Toys 1-4

 

Author: NA13

Fandom: Buffy

Pairing(s): Spike/Xander

Warnings: BDSM, slavery, somewhat non-con/coercion.

Spoilers: N/A

Summary: Spike is bored, Xander is there: he takes Xander as his pet.

 

Nominated Category:

Best Extreme BDSM: TV & Movies - Slash

&

Ingenious Pervertables - Slash

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Toys 1 Toys 2 Toys 3 Toys 4

 

Toys 1

 

Spike carefully stirred through the Legos, moving the blocks silently until his fingers closed over the red fireman with the square body and painted on face. He´d fucking show the little knob that he was still William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers.

 

Picking up the superglue, he carefully squeezed out a line along the bottom edge of the firefighter. Then he examined his snoring canvas. Moving slowly, he set the piece down on Xander´s thigh. Little prat would learn that tauntin´ a vampire wasn´t the brightest idea. Not that the little prat was particularly bright even without taunting the vampire. Spike smirked as he considered all the bright squares of red and yellow and blue and white attached in strategic spots.

 

Looking at his night´s work, all satisfaction suddenly drained from Spike. Some bloody Master Vampire he turned out to be. Sticking soddin´ pieces of plastic on a soddin´ git who wasn´t even soddin´ worth eatin´ before the fucking chip. A wave of fury made Spike reach out as though he would tear Xander´s liver from his bleeding body, and he might have except for the burning pain that ripped through his brain like a conflagration. His body stiffened, and for a white second, Spike couldn´t think about anything. If he still had bodily functions he would have pissed his pants. Instead he just panted pointlessly as the pain finally released him.

 

Xander sighed in his sleep, shifting away on the cheap fold–out bed. The movement sent a whole landscape of color blocks shifting up and down, right and left. Xander bent an arm in sleep, and the Legos glued to his forearm clacked against the ones on his chest.

 

Hearing that, Spike stood and retreated to his chair. He wished he´d never found the bits in the closet behind Xander´s stash of big–knocker magazines. Doin´ something so puerile just reminded him of all the things he couldn´t do anymore: eviscerating, raping, ripping a bloke´s intestines out as the git screamed.

 

Spike flinched again as the chip gave a bright warning flair that made his brain ache like the migraines he would sometimes get as a child. Right, happy thoughts: Angelus chained on the east side of a church during sunrise, Drusilla dancin´ with that little red–haired girl in Poland with childish arms flopping every which way. The chip gave a tiny flicker of warning, just enough pain to actually feel good, and Spike pulled his legs up under him.

 

The alarm suddenly squealed, and Xander flung out an arm. The crazy glue must have yanked at some particularly tender spot because the boy yelped louder than the alarm.

 

"Fuck!"

 

"Xander Harris, you watch your language," Jessica Harris yelled from upstairs, her voice muffled by the door and distance.

 

"Xander knelt in the middle of his bed, his arms held out awkwardly like a scarecrow dangling from a stick.

 

"Sorry, Mom," he yelled without moving. "You blood sucking son of a bitch," Xander then hissed. Spike cocked an eyebrow and stared back. Okay, this had potential. The boy smelt of humiliation and pain.

 

"Wot?" Spike asked, all innocence. He used the expression that had lured many a young woman into a dark alley with him. Xander lowered his eyebrows and scowled. Immediately, he gave a strangled cry as the yellow block glued to his forehead pulled out a chunk of his eyebrow.

 

Spike stretched slowly, and moved up and out of his chair with a fluid grace meant to taunt the boy who remained frozen in the middle of his bed. Going over to the alarm, Spike twisted his finger around the cord and pulled it rather than trying to figure out which button would turn the soddin´ thing off. He wanted to hear the boy´s every whimper.

 

"Problem, Harris?" he asked as he circled the bed.

 

"Hey, what happened with you being tied up vamp?" the boy suddenly demanded. Spike rolled his eyes.

 

"Noticed that, did ya? Not like you tie knots nearly as well as Angelus. I´ve had lots of practice. Seems like you have a problem there, mate," Spike smirked. The boy´s back was the only part of his body not covered with plastic blocks.

 

While Spike watched, Xander shifted uncomfortably and made a small whimper which he quickly cut off.

 

"Thought you couldn´t cause pain," Xander growled, the sound reminding Spike of a baby bear cub, more cute than dangerous. Drusilla would have loved breaking this one, making him growl and whine and whimper for her. Spike wondered for a moment why his dark princess hadn´t ever played with the boy: he had the naiveté she loved in her toys.

 

"Not causin´ ya pain. If you´re hurtin´, you´re doing it to yourself," Spike pointed out as he stopped in front of Xander, crossing his arms and grinning at the sight of Xander panting through his nose as he shifted around to relieve the pain of the Legos digging into his legs.

 

"You´re so dust," Xander snapped as he lunged off the bed. Spike fell back, fear curling around him for the half second it took for Xander to collapse on the floor. Spike had glued the tiniest squares to Xander´s feet, right over pressure points that should have sent pain crunching up through his legs. It obviously worked because Xander eventually rolled over to his back and tucked his legs up so that he looked like a bug flipped onto its back.

 

Spike pulled out a kitchen chair and straddled it as he watched the anger turn to humiliation and despair as the boy found himself defeated by little bits of plastic. This was turning out bloody brilliant.

 

"When I tell Buffy..."

 

"Right, goin´ to tell her the big, chipped vampire took ya out with a few Legos?" Spike nodded. The sour stench of humiliation brightened.

 

"When I..." Xander yelped as he pulled off a single Lego and about two dozen arm hairs. "Tell her..." he cringed as another piece came free and clattered to the floor.

 

"When ya tell her how ya laid there while I put all the toys on ya, when you tell her how you had all the power and ya still let me get the upper hand, she´s goin´ to laugh, mate. Oh, Slayer´ll try to hide it, but she´s not the brightest, so you´ll be able to see it in the way her eyes twinkle and her lips curve up at the edge. Witch´ll hide it better. She´ll be all sympathy and cookies ´til her and her bird get home and talk about the poor little boy who can´t even babysit a neutered vamp without making a right bollocks of it."

 

Spike watched as his words sunk home, making Xander´s quivering rage turn to something darker and quieter. The boy´s fingers paused over a blue square glued to his stomach.

 

"Go on then, ya either got to get ´em off yourself or tell the girls what a complete fuck up ya are," Spike commented when the boy had been motionless too long. Xander´s head fell back, thumping against the concrete floor, and then he grabbed the blue plastic, pulling up until the skin over his stomach stretched into a tent. When the glue yielded, Xander gave a small yelp and then threw the piece as hard as he could in Spike´s general direction.

 

Spike smirked wider. "Look good down there, all writhin´ and mewlin´ like that," Spike commented. He opened his eyes with surprise as the words caused Xander´s body to still even while his cock twitched in his briefs. The moment passed, and if not for vampire vision, Spike would have missed it as Xander started inventing curses so foul they made Spike chuckle.

 

"Go on, laugh you demented soulless dead... vampire..." Xander snapped out in frustration, even his profanity abandoning him. "When I get up, I´m going to stick a hundred toothpicks into your fucking stomach and watch how much fun you are rolling around on the ground," he recovered after a moment of panting. Xander yanked a red piece off faster than normal and then yelled when a small piece of skin went with it. A single perfect pear of blood trickled down the side of Xander´s stomach.

 

"Don´t even think it," Xander said darkly.

 

"Oi, you´re the one who called himself a nummy treat," Spike pointed out as he watched the drop slide over tanned skin, leaving behind a smear of red. "I´m just enjoyin´ the sight of you all sweaty and suffering. Ya got good eyes for pain, all big and soft. You´re a right treat when your eyes fill up and ya smell of rage and fear and agony," Spike dropped his voice to a near whisper, a seductive breathy tone that he used like a whip to slash into his prey.

 

Xander froze, for longer this time, and the smell of humiliation took on a muskier scent.

 

"Sick, fucking dead sicko guy," Xander pulled a block off his arm, one of the long ones that the boy probably used for the bottom of his house or his spaceship or whatever the fuck he used to make out of the toys. Peeling slowly, Xander hissed and panted as hair and skin slowly peeled off with the plastic, leaving behind a red mark but no blood. Shame that.

 

"Right. I´m the sick one for noticin´ how lovely ya are, trapped down there. Long as ya got those things on your feet, ya aren´t going anywhere, are ya?" Spike asked, leaning forward onto the back of the chair he straddled. Xander turned his head and glared, but with the pieces Spike had slipped up under the loose boxer shorts, Xander would never be able to reach his feet until he´d pulled the other pieces off. Well, at least not without causing himself even more pain.

