

"Must be almost down to your arse now..." His hands clench in it for a moment. "I have clients who would pay a lot to be with a man with such sexy hair...you'd make a good living in the trade."

 

I spurt off a shocked laugh. "Yeah, right...can you see me sucking off some old...!"

 

"No, I wouldn't wish that on you, love." He says and I feel my throat tighten.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"S'alright. I knew when I left the games I'd have to lie on my back. And I'm lucky. Found a way for a kind of freedom." His fingers are gently separating each strand of my hair. It feels like...paradise.

 

I feel a warm relaxation seep through me.

 

His hands are caring and sensitive.

 

He doesn't handle me like I'm big so I don't hurt like Anya used to.

 

He handles me like he knows I secretly ache for some tenderness.

 

How does he know that?

 

"At the school we're taught to feel pleasure. You give it better if you can feel it." Spike explains, and with each long stroke of the comb, his other hand plays over the fan of my hair, caressing it.

 

"Even when they...hurt you."

 

He sighs. "I know you don't understand that. But sometimes it can feel good."

 

I think about it.

 

I STILL don't get it.

 

"I guess I'm pretty meat and potatoes." I say softly. He's a wizard in the world of sex and I didn't even get a passing grade.

 

"It's part of what I love about you. Your innocence...and your hair. Fuck. Like a pretty boy lying on a rock, all long hair..."

 

I shudder.

 

He's stopped taming my long hair which is as smooth as silk now under his skillful touch...he buries his face in my hair, looming behind me.

 

"Flowers aren't the only thing still hot from the sun," he whispers.

 

Then I feel a gentle open-mouthed kiss against the side of my neck. Soft as a feather against my skin.

 

I moan, feeling my sex jump in response.

 

He laughs softly and then I feel a little punishing, biting kiss on my shoulder.

 

It seems so natural...I arch my neck, inviting more and--

 

A deeper growl.

 

The hair raises on my neck and I open my eyes to see...

 

Spike wears the face of a beautiful demon.

 

Golden eyes meet mine as he looms over me, the comb forgotten in his hand.

 

"Want so much to mark you mine in our way..." The demon tells me.

 

I should be freaked by this face.

 

It's the monster face everyone says is so disgusting.

 

Then...his face changes and his lust fades into...sadness.

 

"Will you let me put some of the flowers in your hair?" He says softly, his face turned away in shame at what he revealed...and maybe fear of what I might feel.

 

"I won't be able to go out for a beer with the guys with flowers in my hair." I tell him dryly as if I never saw that other face.

 

"Guess you'll have to stay here in our garden and listen to more poetry then." He says, visibly relaxing at what I'm telling him silently.

 

I smile and he leans down to nuzzle against me, face against face for a stolen moment of forbidden tenderness.

 

I lay back in his lap and let him do what he wants with my hair.

 

 

---

 

Interlude - what a courtesan should never do

 

“…so tense tonight.”

 

“Lot on my mind.”

 

“You mean…someone.” Inara said, reaching for Spike’s favorite lemon oil.

 

“He’s stubborn. Grouchy. Long hair…good with his hands…”

 

“A carpenter?”

 

“Gardener. He’s…engaged.”

 

“Oh, Spike, a courtesan should never fall in love.” She admonished gently.

 

”Inara? Best finish up so the rest of us making an honest living can leave this planet!” Mal’s voice boomed from her doorway but he didn’t enter and disturb the comfort shared.

 

Her hands stilled. Spike noticed. “Guess you should take your own advice, Pet.”

 

Inara smiled sadly, secrets in her eyes.

 

“Seduce your gardener, Spike. Make him yours.”

 

---

 

Chapter 5 - Real Love

 

"So how did you do this then?" Spike asks me. He's turning my "logo" apple over in his hands as we share our evening on the tea patio together.

 

Basically anytime we can spend together we do.

 

We don't...touch...well...

 

...try not to...

 

Of course because I can't touch him it's all I think about.

 

From being a guy who couldn't get it up, I'm back to being my old sex-obsessed self.

 

Except.

 

There's a difference.

 

All the time I thought about and dated women, I was always...looking.

 

I'd be with Anya and I'd think about Cordy or Willow or--

 

But with Spike.

 

He's all I think about.

 

It's like he's why I used to keep...looking.

 

I was looking for him.

 

I look at him and my thoughts are so fucky sometimes...show you what I mean:

 

Spike is examining the apple and I'm--

 

..touchmetendergentleroughsuckmefuckmeliedownletmebitemeeatmeyoursmine...

 

"So how is it you made this then?"

 

He looks up and I blink.

 

"Sorry, I bag the apples by hand on the tree...then around early summer, 'cause these are early ones, I unbag 'em and put logo stickers over them so the rest of the apple--" I take it from him, charmed that he's charmed "--gets all red, see? But when I peel off the sticker, voila!" I laugh because he's smiling.

 

"Robin will love this!"

 

Spike admires a pretty red apple with the words: Happy Birthday, Pretty Robin! in elaborate scroll written across it's "face."

 

"You are so...talented, Pet."

 

I don't know what to say. I'm blushing because he's smiling and happy and thinks I'm...

 

I pull out a few more apples to show him. "I used some of the Japanese calligraphy from that book you showed me this spring."

 

He looks at the elaborate symbols. "Peace, love...harmony...oh, Xan."

 

"I'll be selling them as part of our crop but I thought...maybe if there was one you liked...?"

 

Spike gave me a look under his lashes before digging into the basket and finding my favorite apple.

 

The one I'd made for him but had kept a secret...

 

Make Me Yours.

 

"I'm hungry all of a sudden." He smiles as my eyes widen and then he takes a bite of the apple that was a secret wish I made, long before I could admit what I really wanted.

 

He holds the apple out, inviting me to taste the wish from his fingers and I lean down obediently and take a bite...suddenly he's closer and only the apple is between our lips as we stare into each other's eyes.

 

I feel like he can read my mind through my eyes.

 

And if you could see me...this is what my eyes would tell you:

 

I'm hurting.

 

Because every night I have to say goodnight and leave you.

 

You go to your house.

 

I go to my hut.

 

Sometimes we can't stop ourselves and after braiding my hair you kiss me but mostly we try NOT to kiss because it can get out of control until I'm lying in your arms and you...

 

...devour me with your lips...and it hurts so FUCKING MUCH to stop and let you go.

 

Oh, God.

 

Take me.

 

Make Me Yours.

 

And Spike...his eyes are so weary and sad.

 

Like rocks washed by the ocean, you know? His edges are smoothed down but he's still ROCK.

 

He's still himself.

 

His eyes tell me:

 

I have to keep you safe.

 

You mean more to me than a quick fuck.

 

I know you hate what I do...

 

...I wish I could be only yours...

 

The sadness between us stretches like elastic and as always its our passion that snaps it.

 

He parts his red lips and takes a playful bite and then I take a big, meaty one, trying to bore my way through that apple which keeps the more delicious flavor of Spike from me.

 

He chokes a little, laughing at my growling sounds and the apple collapses and falls between us in pieces as I reach his lips and tumble him down onto the tiles.

 

I hold myself above him with my arms and he curves a hand around them.

 

"Almost as thick as my thighs..." He purrs his approval.

 

"You're so...pretty." I tell him. Hoping he'll understand what I mean.

 

His smile is sad and wise and luminous. "Many a time I've not wanted to be...but for you, my big, strong, strapping Pet, I love being small. Come here and crush me a little..."

 

His fingers are on my lips, teasing me.

 

I've mussed his kimono which is the lighter one he wears right before bed.

 

"Maybe I want to take my time for once..." I growl.

 

He smiles, looking wicked and sleepy...and touched by love.

 

Do I make him feel like that?

 

"What do you do when you leave me?" I ask him, already aching for the parting I know is coming.

 

"Bathe in my pool, make sure I'm groomed so if I get an emergency call--"

 

"An emergency? Who has an emergency fuck?" I'm caught between hating what he does and being fascinated and horrified and...WTF? 911-Need a FUCK Now?

 

He laughs with me and those tiny lines around his young/old face lighten and smile. "Some people just can't wait for Spike..."

 

I feel my face harden into stillness. "I can see why." I put my rough hands in his hair, combing it and he closes his eyes, feline cat who loves to be petted. "Let me touch you tonight?"

 

"Xan...you'll make it harder for the both of us."

 

"Na-huh. I'm so hard now I don't think that's possible." I lean down and kiss him and then decide to surprise him. '"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine."'

 

He stiffens, then cups my cheek. "The Song of Songs."

 

"I'm not good with words. Robin helped me find some stuff...you know? Romantic shit? I memorized it. For you."

 

His eyes fill with tears. For me. For us.

 

"You can't love me, I'm a whore." He says.

 

"How can I not love you?" I answer him and then before he can talk about all the reasons we can't...do this...I lean down and kiss him.

 

I'm big and ugly, stupid as brick, rough and unkempt.

 

But for some reason...Spike likes it when I touch him.

 

I haven't figured it out yet.

 

Why he'd even look twice at me.

 

I'm not any kind of lover...but when I kiss him you'd think I'd taken lessons at his fancy school because he moans and gives this little shiver and opens his mouth so I can invade him.

 

He likes to be taken by me.

 

It's funny because he can bend steel but--

 

He likes to play that I'm the stronger one.

