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Feedback: Do you really want to see me beg? My happy dance is way more entertaining.

Archive: Hey, just ask first   *g*

Series: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Pairing:


Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the characters of the show don't belong to me in anyway whatsoever. Mutant Enemy, I live in envy of you. This story is written for enjoyment, not for profit. This whore only works for feedback. Litigation would be a waste of time, people. I'm a member of the Starving Student Sect.

Warnings: spoilers in general for the last season of Buffy and for the characters’ general situations in it.

This takes place post-Adam but pre-Replacement, if that helps. This contains mention of bondage, blood play and self-cutting as a form of sexual interaction.

I’m not sure where this one came from. I’m sitting there, innocently trying to outline the sequel to “Not Just Another Human” (which is Gavin’s fault, by the way) when all of a sudden this idea is just there, full-blown inside my head.

Spike tried to convince me to make it a part of the sequel and I had a hell of a time keeping him away from Xander. I finally managed to make it a one-shot deal...for me, at least.

There’s a bit of a challenge tacked on to the end of this, but nothing big. This is complete in itself, so the challenge is just for kicks.

K, I’m done rambling now. On to the, fic. Hell, I mean smut.



Summary: After being mocked by Spike once too often, Xander comes up with a way to get his revenge.

Spike rolled his eyes as the fifth sigh in as many minutes drifted over from Xander’s chair. “Something bothering you?” He didn’t want to ask, but it was either that or listen to the whelp sigh some more and it was beginning to get irritating. He was sprawled across the couch in the boy’s basement, waiting for the sun to go the hell down so he could leave.

“I can’t believe she left!”

Ah, so they were going to talk about Anya leaving. Again. “Of course she left. Who’d stay in Sunnyhell if they could bloody well help it?” He lit a cigarette and tried to find the remote. Maybe he'd drown the other man out with the television.

“Not Sunnydale. I can’t believe she left me! Things were going so well...I was more than half in love with her and thought she felt the same!” Xander looked up from his chair, eyes dark with confusion. He’d been going over the break up for the past two weeks, ever since Anya had kissed him good-bye and left town, leaving the Hellmouth and Xander behind forever.

“She must have been crazy,” Spike said in as bored a voice as he could manage. The damn remote was nowhere to be found, so he decided to amuse himself at Xander’s expense. Not like it was anything new, but it was a way to pass the time. “An exciting guy like you.”

“Hey! I have a lot to offer.”

“Oh, yeah. What woman could resist the chance to help you dust your Babylon5 collector’s plates?” Spike sniggered, his self-congratulation over the barb rising as fast as the flush on Xander’s face.

“I’ll have you know that I have plenty to offer a woman.” Xander held up his hand and began to tick off his statements on his fingers. “I finally have a good job with a future. I’m funny. I am a pro at pretending to be interested in girlie conversation about shoes and shopping. I really care about what a woman is feeling. Usually.” He narrowed his eyes and poked his finger in the air towards Spike. “And Anya even admitted that I was a Viking in the sack. How could she walk away from all that?”

Spike felt night descend like a cool balm over his nerves. The sun had set.

About damn time. He stood up, not wanting to sit and play this old game. He could understand some of the ex-demon’s interest in Xander. The whelp wasn’t bad looking and his new job was putting some nice muscle on him. Those big please-hurt-me-now eyes were a definite plus, too. But Anya wasn’t a demon anymore so she couldn’t really hurt him, could she? What was the fun in having a toy that one couldn’t play with properly? “I don’t know, Xander. What is it about you that makes it so very easy to walk away from you? Your parents did and never looked back. Anya did it without any effort. Hell, your friends aren’t even keeping you around - you just refuse to go away.”

He pulled on his duster. “I guess that you’re just not a very interesting game. Play you once, then what’s the point anymore - not even worth hanging on to for sentimental reasons.” He met Xander’s eyes, smirking at the tears he could see the whelp fighting so hard to repress. “Guess you’re just not worth a second go, so they just walk away.”

Spike matched his actions to his words and left, not caring to see the boy’s final reaction to what he’d said. He had other matters to attend to: people to mug, demons to kill, alcohol to drink.