 

"When I get up..."

 

"Like ya better down there," Spike said as he tilted his head and considered the view. "Ya look good all helpless and suffering. I´d like ta see you tied down to your bed as I run my fangs over your helpless limbs, making those little cuts that sting so bad ya want to pull your own flesh off," Spike wagged his eyebrows, and Xander hardened. Now the musk of lust mixed with the humiliation and pain, and Spike breathed deeply of the lovely aroma.

 

Getting up, he walked over to the boy on the ground, crouching down to scent him. Lovely.

 

Xander reached out and grabbed his ankle, yanking to pull Spike off balance, but Spike just looked down. With long fingers, he captured Xander´s wrist and pushed it to the cold concrete.

 

"Let me–" Xander froze as Spike flashed into game face and loomed over him.

 

"Can´t kill ya, doesn´t mean I can´t hold ya down, can´t capture ya and bend ya over some table before givin´ ya what ya really want. Can smell you, pet," Spike said. He trailed a finger in a swirling path around the glued Legos. Xander shivered as Spike´s fingers traced lower. Bloody hell, now this was interesting. Spike cocked his head and considered the boy in a whole new light.

 

"Bet ya woke up durin´ this, didn´t ya?" Spike asked, flicking a Lego hard enough to pull at the skin, but not hard enough to make the boy hurt. Until he took care of the chip, he´d just have ta make the boy hurt himself.

 

Spike ran his tongue inside his lower lip as he considered the thought. He was bloody bored, and the boy was amusin´. Angelus and Drusilla has always enjoyed playing with the toys, so maybe it was time to figure out what they liked so much about keepin´ humans.

 

Glancing down, Spike could see Xander still frozen below him, the pretty prey helpless under the predator. Yeah, boy had possibilities.

 

"I–" Xander stopped again. "Get off me," he finally demanded, bringing his other hand around to hit Spike. Spike captured that hand as well and moved to straddle the boy as he pinned both hands over the boy´s head.

 

"Ya like it, don´t ya, pet. Bet ya wanted the Slayer to do this. Bet ya had dreams about Angel shovin´ ya up against some wall. That´s why ya always tormented the sod, innit?"

 

Xander didn´t answer, but he shook his head.

 

"Be more likely ta believe you if I didn´t feel your hard cock begging for a master to take control."

 

Spike bent low over the boy and smelled deeply of the shame and fear and desire that gathered on his skin. Reaching out his tongue, Spike licked from Xander´s collarbone up to a vulnerable ear. He could feel a need to bite wrap around him, but he controlled himself, after all, he was a Master Vampire who had found a new amusement. As centuries rolled by, one discovered that amusement had nearly as much value as food.

 

Spike pushed himself up so he could again look into Xander´s eyes. He didn´t think he´d ever heard the boy so quiet, but then again, the boy´s eyes had dilated until the brown nearly vanished into the black center. Boy was all but drugged on the helplessness and pain.

 

"Such a beautiful pet in your sufferin´," Spike whispered. "When I let your hand go, you´ll go back to pulling the bits and bobbles off ya," Spike ordered.

 

"As if," Xander snapped, his pupils closing to normal as he started to struggle. Spike shifted his weight, wincing as the struggle caused the boy to cry out and triggered an answering jolt in Spike´s brain. "Get off," Xander demanded.

 

Realizing that losing now meant losing more than just an afternoon´s amusement, Spike released one wrist and endured the awkward punches to his side before slipping a hand into Xander´s shorts and getting a firm grip on the hot, hard cock he found there. Xander froze.

 

Squeezing a little harder, Spike could feel the shaft in his hand thicken. "Goin´ to tell me how ya hate this?" Spike asked, sucking air through his teeth as he squeezed a little harder.

 

"Let go." Now Xander sounded more desperate. His voice broke like an awkward adolescent´s, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

 

"No." Spike answered simply. Xander tried to get himself up onto his elbows so he could pull himself free, but the Legos scraped over the concrete, their edges sticking into him until he flopped back down helpless. Spike imagined that the bits sticking into his legs hurt too, but the chip remained silent on the matter even as Spike released Xander´s second arm and moved back, settling his weight on the boy´s thighs.

 

"Right, so we were at the part where ya were pullin´ the bits off ya," Spike prompted the boy. Xander lay on the floor motionless.

 

"Pet, I figure you´ll either amuse me one way, or another. I figure if I call good old Rupert and admit that I pulled some boardin´ school prank only to find out ya have some right randy kinks... well, Rupes would take me back and then have a good long talk with you. So, either amuse me with the pullin´, or I´ll make that call," Spike offered cheerfully. Either option would provide him with days of entertainment.

 

Tears escaped Xander´s closed eyes as he reached up blindly and found another block with his large fingers. He pulled, hissing as the bit popped off with only a thin layer of skin. Spike reached down and licked the sore skin, and the humiliation intensified until the sharp odor made Spike feel nearly drunk.

 

"Such a good boy. Open those eyes of yours and let me see you cry," Spike ordered, still keeping a firm grip on the boy´s cock. When Xander didn´t open fast enough, Spike closed his hand hard enough to make the chip send snakes of pain though his head and down his neck. Xander´s eyes opened comically wide, and his nose flared as he gasped for air even as he clamped his lips shut.

 

"Want to see you suffer, pet. You do it so well, don´t you? Did any of the girls every see how well you suffered for them?" Spike asked. The boy´s fingers found another block, pulling it off. Spike had glued this one to the edge of the dark skin around the nipple, and when he pulled it off, Xander shivered.

 

"Don´t–" Xander whispered.

 

"Don´t what, pet?" Spike asked. Using his second hand, he randomly flicked the other blocks, feeling the body below him respond. The soft pain made Xander mew with pleasure and half close his eyes. Spike moved up the boy´s body, pinching a nipple between his fingers.

 

"Don´t bring them into this," Xander finally finished, his chest heaving as Spike teased a dark nipple to a puckered point.

 

"Into what?" Spike pressed. He slid his thumb up and over the head of Xander´s cock where pre–come leaked drop by drop.

 

"This," Xander repeated helplessly.

 

"Keep pulling," Spike ordered, keeping his own fingers still until Xander went back to work on his own flesh. In the silence of the basement, Spike used his long fingers to tease the boy to the point of release, pulling and twisting at nipples, rubbing the boy´s cock, rolling the boys large balls in his hand. The whole time, Xander ripped Legos off faster, one after another leaving a red trail behind that Spike would lick at.

 

"This what?" Spike finally asked, muttering into the boy´s overheated flesh as he licked at a trail of blood.

 

Xander gave a strangled snort and came, his back arching up off the floor as he clenched his fists. Bollocks. Spike gave up on the tiny wound that allowed him no more than a taste of human blood, and he sat back, watching Xander sink into lethargy. Footsteps upstairs crossed the floor, and a driver outside laid on his horn until Spike wanted to grab his arm and rip the thing off. Finally, the noise stopped and silence filled the air.

 

"This what, what?" Xander finally asked from the floor. Most of the Legos were off now, leaving square tracks all over Xander´s chest and arms. Spike had knocked most of them off Xander´s legs while holding the boy down, so only his feet still had the sharp little things superglued to the skin. Xander opened his eyes and looked up, suspicion and shame filling his eyes.

 

Spike smiled at that. A boy with so much shame would give away a lot to keep his secrets safe. "What are we keepin´ the girls out of, pet?" Spike asked, emphasizing the pet part. He scooted back and leaned against the edge of the bed, one leg spread out in front of him and one propped up because his cock ached in his jeans and it needed the breathing room. "What is it that we´re not telling the girls and the watcher?" Spike asked as he watched Xander as the threat sank in.

 

"Buffy would stake you," Xander pointed out.

 

"She´d try," Spike conceded. "She´d also think you were a soddin´ pillock for lettin´ me get so close. And if she knew what ya liked..." Spike reached out and flicked a Lego with his finger and thumb. Xander flinched and sat up, pulling his feet toward him so he could study the Legos stuck to the bottom.

 

"Course, maybe she´s the type who´d take a whip to your back if ya asked nice."

 

Xander froze, a yellow block he´d just pulled from the arch of his foot still in his hand. Spike smiled as he watched the emotions play in the boy´s features. So easy, this one. No wonder Angelus had ordered the boy left alone; no wonder he´d been so put out when the Valentine´s spell had nearly made him kill the boy. He would break so nicely under the right demon´s hand.