 

And I like it too.

 

Almost as much as when I make him lose his control and go Demon Lover.

 

Which unfortunately is rare.

 

He is really careful with me.

 

I pull away and open his robe, spreading it so it's on either side of his body, showcasing him like the wings of a butterfly.

 

I rub the blue-green silk with gold peonies. "I like this one."

 

"I know. Your favorite. I wore it for you." He says, looking up at me coyly from under his lashes. Knowing how irresistible he is and liking to push me a little.

 

"Spike, do you want me to touch you?" I ask him, beginning our dance.

 

He smiles, and takes his place in the movement.

 

"Please..."

 

"Mmmmmm. Very nice." I run a hand approvingly over the center of his chest. His nipples are distended and hard, I circle them and he shudders and closes his eyes.

 

It's so fucking exciting to touch him like this.

 

"Your fingers...so rough..." He gasps as I begin to use my calloused finger tips on his aroused nipples.

 

"You like that..."

 

"Oh, yeah."

 

I bend down and reward him by kissing them both tenderly.

 

He starts to shake under my touch and I feel powerful and...hot...

 

Maybe Xander Harris is only hot when he's making love to his lover Spike?

 

Maybe that's why I never got it right with anyone else?

 

"Anywhere else you want me to touch you?" I tease him.

 

His body lifts at the hips and his long, over-sized, yet delicate erection rises, begging me for my attentions.

 

I reward him by petting him there and he purrs...and does what he always does when it gets hot and heavy between us...

 

...he spreads his legs and looks up at me under his lashes, his lips parted, his face flushed.

 

He's inviting me silently to fuck him.

 

For some reason it's okay if I fuck him, the whore.

 

Use him like his customers.

 

But he won't take me in return.

 

It...pisses me off.

 

So...we square off again.

 

How can it be love when we slice each other with razor blades even as we cuddle?

 

How can you cut up the one you love?

 

I don't know, but that's what it's like for us.

 

Every kiss from him is a slice of my heart.

 

...I don't know how long I can keep from taking what he offers me...

 

Even though the last thing I want to do fuck him like every other man he spreads for.

 

"Free my hair?"

 

"Thought you'd never ask." His hands gently free all the intricate knots.

 

He draws it out, letting out a little at a time. Because he braided it hours ago, when it was wet from my shower, it's been shaped by the ties so it runs in rhythmic ripples down my back.

 

Kinda like...you know those giant water slides kids ride?

 

I know that's a fucky way to describe it but my hair is one silky slide for the fingers of my lover.

 

And...

 

...When he takes down my hair we always go just a little bit farther...

 

It's like my long hair is a curtain, hiding us from the world.

 

His hands arrange it on his chest...over the heart that doesn't beat.

 

"Must be down to your cock now." He says, praising my long hair with every wondering touch. "I can picture you like a sexy boy merman lying in the sun, combing your long hair."

 

"And what would you like to do to your merman?"

 

"Chain you to your rock so I could have my way with you. Feed you poetry and shellfish. And you could sing me to sleep...long as it wasn't Peaceful Easy Feeling least wise."

 

"Hey, I thought you liked The Eagles."

 

"Did till you started to play them by my patio all day long. I'm ready to check out of Hotel California, I think."

 

"You never said...I'm sorry."

 

"Shhhhh. Just teasing, sweet heart. Play what you want."

 

"Uh huh. Okay, I will."

 

I give him a wicked look as I move down his body.

 

"Xan...what...?"

 

I kiss his cock first. My hair all around me so I can't see his face but his body thumps against the tiles in response.

 

He liked that!

 

"No, love, you don't have to..."

 

"Can't you take anything for yourself?" I ask him, aching for him.

 

"I cum with my customers."

 

"Because you were trained to cum. I want to do this for you. Let me, Spike." I ask him because in his world no one does ask him. They just position him like an animated doll.

 

But I won't be that for him.

 

Maybe he's trying to protect himself from me by making this...whatever this is between us, the same as what he has with his clients.

 

FUCK THAT!

 

I'll smash through any barrier to get to him.

 

I may be a rough, dirty looking smuck.

 

He's way too beautiful and delicate and educated for me.

 

But I won't let him put his trade between us.

 

"When was the last time you shot in someone's mouth?" I ask him crudely.

 

"Xan...no, I can't..." His voice is broken so I pull up and see the tear run down his face. He can't take this kind of intimacy, he who bends over at the word of any stranger.

 

Because...

 

...it's real?

 

"Okay...okay...shhhhh." I pull him close and hold him as he takes shuddering breaths to try to get himself back under control. I broke his composure so now I have to repair it.

 

"We don't have to do that yet. Not until you're ready. Besides, I've never done...that. You're probably an expert." I feel the familiar wash of my self-hatred like acid.

 

He pulls away and takes me by the hair, shaking me. "I'm afraid of how far your touch will take me. You make me feel...helpless...out of control. You have no idea how fucking hot you are or how crazy you make me."

 

We kiss, starving to end our pain in each other. Our only comfort the crush of his body against mine for this stolen moment.

 

"My Wild Boy..." Finally we rest, both panting. Our foreheads together and our hands clasped. "Let me see you tonight?"

 

I tense up. I'm so...crude and blocky. No, I don't want him to see me...

 

"Xan...please. Dream about you, love. Need to see you." He kisses my hair and gentles me and...how can I say no?

 

I stand up and put my hands on my hips, looking down at him, messed from my hands.

 

I turn around, because I feel more self-conscious with him than any of the women I ever slept with. I reach down and slide open my cut offs...

 

My hands are shaking!

 

What's my fucking problem? I've been around other naked men in locker rooms and the men's. Why am I so afraid of showing him...?

 

The cut offs drop down but I can't turn around. I can feel my long hair shielding most of my ass from him.

 

By now he must know something's wrong with Xander, the moron.

 

I hear him get up and I grab some of my hair and use it to cover myself...it's such an...old maid thing to do, but--

 

"So shy, love..."

 

He doesn't try to take away my shielding hair.

 

Instead he wraps his arms around me from behind and I hiss out because...

 

His naked body rests full on to mine for the very first time.

 

It feels so sweet.

 

His cock finds a home between my big round cheeks.

 

We fit...

 

"I wasn't...cut...Anya wanted me to get it...you know, fixed?"

 

"Ohhhhh. That all? Neither was I."

 

"You are now."

 

"The school did it. I had to be pretty for my customers."

 

I hang my head in shame. I don't look anything like he does.

 

"It's ugly. Cordy and Anya both said--"

 

His hand reaches down and caresses my hair where it shields me from his gaze.

 

"It's natural. Makes you more of a man to me. My Xander of the Jungle, running around in the raw with your foreskin."

 

I put my arms back around his neck, resting.

 

His hand is cupped over me protectively, my long hair between us.

 

He doesn't push.

 

"Hokay, fine. Do it. Look at it! But if you...if you think it's ugly I'll...I'll get it fixed, okay?" Tears burn my eyes as I remember the face Cordy made and the clear, cold way Anya told me I was lacking.

 

Gently he pulls my hair back. So gradually it's a strand at a time, almost.

 

Part of me wants to snap at him to get it over.

 

Part of me...he's so tender.

 

No one has ever been tender with Xander Harris before.

 

I had a cock and I was expected to use it.

 

Like a tool out of my box.

 

It was there to please my partner.

 

It might be an ugly tool but as long as it did the job it passed...

 

No one...no one ever wanted to just...

 

...look at it before.

 

I'm not prepared for how it makes me feel.

 

I turn my head and see he's peeking over my shoulder.

 

It's weird that I'm taller than him but--

 

It's oddly right.

 

I watch his face as he reveals me to the moonlight.

 

He studies me calmly, letting me know he's looking, then he turns his face up towards me and smiles into my eyes.

 

"Lush down there, aren't you, Pet?"

 

I sag a little.

 

"Lush. That's good, right? That's--"

 

"Hot. Sexy. Wild boy." He kisses me with each word and I...relax.

 

Lush.

 

That sounds good, right?

 

***********************

 

The next morning is the first time Alvin and Mia come to visit Spike.

 

I notice them right off because everyone knows Alvin. He's sweet. He always has his pencils and his big pad with him. He likes to draw and he's freaking amazing at it...but...he's not all there.

 

Alvin is the only son of a very wealthy and powerful family.

 

Mia, I haven't met. But when I watch her parents and Alvin's parents herd her into Spike's parlor for the first time, it's clear that she's...like Alvin.

 

She peeks at us all like a little brown mouse, but obviously feels better close to Alvin.

 

Alvin sits beside her and draws and sometimes she picks up some of his colored pencils and fills in. You'd think that would piss him off but after I watch for a while, scrubbing bleach on the flagstones so they won't be slippery when it rains, I notice he is sharing the drawing with her.

 

"Alvin is our only hope for a grandchild." Mia's mother is saying. "Both of our children weren't...born wrong. And we want--"

 

Spike sips, waiting to hear what they want from him.

 

I admit I'm curious too.

 

"We know you are discreet. Highly recommended. What my wife is trying to say is we've decided Alvin and Mia should...marry. Have children." Mia's father finishes.

 

Spike looks a bit disapproving. "What of them? They like the idea?"

