He always started the touches at the top: Xander’s hair or face, or maybe his neck and shoulders, but never below his collarbone. Not until Xander lost that instant of tension and relaxed back against Spike, sigh as trusting as a child’s. Spike toyed with the ends of his hair, now, tugging absently as he twisted the silky strands around his fingers.
Xander was naked, of course. He wasn’t allowed to be anything but when it was just the two of them.
Spike, dressed in jeans and his customary black tee, stopped playing with Xander long enough to shift positions, lifting the book so it rested against the top of the sofa. It’d taken less than two weeks for Xander to consent to Spike’s quiet urging, turning over his home the way he’d turned over his body. Spike didn’t stay there all the time; the crypt had its uses. I’m here more often then not, though. And why wouldn’t I be? Heat, running water, a fridge for my blood and whatever else I want. A hot, horny little boy cuddled up on my lap ’cause I told him to. . .
The whispery sound of pages turning barely disturbed the slow, rhythmic sound of Xander breathing. Spike was fairly certain he didn’t need to prepare Xander anymore, could skip the games and go right to the main event, if he wanted. But where’s the fun in that, hm? Besides. Can’t be too careful, or take this for granted. Secretly, though, he enjoyed it almost as much as he knew Xander did. The warm, caressing touches eased a part of Spike he rarely examined closely, and watching Xander go from bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, anxious young man to the sweetly compliant boy that belonged to Spike was a transition he enjoyed. So he stroked and crooned under his breath, occasionally reading passages from his book aloud until he was certain Xander had reached the half-trance state that meant ‘play time’.
Spike let his touch wander then, over the smooth expanse of back to the curved buttocks that didn’t even flinch when Spike began rubbing and kneading them. Xander’s eyelashes fluttered against Spike’s collarbone, wet heat of his breath turning part of his shirt even darker. “Shhh,” he murmured, resting his chin against the curve of Xander’s head. “Not gonna fight, are you?”
No, he wasn’t, though he did moan, his cock jumping eagerly as Spike ran first forefinger and then thumb over his hole. The last several weeks had been happily spent exploiting something Spike had guessed at, but hadn’t known for certain before he’d started playing. Xander was very sensitive between his cheeks. Touching him there, even the lightest, most glancing touches, were guaranteed to send him into desperate want, leaving him a moaning, leaking boy, willing to do anything so long as Spike didn’t stop touching him.
Yeah, I’m evil, Spike thought smugly. The book idea had been a good one: send Xander to the library with a list of Spike’s wants, then read on the couch, Xander on his lap. Sometimes he stroked Xander to the point of orgasm then held him there. Sometimes he did what he was doing now, stroking back and forth over the boy’s entrance, that simple touch more than enough to turn Xander into a passionate, breathless mess, writhing against Spike with little choked moans that got him harder than the feel of hot boy rubbing against his denim-encased cock.
Speaking of. . . Spike continued reading about Grendel’s search, idly lifting the boy’s leg to find his cock. Leather and metal, just like he’d promised, covered the boy from root to tip. It was part of routine now. It was taken off only when Xander went to work, slipped back over a shower-fresh body with the same automatic movements of wrapping a towel around his waist. You hardly even moan about it anymore, do you, pet? I want it, which means you want it, too.
Resettling his leg around his waist, Spike returned to Xander’s spread-open hole and spent the rest of the chapter dipping his fingers inside and retrieving them, spreading the slick lube Xander prepared himself with all over the boy’s skin. Only when it was finished did he turn back to Xander, contemplating the head that rested against his chest. “There’re toys on the bed. Bring them here.”
Xander immediately pressed a soft kiss to Spike’s chest, hurrying as much as the hard cock bobbing between his legs allowed him. Looks so pretty like that, Spike thought, not for the first time. Black leather along the shaft, chrome locking the base. . . mm.
He sat up when Xander returned, items clutched in shaking hands. Eager hands, if the heat of Xander’s eyes were any indication. Such a lovely, horny little boy I have. Pointing to the other side of the couch, Spike indicated the metal pole bolted into the floor. None of the boy’s friends understood what it was for. “Cuff yourself in, pet.”
Did he even hear the little noises he made, anymore? Spike did, and cherished each panted, desperate sound. Locking the cuff around his right wrist, Xander stretched himself over the sofa, face up so he could loop the chain around the metal pole, before clicking the other cuff into place. His arms slid down, depending upon his position, but it was a bit of pain Spike wasn’t directly responsible for so Spike delighted in it. Love the way he hurts.
Rising, Spike waved the second toy he held before Xander’s eyes. Dilated pupils followed every pass. “Remember what we watched last night, pet?” he asked wickedly. “She sucked for hours, didn’t she. Got it nice and wet and soft, warm enough to be real, before it was used on her.”
Xander licked his lips. There was nothing but black in his eyes, now.