 

"Here´s the deal, pet," Spike said slowly. Xander needed to feel the trap close around him. "You´re mine to do with what I want. You´ll suck my cock or bend over and let me use that arse of yours whenever I feel like it. If I feel like watching someone suffer, I´ll find a way to make you hurt until you cry and look at me with those big wounded eyes of yours. You´ll bleed and squirm and beg, and you´ll crawl back for more.

 

Spike could smell the musk. Boy bloody dreamed about offers like this, no doubt.

 

"And why should I?" Xander snapped, defiant of his own needs and Spike´s ownership. Spike surged up, grabbing Xander around the throat with one hand and around the arm with the other as he yanked him to his feet and backed him up against the wall. Xander had pulled off enough Legos to stand on the toes of one foot as he pulled against the hands trapping him, holding him.

 

"Because if ya don´t, I´ll take a walk and leave ya aching and needing somethin´ you´ll never get offered again. Because if ya don´t, my last stop in Sunnydale will be to send the Slayer the video of you pleading me for more as you ripped your own flesh to bleed for me. Because if ya don´t, the only thing you´ll ever get from your friends is pity. Because if ya don´t, I´ll set fire ta the bloody dorms and this house and the watcher´s apartment complex and every damn building that I might find anyone ya care about." Spike stopped and considered Xander, smiling cruelly as he considered the panic in the boy´s face. Relaxing his hold a little, Spike waited. "Well?" he asked after a second.

 

Xander´s hands slowly let go of Spike´s arms as the boy slid down to his knees. His heart beat rabbit–fast as clumsy fingers reached for Spike´s pants.

 

"Shhh, pet," Spike offered as he brushed Xander´s hands away and undid his own pants. "So pretty on your knees sufferin´ for me," he crooned. He´d watched Angelus and Dru break a hundred pets: the threats that left them willing to do anything and the praise that made them complicit in their own torture... it was a combination that would make the boy his. Spike pulled his cock out.

 

"Go on them, wrap your lips around me and make me come before I think of some other way to make ya hurt... or make your friends hurt," Spike finished. The last part finally made Xander shuffle forward on his knees and slowly open his mouth.

 

The first lick was hesitant, fearful. Large brown eyes looked up at him, and Spike smirked. Oh yeah, this one would be so very pretty to break.

 

---

 

Toys 2

 

Xander´s legs trembled, the concrete under his knees still cold despite the amount of time he´d been kneeling. The floor just sucked up all his body heat and left him shivering. He snuffed awkwardly around wide wooden gag forcing his aching jaw opened. Part of him wanted to just break into the open sobbing that would bring Spike to his side, petting and soothing him, but Xander couldn´t let go. He couldn´t allow himself to give in to that need, not with Spike, not until the pain wiped out all the other fears and angers and frustrations and hatred.

 

Instead he squirmed to try and find an unbruised spot of kneecap. Chains rattled. Xander felt his control slip as a tear ran down his cheek leaving a cooling trail behind. Until now, Spike had watched television with one knee thrown over a chair they had retrieved from the dump: a cream leather chair with little claw marks trailing down one arm. Now, Spike turned, and Xander could see yellow eyes consider him.

 

Immediately, he dropped his eyes, unwilling to watch the demon he´d surrendered this control to. They had such a routine now... come home to the church basement Spike had claimed in some ironic territorial fit, strip, allow Spike to chain in him some position, and then slowly feel the agony settle into his bones as time and gravity did the damage Spike couldn´t.

 

"Eyes up, pet," Spike ordered, his voice low and silky. Xander wondered how many girls had heard that voice before Spike sank his fangs into their necks. Part of Xander demanded that he fight, that he disobey. Instead, he found himself looking up as Spike stared at him, leaning forward in the chair.

 

"Such a pretty pet, all smellin´ of suffering and need," Spike crooned. No matter how much guilt Xander felt, he couldn´t keep his cock from responding to the tone, to the promise of comfort. Instead the disobedient organ twitched at the attention. Xander´s arms were chained to the top of the stone arch, and he hid his eyes behind one raised arm. Focusing on the faint smell of spilled wine that seemed to have sunk into the stone of this old church basement, he pretended he didn´t need Spike to hold him together.

 

"No hidin´, pet. I want to see your big eyes beggin´ me."

 

Xander jumped when the cool hand brushed damp curls back from his forehead. Looking up, Xander struggled to straighten his legs, the ropes groaning as he strained.

 

"Such a pretty boy. How many bruises did ya get the slayer to give ya?" Spike asked, crouching down on the dusty floor in front of Xander. Long fingers trailed down Xander´s exposed chest as Spike teased, his touch bringing Xander to a dangerous edge. "Ya must of wanted to wear her bruises," Spike whispered as though sharing a secret.

 

Xander flinched away from that truth. He remembered as a teen arguing that he should get training because, hey, normal boy fighting demons. On days when Buffy or Giles were in just the right mood, he would work with them, feeling each hit, even when Buffy pulled her punches. Those nights he would lay in his bed and poke purple skin when he stroked himself. He suffered for her. He dreamed of her finding him, finding his bruises and his pain and soothing him. Instead she sent him home, telling him that he couldn´t help her, while she went to Angel.

 

Xander struggled to pull himself up by his arms, but his shoulders burned with pain and he couldn´t get any of his weight off his knees. The chains around his wrists clanked wildly as he struggled for a moment. The entire time, Spike waited with his palm pressed against Xander´s chest, his head cocked in what looked like pleasure as he watched Xander fight the restraints. Xander could feel a sick part of himself that rejoiced in becoming the center of someone´s else´s attention.

 

"Such a pretty pet." Spike ran a cool hand over Xander´s bare chest, pinching a nipple softly before reaching down and stroking Xander´s traitorous cock. "Ya smell like pain, pet," Spike whispered.

 

Xander snorted, and the sound turned into a sob as new tears started. He could feel spit escaping from the sides of his mouth, and Spike picked up the plaid shirt from the floor, gently wiping the sides of Xander´s mouth as he made little soothing sounds.

 

"That´s right, let me hear your pain, pet. I bloody notice you even if the others never did," Spike promised.

 

Xander hiccupped, the large wooden rod between his teeth making the motion painful as his jaw muscle tried to close. Looking up at Spike´s expression––half bliss and half sadistic curiosity––Xander compared that expression to the others in his past.

 

His mother had watched impassively as he withered under his father´s tirades. Other fathers had sons who went out for football and played guitar and came home with those stupid bumper stickers proclaiming ´My child is student of the month at Sunnydale High School.´ Tony Harris got Xander. And the more his father drank, the more the man had resented all the things he didn´t get with his son. And the more Xander turned to his mother, the more he discovered that the woman had lost any interest in either her life or her son.

 

Jesse had seen him, seen the depths Xander would surrender to in order to earn that approval. But then Darla–bitch vamped Jesse. Xander still remembered Jesse´s words––the most painful ones he could possibly offer Xander––that Xander was only a shadow. And with one shove, the only person who had truly seen Xander had turned to dust. Some days, Xander felt like he was the dust on the floor, scattering to the winds without anyone or anything to hold him together.

 

But then he had the girls. Willow and Buffy saw him. Okay, they didn´t see him, but if he was funny enough and witty enough and sarcastic enough, he could get them to see part of him. It had been enough. Only now they were off being college–girls, and part of Xander knew he didn´t have a right to hold on to them. So he pulled back, became more and more quiet during meetings and watched Riley and Tara silently move into the group.

 

He had been cast off... he was a castaway... and Spike was the worst person in the world for him.

 

Except there wasn´t anyone else. Except Spike saw him. Except Spike offered him a raft when he was drowning, lost, confused and alone. And yeah, Spike wanted him to hurt and probably wanted him dead, and yet that scared Xander less than being alone. The life preserver Spike had thrown him hurt and threatened to sink at any time, but it kept him from going under.

 

Xander felt the tears start for real now, streams that he couldn´t stop flowing from his eyes as something in him broke and allowed him to take comfort from anyone who would offer. Strong fingers unchained his hands, pulled the gag from his mouth, released him, made him real with calming strokes. Strong arms carried him to a warm bed on the other side of the room, dropping him on the stolen bedspread.

 

Barely hearing the words, Xander allowed himself to float on the feeling of someone touching, holding soothing. Hands arranged him, ropes still keeping his legs tucked into a kneel that made fire dance in his legs. His front half was arranged until he rested his forehead on his arms with his ass in the air... waiting.

 

The thickness that had filled him all day came out, and Xander yelped. A voice crooned softly as hands slid over his body, exploring and touching and teasing until Xander squirmed and cried out.