 

"Well...they aren't all there, you understand," Mia's mother says, shifting uncomfortably under Spike's hard gaze. "And we aren't...aren't going to just let him...we thought you could teach him. How to be a husband to Mia. So...so they'd be happy."

 

Spike relaxes a little. "Right. I do understand you don't want them to be...but I won't help you unless I feel they want this. And if I don't feel right about it, I'm going to take it to Magistrate Gerard."

 

All the parents look at Spike with shock. Magistrate Gerard is the highest authority in the city!

 

"You have no right to interfere! You're just a paid hooker!" Bellows Mia's father.

 

"You are fucking RIGHT I will interfere! Who better to know what it's like to have no choice, eh? Is that what you want?"

 

"But they get along," Alvin's mother says softly.

 

"Is that all that's needed? Don't you want them to care about each other?" Spike retorts. "Otherwise you might as well lock them in a dark room together like the ancient Spartans and let him do his duty."

 

The parents look sickened and chastened by Spike's graphic reference.

 

"I understand you want grandchildren, but they are more than chickens to lay your eggs. Or am I wrong?"

 

Alvin's mother has tears in her eyes. She puts out a hand to stroke Alvin's hair where he is ignoring the adults. "No, I love him. I hurt every day because I love him so much."

 

All through the discussion of Alvin and Mia's fate, I kept glancing at Spike.

 

I'm so proud of him.

 

Of who he is.

 

The world treats him like a soulless thing and he...tries to make it a better place. He tries to help people.

 

I don't realize I'm smiling faintly, watching him.

 

Until he looks up from his tea and winks at me.

 

We share a moment.

 

I forget the sweat on my back.

 

The way my cut offs are down around my rear end because they are loose on my hips or the way my long pony tail is tickling my back as I move.

 

All I see...is Spike.

 

Another pair of eyes catches mine and I see Alvin and Mia studying me.

 

I flush and go back to work, scrubbing.

 

"What I recommend." Spike says in a gentle voice that is inflexible with authority, nonetheless. "Is that Mia and Alvin come see me a couple times a week. And we'll see. Alright?"

 

"You aren't really going to lock them in a room...?" Alvin's mother still looks shocked. She has one hand on Alvin's knee.

 

Spike smiles, gets up with silent grace and crosses the grass mat floor to sit in front of Mama Alvin. He somehow manages to sit so all the elaborate folds of his crimson and blue kimono are crisp and the twin cranes which fly across the clouds and stars are unruffled.

 

He takes her hand and gives her a sensuous kiss on the back of it which makes her gasp at his audacity and her husband mutter. Spike smiles serenely. "Leave it to me, Pet. I'll take care of it. Spike's good at these things."

 

Mama Alvin blushes and giggles and her husband wastes no time in pulling her to her feet, away from Spike's potent allure.

 

"Well, as long as we have our grandchildren," he says. "It's not like Alvin or Mia would even recognize real love--"

 

The adults stand and Mia is herded between her parents, but Alvin surprises me by running to the glass door and banging on it.

 

I get up and open it.

 

"Alvin?"

 

"Here!" He tears off a sheet of paper and then goes over to Mia, mimicking his parents by putting an arm around her and following the others out.

 

Spike comes over to the doorway and leans there, taking a sip of his tea and giving me a quizzical look. "What's the boy given you, then?"

 

My hand is shaking as I hand it to him.

 

It is a drawing of my face, looking up in that secret moment at Spike.

 

And Spike as he looks back at me.

 

Below the portraits is scrawled in rough letters: "Real Love."

 

******************************

 

Footnotes for this chapter:

 

I've used the songs of The Eagles before in my stories. Readers of Forbidden may remember the words I used from Take the Devil. If you want to hear the music of a man broken by love and longing to give it to his beloved, go find THAT song.

 

The Song of Songs is the most famous work of sensuous rejoicing in the union of body ever written. It is attributed to Solomon. I will be evil and say that having studied history and being not slavishly a follower of religious dogma, I believe it was written by a woman. No one is around who knows the real truth. Song of Songs

 

Some will think it's wrong to use a biblical reference to describe the love between two men. Love is LOVE. There is nothing wrong in the love between Xander and Spike. So my choice is very deliberate. Why should Xan not woo his love with some of the most beautiful words ever written?

 

On Alvin and Mia. People who have had some kind of brain damage, as is implied here, have the same desires and need for love as anyone else. If they might become attached, there is nothing wrong in Spike helping them to learn to express it physically, with tenderness, with humor and with passion.

 

The reference Spike makes to "locking them in a dark room together" is from Spartan history in Ancient Greece. Why the Spartans had such a formidable army was their practice of removing boys from the home at an early age, putting them in camps together where only the strongest survived the beatings and other trials. Once a boy had killed his first man, he was allowed sexual gratification with a girl, because he was seen as "fit" to procreate. With no warning or courtship, he was locked in a room alone with her so that he might do his duty (most likely a form of rape) and make the girl pregnant.

 

As dark as anything dreamed up in fan fic, there is a parallel in real life, unfortunately. Perhaps that is why we explore those dark worlds from a place of safety. Perhaps we want to see our characters dwell in dark places but ultimately come back to the light.

 

---

 

Interlude - The Crushed Lotus Blossom

 

 

...sword falls--

 

Arm comes up, bare, sinewy, pale.

 

The sword cuts into flesh and--

 

HE cries out.

 

I see the blood spray out like water splashing under your hand.

 

Looks just like that.

 

It hits my face.

 

******************************

 

"Xan! Love, wake up!"

 

I wake to find myself in Spike's arms.

 

I'm covered in sweat, panting, shaking.

 

"Wha--?"

 

"Nightmare again. Oh, sweet heart." Spike pulls me close and cuddles me and I feel tears in my eyes at his caring.

 

When I had The Nightmare before with Anya or Cordy they told me to go sleep on the couch.

 

I still remembered sitting alone, my belly in knots and...

 

...Xander Harris just never caught any breaks with tenderness.

 

Until him. Spike.

 

"Better now?" A cool kiss on my cheek as he brushes back my long hair from my sweaty face.

 

I nod.

 

He makes to sit up and I grab his forearms.

 

"...just...hold me a little longer?" I can't believe I ask for that. But I need it more than anything.

 

"Was just getting you a blanket, love. Won't let go."

 

"Don't...let me go, Spike." I bury my face in his neck and his arms are like iron bands around me.

 

"No worries, Pet."

 

************************

 

"Dancing? Tonight?"

 

"Yeah. Haven't done any kind of group thing since before--"

 

My fists ball.

 

"Waitaminute! I mean just A Dance. No...stuff after. Dance is a true art form, Xan."

 

"So is sex, the way you do it!" I grumble.

 

"Why thank you, love." He says. "After I dance you can lead me from the room with this." Spike hands me the heavy gold leash which can be snapped onto his fancy collar. "It's sort of symbolic. A dancer "belongs" to whomever they perform for, so since none of the guests can have me--"

 

I growl.

 

He smirks, but then rubs my cheek tenderly.

 

"Few other things I'd like you to wear, too, love. Will you?"

 

"You won't let them all have you, will you?" I ask, not looking at him. I can barely tolerate his regulars, but the idea of him spreading himself for a crowd while I'm in the same room...!

 

He snuggles me and then takes my hand and runs it over his erection, hidden under the silk of his kimono. "This is yours, Pet. And I'll prove it to you tonight."

 

I feel on the brink of tears. How would you feel if you loved someone and they weren't free to love you and share their body only with you?

 

It's...hell...

 

Spike added a few other things in a pile. Abalone shells cut in little rectangles in the thousands in a bowl and anklets and wrist bands made of sea glass in greens and blues with cream and pink fresh water pearls. One anklet has a little gold key hanging from it, I pick it up to ask him what it's for but he just smiles at my wordless question and I know it's part of his surprise.

 

"Kinda...I dunno...fembo." I say instead, stroking the loot.

 

"I like seeing you "fembo" since you are so big and strong and...rough." His voice purrs as he says this, stroking my thick, sinewy arms.

 

I hesitate a moment, then. "You're doing this for me, aren't you? Not...sharing yourself with them after."

 

"Yeah, I am." He admits and I feel myself slowly relaxing. "Also...haven't danced since before the rape. Make me feel safe, you do."

 

He leans his head against my neck and I wrap my arms around him in comfort.

 

"I do? Uhhhh. Well, yeah. Don't worry. No one messes with my pretty vamp."

 

I feel him smiling against my skin and I smack his cheeky ass.

 

"I love you, Xan." He says tenderly, giving me, you know, The Words for the first time.

 

I feel tears prick my eyes.

 

"Okay. That's good. That's...okay."

 

*********************************

 

"...might help if you talked to someone about it. Those dreams."

 

I'm lying over top of him now. Curled up like a child in his arms with my cut offs on, but unzipped. Spike is wearing his kimono, but he's a little less that perfect. His hair is mussed and his eyes are sleepy. My nightmare woke us both up from where we'd fallen asleep on the tea patio the night before.

 

"I've been having them as long as I can remember. But lately..."

 

"Having them more? Wonder what's changed?"

 

I raise an eyebrow at him in irony and he smirks. "Well, other than lusting after my pretty arse. Think that triggered it? What usually brings it on then?"

 

I thought about it that way for the first time and he was right...there was a pattern!