Spike staggered a little, waiting for the door to stop jumping around before he tried his luck at opening it. The mugging had gone very well indeed and he’d celebrated by getting roaring drunk. He needed somewhere to sleep it off and he wasn’t going to use his crypt in his current condition. Better to stay at the whelp’s and sleep it off in relative safety from vengeance-seeking demons.

It took him a few tries to get inside but he managed it. Uncaring of how much noise he was making, Spike stomped across the floor and collapsed onto the couch, ignoring Xander’s sleepy alarm and irritated protests. Closing his eyes, he tuned the other man out and fell deeply into an alcoholic sleep.

When he awoke, Spike was immediately grateful, as always, that vampires didn’t get hangovers. He tried to stretch his arms out and found that he couldn’t: they were restrained somehow.

That realization brought him completely awake and he raised his head, wanting to find out what the hell was going on. He couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing: his wrists and ankles were encircled by manacles, and the chains connected to them ran over the bed on which he lay and down to the floor. They pulled his arms and legs spread eagle, and a frantic wrench didn’t do any good. Nothing budged.

Spike looked around and found that he was still in Xander’s basement. The whelp was standing beside the bed, staring down at him. “What the hell is going on here?” Spike demanded.

“You said I wasn’t a very interesting game to play,” the dark-haired man said quietly. “I don’t think that’s true. Want to play a game, Spike?” His gaze wandered down the length of Spike’s body then returned upwards to meet his eyes. “It’s called Taunt-the-Vampire.”

“I’m not interested in games,” Spike said. What the hell was this? He remembered what he’d said to Xander before he’d left. Was this some sort of attempt at revenge?

“You will be.” Xander shifted his feet and Spike could see the knife he held in his hand. Long and razor-edged, its deadly purpose was proclaimed by its form. Holding it in a surprisingly professional grip, Xander used it to slice through Spike’s jeans, carefully avoiding the skin as he parted the material.

“Hey!” Spike yelled. “What the fuck are you doing?” Hearing himself yell reminded him that Xander didn’t live alone.

Xander apparently read his realization in his eyes. “Don’t bother. They went out of town for the weekend. Old family tradition: they go out to my uncle’s place and drink themselves into a stupor there. The change of scenery spices things up, I guess.” He returned his attention to slicing Spike’s clothing apart. The vampire was soon divested of everything, left naked and exposed on top of the bed. Xander put the knife down on the bed beside Spike and then pulled off his own t-shirt.

Spike tried to figure out what sort of game Xander was playing at. This wasn’t the whelp he knew. He looked longingly at the knife, so close and yet so impossibly far. He switched his attention to Xander and watched disbelievingly as the other man stripped completely. Xander had put on muscle and it looked good, damn good. Not good enough to make Spike forget about the chains, though. “What’s this, then? You’ve finally figured out the only way you're ever going to be able to keep someone is by chaining them down so they can’t run away?”

Xander shook his head as he leaned over Spike and shoved a couple of pillows beneath his head so the vampire could look down the length of his own body. “It’s part of the game.” He climbed onto the bed and knelt up between Spike’s parted thighs, careful not to actually touch him.

“If this is going to take long, could you turn on the telly? Just so I’ll have something interesting to watch.” No need to let the whelp know that he was just a little intrigued, just a little effected by the heat he could feel pouring off the naked flesh so close to his own.

“I think you’ll like this better than the television.” Xander reached out and picked up the knife. Spike felt an instant of apprehension, but that was obliterated by incredulity as he watched Xander deliberately drag the blade across his skin in a straight line just below his collar bone.

Blood welled up thickly from the shallow wound in a line that grew fat and darkly red beneath Spike’s gaze. Still holding the knife, Xander reached up with his other hand and trailed his finger through the thick liquid. He smeared it down in a short line to the nipple below. He gasped a little as he rubbed his fingers over the nub, which peaked under the attention. Xander pulled at it roughly and his hips bucked involuntarily as his cock began to harden. He gathered up more blood and repeated the action with the other nipple, head lolling back slightly as he aroused himself through the wet touches.