“Good boy,” Spike praised. “Want it, don’t you? You’d beg to have it, wouldn’t you.”
Nodding, Xander didn’t open his mouth—he hadn’t been told to yet. Oh, good boy. Beautiful boy, you’re exactly what I always wanted. . .
He rested it against his lips. “Suck it.”
Xander’s pink, clever tongue immediately darted out, tasting the thick, black head of the dildo. The contrast had Spike moaning, reaching down to palm his cock even as he rubbed the fake one over the darker rose of Xander’s lips. “Pretty boy,” he crooned. The cock sunk in a few inches, Xander cheeks bulging before they went as concave as Spike’s. “You look so pretty, sucking on a fake cock. Swallow it, pet. Like I taught you. Think you can do that? Think you can take all of this inside you, in your throat, and swallow around it?”
For all they played at least once every day, Spike had yet to do anything more complicated then let the boy blow him. >Slow and steady we go. Gonna break you in until you’re so desperate for my cock inside you that you’ll ride me in front of your friends, if I asked. Strip down to nothing but the ring with all of them watching, just because I tell you to. Spike couldn’t wait for that day.
His fingers resting along the fake sac, Spike fed more and more of the cock into Xander’s mouth until his nails brushed against Xander’s stretched lips. “Look so good like that,” Spike praised as he worked the head into Xander’s throat, free hand rubbing to make him swallow. “Gonna be my cock in there soon, pet. I promise. Soon, so soon, you won’t need this fake toy anymore. You’ll take me in and swallow just like this, milking me like the good, beautiful boy I know you are.”
Tears made Xander’s eyes seem huge, but there wasn’t much actual pain in them. For all Spike loved to see his boy hurt, occasionally, true pain would shock Xander out of his complacent trance. Neither of them wanted that—without the excuse, Xander wouldn’t stay. And without Xander’s enjoyment, Spike’s chip fired. So no, no true pain for Spike’s boy. Just the kind of pain that made it feel even better. . .
Easing the fake cock out of Xander’s mouth, he said, “Legs up, pet.”
Like a child, trusting the adult who took care of him, Xander’s legs lifted, the ankles linked as his buttocks half-rose off the sofa. He couldn’t maintain the position for long, but practice had increased his stamina. Spike had more than enough time for his purposes. Xander’s sensitivity extended inside his body, and tiny, breathless noises of need escaped him as the slickened dildo slid inside him. “Good boy. That’s right, relax into it, pet. Let me fill you. Let me give you what you need. You missed this, didn’t you, pet? Away from me while you’re at work, you must’ve felt so empty without something of mine stretching you, filling you up.”
Pausing with only half the cock inside him, Spike wiggled it and began to pull it back out. The pained whimper made his own cock throb harder; Xander could be so greedy for this, hating the delay as Spike opened him with toys, making him crazy for it before Spike risked the chip to take what he so desperately wanted. . .
“Want me to fuck you?” Spike asked when the toy was all the way inside. “Want me to split you open the way that girl was, her bum in the air, breasts jiggling as she swayed back and forth? Want me to call you what she was called? I could, pet. Could call you anything I wanted, because the only thing you hear is mine.”
The last word was growled, Spike allowing his eyes to flash pure gold. Xander bucked up, crying out wordlessly, his cock throbbing within the guard Spike quickly removed before undoing his own pants. Their cocks were both flushed with heat, the heads wet from continued teasing. Spike wanted, more than anything, to bury himself in Xander’s heat. Mouth or ass, it didn’t matter, so long as he could feel wet heat clinging to his cock, working for his come the way only porn-actresses portrayed, and even they did so less than enthusiastically. But Xander, he loved the taste. Spike’d made sure of that.
“Want to suck me, pet? Suck me down while I fuck you?”
Xander’s eyes flared with want, choking on his eagerness to say yes, please, yes. It wasn’t graceful, and a human would be protesting the odd angle his back was at, but Spike stood beside the sofa, left hand continually working the fake cock deeper and deeper inside his greedy boy, while a hot mouth sucked him down before Spike could even position himself properly.
Oh, but Xander was good at this. Fucking his mouth as much as he dared, Spike waited until he felt himself start to come before mumbling, “Come now,” hot splatters landing on his arm and thigh.
It was a few moments before either of them could do much.
Spike looked down, smiling softly. Xander looked so beautiful like that, cock flaccid against his belly, black dildo still hanging from his ass, his mouth still working over Spike’s cock, hunting for any more of what he craved. He wished his friends could see Xander this way—naked, debauched, his legs splayed across the sofa so that nothing could be missed or mistaken. But then, he was glad they never had—one moment seeing this and they’d want to take him from Spike.
And that just wasn’t happening. Caressing the boy’s hair, Spike pulled out. “Good boy. Now. Should I leave you like that? Hm. Think I should. . .”