 

"When I feel...strongly about something. Yeah...usually I have those dreams." I paused and tried to draw sense from the almost physical sensations of the dream. "I fall. On something hard...but soft. Then...I'm shitting myself 'cause I'm about to be skewered but...HE saves me. That's it."

 

Spike frowned. "Sounds like The Games. Do you go often?"

 

"Yeah, right. Watching the duels and stuff? Nahuh. Not exactly my thing. I prefer...growing things. Building things."

 

"My horticultural builder, you are."

 

"Boring, I know."

 

Spike leans closer and outlines my lips with his tongue, then he fists my hair and arches my neck so he can nuzzle me.

 

"Horticulture is fuckin' hot!"

 

************************

 

I'm having coffee and Spike his root shit later that morning when Albert shows up.

 

I look at Spike, bemused.

 

It's really early.

 

Did he know Albert was coming?

 

Spike shows no sign of surprise.

 

Instead he stands up, opens his robe and drops it.

 

Hello, suddenly I'm staring at nude, beautiful, pale Spike.

 

"Uhhhh." I look over at Albert who seems to find nothing shocking about this. Albert is searching around for a few pillows and when he makes a nice nest for himself, he sits down.

 

Spike strolls over casually to the fresh-cut cymbidiums he asked me to bring that morning from the greenhouse.

 

Flower in hand, he goes over to a marble pedestal, sits there, his lips pursed...musing...swinging his leg and then he raises one leg, lowers his chin and gives me this...

 

...look...

 

Okay. Is it hot out here suddenly?

 

Albert settles down with his sketch book and begins to draw.

 

I roll my eyes, before getting up to get on with the planting I need to do.

 

Spike pouts his luscious red lips and blows me a naughty kiss.

 

And that is--

 

Life with Spike.

 

It was late when Spike made his first appearance.

 

The anticipation was at fever pitch. I guess since he hadn't danced since what happened to him.

 

The air crackles with anticipation and...desire.

 

They all want him.

 

I try not to let it get to me.

 

I light incense since he told me that the dance is like this sacred act and he had to respect that. I guess...the joss sticks add something.

 

The incense burns around the little altar with a lingam or sacred phallus in the centre of a pool of floating lotus blossoms from the water gardens.

 

The erect carving of a penis made of pink marble with red veins running through it has been anointed in perfumed oils of cinnamon and frankincense which give off a sharp and woody scent. Very masculine in contrast to the soft colors of pinks and purples from the open flowers in the softly stirring water.

 

I look around at the men and women in a semi-circle, glittering with jewels. Some of the women in high diadems and the men done up in feathers. Pretty fancy for a simple gardener.

 

I try to disappear although I see some of them sneak looks at me.

 

Not sure why they are looking at me. Do I look like a big freak?

 

Spike had done my hair up in about a million tiny braids and hung little rectangular slabs of abalone in it. Around my neck and ankles are the cuffs of sea glass and fresh water pearls. The one with the key I am wearing on my left ankle. Spike asked me to wear on the left since that's where my heart is.

 

Cradled in my hands is his golden leash of long, rough cut gold loops. I stroke it and it calms me. When the dance is done, no matter that they all get to look and touch and stroke him, I will lead him away because he is mine.

 

Just when I think I might start to fall asleep--hey, gardener here, not used to late nights!--the music begins softly.

 

I see a pale leg slip out to undulate from between various scarves in jewel tones of garnet, emerald, and sapphire from behind a pillar.

 

All conversation stops and we watch as The Dancer slowly appears.

 

Spike suddenly spins softly into place, scarves whirling, glittering with gold chains and precious stones. He is wearing his special jeweled collar, of course, but I catch my breath at the rest of his enticing outfit.

 

He spreads his legs and his hips do a slow roll, back and forth, emulating the act of sex. Clearly outlined by the soft silk are the shape of his cock and balls.

 

...I start to sweat, my fingers biting into the gold chain. I want to possess him, like everyone else in the room...

 

His head is back so I see his white throat and the rose quartz rings through his nipples with shuddering chains of heavy gold links and rubies. One hits him on his belly, the other falls down to where his scarves hint at his sex.

 

Stay by me

And make the moment last

Please take these lips

Even if I have been kissed

A million times

 

Annie Lennox's voice croons sweet and sure as he looks into my eyes to the lyrics and I know. He chose this song for me.

 

The words are his secret gift to me.

 

He coyly dances closer to one of the men and circles his ass. A hand reaches out and strokes him and then rips away two of his concealing scarves.

 

And I don't care if there is no tomorrow

When I could die here in your arms

Even if the stars have made us blind

We're blind we're blind

So blind in love

 

He spins and his scarves fly high, giving teasing glimpses of his cock fur and his bare ass among jangling pretty jewels.

 

One his knees he crawls close to a crowd of women, who stroke his head like he's a beloved pet. One woman touches his perfect red lips and he opens his mouth to bite her gently as another reaches under his scarves and gives the back of his heavy balls a squeeze.

 

I touch my bare chest, sweating...hard...

 

The giggling women take away the last of his protective scarves over his ass, revealing a little slinky gold belt with a chain that goes through his crack, tinkling with bits of tiger striped fur and rough cut heavy crystals which must hit against his open ass with every move he makes.

 

Sweet darling

Don't you know that we're no different to anyone

We stumble

We falter

But we're no different than anyone

 

What he does next shocks me. I didn't know this was part of...dancing...

 

He panther crawls over to the sacred altar I prepared and while the guests all wait, obviously aware as I am not about what's coming, he lifts his slender body over it and dips down to take the thick marble phallus inside his body in a slow graceful slide, impaling himself...

 

Holy fuck!

 

...Now the guests clap at how he has "performed."

 

He throws his head back and moans as he worships the altar with his body, lifting himself up and down slowly while his penis trembles and is clearly outlined by the soft veils.

 

He's incredibly aroused, loving the feel of that marble dildo up him and we all feel it!

 

Some get up and go over and stroke his feet, making his jeweled and belled anklets ring. A couple of men rip off more of his scarves until he is wearing only a transparent blue undulating one which looks familiar...through it I see some kind of gold net around his penis, but I'm not sure what it is...they leave him lavish gifts of jewels and thick coins wrapped in gauzy bags in tribute.

 

As I watch, sweat running down my chest, he continues to move up and down on the altar, fucking himself on it to the sweet sound of the music.

 

--I don't even know I've gotten to my feet--

 

Next thing I'm in front of him.

 

Staring down at him as he continues to undulate like a cat who can't get enough--

 

His eyes half closed, his lips parted in a half-smile. His face flushed as he glides up and down.

 

And all the winter snow has melted now

Into a pool of silver water

And we were standing in a thunder cloud

Dark as your hair

Dark as your hair

 

I loom over him and lift him off the altar gently as the music fades and his delicate ankles come around my waist, attaching himself to me.

 

I set him down, staring at him.

 

My face feels still and hard.

 

My heart is pounding in my ears.

 

I feel...far away from myself.

 

He reaches up and touches my hair in sympathy, as if he understands how his workings have affected me.

 

In one savage motion, I reach down and rip away his last veil, revealing to my eyes his beautiful, full erection with the ruby and gold net that lay hidden like the final surprise. He's wearing what is crudely called a "cock cage" or chastity belt. But it's...pretty...

 

Loose dangling rubies and semi-precious stones dangle over his balls, opening for his erection, which is encircled by rings of rose quartz. The gold transparent shield over his cock head has a tiny opening for a key.

 

He can be touched and teased, wearing it, but he can only climax at the whim of his "master."

 

There is more applause now and one by one the guests get up and reach out to touch him in gentle appreciation.

 

As I stand, stiff, mute--

 

They cup his head and kiss his red mouth or--

 

Some bolder ones caress his wrapped penis and he moans a little, stimulated but strangled by the device.

 

One of the men is his old client. Dude who spanked him. He smiles and boldly cups Spike. "I'll make an appointment if you promise to wear it for me."

 

Spike smiles at him with true tenderness and reaches over to give he alone a gentle kiss on the lips. "I look forward to it, pet." He says.

 

Gah, the guy has to be a hundred years old!

 

And I...I...feel that out of body wash of feeling--

 

I reach out and snag him by his hair and then snap on his leash, pulling him to me and taking his mouth in a possessive kiss.

 

MINE!

 

He surrenders to me, reaching under my cut offs to touch the tops of my ass cheeks and give me a tender squeeze.

 

"Lead me away now, sweet boy?" He asks me.

 

It's that smile that does it.

 

The courtesan, so mannered and alluring.

 

Fuck it!

 

Before the astonished eyes of his guests I reach down and take him by the knees and in one heave lift him over my muscled shoulder.

 

With my hand possessively over his ass, I head out without a by-your-leave to our garden.

 

Mine.

 

********************

 

When it quiets down, I'm still holding him, trembling a little.

 

"Sorry, pet. I know you're an innocent. Must have--"

 

He breaks off when I give his stalk a rough squeeze.

 

I reach down and take the anklet with the gold key off my ankle and dangle it in front of him.

 

"I'll...wear it all the time if you ask it of me," he says, his face soft in the moonlight. "Won't be able to cum except by your touch alone."

 

I rub his cock and he closes his eyes and I know he's so stimulated it must be pleasure/pain, but he's driven me past where I feel gentle.

