Buffy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy. I just borrowed some of the characters. Rated: NC-17

Snark

Unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine.

For cluegirl

~~~~~~~

Spike looked at Doyle with sympathy. "Nother vision?"

Doyle started to nod, but stopped before he sparked another round of crushing pain. "Yeah. Gimmie a sec here. The mind numbin' agony will fade. . . I hope."

Spike grumbled but got up to get Doyle some aspirin.

Doyle accepted the aspirin and gulped the contents of the glass, sputtering when he realized that it was whiskey.

"Waste of good liquor, that was. What possessed you, boyo?"

"Hate water. Waste of a swallow, if you ask me. You don't like it, I'll drink the rest."

Doyle clutched the glass to his chest protectively. "Leave me be. It's just that a warning would have been good. That way I'd have given it the attention it deserves, instead of gulpin' it down all of a go."

Spike shrugged casually. "Oh, if that's the problem. Sorry, mate. Next time I'll be more careful." But Spikes snarky tone of voice left Doyle with no illusions about how sorry Spike was. Or wasn't.

Doyle finally got the pain under control enough to start making notes.

"Oi! Ya stupid pillock, that's Gaelic"

"Sod off. It's all I can remember just the nu'" Doyle gave Spike a filthy look. "Angel can read it."

"Carnt. Peaches never learned to read Gaelic." Spike smirked at Doyle enjoying his discomfort.

"Can too. He can read at least half a dozen demon languages."

"Yeah, demon languages. But not the Gael, ya see. He never learned to read until after he was turned. Ignorant git, he was. Not like me. Real scholar in my day, I was. Educated. Not that it did much good. Give us a kiss, pet."

Doyle pushed Spike away to complete his notes, in Gaelic.

Spike wandered around the room looking at some of the books Doyle had stacked here and there. He read a bit, squinting as he tried to bring the script into focus.

"Ought to get glasses, ya git?"

Spike just grunted and dropped the book back onto the pile he'd taken it off.

"And have Angelus smash them into my face again, yeah. No . . .never mind"

Doyle sighed. He liked Angel but Spike could never forget Angelus. It was one of the reasons he, Doyle, spent so much time mediating between them.

Spike reached out to Doyle and pushed him against the wall. "How's your head?"

Doyle considered "Well, the mind numbin' pain has faded into simply agonizing. And I'm horny."

Spike snickered. "Yeah, pet. I've seen" Doyle snarled at Spike's put on denseness. "Oh! That kind of horny, you meant?"

"Ya, that kind o' horny. Come here."

Spike pounced. He knew exactly what Doyle needed and he didn't mind giving it. *Vampire here. Like it rough*

Doyle tucked his journal away quickly. He knew what was coming and he didn't want it spoiled. Spike smirked at him and waited until this task was accomplished, albeit impatiently.

When Doyle had put his journal away, Spike simply grabbed him, tossed him over a shoulder and headed for the bedroom. He liked Doyle's bedroom, or rather he liked the bed. Big, soft and had an iron bedstead that could stand up to a demons strength.

Doyle struggled but Spike was a Master Vampire, and a special one at that. Made by one master and sired by another. He was the only one of his kind there was. And he was strong enough to hold even a demon. Even though Doyle's people were peaceful, they were still demons.

Spike settled down to pin Doyle to the bed and Doyle was determined that he would win the wrestling match this time. Who ever won topped. Not that Doyle was that particular, as long as it was sex he was satisfied.

Doyle struggled against Spike's greater strength, Spike let him work at it for a little while, then exerted himself a bit. He pinned Doyle to the bed by sitting on his hips. Doyle bucked, trying to unseat Spike but he clamped powerful thighs around him and rode him.

"Forgot I spent most of a century riding horses, didn't ya, pet?"

Doyle moaned softly, the thrusting motion was doing nothing to get Spike off him and a great deal to increase his excitement. He realized too late, that he'd relaxed his arms while trying to buck Spike off.

Now Spike pulled one arm up to the head of the bed, while he kept the other pinned with one knee. Doyle wondered vaguely how he'd managed that. Spike laughed at Doyle's expression.

"Vampire here. Ya better get crackin' if ya wanna beat me."

Spike snapped the handcuff around Doyle's wrist and started trying to wrestle the other arm to the headboard. Doyle pulled back with all his might but Spike had the strength and, more important, the leverage, to get that arm to the head board too. The ‘scrick' of the handcuff closing made Doyle huff and Spike laugh.

After that, it was more or less a done deal as Spike forced Doyle's kicking legs to the foot board and tied them there.

Doyle smirked at Spike. "Ok, ya got me. Now what? Can't do anythin' with my clothes on."

Spike smirked back and reached into his boot for something. He straightened and stuffed the object into his pocket and proceeded to strip himself, slowly.

First he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down his arms, dropping it to the floor. Then he bent double, head nearly touching the floor, and unlaced his boots. When he straightened, Doyle realized that he had one boot lace in his teeth. Doyle moaned, he knew what Spike could do with a boot lace. Spike stepped out of his boots and took off his socks with his toes. Prehensile toes. Doyle groaned, his jeans were definitely way too tight.

