Rating: NC-17
Characters: Spike/Xander
Prompt: 16.Taut
Warnings: m/m sex. Bit dark. No death or anything just, uh, abuse of the emotional kind, as well as a bit of the physical but Spike's willing.
Summary: Post Glory Buffy and Anya are dead, Giles is gone and Xander takes out his pain and anger on Spike, who just accepts it because it's the only way he'll get any comfort of his own.

Disclaimer: It may come as a surprise but I'm not Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy and therefore I do not own Spike or any of his many shagging and verbal sparring partners. I weep for the injustice of it all and play with these characters in the fiction I write because this is pretty much all the fun I have.

Beta'd by kitty_poker1

Don't Move

by
Eyezrthewindows

Eight pm. My place. Tonight. No talking.

The note was straightforward and detached, condescending in so few words, which was the norm Spike had come to expect. As if by afterthought, it was sloppily scratched on a wrinkled and stained piece of paper taped to Spike's crypt door and smelled a little like Xander when Spike went so far as to sniff it.

Xander never seemed to take any care when writing these notes but it didn't prevent Spike from saving each and every one of them.

He folded it and put it in the small box he kept the others in; he was amassing quite a collection of cold notes from Xander.

The first time he'd received one, he'd been perplexed. He recognized the handwriting only because he'd seen Xander write an almost illegible list for grocery shopping; that was the only reason he'd known who the note was from.

He'd been curious because the note hadn't been exactly teeming with information on exactly why Xander wanted to meet with him.

He was too curious not to go and see what this was about. He could've been going to his death but he couldn't help himself.

He was just so damned lonely and Buffy was gone. He figured that was why Xander had started coming to him, as well. It wasn't just Buffy who'd died that day. Anya was gone, too. Giles had flown the coop shortly thereafter.

Spike had been surprised when he'd arrived and Xander, though swimming in nervous sweat and trembling with fear, point blank asked him if he wanted to have sex.

He was even more surprised to find himself considering the boy's proposal.

Sex wasn't exactly something Spike got a lot of since the chip. Everyone hated him now. So, he'd take what he could get wherever he could get it.

Happened, Xander was the one to get it from at the moment. Was fine by him as long as it got him a few good orgasms.

The note was worded almost exactly the same every time, only the place or time changed on Xander's whim. Like Xander thought Spike wouldn't remember their little game, that he had to be quiet every time or he wouldn't get to be there at all.

Spike was a lot of things but stupid wasn't one of them.

He liked sex and getting it from Xander, in any form, was perfectly acceptable.

It filled the blackness where his heart had been and made him forget about thinking for a few hours.

He arrived a couple of minutes before the designated time and listened to the sounds of Xander preparing.

What the boy did before he got there, Spike would never know, because Xander never talked to him about anything.

The only words Xander used were orders.

Take off your clothes. Shut up. Move. Fuck yourself on me. Suck my dick. Don't look at me. Don't say a fucking word. Don't move. Take it like the little, helpless bitch you are. Do this, do that. Don't do this, don't do that.

It got old but somehow Spike couldn't prevent himself from coming back again and again.

He had a kink for taking orders that went way back.

He knocked. The door opened. Xander stepped aside, not even meeting his eyes after all this time and all they'd done, a familiar tune, and Spike went in.

The lock snicked like a shot and the chain rattled like thunder.

Xander led the way to the bedroom.

"Clothes off and leave a neat pile. I don't want to trip and break my neck or something."

Spike squared his shoulders and removed his duster, put it on the coat rack beside the door and then followed, unbuckling his belt.

When his clothing was a neat pile on the chair in the corner, Spike was forced face down on the bed and ordered to spread out his limbs so Xander could restrain him.

Old business, this, Spike thought, resigned, as Xander none too gently tightened each magically enhanced leather cuff.

He barely got any lube and no stretching at all before Xander was shoving himself in and grunting as he started fucking.

Xander was big and knew how to use his cock, which had surprised Spike the first time it had happened but he probably shouldn't have been surprised at all considering the boy had kept a millennia old former demon satiated.

Spike grit his teeth, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. Blood ran down his wrists onto the pillow where his nails made divots in his palms.

"Don't move. Don't move. Don't say a fucking word. You're not here. You're dead. You're just something to use and throw away. You're nothing. You're nothing to me. You shouldn't be here but while you are I can use you how I want, you worthless piece of shit. Don't move," was Xander's familiar chant.

So, Spike obliged. Straining his muscles and locking them tight as Xander fucked his body.

It was difficult to remain completely still but Spike had learned his lesson after the first time.

Xander really hadn't liked it when Spike had moaned and arched beneath him, fucking back into his hips. He'd flayed Spike's back and Spike hadn't healed properly for six days because of his poor feeding habits.

Now, Spike was an old hat at restraining himself from making a sound or even twitching a muscle. He laid there like he was really dead, how Xander preferred, and tried to ignore his erection, trapped leaking between his belly and the mattress as he was fucked roughly across it.