 

"I want that..." I say as I palm him and pull his hair so his body is arched and open over my lap. "But...I won't ask. I know you don't want to do this...and...how can I take any pleasure you get out of it from you?"

 

"You...love me then?"

 

I decide to show him.

 

I take the key and open the pretty cage.

 

His cock is purple with need, weeping, marked by the cruel bands.

 

I reach down and kiss it where it was hurting.

 

He lays limp under my touch and I know he'll let me do what I want with him now.

 

I don't know how to give head to another guy but I know what I like so I cup his balls and dip down to suck on his cock head, stabbing his slit over and over with my big, rough tongue.

 

"I can't...love, I can't hold on..." He's weeping because his iron control has splintered now, but I only continue to adore him tenderly and his hand comes up and wraps itself in my hair as my gentle tasting makes him spurt into my mouth.

 

I take it all and lick him after, loving how sensitive he is...

 

"Loved doing that to you..." I tell him.

 

"Loved havin' you do it."

 

We kiss, his hands buried in my hair and it's the most perfect moment in my whole fucking life.

 

************************

 

Later I tell him what I remembered.

 

It doesn't surprise him at all.

 

He knew.

 

"...when I was five, my dad took me to The Games. I got...sick. Fell." I say. "Like...into The Ring. I remember now."

 

"You had a little pony tail." He says.

 

"It was you! You saved me and--"

 

"Yeah. I was fighting a duel when you fell in the sand behind me. Hated humans. No idea why I...but when the sword fell, I caught part of it on my arm and then--"

 

"...I reached up and I cut my hand on your sword and--"

 

"Our blood mingled. Yeah. Love, we never had a chance. We've been blood bound for years."

 

"When did you know?"

 

"Tasted you the day you cut yourself. Knew then. Always knew the bond would bring you to me one day."

 

"The...demon who tried to kill me? I've had nightmares about his face--"

 

"Yeah." Spike coughed. "That wasn't actually my opponent. Was Angel. He didn't want you to live when we'd shared blood."

 

"The gladiator they call "The Champion" tried to kill me?" My voice gets a bit high at the end.

 

But...you have to have seen Angel in action to understand.

 

Long hair down to his calves, his trademark rough-hewn loin cloth, the necklace made of the teeth of his demon opponents around his neck, huge muscles, don't fuck with ME, boy, look on his face--

 

"When you danced...you know, before all the porny stuff?"

 

He laughs softly at my description.

 

"The way you...moved. It just clicked. And I remembered the way you moved as a gladiator."

 

"Not so different. Dancing or fighting."

 

"Uhhhhh. So you and Angel?"

 

"Shhhhh. Not now, Pet. Just hold me."

 

I lift him in my arms and carry him to our tea patio.

 

I took him deep into the jungle of the garden and under the deep shadow of a gardenia bush made love to his cock for the first time.

 

"My Wild Boy. Took me in your garden at last."

 

"YOU asked for it."

 

"And I got it, didn't I?"

 

On the steps to our patio is a crushed lotus blossom.

 

Was it my foot that shattered it as I took him into the garden to make love to him?

 

I feel a shiver run up my back.

 

Spike leans down in my arms and picks it up, smoothing the pink flower out with his fingers.

 

I put him down and we hold each other. His free hand stroking my long hair and big shoulders, my arms wrapped around his small pale body...

 

Afterwards, he insists on making us tea.

 

"That thing you did with the lingam? Uhhhh." I feel my hands sweat, remembering it.

 

"I'll ride myself on yours one day." He says serenely.

 

Shit!

 

"I'm...not ready." I feel that knot in my stomach. Even as I want him.

 

"No. You and I both were like this crushed flower when we met, Pet." Spike carefully unfolds it and puts it in a little tea bowl with cool, fresh water, a piece of quartz and some driftwood I bought him. "But see now? Smooth out the petals and look how sweet the flower deep inside?"

 

---

 

Keptverse ficlet - Robin's Folly

 

Dusk had just fallen when the little bird hit itself against the glass and Robin felt a pain in her throat for its desperation.

 

How often did she feel like that?

 

Screaming inside but nobody saw.

 

Nobody...

 

...looked.

 

She pulled off her apron, dropped her bag of tips on the floor and went after the little brown sparrow.

 

At the other end of the long dining hall, she caught it in the net of fabric.

 

It had surrendered as prey animals do when snared.

 

She had a surprise for this little bird!

 

Outside she smiled as she threw open the apron and out it flew!

 

"There...see now? All better," She said.

 

Then...HE walked by.

 

She was standing there all in brown.

 

Looking, she knew, like a big lump.

 

She always hid her face before people turned away.

 

She wasn't anyone you'd want to look at too long.

 

He was like a Silver Angel.

 

Wearing BRIGHT colors. A vibrant green tunic and pants with some kind of embroidered flower all over it. Robin didn't know one flower from the next, but...pretty.

 

And jewels!

 

Oh...a collar.

 

He was a--

 

He turned and smiled at her, completely aware of his surroundings.

 

"Set the little bird free?" He asked her in a sweet voice.

 

His lips were red and pouty.

 

Robin felt a flash of heat.

 

Then...heat/fear...

 

Then...

 

...Back away and hide now...don't make eye contact...

 

"Yeah. Stupid thing."

 

He stopped and blue eyes regarded her.

 

He was looking at her!

 

Into...her...

 

"Nice thing you did."

 

"Anyone woulda..."

 

"Not likely. Good evening to you, mistress." He bowed formally but...then he gave her a saucy wink!

 

Before Robin could react, he was on his way, his chain jangling behind him, silk billowing out in the breeze.

 

He took all that color with him.

 

She didn't even see her friend had come out to watch him at first.

 

"Ohhhh, Pretty Spike. You lusting after him?"

 

"What if I am!" Robin felt defiant as she actually moved to the center of the alley to glimpse that smooth, graceful figure until he disappeared from view.

 

"Well, you can have him. Anyone can, if they have his price."

 

"He's a whore?" Robin felt a rise of hope.

 

...she could...?

 

"No, you stupid cow, he's a Courtesan. He does the Rich and Famous. But still, a whore is a whore and it's hot to think of him bending over and taking it like we women do, eh?"

 

Robin didn't find that hot. Instead, she felt.

 

Empathy.

 

"He danced. At that party?"

 

"Really?" Robin looked at her friend wistfully.

 

Robin hadn't been invited.

 

Fat, stupid, lumpy Robin stayed at home at night.

 

Didn't even...

 

...because she'd once had to do it for him.

 

If Spike was a whore.

 

She knew how that felt.

 

She stayed out in the spring night for a while and just...took a moment for herself.

 

Then:

 

"Get in here, you bloody fat cow! Work to be done and you're out mooning for a whore? You'd have to pay for a fuck, that's sure!" Jenner, her boss, had picked up the little bag of Robin's hard earned tips for the day and was stashing it in his own apron.

 

Robin opened her mouth to protest but--

 

Not much point.

 

She'd saved a little bird and seen a pretty man.

 

And like everything in Robin's life.

 

It had cost her.

 

*********************

 

Robin woke up, sweating, her body shaking with--

 

She reached down there over the lump of her stomach.

 

She was as wet as when she bled.

 

A delicious languor made her limbs feel heavy.

 

She'd dreamed she'd been invited to her friend's banquet.

 

Dreamed of HIM!

 

Dancing for her.

 

Smiling at her.

 

Seeing her.

 

His cat eyes on her face as he pranced about...whatever it was he did when he danced.

 

From what she'd heard half the women there had watched his big cock bobbing around.

 

Robin would have looked at his eyes, his face...

 

Well, alright.

 

And the big cock.

 

She didn't like...men.

 

They took what they--

 

Next door she heard Jenner enter her friend's room and pulled the pillow close.

 

Thank God she was fat!

 

But Spike...he was like her.

 

He had no choice.

 

But somehow he'd...gotten around it.

 

He looked.

 

Confident.

 

Huh. Maybe she'd save her tips and--

 

Naw, what was she thinking...?

 

--Next door a cry of pain--

 

Jenner liked a little bruising with his fucking.

 

Spike would probably touch a woman...softly.

 

Robin got up, put on her robe and escaped to the weedy garden next to the food hall.

 

As she sat there waiting for day to break she decided to save her tips.

 

**************************

 

"That poem! That's ME!" Robin said, grabbing the book from Spike's lap while she had tea with he and Xan.

 

"The Lady of Shallot?" Spike's eyebrow cocked and he got those sexy wrinkles above it.

 

He was so...pretty.

 

Pretty Spike.

 

And...Xan.

 

Xan lay sleepy from his work, listening to Spike read to them both.

 

Robin could understand that.

 

He was still a little muddy and he probably thought he looked a sight.

 

But the thing was, she thought he looked...hot like that.

 

Long hair, big muscles, tanned and soft puppy eyes.

 

Like Spike, Xan was another who would never...hurt someone.

 

Wouldn't use his big hands to--

 

"...when I first saw you. You remember? Had to..."

 

...have you...

 

Robin flushed.

 

"Well, darling, the Lady of Shallot didn't fare too well after she looked at Lancelot." Spike cupped Robin's chubby cheek, his eyes kind and laughing at the same time. "We'll make sure you do better, hmmmm?"

 

*****************************

 

It was because she was smiling and thinking of HER boys that Jenner cornered her at all.

