For sueworld2003 who wanted subby Spike. Vaguely Hustler!verse :)
Untitled Subby Spike
He spreads his legs like a gift.
Xander kneels on the bed, watching as smooth legs—no, not smooth, not really, but the hair so fine that Xander hardly even notices—part, feet angling towards the corners of the bed and then even further, to the sides. It’s almost a split, the knees only barely bent, exposing to Xander what he wishes to see with a sigh of ...
“Do you like this?” Xander runs his hand up the inside of one thigh, resting the palm so close to the join that it takes effort to keep it there. He wants to touch and play with what’s his. “Me touching you like this?”
Spike’s eyes are half-shut, the visible half-circle gleaming in the single light by the bed. They often do this with the lights on. Xander likes to touch. He likes to see what he touches, and know he’s being watched in return. It’s a change from the insecure boy who used to beg Anya to turn the lights off if the covers were to be down that night, but he’s glad for it. Most of the time; sometimes Xander misses that version of himself.
“You know I do.” The words are calm, edged with lust the way lace graces the cuff of an old fashioned shirt. Spike’s belly tenses but does not lift again, still as a statue and prettier than any marble figure Xander’s ever seen.
“Do I?” His smile is wicked, dark with power he knows makes Spike drunk with need, himself more than a little tipsy in response. “I know you like sex,” he teases, hand edging closer and closer—and then drops, fast, fingers pressing inside a body already slicked and ready for him. “I know you like being fucked.”
That belly, ridged with muscles, trail golden from the soft light, convulses, convex to concave, and back again as Spike’s back arches, eyes shutting entirely. The light makes the sharp angles of his face even sharper, although that could be the angle Xander watches from. It’s breathtaking.
“Please.” The word is groaned out, breathy and needy, a child’s creel for the pain to stop, to make the confusing sensations go away.
Xander works a third finger inside, working Spike with practiced skill.
“Is this all you want?” he asks. “Hm? Is this what you need, Spike? Someone to keep you in line, to give you the parameters you can’t set for yourself?” Tomorrow, when it’s morning and light, Xander will be ashamed for saying these things. He will remember that Spike is a thinking creature, someone he loves, and to cut him to the bone like this is unacceptable. Now, though, he revels in the way Spike arches even further, gasping enough to make a human pass out, his belly wet from his dripping cock. “Or do you want something more, hm? Wanna be spread and filled and reminded that you don’t own yourself. I own you.”
Spike’s body shudders, a wailing cry slipping free as his cock pulses, come staining his belly. Xander shushes him, working a second and a third cry from him before finally stilling. His fingers remain inside Spike’s body, occasionally scissoring while Spike’s whimpers and struggles to calm himself. When he finally relaxes, dilated blue eyes open fully to meet Xander’s.
Xander smiles, and thinks that tomorrow, maybe he won’t be so ashamed of his actions. But that’s tomorrow. Right now, he’s got an achingly hard cock to attend to, and a lover he wants to see come at least two more times.
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