 

Something drove deep into him, and Xander pushed back, lost to everything outside his body as pleasure was slowly pulled from him. Bracing his arms against the mattress, Xander waited the half breath before something slammed back in again, erasing the world. A burning, itching need clawed at Xander until finally he arched his back and started coming.

 

The driving thrusts continued two, three, four more times as Xander braced himself, and then Spike´s weight fell onto his back.

 

Spike dropped to the mattress, and Xander allowed Spike to arrange him, tucking his larger body into Spike´s stomach as Spike petted him. Xander could feel himself blush as the first curls of shame started twisting around his spine.

 

"Right then, got somethin´ ta say about your mouth today, pet?" Spike asked, and Xander flinched at the number of insults he´d managed in one Scooby meeting. Yeah, that was dumb. And now, curled in Spike´s arms, arms that could hold him helpless without any effort, Xander wondered why he kept doing it.

 

"Um, sorry?" Xander tried, his jaw aching from being forced open so long. Okay, it wasn´t his best apology. Spike´s hand tightened, pulling his hair and forcing his head back.

 

"Don´t rightly know if you´re stupid or if ya just really enjoy hurtin´." Spike´s hand loosened, and fingers returned to playing with Xander´s hair. Curling his own hands into fists, Xander ordered himself to not react. That path just led to getting tied up and dumped on the floor for the night, and he preferred the bed.

 

"Can´t soddin´ believe you lot foiled my plans time after bloody time. You´re ´bout as stable as Dru, and the rest of your lot are soddin´ blind and stupid. When I get this chip out..." Spike let his voice trail off.

 

No matter how many times Spike touched him, held him, and felt his muscles tremble with pain, Xander always had a little dark corner where he refused to yield. That corner sent out fingers that wrapped around Xander´s heart and squeezed until his whole body stiffened.

 

Spike´s fingers stopped. "Right then, what bug´s crawled up your arse?" Spike asked after a second.

 

Xander balanced a desire to stay in the bed and sink under the comfort, no matter how false, and his responsibilities to his friends. The fear of being cast away once more tangled with a nightmare where Willow lay with big, dead eyes and a neck torn open. Xander closed his eyes and forced himself to say it before everything tilted too far and he couldn´t say it anymore.

 

"I won´t let you," he whispered.

 

"Bloody hell, very little you won´t let me do," Spike pointed out, the words tickling Xander´s ear.

 

"Won´t let you hurt them," Xander answered.

 

Spike´s fingers returned to aimlessly stroking Xander´s hair. Minutes passed in which Xander listened to the city water station under the church thumping like a giant heartbeat that made the stones of the abandoned building faintly vibrate.

 

"Should probably tell ya that you´ll do as you´re told," Spike finally said in the dark. "You´re mine, and we both bloody know it, even if those other tossers aren´t bright enough ta notice." Spike paused and sucked in a breath. "Make ya a deal, though. You keep being the nice little pet for me, and when the day comes that I get this chip out, I´ll give your friends proper warnin´. No ambushin´ ´em when I already have an invite into their homes–I´ll let ´em know the big bad is back, and we´ll have at each other like proper mortal enemies," Spike finally offered.

 

Xander heard the offer, and he heard what Spike wasn´t offering. His friends would get warning... he wouldn´t.

 

"That a deal?" Spike asked when Xander remained silent.

 

"Deal," Xander agreed finally.

 

"Least you can die knowin´ ya saved them one last time, yeah?" Spike pointed out. Xander didn´t answer as Spike´s strong fingers closed around his wrists, tucking Xander´s arms into his stomach and holding him with unnatural strength. Let Spike think that he surrendered for his friends. Xander´s guilt turned to steel as he realized he would do anything to keep from, once more, becoming the castaway.

 

---

 

Toys 3

 

Xander started unbuttoning his shirt as they pushed in through a loose board on the main floor of the church. After months of the ritual, Xander could feel the anxiety and fear pull off with his clothes. A tiny part of him still protested, but Xander needed this. Behind him, Spike´s boots clacked over the worn wood floor as they headed for the basement steps.

 

Pulling his shirt off, Xander stepped to the side to let Spike unlock the door and check their lair. Funny, Xander realized that they had their own rituals, just like any other married couple, only without the marriage... or the love, not that all married people loved each other.

 

Spike started down the stairs, and Xander slipped into the dark, pulling the door closed and locking it before starting down the stairs. Ahead, a light flicked on, and Xander hurried down the steps now illuminated by the television´s glow.

 

"Hurry up, then," Spike said, already draping his body over the single chair in front of the television. Xander silently obeyed, toeing off his shoes and pushing his pants down before kicking them into the corner near the bed. He tossed his shirt in the same general direction, and then padded across the cold concrete on bare feet.

 

The minute Spike´s fingers closed around his wrist, Xander breathed easier. No more trying to reassure Buffy when it seemed like Adam was well on his way to seriously kicking slayer ass. No more playing the class clown to amuse Buffy and Willow while Riley looked at him with mild disgust. No more pretending that it didn´t hurt when Buffy and Willow and Riley and Tara shared some inside joke about the campus or some professor or some other college–type thing that he just didn´t get.

 

Nope. He knew how to give Spike what he wanted; he didn´t have to walk a tightrope or guess. Spike pulled him over the arm of the chair so that Xander ended up over Spike´s lap. He reached out and braced himself on the cold floor with his fingertips.

 

"Hands behind your back, pet," Spike ordered. Xander let his head hang off the side of the chair as he complied. Instead of rough cord or cold steel, soft leather gripped his wrists one at a time before Spike fastened them into place. Xander groaned a little. Leather restraints meant that Spike was in the mood for a long session, something that made rope and chains dangerous.

 

"Open," Spike ordered with a soft slap on the back of Xander´s thighs. Xander opened his legs, his toes struggling to keep a firm grip on the floor as he did so. Spike reached between his legs and pushed against the small plug Xander wore all the time now.

 

Xander remembered in the beginning, he needed the pain to let go. Only when he was forced to accept Spike´s touch, beg for it, could he tolerate Spike´s fondling. Now his body yielded. Okay, most days it yielded. Sometimes the guilt monster still slimed out from a corner of his mind and called him a sick bastard for letting Spike do these things.

 

"Bloody hell, don´t go gettin´ your non–existant knickers in a twist, Harris. Tryin´ ta watch some telly and enjoy a bit of warm on my lap," Spike complained as he tightened one hand around Xander´s ball sack and the other around his neck.

 

Xander froze as he felt the strength in those grips. Sure, Spike couldn´t technically hurt him, but they had found enough loopholes that Xander´s heart stuttered a little. Spike tightened his hold a little more, and Xander forced himself to sag into Spike, to relax his spine until his body draped over the vampire´s lap. Only once Xander had submitted did Spike return to playing.

 

The plug pushed farther in, and Xander gasped, struggling to remain limp as his cock reacted to the stimulus. Think calming thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts. Think that Maggie woman Willow pointed out to him across campus the other day.

 

That might have helped except that Spike reached down with talented fingers and stroked the perineum so that a hot shiver danced up Xander´s spine and made him arch like a cat as he gasped. Xander sank back down onto Spike´s lap immediately, but the unnatural stillness under him suggested that he shouldn´t have moved at all.

 

"Need ta learn some control, pet. Funny how you can kneel until you can´t bloody walk, but ya can´t stay still in my lap." Spike´s hands lifted him, pushing him to one side so that Xander ended up standing beside the chair, his hands still bound behind him. Taking Spike´s words as orders, he started going into a kneel, but Spike´s iron hands held him up as though he were nothing more than a doll full of sawdust.

 

"Stay," Spike ordered as he stood up and started for the other side of the room. Xander let his head drop, hiding behind his mane as he waited to see what Spike would do. The kneeling until he couldn´t walk part didn´t sound good, especially since Xander remembered the feeling of fire licking up his legs as he struggled to make it the four steps to the bed. And next to the television, the niche where Spike would tie him and then spend the night enjoying the show waited for him. He really didn´t want to go in there.

 

Spike appeared again with a bar in hand. Xander immediately widened his stance so that the manacles on either end would reach his ankles. Okay, this usually meant more personal play than the niche. The niche was all about leaving Xander alone until he stopped misbehaving, but the spreader bar usually meant that Spike wanted a marathon sex session where Xander was bound so tightly he couldn´t move.

 

"You´re my bloody pet, and if you can´t learn to just lay there when I order ya to, then I´ll have to teach ya a lesson," Spike said as he attached a rope to the ring in the middle of the bar. Spike pulled, and Xander shuffled forward to the side of the chair. "Goin´ to miss the part where the bird gets killed cause of you," Spike complained as he threaded the rope under the chair.