 

Usually she watched him like a mouse, alert for any movement of the big, indifferent predator.

 

He didn't want to fuck her, thank God.

 

But smack her, he would, if he caught her.

 

She wasn't bonded to him anymore.

 

But her family didn't want her.

 

Big, stupid, disappointment.

 

She wouldn't marry whom they told her to marry.

 

So...she had to work.

 

A woman couldn't live on her own.

 

She had to live under the roof of a man of some kind.

 

And...Jenner didn't want her THAT way.

 

So as much as she hated working here, she didn't have to worry about that.

 

Now, thinking of the daisy crown Xan had woven and put in her hair this evening, Robin climbed the stairs to her room.

 

"What's this?" Jenner grabbed her little fey crown off her head, his hand bruising her chubby forearm.

 

"Just...something I wove for myself."

 

"You've got something going on. Don't think I don't know. I can't believe anyone would want you spreading for them, but I guess you finally got so desperate--"

 

"Leave me alone!" Her voice got high and she froze in place. She knew she should toss him off, but she just kept screaming inside while her body didn't move.

 

She'd been trained well...

 

"One night I might get desperate--"

 

Finally she found it in herself to break away and she ran to her room, slamming and locking her door.

 

************************

 

The next morning she found her little daisy crown still lying on the stairs.

 

The flowers were browning and curled and someone had stepped on them.

 

************************

 

"You're quiet today," Xan said to Robin.

 

She was sipping tea, sleepy in the sunlight. Xan had been leaning in the bench behind her but somehow they'd drifted together, as they always did.

 

So now she was cuddled in his arms as they waited for Spike, who wanted to demo a new dance for just the two of them between clients.

 

"Tired...I guess." Robin pulled down her little jade silk dress that Spike had insisted she wear today. It was tight and she hadn't been able to put on underneath things. When the cool breeze blew, she could feel it brushing between her legs.

 

She felt quite...unlike herself.

 

Xan as still musky with sweat and earth from his garden. His hair was wrapped away in a turban made of his tee shirt. He only wore the cut offs and Robin felt a gentle pulsing in her body at his closeness. She had all sorts of thoughts about him she knew would make him blush!

 

About the both of them, truth be told!

 

Just then Spike came out, wearing his dance costume.

 

Ummmm. Which was little fringed bells around his ankles, his jeweled collar and a translucent beaded and fringed scarf. And THAT was all.

 

Robin thought her eyes would pop out at the faint glimpse of his...

 

"...must bleach it. To be that color!" She blushed when she realized she'd spoken out loud.

 

Spike smirked and bowed. "I comb it out too and put a moisturizer into it so it's silky soft," he confided.

 

Oh dear GOD!

 

He bent over to turn on a light recording of soft beating drums and a pan flute and she could see the heavy fruit of his sex from between his open legs.

 

"Spiiiiike!" Xan reproved him.

 

Spike smirked and cocked a cheeky brow at Xan, whom Robin had guessed by now was his lover. The Silly Things thought they were hiding it from her, but she'd felt it right off.

 

"Take down your hair for me, Sweet Boy, and I'll show you my sexy dance." Spike's eyes were heavy-lidded as he smiled at Xan.

 

Xan threw his head back, groaned at Spike's over-the-top behavior...but, he reached up and pulled off his turban. Dark, wild, silky hair fell to below his waist.

 

Seeing it come down like that struck Robin as very erotic.

 

Spike's eyes widened a little and Robin say a tinge of yellow in them as he looked at Xan.

 

Whoa.

 

Without further ado, Spike began to move seductively around the marble tiles, his body hinted at in teasing little glimpses of the scarf.

 

Robin began to sweat and Xan's hands on her shoulders gripped her harder, as if he was forcing himself not to go over to Spike and rip off that veil and--

 

The little bells jangled with sweet softness as Spike moved feather light, his beautiful white ass peaking out and other times, his pretty cock with it's nest of yellow-white fur. The fabric veiled him a little, but when it stretched it was like looking at his nude body through water.

 

At last he finished and he came and lay down before them both in a submissive crouch, pulling his legs in and bowing.

 

Xan got up. He looked like he wanted to go over and--

 

Robin cleared her throat and then went over and gently tapped Spike's shoulder, signaling that the dancer who always plays the slave in the dance, was free to sit up.

 

He sat up, smiled and then bent over--kissed her--and confidently cupped one of her breasts in one cool hand.

 

Robin moaned. "Oh, no, no--"

 

"No?" He looked wistful.

 

"I don't open my gifts before my birthday," Robin told him primly.

 

"Then...howabout a little preview, Sweet Robin?" Spike pulled his scarf off one knee and leaned down to an open jar of shea butter. He put a huge dollop on his knee.

 

Robin frowned. What...?

 

Then Spike reached into a bowl of fine sand and sprinkled some over the shea butter on his knee.

 

"Is this a new kind of defoliant?" Robin asked.

 

Spike pulled her dress up a little higher as her eyes saucered and brought her open body over his knee.

 

"Yeah. Scrap away all the bad and leave you...tingling."

 

He began to rock her on his knee and...OH!

 

The sand, the soft sun-warmed butter--

 

Robin cried out and nearly fell but Xan was there and he supported her, so she was sandwiched between them. As she moaned and twisted and Spike watched her silently, that predatorial sexuality uncloaked as he gauged her responses, Xan whispered praise in her ear and cupped her breasts, kneading them gently--

 

"Cum, Sweetie. It's okay," Xan told her finally.

 

Robin came almost on his command, long spasms that went on forever, the sand leaving her feeling sensitized. She lay panting against Xan, tears drying on her face.

 

Spike leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips.

 

"Ours, Sweet Robin."

 

********************************

 

She thought she had gotten away with hiding what was troubling her when Xan went off to work on the special project he'd been building in the garden all week. Some kind of a folly, or garden house. The boys hadn't let her see it yet and she was dying of curiosity.

 

Usually they went for a walk, the three of them, hand in hand and Xan showed them the flowers and fruit that had ripened during the hot summer day.

 

But as her day off lengthened and Spike returned from doing two clients, a married couple who liked to "share" him, she began to fret.

 

Really, she should...go home.

 

Really, she didn't want to!

 

Xan returned, dripping sweat, a nail gun hanging from one tanned hand, his turban up again. He went over to the fountain, pulled off his turban and as Robin and Spike watched him, poured icy cold water over his head so his nipples hardened and his skin took on the luster of a merman straight from the ocean.

 

Oh, Lordy, he was hot!

 

"All ready then?" Spike asked him.

 

Xan nodded, not saying anything. He was looking at Robin.

 

Robin frowned when Spike helped her to her feet.

 

The boys walked with her between them, their arms around her possessively and Robin felt...

 

...OMG, any woman would KILL to be her!

 

Fat, stupid, lumpy brown Robin.

 

And the two hottest men she'd ever seen called her "theirs."

 

She was still a little shy about what they'd done for her before.

 

Now and then her cheeks pinkened but the boys didn't refer to it.

 

They came over the little Rainbow Bridge with the stone lantern and the red, gold and spotted koy in the stream below. Robin's favorite part of the garden.

 

And...there it was!

 

A wee little accident of a house.

 

A gold roof in the shape of a pineapple and...mosaics of blues and greens and golds, flashing with fish patterns...and a little window with a box with fresh herbs.

 

The wood Xan had used to build it was all silver and aged. The odd little house...sparkled, lit by two torches.

 

Xan led her in, and the door had a lovely, welcoming creak to it. Inside...was a bird cage made of a frolic of twisted wire and a tiny sleeping yellow bird, which opened its eyes and studied them but remained on one leg.

 

"Canary. Spike said you liked birds..." Xan watched as Robin went inside, her hands over her face, taking it all in.

 

"He...he remembered." She said, weeping now.

 

"Time you came and lived with us, Little Pet." Spike said and he took her arm where the bruise was black against her pale skin. His jaw flexed and Robin saw his eyes glitter yellow.

 

"I...can't!"

 

"You must. Else I'll have to kill him," Spike told her softly.

 

Xan took her other arm and they led her over to the little hearth with a braided rag rug and a rocking chair. "Robin, you need to quit that job or I'll--"

 

She saw they were serious and she felt a deep thrill of fear for them.

 

Why...they would both kill for her...?

 

"So you see you have to come live with us now. You're ours, after all." Spike kissed her forehead and Xan gave her cheek a tender caress.

 

"In the morning I'll go with you to get your stuff," Xan said. "I made the bed for you. There's some of Spike's tea in the kitchen..." He shifted, blushing.

 

"I don't know what to...say..." She was crying silently.

 

Was this...happiness? Was this...contentment?

 

Was this how it felt to be loved?

 

To be...family?

 

She followed them to the door and watched them, smiling.

 

When they thought they were out of her sight, Spike put his hand in Xander's as they walked away.

 

---

 

White Crane

 

"Anya!"

 

Spike is doing my hair for our special night with Robin and suddenly...there she is.

 

My former girlfriend.

 

I jump up and the rough cut crystals that Spike convinced me to weave into my hair tonight tinkle together.

 

"...Xander...?"

 

She takes in my long hair and the...uh, crystals.

 

"I was just...Spike wanted to experiment on me. With me. Like...uhhhh."

 

Spike looks up at me and he doesn't look particularly pleased.

 

Uh oh.