Spike licked suddenly dry lips. He could smell Xander’s blood, the scent mixed in with the other man’s arousal. He wanted to taste that blood, rend Xander’s flesh until it gushed into his mouth so he could drink deep and quell the thirst that was abruptly raging within him.

The scent of Xander’s want affected him as well: he also wanted to force the whelp down on the bed and bury himself in that warm body again and again. His own erection began to fill as he was unable, unwilling, to look away from the display before him.

Xander raised the knife once more and traced a thin line over the delicate skin above his hip, then another across his thigh on the opposite leg. In doing the second cut he flicked the knife a little, causing a few drops of blood to land on Spike’s leg.

They burned the vampire’s skin, the heat and the life within them calling to him while he was unable to do anything but stare helplessly at them. Panting, drawing in quick breaths unnecessarily but incapable of stopping, Spike strained uselessly at his bonds, the need to touch Xander growing within him.

As blood welled up from the two new cuts, Xander placed the knife on the bed, then carefully caught the liquid in his cupped palms. He moved his bloody hands to his erection and began to stroke himself leisurely, hips thrusting lazily as his cock slipped wetly through his encircling hands.

Spike groaned, his own hips mirroring the motion of Xander’s. He wanted to feel those hands on him, wanted to shove Xander on his back and lick the blood from his skin then suck him until he came screaming in Spike’s mouth. He wanted to fuck Xander and at the same time drain him dry. His desire pushed him beyond his ability to control himself and he vamped out, panting while in game face as he tugged uselessly at the chains.

Xander continued to pump himself with one hand while he picked up the knife with the other. He pulled the knife over his shoulder than dropped it back down on the bed. He coated his index finger in blood, then reached around behind himself. His eyes slipped closed and he groaned, a sound of mixed need and satisfaction.

Spike echoed it with his own desperate moan as he realized what Xander was doing - using his own blood as lubricant as his thrust his finger inside of himself. An inarticulate whine of need hitched out of his chest with every panted breath.

As his strokes increased in speed, sounds of pleasure began to pour forth from Xander, growing more frantic the faster he pumped himself. He came with a strangled cry, his seed spraying forth to coat his hand, the bed sheets, and Spike’s belly.

Spike cried out as well, eyes fixed on the thick liquid, the denial of which was killing him. He had to have it, had to taste it intermixed with Xander’s blood before taking the other man and fucking him senseless. His erection throbbing with frustrated need, he jerked mindlessly at the chains, fighting them with all his strength but to no avail. Movement from Xander drew his attention back to the other man.

Xander raised one of his hands to his mouth and slowly licked his fingers clean of blood and semen. His eyes opened and he seemed to take in Spike’s situation for the first time. With a queer little smile he removed all his fingers but the middle from his mouth. Gaze locked on Spike’s, he bit down hard on the tip, teeth tearing into his own flesh. As the blood began to flow, he stretched out his arm and held the finger over Spike’s needy flesh.

The blood welled into a drop which soon grew fat. It clung to Xander’s finger for a moment, then it fell.

Spike could feel it hit his erection, feel it slide thickly over the skin of his cock, feel its burning heat and seductive life and it was enough. He came with a scream, arching off the bed as far as he was able before darkness filled his vision and he knew no more.


Spike groaned as he woke up, feeling disoriented and oddly worn out. The memory of what had happened the last time he’d awakened forced him to full awareness. This time he was unbound, lying on Xander’s couch. It could have been a dream...but that didn’t explain why he felt like he’d just gone ten rounds with a Fyarl demon.

It also didn’t explain why he was naked.

He sat up quickly and looked around the room. Within seconds he had spotted Xander: the other man was in the kitchen, finishing up the preparation of a sandwich. He looked the same way he always did, as if nothing unusual had happened earlier.

Xander looked up at him. “Thought you’d never wake up. I have to get over to Giles’s: prophecy, apocalypse, yadda yadda yadda, don’t forget to bring a snack.” He glanced at his watch. “Sun should be down in an hour, but you’re not expected at the meeting.” He put the finishing touches on the sandwich and shoved it into a paper bag.