 

Xander would have pointed out that this particular movie had about a dozen ´birds´ getting killed, but he really didn´t want to make things worse. It didn´t look like Spike was putting him in the niche, and that was of the good.

 

When Spike finally stood up again, he held a collar in his hand, a thick leather one with two heavy buckles at the back and thick rings at the sides and front. Xander let his gaze drop to the floor to avoid showing Spike how much he actually liked that particular toy. More than any of the others, the collar allowed him to believe that he had no control, and if he had no control, nothing could be his fault. He couldn´t feel blame in the collar.

 

And that collar, so thick and heavy, made him feel just a little powerful, as if it took heavy leather and locks to control him. Yeah, Xander knew it probably had more to do with humiliation and Spike´s insecurities than anything else, but as the collar slipped around his neck and tightened, Xander let himself wallow in the fantasy.

 

Spike plopped down in the chair again, the stuffing breathing out a slight musky odor mixed with the leather of the chair. "Bend over," Spike ordered, and Xander did, bending until Spike could grab the ring at the front of the collar and pull Xander down over his lap.

 

With the spreader bar holding his legs apart, Xander found himself awkwardly bend over the low, wide arms of the chair, his groin now on one of the padded arms rather uncomfortably. Then his legs scooted a half–inch closer to the chair, the skin dragging over the concrete, and it took a moment for Xander to realize that Spike held the rope in his hand. With it threaded under the chair, Spike took the free end and tied it to the ring in the collar.

 

Xander found himself tied, feet to collar, with the rope going under the chair. And the bindings had so little room that he couldn´t even turn his head. With the movie behind him, he found himself staring up at Spike, his cheek deep in one padded arm while his groin rested on the other.

 

"Little stupid ta fight when ya know you´re goin´ to lose, innit?" Spike asked casually. He returned to pushing on the plug, and now Xander groaned as his cock tried to harden only to be mushed into the leather arm. "You´ll always lose with me, pet. You know why?" Spike asked. His cool fingers trailed down and played with the underside of Xander´s balls until Xander nearly lost the ability to think at all.

 

"Answer your Master, pet," Spike snapped as he delivered a sharp slap on the ass.

 

"Um... huh?" Xander finally responded, his mind half shut off as he sank into his body´s reactions.

 

"Why will you always lose when you fight me, pet?" Spike asked.

 

Xander watched Spike´s serious expression, trying to find the source of the sudden stillness in Spike´s body.

 

"´Cause I´m good at losing?" Xander tried.

 

A flicker of something dark fluttered over Spike´s expression.

 

"Pet, I want ya to think of that answer. Got a little story to tell." Xander would have groaned at having to listen to story telling hour with Spike, especially since Spike´s stories usually involved someone getting tied up with their own intestines; however, Xander still didn´t quite understand the twist on the game tonight, and he didn´t want to sleep on the floor. So he waited and listened.

 

"In mythology, there´s this bloke called Orion. Thought he could bloody do anything and beat anyone. Told the rest of the world just how he felt. Animal kingdom got together, and the strongest challenged the great clod, only to get their arses kicked. Finally, the tiny scorpion asked for a chance, and the animals all laughed. But when the scorpion went ta challenge Orion, the warrior didn´t even see him until the scorpion had stung him. Killed the great sod, the scorpion did."

 

Spike brought his hand down on Xander´s exposed ass hard enough to make an echo in the basement, and then he reached down and smoothed the hair out of Xander´s eyes.

 

"Slayer wanted ta kill Adam, and she kept trying to go bigger and badder, but sometimes a person gets beaten by something small."

 

"You have something to beat Adam?" Xander asked. He could feel an unfamiliar hope twinkle in his stomach just as he resented having real life brought here, where he could lay down his real life and become something simpler... even if the simpler thing he became was prey to Spike´s predator.

 

"Already did, pet. Consider it a magical ebola. By this time tomorrow, a little bugger too small to see will have eaten all his human parts away, and the rest of him will fall apart like soddin´ tinker toys."

 

"Okay, this is of the good, right?" Xander asked, not quite understanding the serious expression on Spike´s face.

 

"What question did I ask ya, pet?" Spike asked again. Xander struggled to put together the pieces of the conversation, but he obviously had missed something.

 

"Something about why I´m stupid?" he asked. Spike´s hand fell on his ass harder, harder enough to sting a little.

 

"I asked why ya couldn´t ever beat me, pet. As much as you fight and sulk and claw, ya never will beat me, and I asked ya why."

 

"Me human, you demon," Xander pointed out with his best ´no duh´ voice. Spike´s hand fell harder, and Xander´s stomach tightened into a thick knot as his ass stung with the heat of it.

 

"Oh fuck," he breathed, all his nightmares coming true at once. "How long?" he asked. Spike´s hand fell again, three times in succession with the blows spaced over Xander´s vulnerable ass.

 

"One, ya didn´t answer my question. Two, ya spoke without permission, a rule I thought we had worked out some time ago. Three, ya used profanity, and ya never speak to me except with respect in your voice. Understand?" Spike asked. Xander closed his eyes to block out the sight of Spike in gameface so calmly laying out the rules for what little life Xander had remaining. He knew the day would come, but he had hoped Spike would make it quick.

 

The hardest slap yet made his eyes fly open. Spike added a second hit before Xander could even catch his breath.

 

"One, ya still didn´t answer. Two, ya won´t close me out. I´m your master for as long as I decide ta keep you around. I wonder how long it will take your friends to figure out you´re gone? Seein´ as how they didn´t even notice that ya moved out of your parents´ house, I figure you could probably rot back to dust down here before they found ya, but I don´t know how long it would take them to start looking."

 

Spike looked down, and Xander couldn´t help the tears that slowly gathered at the corners of his eyes, making them burn as hotly as his ass.

 

"Well, answer one question or the other, pet," Spike said, raising his hand.

 

"I don´t know, a week or so?" Xander hiccupped out as Spike brought the hand down again. Xander swore he could feel the handprint etched into his skin, but he could only curl his hands into worthless fists and lay there.

 

"Not how ya talk to me, pet. Ya followed the rules better when ya thought I couldn´t rip your guts out." Spike trailed a sharp fingernail over Xander´s ribs, and skin shivered. With a wicked smile, Spike trailed the fingernail down and over Xander´s hot ass. "Try again, pet," he said softly as he pushed on the plug again.

 

"Maybe a week, sir," Xander said softly. Spike rewarded him with a thumb rubbing over his pucker, teasing the delicate skin before pulling out two or three public hairs so that Xander yelped.

 

"Please," Xander whispered.

 

"Please what, little dinner of mine?"

 

Xander flinched, but the ropes held him in place. "Please warn the girls," he managed, fear tightening his throat. This wasn´t how he´d planned it. He expected Spike to show up, grab him, drain him, and then drop him on Buffy´s lawn. But now Spike seemed more interested in playing his games, and that terrified Xander. He remembered when the vamp had first come to town and Giles had pulled out books that described Spike torturing his victims with railroad spikes. Little late to worry about it now.

 

"Right then, who do you want dialed?" Spike asked, entirely too cheerfully. Xander´s throat closed at the thought of hearing Buffy or Willow´s voices. He didn´t want their last memory to be of this call. He didn´t want to talk to them tied down over Spike´s lap because he´d allowed it.

 

"Angel," Xander finally whispered, his throat too tight for anything more. Spike looked down in obvious surprise, one eyebrow crooked up.

 

"Your dime," he finally shrugged as he dialed the phone and then held it to Xander´s face. Xander closed his eyes, struggling to regain some control, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh startled him into opening them before the pain of the spanking soaked into his skin.

 

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless," a man´s voice answered, a man, but not Angel.

 

"Angel, please," Xander said. There was a pause. "If it´s help you´re needing, we can–"

 

"Just get Angel, and tell him if he doesn´t come to the phone, I´m slipping Ex–Lax into his blood supply," Xander snapped, the fear turning to anger. Spike smirked, and the person on the other end of the phone spluttered a bit, but then Angel´s voice came over the line.

 

"This is Angel," he said cautiously. Xander´s throat closed.

 

"Hello?" Angel´s voice drifted over the phone, sounding annoyed.

 

Xander took a deep breath, sobbing half way through it, but Spike just watched with his head slightly tilted now.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Deadboy," Xander finally started, hoping for a light tone, but there was a long silence at the other end.