 

This is not so different from when Anya met Cordelia.

 

I mean, Spike is a guy, so you'd think it would be but...

 

I'm getting...jealous vibes from him?

 

I try not to fuck this up.

 

Any more than it is already.

 

"Anya, this is my friend Spike. Spike, meet Anya, my..."

 

Did I almost call her my girl friend out of habit?

 

Maybe he'll miss my almost-slip.

 

I look down and smile and he's giving me a look under his brows.

 

Nope.

 

He caught it.

 

Shit.

 

Spike stands up gracefully and takes over from my fumbling.

 

I try not to resent that he's so smooth.

 

"Anya, Xander has spoken about you." He reaches out and actually takes her hand and does that sexy hand-kissing thing.

 

It's...weird.

 

Especially when Anya blinks and I know she finds him...attractive.

 

Okay, I won't tell you the mental picture I get of myself in bed with the two of them on either side of me...

 

Oh, shit. I guess I just did.

 

"He has?" She looks a little disgruntled.

 

Spike offers her some root de jour and she sits down cross legged to take it.

 

I'm beginning to relax enough to study her and...something's off.

 

"Why did you come here, Anya?" I ask her, not knowing what else to do.

 

"Well...Xander." She begins to play with her tea bowl and I look over at Spike and he's watching her with the fixed attention of a predator.

 

This is just...so much fun!

 

"I know I was unhappy over your lack of...how you are lacking but...I think we should try again. What I'm trying to say is if you are willing to get therapy and take medication, I'll overlook it all and take you back!" Anya says with her bizarro mix of directness and frivolity.

 

It's what I always liked about her.

 

If she liked you, she said so.

 

Me, I need to hear it. I'm dumb that way...but, unfortunately, her directness goes both ways, so she's just as happy to tell you when she thinks you are lacking.

 

I flush 'cause I know Spike knows about my little problem with Mr. Hard On but telling him in privacy is different from having him hear it from my ex.

 

Okay...WTF now???

 

I look up and they are both staring at me.

 

Well, Anya is looking at me calmly, waiting for me to fall into place gratefully which I guess I would have done if I'd not...if not for Spike.

 

Yay! Way to go, what a winner I am!

 

She treats me like a dog but if I hadn't fallen in someone else's orbit, I'd be willing to take her back so she could maybe...

 

...make me feel better. Heal me from the wounds she made?

 

Yeah, right. Like that would happen.

 

Spike is...glaring at me.

 

WTF! Does he think I'm going to...?

 

How can he even think...

 

He's so confident, so...beautiful.

 

Why would he even worry that I'd...go back to her?

 

But its clear he's pissy all of a sudden.

 

Greaaaaat!

 

This is Xander Harris Official Nightmare Number 877#. The only thing lacking is Cordelia.

 

Yup, that would be so peachy.

 

I clear my throat. I hate to reject people. I mean, I'm rejected all the time but...

 

"Anya...I don't think that would work." I mumble.

 

"I don't see why not. You were always very good before at getting hard. We could try the spanking again. Or bondage!"

 

"ANYA!" I cover my face with my hands.

 

"Ohhh, you don't want Spike to hear? But he's in the trade. Perhaps he could offer you advice since he's your friend."

 

Oh, God...I can't even look at him.

 

"If you want to...talk, I should check on Robin..." Spike makes to get up but I reach out on pure instinct and I take his hand.

 

He looks down at my hand holding his and I yank away my bad, evil hand...

 

Anya is frowning at us but it's clear she didn't think too much of my almost "hand holding" with Spike.

 

"Anya, we were getting ready for a special party for our friend Robin."

 

"Is that why your hair...?"

 

I clear my throat. I'm not sure why Spike wanted to dress my hair up like this. He's got a heaping bowl of stuff and uhhhh, some kind of yellow silk thing too...but I'm going along because Robin asked him to make me pretty for her birthday and...and I'd wear a pink tutu for Robin.

 

Spike studies me and I guess my tension is obvious to him.

 

It hurts having her here.

 

I loved her and even now that you have been putting gentle hands on my wounds...

 

Its too soon and they are still so raw.

 

"I'll stay with you then." He says and I feel a surge of love for him.

 

He's protecting me.

 

Sheltering me.

 

He shifts over with silken grace to sit behind me and resumes putting the crystals in my long hair which he brushed for almost an hour so it feels wonderful against my freshly-bathed skin.

 

Anya gives an exasperated sigh which we ignore because he's behind me now, the bowl in his hand and I lean back so I'm touching him. She can't see it, but technically since his hands are in my hair, playing with those crystals, I'm actually in his arms.

 

He gives a little sigh when I rest against him just a little.

 

Like something out of place has fallen back where it belongs.

 

"Your hair feels like a waterfall under my hands." He breathes into my ear.

 

I shiver.

 

He's teasing me in front of Anya!

 

Oh, God...

 

"I can't believe you are letting him put those things in your hair. And you should cut it. You look a mess, Xander." Anya says.

 

"His hair is beautiful and why shouldn't it be decorated?" Spike picks up three of the crystals to show Anya. they are roughly tear drop shaped and tiny but in my hair, they sparkle like water droplets (according to Spike since I haven't seen them yet.)

 

"Rose quartz to help him heal his hurts. To make him see how special he is." Spike attached a tiny crystal to my long hair which rippled down my shirtless body to flow over my cut offs.

 

"Moonstone so he might feel more in balance, more in touch with his higher self..." Spike raised the tiny crystal so it glowed in the moonlight before he attached it to the hair by the side of my face. I felt the cool little stone resting just under my ear against my skin and I did feel...balanced...

 

"And amethyst to calm him and give him peace..." He lifted my hair up away from my neck and deliberately placed this crystal so it would touch my skin. Shielded from Anya's sight behind my broad shoulders, I feel his cool lips against my skin. I bite my lip to keep from gasping.

 

My cock was throbbing from his play.

 

Anya watched in silence as Spike adorned me.

 

My hair glittered with hundreds of crystals now.

 

"But...won't they fall out? I mean, they look expensive. I don't understand why you'd waste them on him."

 

"Don't see it as a waste." Spike's fingers delved under my cutoffs and rubbed the very top of my crack...

 

Oh, Shit...

 

"Well, I suppose you being prostitute and a vampire you are going to be a little queer." She said.

 

"Oh, I'm very queer, love." Spike said, his fingers sliding down and gently rubbing my skin.

 

"Well, maybe you could help Xander out with his problem. I mean if you can help him achieve an erection again--"

 

"Can we NOT...!"

 

"See what I can do." Spike says and his finger slooooowly circles my hole.

 

"Xander, I don't understand why you don't want to be my boyfriend again." Anya returns to the topic which she obviously can't leave. "Have you met someone?"

 

And that's when it hurts.

 

It was bizarrely amusing until she asked me that because of course--

 

I can't say I have.

 

I can't...pull him my arms and nuzzle his neck and say:

 

I'm his. I belong to him now.

 

"No." I say it flat and fast.

 

Spike's hands freeze against my skin.

 

I swallow a lump in my throat.

 

I deny that he is my lover.

 

I deny that I as a human would ever take him as my lover.

 

I deny...Spike.

 

I'm doing this to protect him...us...

 

"I'll leave you two alone now, shall I?" He says coldly. "You and your girlfriend need to talk."

 

"You haven't finished with the crystals in my hair..."

 

Fuck it, I don't care what Anya thinks.

 

I pick up some of the moonstones and amethyst and rose quartz from the bowl he was using and hold them out. "Please stay?"

 

His jaw is flexing but...maybe he gets that I'm trying to let him know I'm his.

 

That he has the right to touch my hair.

 

That even if Anya thinks he's fussing with my hair for his own reasons, the truth is that he is my lover and I'm inviting him to touch me while we are with someone else.

 

Its a way of silently belonging.

 

It's short of what we both want...but we can't have what we want.

 

"If you want." He says, still stiff, but...does he understand my secret message?

 

"Yeah...I love..." I have to clear my throat because there is so much pain in his blue eyes as he looks at me. "Your crystals."

 

*******************

 

"Anya, what's really going on?" I ask her as I walk her safely home.

 

Spike seemed to understand I needed to make sure she was okay.

 

He seemed okay with it.

 

......

 

Anyway, he has to keep making our special preparations for the night with Robin.

 

"Nothing. I just...perhaps I was hasty," she answers me now, but she sounds...so subdued.

 

Where is my girl who used to be so...emphatic?

 

"Uh huh." I look at her and she's gripping her arms around herself.

 

I get this sudden bad feeling.

 

Softly, I say: "You aren't happy."

 

"No...no, I just thought, he was...something he's not. He's not you. You know, gentle." She looks up at me and I stiffen.

 

"Is he...hurting you?"

 

"Would I stay with him if he was?"

 

But that's not an answer from my direct Anya.

 

"I think you shouldn't spend so much time with that vampire." She says now, to change the subject.

 

"Anya--"

 

"I heard the creature is so sex-crazed he actually offered himself to all comers in the public market."

 

A fire ball of molten rage twists my guts.

 

I have to stop for a second and take some deep breaths because...

 

What she said--

 

"How can you say that? He was raped! They...they beat him first. Do you know how much punishment a vampire like Spike can take before they can...and then they took him. Even the men he'd done business with for years!" I feel tears prick my eyes because there is just no way I can be calm and pretend that Spike's violation doesn't haunt me.