“What the hell happened?” Spike demanded. He spotted a pile of his clothing on the floor and began to pull them on. He never liked arguing naked.

“What, earlier?” Xander wiped off the counter. “I thought I told you. We were playing a game.” He put a six-pack of soda on the counter beside the bag. “I thought you enjoyed yourself.”

“Damn right I did,” Spike admitted before he could stop himself. He was completely confused. Xander was acting like nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t chained Spike to a bed and made him come without ever really touching him. What fucked up alternative universe was this and how the hell had Spike fallen into it. A question bubbled out of him on its own: “Can we play again?”

Xander stopped checking himself for his wallet and keys and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Spike. It’s like you said - people get tired of playing with me pretty fast. I wouldn’t want you getting bored with me.”

“Bored?” Spike echoed, still not quite sure what was happening.

“What am I thinking? You were probably bored the whole time. Look, I appreciate you offering to play again, but I’m not going to accept anyone’s pity, especially not yours.”

“It isn’t pity-”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it. You made yourself perfectly clear last night: I’m not worth playing with.” His voice was level but there was a strange mocking undercurrent to it. Xander opened the door. “I’ll be at the meeting. Maybe we’ll let you know if the world’s going to end.” With a malicious little wave he was gone.

Spike was left alone and confused and frustrated and angry and suspecting that the whelp had managed to get the better of him.

He began plotting his revenge.



Where the hell did that come from? Now that it’s out of my head, I can move on to the next *real* fic - a crossover with Highlander with Wesley and Xander as the main pairing. (Sorry, Melissa - I swear X/S/Gr yumminess with be next! I promise!) I have no intention of writing a sequel to this . No, really, I don’t. So I’m issuing an invitation for someone else to do it. I’d like to see what someone else thinks Spike would come up with as his revenge. I think this may be the first quasi-challenge I’ve ever issued. Your mission, should your muses choose to accept it, is to write a sequel entitled “Taunt-the-Human” chronicling the tale of Spike’s revenge. It should include Spike inventing a game called Taunt-the-Human to play with Xander, gratuitous smut, and Xander making a snide comment about Spike’s cheekbones. This fic writer will fall unconscious in thirty seconds. Kay (who wrote this snippet and a ten page essay on why the Book of Jonah is a parody today and feels like a major badass)

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for the Sequel written by

A response to the story "Taunt-the-Vampire", complete yummyness written by Kay, a great Slash writer.

Rating: Kinky

Disclaimer: Of course these are not my characters. I just borrowed them. Ill give them back, promise.

This is a response to a fabulous short by Kay, Taunt-the-Vampire.



With a weary sigh, Xander pulled his coat on and said goodbye to the rest of the Scooby gang. He grabbed his bag and gratefully headed out into the cool evening. First, a horrendously long day at the site, then over two hours of demon research at Giles, he was exhausted. At least everyone else seemed just as worn out, he thought with some satisfaction, that means no patrolling for me tonight, thank god. Xander allowed himself a brief moment to wonder where Spike had been tonight. He hadn't been around much at all lately. Hmm, he kinda made himself scarce after my little game, Xander smirked to himself, wonder if I scared him off?

Xander went to unlock his car but never quite made it. A soft rustle was all the warning he had before a heavy weight descended on his head and blackness enveloped him.


Smells came back to Xander first, a sort of soft, musty smell, accompanied by the scent of cigarette smoke. Sounds came to him second, soft rustling, someone humming jauntily, the sound of chains clinking together.

Chains! Xander jerked his eyes open, moaning at the sudden assault of light, then blinked rapidly, trying to focus. He tried to sit up but found he couldn't.

His vision clearing, he glanced around him. He was in a stone room; it was softly illuminated by what looked like hundreds of white pillar candles perched on every available surface. He was lying on a bed; actually he was chained to the bed.