 

"Xander? What´s wrong?" Angel asked, completely ignoring the insult. Xander struggled to catch his breath, the collar suddenly seeming tighter.

 

"You have to warn them," he whispered.

 

"Warn who? Xander, what´s going on?" Angel´s voice came through the phone louder, and Xander could see the smirk on Spike´s face grow wider. Great, he got to be the bocce ball they knocked around to score points on each other... not how he saw himself going out.

 

"Tell them," Xander paused. Tell them that he was an idiot? Tell them that he´d been playing slave and now Spike decided to make it real? "Tell them Spike got the chip out," Xander settled on.

 

"Spike?" Angel practically yelled in Xander´s ear. "Spike, can you hear me? If you touch him–"

 

Xander started laughing. Tied to Spike´s lap with the vampire´s hand resting on his hot ass and the plug Spike had picked out shoved up his ass, he was fairly sure Spike had done more than just touching.

 

"Xander?" Angel called.

 

"Little late for that," Xander managed between breaths. "Just tell them–" Xander stopped again, the tears starting as he realized how many things he wanted to tell them. "Tell them I love them," Xander muttered. Then he closed his eyes. It didn´t matter if he broke a rule by doing it; he had no illusions about Spike needing an excuse. How many times had Spike chained him in the niche and left him panting in pain, and still Xander hadn´t gotten a clue.

 

Angel was still shouting when Spike thumbed the phone off with a beep. Cool fingers smoothed through his hair, and Xander felt like a leech trying to suck up the last bit of pleasure he could before the real fun started. He sometimes sought pain to erase the other darkness in his life... to force him past a wall he´d built around himself. However, he didn´t enjoy pain for pain´s sake, so he knew this was going to be ugly.

 

"Still haven´t answered me, pet," Spike crooned, and Xander felt shame wrap around him when his cock still reacted to that tone, to those fingers soothing him.

 

"Don´t know the answer," Xander answered without opening his eyes.

 

"We have a problem, pet. This isn´t goin´ to end pretty unless you can figure it out," Spike said, those fingers never halting as they petted him. Xander opened his eyes and looked up into Spike´s human face.

 

"Not going to end pretty anyway. Please don´t start lying now," Xander said, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and watch the monster he´d given his life to.

 

"Pet, you´re still fightin´. Not smart. Tell me why you can´t win." Spike´s hand moved to petting Xander´s shoulder.

 

"I´m human and you´re a fucking bloodsucker?" Xander quipped. The strikes came hard and fast, trailing down to his exposed thighs. They didn´t end until Xander cried and begged between ragged breaths.

 

Then Spike stopped and looked down where Xander lay, bound so tightly he couldn´t even squirm more than an inch.

 

"Why can´t you win, pet?" Spike asked again, and this time, a cool hand traced over Xander´s ass, the sensitive skin shivering under the cool touch. "What scorpion has stung ya, pet?"

 

Xander struggled to pull his legs together and Spike reached between them and played with the undersides of Xander´s balls before pushing his hand in and teasing Xander´s excited cock. Great... he got to die a perv.

 

"I don´t know what you want me to say," Xander cried, careful to keep his voice respectful even as he struggled against the chains on his ankles and the leather around his wrists and the collar that kept his face pressed to the now–warm leather.

 

"Want ya to understand yourself well enough to see why you´re never going to win. Want ya to admit why I´m always going to end up on top, even if I still had the chip, even if I were still in a soddin wheelchair, even if Buffy came chargin´ in that door right now."

 

As Spike glanced toward the door, Xander felt a flare of hope, but then again, Buffy walking in would lead to questions of the sort Xander didn´t want to answer. Pieces shifted in Xander´s memory... the night Spike had first glued Legos to his body, thinking he would just pull an annoying prank... the first time Spike had dropped him stomach down on the bed and fucked him until Xander screamed Spike´s name and nearly passed out... the many times Xander knelt in the niche crying and Spike took him out, petting him and carrying him to the bed.

 

"I–" Xander stopped. If he wanted to die with a little dignity, he would keep his mouth shut and let Spike torture him.

 

"Pet, out with it," Spike ordered, pinching a bit of skin sharply so that Xander gasped.

 

"I want you to win," Xander finally let it go. The guilt beast clawed up his stomach, making his gag reflect trigger as he nearly vomited out the pain.

 

"Oi," Spike snarled, and fingers pulled at his neck, releasing the rope before Spike nearly shoved him off the chair and to the floor. Xander landed with a thud, ignoring the pain in his knees as he faced the guilt monster that had crawled out his mouth.

 

"I don´t want my friends hurt; I don´t want the bad guys to win," he choked out. And he didn´t.

 

Spike´s hands, which had shoved at him, now petted him as he knelt awkwardly with his legs still held open by the spreader bar.

 

"Yeah, if one of those other twits had taken ya as a pet, this wouldn´t be so hard. But you´re mine. I´m the one who bloody saw that black hole of fear and need in ya, and I filled it."

 

Spike reached down and unhooked the shackles so that Xander could bring his legs together. When Spike released his hands, Xander could only sit on the floor with his sore knees and sore ass and look up in confusion.

 

"Slayer´s goin´ to be out looking in a couple of minutes, so get our kit packed," Spike ordered as he threw a leg over one arm of the chair in a familiar pose.

 

"Spike?" Xander asked in confusion.

 

Spike reached out and hooked the front ring on the collar, using it to pull Xander close.

 

"You´re mine, boy, and I don´t walk away from anything that´s mine. Now, I told you to pack up our kit so we can head out, but if ya don´t want to obey, I´ll put a few stripes on you and leave ya in the niche while I pack," Spike threatened, his eyes turning yellow.

 

"Packing, I can pack, packing champ here," Xander rambled. Spike cocked one eyebrow and held Xander in place for a second before letting go. Xander stood and looked around the room, shadows in the corners where the light of the television didn´t reach and Spike looking no different than he had on a hundred other nights.

 

"Spike," Xander said tentatively, "I still can´t, you know..."

 

Spike turned his head slowly.

 

"Should probably point out that you´re mine and you´ll do as your told," he mused, his tongue pushing at his lower lip. "But I´ll make ya a deal. You remember that your place is at my feet, and I won´t ask ya to be anything other than a white knight," Spike offered.

 

Xander ducked his head, his hair falling in front of his face as he hid his overwhelming relief.

 

"Get ta work, boy," Spike said in a firmer voice. Xander turned toward the bed where clothes lay flung over the bedspread.

 

Gathering the shirts into a pile, Xander whispered.

 

"Thank you, Master."

 

---

 

Toys 4

 

Xander let the world flow by in slow motion, legs and boots and leather and jeans all blurring into a meaningless backdrop. Only the throbbing between his legs and the cool fingers tangling and occasionally tugging his curls mattered.

 

The cords wrapped around his cock and balls made dull throbbing waves pass through his thighs and up his spine, warming him and making him even harder, which made him groan in pain. When he shifted, a few pubic hairs yanked free, and Xander gasped.

 

"Silly git, told ya not to wiggle around," Spike commented with a tug at a curl. Xander leaned his shoulder into Spike's leg, wishing he could do something to focus on his master instead of his own frustration. He ached with a need to lose himself to the pleasure of lying helpless under Spike's hands or the need to suck Spike's cock. He could almost feel strong hands holding his head in place as Spike finally lost control and drove up into his mouth. He would even love to lay over Spike's lap panting as Spike either teased or tortured him into oblivion.

 

However, right now, he wasn't likely to get any of that… at least not for a little while. Spike had found the darkest corner of the bar, but unlike most of their regular haunts, humans wandered the dark. A few times, the door opened and a random tourist, lured by the neon sign offering drinks, wandered in, but they left soon enough.

 

Rough-looking men with leather vests leaned against the bar. A man in a dark uniform and shiny boots sat at a table with one heel resting on a half-naked man's back. Xander kept glancing toward that couple, fascinated by the way the man on the floor licked at the second shiny boot with eager enthusiasm. Several men had whips or handcuffs dangling from their belts, and one man who had really gotten into things had a long whip coiled and slung over one shoulder like Indiana Jones.

 

Yep, any strangers who wandered in tonight fled before even getting to the back of the dim bar where Xander knelt. The soft leather chaps wrapped his legs tightly but left his genitals exposed, or at least they would be exposed except that Spike had carefully bound them with leather cords. Unfortunately, Spike hadn't seemed interested in doing anything else except watching the crowd. Well, watching the crowd and complaining about weak American piss-water beer and lame American whisky. Xander was used to those complaints.