 

"Xander..." She moves closer and studies me. "I really think you are going a little too far. You can't rape a thing. He has no soul. Besides...he's a whore. He offers himself all the time. Probably he asked for it somehow."

 

I yank her into my arms and lift her sleeve which is long for such a warm night. The dark imprint of hand prints smudge across her pale skin.

 

"Like how you are asking for it?" I'm so angry at her.

 

For what she said about Spike and also for letting Riley do this to her.

 

"I'm only telling you what Riley told me. What the whole town knows."

 

"How did Riley hear about it?" I ask, my eyes narrowed.

 

"Xander. You need to be...careful." She says.

 

My heart is thundering because she's holding my gaze frankly and...does she...?

 

Does she suspect something?

 

Did she really come to see me...to warn me?

 

"I still love you," she says. She's crying and I can't bear it.

 

I pull her into my arms, even though I'm messed with anger and pain and the sorrow that I can't love her anymore.

 

"I'm sorry." I say, hating that I'm hurting her.

 

"I was such a fool! I thought you were boring and you were never around so--"

 

"It's not your fault...not all of it. I let you down, Anya." I say.

 

But I need to know more about what she was hinting at.

 

And...Riley...

 

I part my lips to ask her what's going on, feeling all tied up into knots because...

 

...because I still love her as a special person.

 

I can't bear to think--

 

"ANYA?" Riley comes out of their driveway.

 

Once my driveway.

 

His big fists ball when he spots me holding her.

 

But...I don't back off.

 

He's hurting her and I don't want him anywhere near her!

 

I will try to get her to leave him.

 

Not for me.

 

For her.

 

He's wearing his heavy military gear, sweaty and mud-streaked. I guess the Initiative were out hunting rogue demons again.

 

I look into his eyes but I don't smile and I don't back down.

 

It's Anya who finally leaves my side to go to him.

 

He gives me a look like he'd like to skewer me.

 

I'm a big muscled guy. I work hard so I'm not a light weight.

 

But my strength is gentle.

 

It comes from digging and moving rock, from planting tender little trees and watching over them until they catch enough rain to make it...

 

Riley's strength is different.

 

His scarred face, his black gloved hands, and the weapons he wears so he can reach for them at any moment.

 

"What the fuck is in your hair?" He asks me.

 

"Spike put crystals in Xander's hair, dear." Anya says.

 

"Oh. The little vampire whore. Right. Almost time for his check up so we'll swing by. Make sure he's not sipping anything human."

 

I feel a twist in my stomach.

 

********************

 

When I get back my worry is on my lips but Spike doesn't give me a moment to speak of it.

 

"Robin's waiting for us. Need to finish..." He hands me the little scrap of yellow silk, embroidered with purple flowers and gilt leaves.

 

I flush self consciously but...

 

"I guess I'll strip and--"

 

"I'll get the anklets."

 

He turns his back and goes inside and...

 

He's not going to stay and see me...naked?

 

I feel even more shitty now than earlier.

 

All I seem to do is fuck up with the people I care about.

 

Hurt them.

 

I drop my cut offs and examine the yellow loin cloth/thong thingy.

 

I have no fucking clue how to put it on.

 

Spike comes back and hesitates when he sees I'm bare of everything but the crystals he decorated me with.

 

I feel that throbbing of awareness between us and my cock stirs from where it was sleeping on my thigh.

 

I flush because exposed like this I can't hide how I feel.

 

"Need some help then?"

 

"Uhhhh. Guess so. Spike...?"

 

He takes it from me and turns me around, pulling the thong strings through my ass crack first, gently.

 

I shudder.

 

The thin silk cups over my hard on, giving it a place to poke to one side, but not concealing it at all.

 

He knots the ties at my hips and then--

 

I feel his cool hands stroking my bare ass cheeks.

 

I moan.

 

"Beautiful to see you like this."

 

I look down and see that some of my lush crotch fur is exposed by the get up. It's not exactly modest. It's more like a tease.

 

"I feel like a--"

 

"Whore?"

 

"NO!" I turn around and try again to say...something to make things right between us but he's holding the crystal anklets.

 

Amethyst, moonstone and rose quartz.

 

He kneels at my feet and snaps on three on one ankle and five on another.

 

I reach down and stroke his hair.

 

I'm sorry.

 

"In the old days we demons decorated the bodies of our pets." He says.

 

"Can I get those off?" I shake one leg and the bangles tinkle softly.

 

"Not easily. The slaves of demons used to wear them. A sign that they belonged...to someone. I wanted you to wear mine." He stands and looks at me and I don't know what to say.

 

"Spike..."

 

"Best go to Robin now. She's...nervous, Xan." He says.

 

******************

 

Robin I haven't see for days as she wanted to prepare for her first night of...love making with Spike.

 

What gets me is she asked that I be there too because.

 

I make her feel...

 

...safe.

 

She's lying on Spike's bed.

 

Not the one he uses for his clients.

 

The one where he actually...sleeps.

 

I've never been in here.

 

Its full of air and magic.

 

Candles burn and scent the space.

 

The flowers I cut before the dew could dry on them this morning float like colorful islands of purple and red and icy pink in a small square bathing pool cut out of the floor and best of all--

 

The glass doors are all open so that the room is full of the breath of the night.

 

Gauzy fabrics in rainbow colors hang from the ceiling.

 

Wind chimes hang in other places, stirring to quiet song with any breeze.

 

It's a magical place for the ceremony of intimacy.

 

It is not the bedroom of a whore where he might lie down for anyone.

 

It is...a sanctuary.

 

"Ohhhhhh! Xan!"

 

Robin sits up and looks me over, her enjoyment of how I look plain on her round face.

 

"Robin...you like this, right? Cause I feel..." I'm blushing.

 

She gets up and she's wearing a cobweb thin robe the color of periwinkle. It sets off her kohled eyes. Her mouth is stained red as if she was eating raspberries and her eyes sparkle with anticipation and...a little fear?

 

I see my own vulnerability in Robin.

 

I go over to her and I see Spike leaning against the arch way out to the garden I made for him. He's letting us reassure each other.

 

Wise Spike.

 

I hold out my arms and Robin folds into them.

 

"I know I'm embarrassing you, Xan. But it was my...fantasy. To see you like that. Spike...dug it out of me. That I didn't want it to be...just him. That I wanted you both. Needed you both." She's crying a little, distressed and I rock her.

 

"I don't know why you want to see me like this, honey...but if it makes you happy--" I kiss her cheeks and she holds on tight.

 

Over her head I see Spike watching us.

 

His two humans.

 

And I get a weird insight.

 

In the past a master vampire like Spike probably would have had a few humans as pets.

 

And some part of him...the demon part?

 

Even though he's bottled it up, probably he feels like we are his.

 

He's smiling at me faintly now as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking and he's not at all ashamed of that part of himself.

 

He's comfortable in his role of master.

 

"Don't let it go to your head." I say softly and his smile only gets a bit more wicked.

 

Robin looks up and reads the situation in a glance.

 

She's so sharp.

 

"Hehe! He is sort of pasha-like with the two of us, isn't he?"

 

Spike still smiles faintly but his hands release the complex ties and then he opens his robe, exposing himself fully to Robin for the first time.

 

In a strange out of time moment, I watch that robe fall, the huge white crane with it's sheltering wings spread out over the black silk.

 

And I feel like Spike IS the White Crane.

 

We are under his wings now.

 

Robin and me.

 

His beautiful body is bare of any ornamentation.

 

We both stare at him as he pads to us and takes us both in his slender arms, combing my hair and making it tinkle as he bends down and gives rosy-cheeked Robin with her wondering eyes a gentle kiss on the cheek.

 

"And so to bed, children," he says.

 

************************

 

Robin lies between us.

 

It's like she belongs to me and Spike.

 

Our little friend.

 

Spike is feeding her the apple as I stroke her hair.

 

She's still a little nervous and tears sparkle in her eyes.

 

Brave Robin.

 

She holds them back.

 

She is the only one still wearing anything approaching clothing but--

 

"Robin...?"

 

I don't know why I ask to see her, but I want to.

 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and nods and when I put my hands on the loose tie of her robe she lets me open it.

 

And Robin is...lush...

 

Like a rich goddess with full curves and mounds and breasts that spill over, heavy and soft.

 

She doesn't have a girl's body like my Anya did.

 

In fact, Robin has the kind of body that I'd never have thought was pretty.

 

I'd never give her a second look in her frumpy waitress outfit.

 

Now...I feel like I'm seeing a female body for the first time.

 

I can see the veins under her skin she's so pale. Almost a match for Spike!

 

I reach out and trace a vein on her breast which threads down towards one large nipple.

 

"Complete woman, you are, Pet." Spike says.

 

He rubs the sweet summer apple over her chest and reaches down to lick the taste from her skin and Robin cries out from our touches, closing her eyes so her lashes form soft crescents.

 

Her hands bury themselves in my hair and Spike's.

 

Our own fertility goddess and we will worship her.

 

I feel my desire rise again.

 

It's not so simple as to say that I feel it for Robin because she's a girl I suddenly recognize I find beautiful.

 

Its...like this is some kind of pagan ritual. Something sacred that I share with her and I share with Spike. Because