He glanced up at his wrists, they were wrapped in black leather cuffs and the cuffs were attached to slender chains that ran from his wrists up to the iron bed-frame. Xander glanced down and noticed his feet were cuffed the same way. He tried to move, slowly, quietly, but there was very little slack in the chains and he couldnt do more than shift a few inches.

Xander, what in the hell have you gotten yourself into now? He shivered slightly and suddenly noticed he was wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxers. They matched the black silk sheets. Suddenly, he had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on.

"SPIKE!" Xander yelled at the top of his lungs.

A few seconds later the blond head peeked around the doorframe, "Up so soon, luv?"

"What in the hell do you think youre doing?"

Sarcastic Vampiric smirk, "Don't you know, pet? You started it."

The blond head disappeared back out the door but Xander knew the Vampire could still hear him.

"What in the hell has gotten into that peroxide head of yours? How dare you kidnap me?!"

The last indignant question was answered by a soft chuckle and Spike reappeared in the door, lounging against the frame. "Wanted to play again, didn't I? But you were being stubborn, weren't you? What else was I supposed to do?"

Xander wanted to answer, but was having a hard time, all his attention seemed to be taken up with staring at the pale, sculpted body, clad only in a pair of black, leather? bikini bottoms. Spike grinned at Xander's gapping expression and stalked seductively towards the bed, "Like what you see?"

With great effort Xander wrenched his gaping mouth shut.

Get a grip on yourself, Harris. Dont give in this easily. "While I'm sure that many women would kill for your cheekbones, you're not really my type. I don't go for the whole undead thing."

That would have sounded a lot more convincing if my voice hadn't broken. Stupid, traitor voice.

Spike smirked, "Oh really?"

Xander tried to look bored, "Really."

"Hmm." Spike turned his back on the human chained to his bed and strode over to the dresser. Xander took the opportunity to let his eyes sweep down the blonde's strong back and over his, Oh. My. God. That's a thong.

The Vampire nonchalantly picked up a candle and stalked back towards the bed, swaying his hips seductively.

Xander tried to loose the gaping fish expression plastered on his face. "What's with all the candles? Better watch out Blondie, youre the flammable one, not me."

Spike smirked and climbed up onto the bed, making himself comfortable. Being careful not to spill any of the precious candle wax, Spike leaned forward, stopping when his lips were millimeters from the boys. "Now, the name of this game is Taunt-the-Human, wanna play?"

Xander licked suddenly dry lips, "N-no, n-not really."

Spike shook his head and gave his best evil chuckle. "Now, now Xan, that didn't sound at all convincing."

Sitting up on his knees, Spike moved the candle till it was just a few inches from the human's chest, and tilted it, letting a few drops fall onto Xander's tan chest. Xander hissed and arched slightly as the hot wax made contact with his skin. Spike smirked and dribbled a trail up from the human's bellybutton to his nipples, taking special care to drip a small puddle onto each nub of flesh. Xanders breath quickened with each drop of wax, and a soft moan escaped from his throat as the heat came into contact with his nipples.

Spike leaned down and whispered in the human's ear, "Liked that, didn't you?"

Xander took a deep breath and shook his head, "Dream on, Vampy."

Spike chuckled, unfazed by the comment. "Don't worry pet, gonna make you like it, gonna make you beg for it."

Hot patterns formed white trails across Xander's chest, each new trail causing Xander to hiss and moan. Xander's skin felt hot and sensitive, each new drip causing a small agony followed by a rush of heat and pleasure. The vampire pushed the legs of the boxers up and dripped wax across the top of Xander's thighs, making sure some dripped down the sensitive insides, eliciting a broken moan from the writhing boy. Back up across the crisscrossed chest, and wax dripped in slow trails down the underside of Xanders arms. Xander pulled and jerked against the chains binding him to the bed, whimpering as the wax continued its hot trail along his skin.

Finally, Spike sat back and admired his handy-work. The humans torso was well covered with the hardened white wax, and it was already starting to crack and flake away as the boy squirmed on the bed. "Hot, luv?" Xander moaned softly in response, brown eyes heavy with need capturing Spike's glittering blue ones in a heated gaze.