 

Shifting again, he flinched when a few more hairs went, and Xander wondered if he should just give in and ask Spike to shave him. He pressed his cheek to Spike's thigh, silently asking for permission to do more, but Spike just continued petting while he watched the crowd. One restless foot wiggled so that a Doc Martin heel thumped the wooden floor.

 

Oh yeah, Spike either wanted something or was waiting for something. And really, Xander already knew that because Spike didn't normally hunt men. He loved the flirt, the dance, the quick in and out where he left some girl still orgasming and leaning haphazardly against a random planter as Spike sauntered away with a cat that ate the canary grin, except more with the vampire that snacked on the girl grin.

 

Xander scanned the crowd trying to figure out what Spike was watching. The door came open, the sound of an angry car horn blaring above the music and the sounds of men's voices. Instead of fleeing, the new guy stepped into the room, his cowboy boots, tight black jeans and black leather jacket fitting right in with the rest of crowd. He looked familiar enough that Xander figured he was probably some B-level actor who did walk on parts—he certainly had an actor's looks.

 

"Yes, sir!" a high voice blurted. Both the cowboy newcomer and Xander glanced to a corner where a dark-haired man stood with his hands behind his back and a chain between his nipples. The older man standing next to him had a gloved hand on that chain, which he tugged again. Xander could see the younger one say something else, but this time he couldn't hear it.

 

Yeah, he'd had trouble learning to control his voice when Spike pulled or tugged or whipped some piece of vulnerable skin. Sometimes his voice would crack so that he would squeak like a little girl… other times he'd lose his air and gape mutely.

 

Watching those two humans play, Xander wondered if he would have ended up somewhere like this eventually. Maybe he would have. Spike's leg stopped vibrating under him, and Xander looked up in alarm. Spike's constant energy had disappeared under a stillness that could mean only one thing: hunting, and not the snack and orgasmy type.

 

Xander followed Spike's gaze, desperate to find the target. The new guy—cowboy. Okay, he could handle this. He might not be a slayer, but he had any number of tricks when Spike got a little too interested in the local snacklife. Glancing toward the clock, he watched the minute hand click one notch closer to midnight when the doors would lock.

 

"Master," Xander said softly. Pulling himself upright, he ducked his head and let his curls fall in front of his face before he glanced up through the curtain of hair.

 

"Yeah?" Spike put his whiskey down and forgot to even pet Xander. So not good.

 

"Master, may I go to the bathroom?" Xander whispered. Spike looked down at him and cocked his head. Xander could only chew at his lower lip while he waited for an answer.

 

"Oi, that look means ya want something, so spit it out," Spike said as he raised one boot and rested it on top of Xander's thigh, trapping him in place. Okay, he could do this. Just distract Spike. His master had such a short attention span that he'd forget his prey.

 

"My cock, it really hurts," Xander breathed, flinching because what he was implying… yeah, that was not going to make Spike happy.

 

Rather than the explosion he expected, Xander got silence. Spike just looked down with a skeptical expression. Xander fidgeted under the gaze, and pulled out a few more pubic hairs.

 

"Ow," Xander said as he looked down at the floor.

 

"Right, so let me get this straight. You're goin' to go to the bathroom and loosen the knots I put on ya?"

 

Xander considered how he wanted to answer that. He glanced toward the bar where the cowboy leaned with his back against the bar as he scanned the crowd. "Um, yes?" Xander tried. And again with the lack of explosion. Xander looked up at Spike.

 

"Not buyin', pet. Ya never could lie." Spike grabbed Xander's neck and pulled him close again. Xander lost so many pubic hairs that his eyes watered a bit as he resettled, his head resting on Spike's leg again. At least the nervous bounce was back, so maybe cowboy was safe after all.

 

Xander sank back to a place where his body's ache and the feel of Spike's hand petting him made the rest of the world fade. Suddenly, the club grew quiet. The men's voices died away to only shuffling feet so that Xander could finally hear the music instead of just feeling the base sending vibrations up through his knees.

 

An older man with a gray handlebar mustache and a biker's cap came out from behind the bar and headed for the door.

 

"Last chance, folks. Leave now or risk learning a few things your mother wouldn't want you to know."

 

The barman glanced at a couple of men hovering in the corners, but no one moved. He shrugged locked the door and pulled down the shade over the small window inset into the heavy door. Instantly, the mood turned.

 

"You looking for a second boy?" a man with a huge silver belt buckle asked Spike. Spike didn't even bother answering, he just waved a dismissive hand, and the man took that refusal with a shrug as he asked the next top. Other players detoured around them, and Xander looked up in confusion when Spike's body went still a second time.

 

"Stay," Spike ordered briefly before he stood. Xander started to ask why, but Spike left in a swirl of black leather, his punk hair and duster only slightly out of place. Xander settled back, resting his palms on the warm leather chaps as he waited for Spike to come back.

 

Soon enough, Spike came back with cowboy in tow. Xander looked up in panic, but Spike just smiled sweetly before reaching down and grabbing the heavy chain that hung from the back of Xander's collar and then trailed down his back. He wrapped it around his fist and pulled Xander to his feet.

 

"So, you up for a game, mate?" Spike asked. Xander obediently turned when Spike made a twirling motion with his finger. He gave the cowboy a nice look at his bare ass and bound cock exposed by the chaps and the hard nipples that the tiny leather vest didn't cover. The movement made even more hairs rip out, and the sharp pains along with the admiring looks from both Spike and cowboy made Xander shiver with lust.

 

"Oh, you bet I am," Cowboy smiled widely.

 

Spike pulled sharply on the leash, yanking Xander to his side before grabbing the back of Xander's neck. "And can you play by my rules, just like my boy here?" Spike asked Cowboy, but his gaze locked on Xander.

 

Xander narrowed his eyes, struggling to understand the message his master meant for him, but then Spike kissed him brutally, teeth clashing with teeth as strong fingers pulled Xander's nipple. That kinda short-circuited any thoughts. Still struggling to catch his breath and calm down enough to keep his cock from falling off, Xander followed as Spike led him by his leash to a back room.

 

Xander didn't even realize Cowboy had joined them until Spike pushed the bolt closed on the small storage room that had been converted to a private dungeon, metal shelves on one side of the tiny concrete room and bars lining one wall for convenient tying up and torturing of victims… hopefully metaphorically because Xander truly did not want to be around for any literal tying up and torturing, especially if he wasn't the tyee and torturee.

 

"Can I try him out? I'm a master of a good spanking, and I love to feel a hot ass under my hand. God. He's really built." Cowboy's babbling stopped when Spike glanced over with a raised eyebrow, and Xander really feared Cowboy was on the menu tonight.

 

Slowly, with a roll of his hips, Xander sank to his knees and pressed his forehead against Spike's crotch. The jeans scratched him as he slowly rubbed his face, silently begging Spike to use him instead.

 

"He's bloody perfect," Spike agreed, and Xander felt a hand rest on his head. Grunting his desperation, Xander pressed his cheek to Spike's bulge as he looked up with panic-wide eyes. Spike looked down at him without any emotion.

 

"So, here's how it works, mate. I put you through a few paces, and then I let you put my boy through his."

 

"I'm not really into bottoming," Cowboy said, and now the first threads of doubt appeared. Xander closed his eyes and sent up a quick prayer that this guy wasn't as stupid as he seemed.

 

"Just like ta get a feel for who's taking my boy out for a drive. Ya can always use your safe word, but remember that I hold my boy's safeword, so as soon as you show me what you're made of, you can play with the boy until I say enough." Spike continued to pet Xander even as he promised to give Xander away to another man. And really, Xander was getting a headache from trying to figure it out.

 

"He doesn't have a safe word?" Cowboy asked, his voice breathy from either fear or excitement. Xander hoped it was fear and that Cowboy was about to run for the hills.

 

"He's a slave, not a bottom." Spike patiently explained.

 

"Oh man. Oh, yeah, I'm totally into that. So, how do you want to start?" Cowboy asked.

 

"Strip." Spike gave the order in such a friendly tone that Xander felt a near-hysterical need to laugh.

 

"Master?" he pled as he knelt at Spike's feet. A pair of jeans hit his back and slid to the floor.

 

"Quiet, or I'll gag you, boy," Spike ordered with a thump on the nose. Xander ducked his head so he wouldn't have to watch the next part. Pain and failure swelled until the ache in his chest outpaced the ache in his groin. Stealing quick glances, he watched as Spike tied the man to the metal bars, spread eagled and facing the wall. His ass had a pale triangle of pasty skin surrounded by SoCal tan and his arms stretched nearly the length of the bars.