He held steady, bracing himself with deceptively still, locked elbows, and breathed shallow, quiet breaths so Xander wouldn't hear or feel it against him -- he couldn't stop his involuntary breathing, it always happened during intense moments. He was so hard he hurt but the fucking would end if he made any effort at all to get himself off, so he stayed still.

And Xander pounded into him, biting his shoulders and tearing his flesh. Xander fucked him so hard he tore his hole, made him bleed. His blood was tantalizing and made his nostrils flare, his teeth itch.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and let his face be squashed into the pillow with Xander's thrusts, shuddering only a little as his cock reaped the benefits of some much needed friction, if accidentally.

It wasn't enough to get him to orgasm but at least it was something.

"You're dead and you're nothing. You're not even here," Xander hissed, biting hard into the back of his neck. "You shouldn't be here. Not while they aren't. You're unnatural and nothing."

Spike had long ago learned to ignore everything Xander said to him. It was more catharsis than insult, anyway. Boy needed to get it out somehow and Spike was his own personal fuck toy/psychologist.

He should start charging by the hour. He'd have been rich by now.

Xander broke skin and Spike bled, had to keep his jaws clenched to prevent his cry of pain and pleasure. His balls throbbed and so did the wound.

The bed squeaked and rocked and thumped against the wall. It shuddered with the intensity of Xander's thrusts until Xander latched onto the nape of Spike's neck and jerked into him hard as he filled Spike with hot spunk.

He pulled out without regard for Spike's torn entrance and flopped down on the bed, panting and gasping and still throbbing his orgasm out onto his own stomach. His ritual was to stare blankly at the ceiling right after fucking Spike and he did it religiously.

Spike dared to open an eye, just a little, to watch this little unguarded moment, staring at the blood and semen on Xander's twitching prick. His hole burned and itched as blood and semen trickled from it.

He slammed his eye shut when Xander's eyelashes fluttered and his head moved in his direction.

Xander sighed and the bed moved as he unbuckled the restraints. "You can get up, now. Still no talking, though. And give me a good show, will you, Spike? I feel like watching it this time."

Spike's lips twisted as he sat up, careful of his abused backside, rubbing his wrists. Boy was apparently in a good mood today if he was going to allow him to get off in his presence.

He wouldn't take this gift for granted. Maybe if he did it well enough Xander would...

No. Xander wouldn't treat him any differently. Spike was stupid to think he would.

He should just feel grateful Xander was in a generous mood. Normally, he'd be out as quickly as possible after Xander released him, when he was ordered to leave -- Get the hell out, Spike, I don't want you here. You've served your only purpose. -- and wank outside the door as he listened to Xander clearing the bedroom of Spike's presence, cleaning Spike's smell away.

He turned onto his side and took himself in hand. He flicked a fast glance up at Xander's face and started when he saw Xander watching him.

He arched a brow because he couldn't speak.

"You can look at me." Xander met his eyes. "Do it however you want. It's your dick. I'm just the spectator here." And with that, Xander melted into the bed, tucked his arms behind his head and gave Spike's dripping cock his undivided attention.

At that, Spike's body responded and he started stroking. Fast, short pulls designed to get him where he wanted to go quickly.

He thrust his hips and fucked just the head into his curled fist.

It didn't take long, it never did after one of these sessions, before he was breathing sharply and every muscle pulled taut as he came over his fist and onto the bed linens.

He collapsed, mouth open, eyes closed, hand wrapped loosely around his pulsing cock, his balls tingling against one thigh. The arm he'd been leaning on felt awkward under his weight and began to ache.

Xander got up and Spike looked at him.

Xander met his gaze evenly as he wiped his cock down with a pre-dampened towel and tossed it at him. "Clean up and change my sheets. Spare set's over there," he said pointing toward the adjoining bathroom. "Linen closet," he clarified.

Spike nodded shortly and wiped his stomach, genitals and ass before tossing the soiled towel onto the floor where he was going to pile the sheets.

Spike started removing the sheets from the bed and noticed Xander still standing there. He paused and frowned at him.

Xander's lips were pursed, his features hard. He pulled on some sweatpants and then said, "After you finish I want you out of here."

Spike sighed inwardly but nodded.

Xander turned and exited the room and shortly thereafter Spike heard the fridge open and close, then the tv was clicked on.

Spike was left to finish his task and he did, quickly, leaving the pile of dirty laundry for Xander to clean up as he skinned back into his clothes.

He walked soundlessly through the apartment, only glancing briefly at Xander, who didn't even acknowledge his presence, and then put on his duster and left.

His trip home to the dusty old crypt was lonely, not to mention painful after that bit of fucking, and so was the remainder of the evening he spent watching a really fuzzy telly and drinking cold pig's blood from the bag since he didn't own any cups or a microwave.

He dug out the little box a while later and shuffled through some of Xander's notes as he jerked off slowly.

Got jizz splattered on a few of them but he didn't care.

There would always be more notes.

Here Endeth the Story