My Sweet Prince
by
Pirate Purple
Part Thirteen
Spike was in front of the door when I got there. “Where exactly do you think you’re going, pet?”
“I’ll find a hotel or something,” was all I said.
“Why, Xander? This is your home, too.” Spike squeezed my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
“You say that, but I can’t do what I want here. When you took it upon yourself to rescue me, you knew that I was using. But suddenly that’s not good enough for you, I have to get clean.” The tears are pouring down my cheeks. I'm trying not to sob, but am only partially successful, as my breath keeps hitching in my chest anyway. “And the fuck-all off it is that I did it. I don’t give a shit about myself, but I cared enough about you to do it. And even then I'm not good enough! You run off to Buffy, and I'm left behind, fucking j’Reth for drugs to fill up the hole that you left.”
“You did what with j’Reth?” Score one evil point for the Xan-man. Direct hit.
“I fucked him, Spike. Fucked him for drugs, him and some other junkie demon chick. Fucked him to forget about you. Which is what I'm going to continue doing, as soon as I walk out that door.” I pointed behind him.
Spike is white with rage. His eyes are golden, and the tendons on his neck are standing out in sharp relief. Game face in three, two –
His face changes to the now-familiar demonic ridges. I'm so used to seeing it when he comes that my dick actually twitches. It doesn’t know that I'm currently doing my best to make sure Spike punches me and throws me out.
The quietness of Spike’s voice takes me by surprise, but I can still hear the sub harmonic growl under the words. “Going to j’Reth now, boy? Gonna get your fix and your fuck from another demon, since I won’t give it to you?” He whispers.
I look him straight in the eye and bald-faced lie. “Yes, I am.”
He opens the door and waves me through with a small, sarcastic bow. “You can bloody well have at it then.”
He slams the door behind me so hard, two of the ceiling tiles fall down.
Part Fourteen
Gods, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train. I can’t move, even to open my eyes. I could eat five raw steaks and a whole chocolate cake, and my morning wood is hard enough to hammer nails with. The cool air on my skin tells me I'm naked. What the fuck did I take last night?
A cool hand brushes my cheek, and I smell cigarettes and blood. Makes me hungrier. “Ssspike?” I croak, my throat is so dry, I really need something cool and wet, and –
Blood. Sweet as chocolate and more satisfying than steak. I can feel pins-and-needles tingles all down my arms and legs as it rushes into my mouth. I suck greedily at the proffered arm, and whine when the blood stops flowing.
“Use your fangs, love,” a gentle voice says, close to my ear, and something inside of me sits up and listens.
“Sire,” the word lights an all-consuming fire in me. The stiffness of my body melts away, and I open my eyes and reach for him. He smiles gently and pulls me closer. I lick and suck his neck, whimpering and pressing my nearly painful erection into his hip.
“Sshh… pet. I’ll put everything right for you in just a minute.” He pushes me away a little, and I whine softly, but stay where he puts me. He turns me so my back is to his front and pulls me closer, crooking the arm underneath my head so his wrist reaches my mouth. “Bite,” he says, and I do, finding that game face comes pretty much naturally. “Good boy, beautiful boy…” he murmurs as I suck. He traces the vein on the underside of my cock with one finger, teasing, and I squirm, suddenly aware of his hardness behind me. He presses into me, sliding into the crease of my ass, as he grips my cock in a firm hand and begins to slide his fist up and down. I whine around a mouthful of blood, and finally let go of Spike’s wrist, because even though I don’t have to breathe, I have to breathe.
Spike chuckles at this, and growls, “Beautiful childe,” in my ear. He increases his speed, and I'm gasping, trying so hard not to come, to make this last. I curl my toes and think about football for the briefest of all possible seconds before Spike leans his head down and sinks his fangs into my neck. As he comes, thrusting against me, it’s as if a circuit has been completed, and a line of pleasure-laced electricity connects between Spike’s fangs in my neck and his hand on my cock. I'm coming for what feels like hours, but in all reality has to be less than a minute. This is the best high ever. I'm sated, a Xander-puddle of pleasured Xander bits. My skin is buzzing faintly, and I'm all floaty inside my head. Nothing hurts; the world is soft and full of cushions. Spike turns me over, and chuckles, licking a trail of blood off my chin. I'm too exhausted to do more than smile.
A while later, after we’ve napped and the sun has gone down and the vesper is up, I have questions. “Why don’t I feel any different, Spike? I'm not all… grr-bumpy and hell-bent on destroying the world. I don’t want to kill anyone, and really the only blood I have a strong craving for is yours.”
Spike looks down, refusing to make eye contact. “Had Red give you your soul back. Wanted you, not a monster with your face, yeah?” He turns away from me, but I pull him back, and kiss him.
“You saved me.” He looks away again, but his head is the only thing I'm letting move.
“Yeah.” He looks at me, daring me to say I didn’t want to be saved.
“Thank you.” And I pull his head down and kiss him with every ounce of gratitude I have.
The End
Index
