Mindset: Snow Patrol - ‘Run’.
Many thanks to Cloudsurfing and Sangpassionne for the beta.
Author’s Notes: For Buddy, soul sister and friend. With much love on your birthday. I wish it could have been something humorous, but you know me, always on the dark side ;)
Author's Site: Elusive Soul.
There was an area of skin just below the young man’s nipple that when firmly nipped never failed to elicit a breathless, needy, yelp. Its precise location was Spike’s secret, the breathless yelp made by his lover for him alone. He didn’t suppose that any of his partner’s past shags had bothered themselves too much with finding his erogenous zones - ergo they would never have had the pleasure of hearing that endearing little cry.
Spike mapped the familiar path from the young man’s throat to his nipple with spit-moistened lips and a teasing tongue, then, at the desired spot, he allowed his fangs to drop. The first scrape of fang made his lover arch his back and offer his body in blatant invitation. The sharp prick and the inevitable breaking of the skin elicited the yelp. But it never went any further than that - blood-play wasn’t a part of this particular dance. Nor did Spike want it to be.
He lapped at the miniscule droplet of blood that welled from the puncture hole, at the same time he breathed in deeply, inhaling the intoxicating bouquet of blood and arousal. Beneath him his lover melted into his embrace and made encouraging, hopeful sighs. Spike chuckled.
“So many erogenous zones. You’re just a multiple orgasm waiting to explode, aren’t you? Well... let‘s see what we can do about that, hmm?”
He slithered downwards, sliding effortlessly over his lover’s body, working on the young man skilfully, using tongue and teeth and lips to drive him into near frenzy. He growled as strong hands gripped his hair nearly hard enough to rip it from his scalp - his reward for swallowing against the throbbing cock in his throat. Spike pulled away, swapping mouth and throat for fingers, soaking them in pre-come and saliva and teasing the puckered opening that lay just behind the young man’s heavy sac. He breached the tight muscle with two fingers amid a torrent of moans and profanities, probing for yet another of his lovers erogenous zones, one that was no secret.
“Please, Spike. Now.... Please baby...”
The begging came right on cue, as usual. Some things you can always rely on. It’s the things that you can’t that make life fucking suck. As Spike knew only too well, there was huge, stinking mound of the ‘can‘t‘ variety and precious little of the ‘can‘.
He felt a momentary twinge of pain, quickly followed by anger. He pulled his fingers from his lover’s body and motioned for him to roll over onto his stomach. Again, the young man performed on cue. He was well acquainted with the routine. Spike always took him from behind - the young man had never asked why, although he thought he could make a pretty fair guess.
It was so that Spike didn’t have to look at him.
This wasn’t something that concerned the young man unduly even though he’d taken great pains over his appearance. Nor indeed was he offended by it. On the contrary, Spike had been pleased with how he looked tonight. He had complimented him and stroked his cheek fondly, his hand gently skirting the leather eye-patch that was the only mar on an otherwise perfect face. Then just as quickly he’d turned away.
Spike didn’t want to have to look at him, because Spike didn’t want him seeing the whirlwind of emotions that shimmered in his tearful blue eyes. He was a Master, after all. And Masters didn’t weep, soul or no.
Strong pale hands kneaded the taut muscles on the young man’s back and he relaxed into the vampire’s touch. There was considerable pleasure to be had when he was with Spike and he didn’t want to miss or waste a single second of it.
Behind him, Spike inhaled deeply.
“God, your hair smells so good. You know how much I love that smell - you used that shampoo I bought didn't you? To please me?”
“It’s all I want to do, to please you. I want to make you happy. I want to make you want me.”
He could feel Spike’s face in his hair, feel his lips ghosting his scalp.
“I’ll always want you, luv. Can’t ever stop.”
The cool hands tightened momentarily, and then Spike drew back and began to prepare him. The young man whimpered when he felt the smooth head of Spike’s cock press insistently against his opening. He lowered his head, mouth slack, panting as Spike slid slowly inside him, filling him.
He felt smooth palms stroke the back of his thighs as Spike began to move. Could hear Spike’s voice whispering and crooning as he pulled back until he was almost free of him, only to slam back inside, nudging that spot deep within him that when stimulated made him see stars and speak in tongues.
“So sweet... So damned hot and sweet...” And Spike was panting now, moaning and grunting like an animal in rut, hands gripping hips hard enough to bruise, but still there was a gentleness about him that defied his nature and the paradox wasn’t lost on the young man. Neither were the barely heard sobs that interspersed the vampire’s moans of pleasure.
The young man gave himself up to bliss, all thoughts on the emotional frailty of his enigmatic lover pushed to the back of his mind as bolts of ecstasy ripped through him. The world tilted and shook on it’s axis and sexual rapture carried him far from the shores of rationality, dumping him sated and quivering on the sands of blissful, orgasmic contentment. He was aware of Spike’s body tightening like a cobra ready to strike, then heard him cry out as he thrust wildly inside him, his orgasm sounding more pain than pleasure as though it was being torn from him and not freely given.
Breath hitching, Spike hissed in his ear. The desperate entreaties of a drowning man begging for his life, the prayerful plea of a frightened sinner petitioning for another chance at redemption. The young man closed his eyes tightly, bliss departing and leaving him feeling cold inside and somehow bereft.
“Say it.”
An anguished appeal borne on a voice broken and weary.
“I want you, Spike. Please, baby... Don’t ever leave me.”
Finale.
Conclusion.
End game.
Spike’s eyes slid shut and his lips tightened almost imperceptibly. Then in one fluid movement, he slid himself from the young man’s embrace and got out of bed, crossing the room and lifting his clothes from a nearby chair. He wiped himself down with the soft, moist cloth that the young man had thoughtfully provided and then dressed hurriedly.
“Voice still isn’t right...” Spike spoke over his shoulder to the figure on the bed, his own voice hoarse and brimming with emotion. He yanked up the zipper of his trademark black jeans and then pulled on a plain black t-shirt.
He cleared his throat. “His was deeper. Smoother.” Then smiling momentarily, “Throaty, and kinda sexy, you know?”
“I’m sorry. It’s difficult to get it right, if I could only hear him, meet him...”
Spike smiled again sadly and turned around.
“Think I’d be here with you if that was possible?”
His eyes narrowed. The young man on the bed was gone, replaced by a small, brunette demon with green eyes and a huge bosom.
“Thought I told you to always wait until I was gone before you... changed?”
The brunette shrugged. “I’m sorry, Master Spike. But we’ve gone over your time again, and my next client will be waiting already.”
Spike grunted. “Suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s all just an illusion, after all.”
He shoved his hand in his pocket and came up with his usual hundred dollar tip, which he handed to the girl. “Get yourself something nice.”
“Thank you, Master Spike.” The money disappeared into her ample cleavage.
Spike couldn’t help but leer. “He’s a boob man, eh?”
The girl’s eyes sparkled naughtily. “Lady, actually.”
He laughed - a sharp, mirthless bark. Lifting his duster from the chair, he turned to leave. The girl stood up. “Next month then, Master Spike? Same as always?”
He didn’t turn around. “Yeah, luv. Same as always.”
Spike shrugged into his leather duster and left without saying goodbye. Nodded politely to the bored looking demon in the reception area as he left, and swapped the oppressive warmth of the bordello for the still, cool night air.
He sniffed. Hunted in his pocket for his cigarettes and his trusty silver lighter. The smell of dawn slowly approaching urged in him on into the night.
Cigarette in mouth he headed towards home and back to the cold hardness of reality, where all that waited were memories of the dead lover who had made his heart sing, and the silence of his own grieving soul.
Fin.