Xander wasn't about to give in yet, but he couldn't seem to muster an appropriately scathing remark either. The pale Vampire leaned over him and set the candle on the table next to the bed, then reached into a metal pail and pulled out a large ice cube. "Let's see if we can't cool you off a bit, hmm?' Laughing softly at the humans wide eyes, Spike placed the dripping ice on Xander's chest and began to trace all the wax trails he'd created, stopping every few minutes to flake some stubborn wax off before continuing to slide the ice across the red welts the wax left behind.

Xander yelped as the freezing ice first touched his flesh, then groaned loudly as it began to trace over his hot, tender chest. He arched up into Spike's hand, shivering with pleasure as the ice soothed his heated flesh. As the ice made its way over his nipple, he began to whisper soft, broken words of pleasure, unable to stop himself, unable to do more than give himself over to the game. "Please Spike, please. Oh god, please. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Barely able to hear anything other than his own broken pleas, Xander suddenly became aware of Spike growling softly. He opened his eyes a slit, watching the aroused Vampire hovering over him. Spike had slipped into gameface and was panting softly in concert with Xander's cries of pleasure.

Suddenly, Spike moved. Keeping the ice in one hand, never stopping its torturous trail, Spike leaned over and grabbed one last thing from the bedside table. A knife. The knife. The knife that Xander had tortured Spike so well with two weeks before. Xander's eyes widened, but he didn't stop his pleading moans. Spike briefly set the ice aside and positioned himself over the human, straddling his legs and holding the boy in place. Carefully, slowly he sliced the black silk boxers to shreds, tossing the pieces aside. Xander shivered uncontrollably as the cool metal ghosted over his overly sensitive skin. Once the fabric was removed, glittering blue eyes caught and held Xande'rs own, and quickly, deftly the Vampire cut off his leather thong.

As his aching erection was freed, Xander groaned and thrust into the air, trying to find friction and relief. Spike shook his head and sighed, "Now, now pet, you know how the game is played." Spike picked up a new piece of ice and circled a hard nipple, before trailing slowly down Xander's chest and approaching the human's throbbing cock.

Xander's breath sped up, he was panting frantically now, thrusting at the air, begging Spike for release. Spike leaned down and licked the precum welling up at the human's tip, then replaced his cool tongue with something colder, stroking the length of the boys erection with the quickly melting ice.

Xander gasped and moaned incoherently, thrusting against the light touch of the ice, tossing his head against the bed, eyes shut tight in his ecstasy. Spike couldn't hold back anymore, as one hand continued the cruel trail of ice over Xanders chest and cock, his other hand reached down and began fisting his own, long ignored erection.

Spike moaned in pleasure as he stroked his hard cock and Xander picked up on the sound, panting even harder as he watched the Vampire pleasure himself. Xander's body began to tense up in anticipation of his climax and Spike leaned forward, abandoning the ice in order to brace himself above the writhing, incoherent human, and sunk his fangs into Xander's neck.

Hot blood, thick with passion, welled up and Spike sucked at it needily. Pressed close to Xander, he pumped his cock faster, fingers lightly brushing over Xander's own erection. The light touch of the Vampire's fingers was enough, Xander shuddered and came, arching off the bed and screaming Spike's name. Wracked with shudders, Xander vaguely felt Spike's fangs withdraw from his shoulder, and then heard the Vampire cry out as his seed shot out over both of their stomachs. All of it was too much for Xander, he gave a final shuddering whimper and passed out.

Lazily Spike rolled off Xander, noticing that the human was unconscious. Shrugging to himself he began to clean the mixture of blood and cum off the boys body with little cat licks. When Xander was clean, Spike leaned back on the bed and laughed quietly.

This was a good game.


Xander awoke with a muffled groan, surprised to find himself in his own bed, naked and alone. He levered himself up, rubbing at his wrists absently, they were slightly raw from the friction of the cuffs. "Spike?" he called out questioningly, but there was no answer. Something on the coffee table caught his eye. It was his knife, lying atop a slip of paper. On it, in the blond Vampire's messy scrawl two words were written.

I win.

Xander chuckled to himself; they'd just have to see about that.


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