Spike settled on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned Doyle's shirt. Pushing the material aside, he toyed with Doyle's nipples until the eager flesh tightened and flushed. He dipped his head and licked each one, once. Doyle snarled in disappointment. But Spike was a master of torture, pleasurable as well as other, and he wasn't done tormenting his captive yet. He blew on the wet flesh, watching as gooseflesh rose across Doyle's chest.

Doyle wriggled against his bonds and Spike pinned him down. "Ah ah ah. Naughty, stay still." Doyle swore. "And no swearing or I'll gag you. You'd not like that, ya know."

Doyle sighed. "Sorry, Master Spike. I'll be good. Please, don't gag me. I really hate that."

Spike rewarded Doyle's submission by pinching his nipples and rolling the proud flesh between his fingers for a moment.

"How's the head, mate?"

Doyle tried to put that question in some sort of sensible context and failed. "Guh?" was all he could manage.

Spike leaned over and kissed him. Now, kissing Spike was one of the things Doyle especially liked. He was a good kisser and not needing to breathe made it even better. Spike explored Doyle's mouth carefully, his tongue sliding in and out between fevered lips like a small eel. Doyle tried to bite it, not to hurt, just to keep it still while he did some exploring of his own. Spike drew back, to Doyle's disappointment.

"Now, was that nice? Didn't think you was into blood sport, pet."

"Not. Just. Come back, kiss more. Please?" Doyle managed three sensible words and an entire sentence.

Spike laughed and kissed Doyle some more. Doyle hummed his pleasure.

Spike backed off Doyle, pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Next he took Doyle's shoes and socks off, tossing them onto the growing pile of clothing.

Doyle smirked at Spike. The master had forgotten his pants. When Spike untied his feet to take them off he had a chance, very small to be sure, to get loose.

Spike returned his smirk. He pulled something from his pocket, the something that he'd removed from his boot. A sharp ‘snick' told Doyle what it was. A switchblade knife. Doyle sighed.

"Glad I don't like this pair of jeans particularly. Easy there."

Spike had reached down and was now pinning one of Doyle's legs to the bed. He slipped the knife into the leg and ran the sharp blade up his leg to the groin. The heavy denim hissed as it parted to the waist. Doyle moaned in concert with Spike. Spike licked his lips and ran the knife up the other leg. He reached the waist and let the material part naturally and fall away from Doyle.

Doyle grumbled, "I don't know how you think you're gonna get anywhere." Then he yelped as Spike stuck a hand under his hips and lifted them, stuffing a pillow under them. He grinned at Doyle and stripped off his jeans.

Finally naked, Spike settled between Doyle's thighs, pulling the remains of his jeans out from under him and tossing them to the floor.

Spike eyed Doyle with relish. He was rigid with desire and oozing precome.

"Oh, no! Ya devil, ya daren't." But Spike did dare.

He took the boot lace from the bed and tied it around Doyle's cock just behind his balls, then he wrapped one end around each ball separating them and pulling them up his shaft. Then Spike tied both laces up his length and knotted them around the head just under the glans. Doyle groaned, he couldn't come until the lace was removed.

"Evil, ya're evil. You know that?"

"Evil undead, yeah. Ya wanna gag?"

Doyle shut up. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, he was. But he couldn't shut up for the life of him. Unless it meant he got gagged.

He forgot what else he was going to say as Spike took advantage of his distraction to take his cock in hand, literally. Spike stroked Doyle gently, then harder. Doyle groaned and thrashed against the handcuffs and ropes. Spike smiled and took himself in hand as well.

He matched strokes, both hands working proud flesh into full hardness.

When Spike was satisfied that Doyle was in an agony of anticipation, he reached between his nether cheeks and slid one finger into him. Doyle groaned again and tried to lift himself enough to allow deeper penetration.

Spike got the lube from where it was kept under the pillows and squirted a glob into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, spreading the gel over both palms. Then he went back to stroking them both. He watched Doyle's face and smiled as Doyle's eyes glazed over and he began to pant.

Spike picked up his knife and cut the rope holding Doyle's ankles to the foot board. He lifted his hips and set his cock at Doyle's anus. Doyle whimpered in need and tried to push down. Spike held him for a tantalizing moment then rammed his slicked cock deep into Doyle with one stroke.

Doyle screamed and humped air. He twitched and moaned as his body tried desperately to come. Spike pumped into him hard, moaning as Doyle's body clenched around him, pulsing frantically as he tried to come against the restriction of the boot lace.

"Ah, ya bastard. Cruel ya are. Let me come. I'm dien' here."

Spike let Doyle plead and beg for a while as he fucked him mercilessly. Pushing his legs up and draping them over his shoulders Spike rammed home again and again, making sure to strike Doyle's prostate with every stroke. Doyle was rapidly reduced to whimpering with an occasional scream thrown in for good measure.

Finally Spike felt his own orgasm nearing. He picked up his knife again and carefully cut the bootlace pulling it away and roughly stroking Doyle's straining flesh. Doyle came in hard spurts spasming around Spikes hardness and jerking frantically at the handcuffs restraining him.

Spike came hard, his cold come flooding Doyle and making him shiver slightly.

"Ah, god, I'm all sticky."

Spike settled against Doyle and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~

Here you are. I hope you like it.