 

"So let's start with a warm up," Spike suggested as he took a flogger from off a shelf. The slapping of leather against flesh echoed off the room. Xander could only press himself into the corner as he tried to stay out of the way in the small room. Cowboy started with heavy grunts on each hit, his hands fisting and his body jerking, but then he sagged into the blows.

 

Xander knew what that moment felt like… the point at which he could let go and just feel the warmth travel his body. He wished he were up there; he wished he could trust Spike with this stranger's life as much as he trusted Spike with his own. The flogging went on and on until Cowboy gave pained sighs with each hit.

 

"So, you ready for round two?" Spike asked as he put the flogger back on the shelf and pulled out a cigarette.

 

"Fuck, yeah. I'm going to make that boy of yours cry," Cowboy said. "Hey, you can't smoke in here!"

 

"Seems like you're not in a position to tell me what to do," Spike commented as he stepped closer and blew smoke right at the man's face. Cowboy turned his head and coughed.

 

"Man, whatever your kink is, I am not into second hand smoke and lung cancer."

 

"See, that's what's wrong with a bottom. They think they have a say, and really, they don't. Not the way I play," Spike offered as he blew smoke again.

 

"Sign off. Sign off, okay? I'm calling it off." Cowboy coughed as the white cloud floated past him.

 

"Not feelin' like letting you down, so I'll say when you've had enough," Spike commented casually as he pulled a gag out of a pocket. Cowboy opened his mouth to complain, and Spike shoved it in and buckled it behind his head. Now Cowboy exploded, straining against the ropes and screaming until his face mottled red and purple.

 

"You recognize him, pet?" Spike asked as he backed off a few steps and leaned against the door. Xander looked over at Cowboy in surprise.

 

"No, Master." Xander swallowed; his mouth had gone totally dry.

 

"Look closer, pet."

 

Xander stood up and reluctantly inched closer. Cowboy looked over his shoulder, silently begging for help with every blink.

 

"Chad?" Xander asked as the memories returned. Cowboy Chad froze.

 

"Spike?" Xander turned to his master, not even sure he could describe what he was feeling if someone offered him a million dollars and a brain that actually worked.

 

"See, I heard the slayer and Red talkin' about some of the shite this one pulled. Then I smelled him on ya after that fight at the pizza place. If I thought the slayer had the balls to pull off what she said she wanted to do to him, I'd turn him over and watch the fun and games.

 

"Problem is that you white hats are more about talk than torture, and this one needs to learn a lesson." Spike slipped into game face and smiled at Chad. The man promptly peed, the yellow flowing down his legs and puddling on the floor. Spike's smile turned to a disgusted grimace as he dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his heel.

 

"Master, please don't," Xander sank to his knees at Spike's feet.

 

"You goin' to offer me something for not killin' him, the way you did with that bint in Seattle?"

 

Xander looked up at Spike in surprise.

 

"Told ya, you aren't good at lying, pet. So, are you going to try and distract me from this wanker? I seem to remember this one here dropped ya in a toilet once. In fact, Red called what this one did terrorism."

 

"But," Xander stopped. Chad had done all that, and more. Between Chad and Larry, freshman P.E. had been as close to torture as Xander had ever come, and that included what Spike did to him on a regular basis. "Please," he finally begged.

 

Xander knelt up and pressed his cheek against Spike's bulge. Reaching down, Spike unzipped his jeans and slipped his cock out, the head poking out from the foreskin. Xander closed his eyes in relief. This he knew how to deal with. This he loved dealing with.

 

Xander took the head into his mouth and moaned happily as he sucked at the cock and felt it grow. Working his lips around the shaft, he slowly worked down until the cock touched the back of his throat. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he lunged forward, feeling the pressure in his throat. He half gagged, half swallowed, and tried to smile as he felt the answering jerk in Spike's body.

 

The need for air forced him back and he happily sucked as Spike's cock, teasing the end with little jabs of his tongue. Spike made a little growling sound, and Xander felt his own cock try to inflate. Unfortunately, his own cock still had cords wrapped around it.

 

Letting the cock slip out of his lips, Xander bent to lick the heavy balls, the crinkled hair tickling his face and the damp cock resting on one cheek. Xander sucked them in gently, exploring their familiar shapes and worshiping them. A fist pulled at his curls, and Xander obediently returned to the main event.

 

This time, he sucked as hard as he could, and Spike grabbed at the shelf as he threw his head back. Deep throating Spike for a second time, Xander felt Spike jerk and start to orgasm. He sucked happily, the salty, thick liquid escaping at the corners of his mouth and dribbling out. Xander didn't wipe his face as he looked up.

 

Spike's head was still thrown back, his mouth open as he recovered from the orgasm. Xander couldn't believe that he had the power to reduce Spike to this gasping creature who clung to the shelf.

 

"My beautiful pet," Spike said as he reached down and ruffled Xander's hair. "But someone still needs to learn a lesson.

 

The words ripped the satisfaction from Xander as he looked over at Chad who started to struggle again.

 

"Please, Master. I'll do better next time. Please don't kill him." Xander broke one of the first rules, clinging to Spike's leg to try and physically stop him. It might be a worthless gesture what with vamp super-strength, but Xander had run out of other options.

 

"Pet." Spike's warning didn't make Xander let go; however, the fist in his hair, dragging him back did. Spike crouched down, and Xander could feel his body tremble even though he couldn't seem to feel any emotion in particular. He just focused on the concrete floor and waited for punishment, even worse, he waited for Spike to kill Chad and that would be all his fault.

 

"Pet, ya did perfect. I won't kill him if it means this much to ya, but he isn't some random bird who's caught my eye. He hurt ya, and you're mine." Spike's voice was so calm. Xander trembled harder as Spike grabbed his collar and forced him to look up.

 

"Who's your master?" Spike demanded in a firmer voice.

 

"You, master."

 

"And who makes the decision?"

 

"You, master."

 

"And whose responsibility is it?"

 

Xander paused. Spike reached up and slipped his fingers under the collar and used his grip to pull Xander closer. Now the collar was so tight that Xander could barely breathe.

 

"And whose responsibility is it?" Spike repeated, his game face out and the fangs making every 's' longer.

 

"Yours, master," Xander barely whispered.

 

"Right, so time to take care of business." Spike switched over to playful joy as he stood. "So, Chad… you do know that's a soddin' stupid name, right?" Spike asked as he slapped Chad's bare ass. Chad's eyes had gone wide, and he didn't even move as Spike leaned against the bars.

 

"See, ya don't understand something important about the world, mate. When you hurt someone, there's always a price ta pay. Some people are tough enough to demand payment and others aren't, but the price is there. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't care even if you really have left a trail of half-dead boys behind ya. If those wankers can't make you pay, that's their problem. But Xander's mine, and ya hurt him. Personally, I think the price for what you've done to my pet should be death."

 

Chad still didn't move, his body stiff with fear as Spike watched him, trailing a finger up his naked side. Xander held his breath, hoping.

 

"This is where you learn, innit?" Spike asked sweetly as he pulled a knife out. Chad's nose flared as he gasped for air.

 

Xander watched in horror as one red line after another appeared with small neat strokes. Chad started with muffled screaming, but ended up simply hanging as Spike flicked blood droplets with each precise letter. Every few minutes, he would step back to admire his work and rub a black paste into the torn flesh before continuing. As he finished the last word, tiny blood rivers had flowed together so that a red trail disappeared into his butt crack.

 

Spike let the knife follow the trail lightly, and Chad just hung limply.

 

"Think you can remember this lesson?" Spike asked his face and inch from Chad's. Chad nodded slowly.

 

"Right then. My pet has been bloody brilliant tonight, so I'm going to take him home, shag him, and give him the best blowjob of his life. I'm sure someone will find you by mornin'." Spike gave Chad a swat on the ass with the flat of the blade before putting the knife away. Chad could only blink with an expression that probably meant disbelief.

 

Spike held out his hand, and Xander took the help to get up, his knees numb with the kneeling.

 

"You'd best stay close to my back, pet, or you're going to end up arrested for indecent exposure," Spike commented, just like he had before they'd left the lair that evening. Xander obediently fell into step right behind so that the duster hid his bound erection. When Spike opened the storeroom door, the evening's entertainment had obviously ended. Most of the bar was empty, only a few leathermen lounging with their beers, but nothing that would send a tourist running.

 

Spike crossed the floor with decisive strides, and Xander followed as close as possible without tripping himself and his master. No one even glanced their way. Behind them, Chad still hung from the bars, his back seeping, in both blood and black ink...

 

Boy's Mine: Trespassers will be eaten.