Moderator: SK-Biene
ich hab das heute gleich als erstes nach dem aufstehen gelesen, weil ich eigentlich auf ne mail von ner freundin warte, und hab's gar nicht geglaubt, bis ich dann die dritte und vierte bestätigung gesehen habe...Astarte hat geschrieben:@MyS: Zu verständlich, irgendwie nicht vorstellbar, dass Glenn Quinn verstorben ist...
aber hab gerade diese Fic gelsen bei nummytreats und na ja irgendwie hat sie mir gefallen, auch wenn ich anfangs etwas skeptisch bei dem Pairing war. Title: Natural Born Victim
Timing: post-Never Leave Me
Spoilers: Up to and including Never Leave Me
Author: Marguerite
Feedback: Please! Marguerite_26@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Spike/Andrew
Author’s note: Turned out a little creepier then I first intended.
Mention/implication of non-consensual sex.
The basement of the school was so creepy. Everything about the place made him cringe, even now. Especially now. Luckily, he was bad. Bad to the bone. Evil couldn’t scare the crap out of him, because they were on the same side.
Last time he’d been here things had been different. And not the time with Jonathan – no, before that. During high school, things had been different. Back then, all he’d been was ‘Tucker’s brother.’ But he’d moved up in the world. He was Warren’s sidekick, partner in crime, or whatever it was that they called the human tag along of an evil ghost.
That was him. And he really needed to spend a bit more time coming up with a better name than that. It definitely didn’t make him sound tough enough.
And he was tough. How else do you explain how he escaped from the slayer’s house of horrors? How he managed to break into the school and find his way back to this door?
He was definitely tough… too bad he wasn’t strong too. This door was much easier to open last time.
One good kick was all he needed.
There.
Sure enough the door stared back at him defiantly, and he was knocked on his ass. Stupid door, it should quiver at the sight of him. He was even wearing his coat.
As if reading his mind (if doors could do that sort of thing), the door swung open. But not by its own will, or by a delayed force of the kick, a strong pale hand held it open. Bet the door didn’t like that at all.
Blue eyes squinted down at him, scanning him like a tricorder. He gulped threateningly, sweat dripping heroically down his brow. A soft squeal escaped with the breath he’d been holding. A very cool half snort came from the shirtless door opener. “Oh. It’s you.” Was said in a sexy, evil English accent.
Maybe he needed an accent. That would make him sound more evil. Just think Khan.
The elegant head of the man in front of him turned to the side, showing off killer cheekbones and a scarred eyebrow. Nodding in understanding to whatever was to his left, the vampire looked back and grumbled, “Well,
might as well come in then.”
Still sitting on his butt, Andrew glanced nervously at the scarred naked chest. Dried blood outlined some odd shapes that he was sure were ancient evil symbols. Why else would they be carved on somebody’s chest?
“You’re not going to bite me again, are you?” He self-consciously ran a finger over the barely healing wound.
That earned him a chuckle. The bleach blond headed back into the sanctuary behind the door without another word.
God, Spike is so hot.
After a minute, it occurred to him that sitting on floor was not really all that evil. And he was evil. Just like Spike. Even had the coat. He stood, dusted himself off, set his jaw menacingly and walked through the
door.
The first thing he noticed was Jonathan, or rather that Jonathan’s body wasn’t covering the seal any longer. It was nowhere in sight. Andrew nodded to himself knowingly. He’s now one with the light and hope.
The second thing he noticed was that the seal wasn’t a seal any more. It looked more like a small launch pad of evil. So, if the evil was released – where was Warren? When did he get to be turned into a god? Would it
hurt? He looked around the room. It looked empty, he couldn’t see anyone – Warren or Spike.
“Spike?” He questioned into the air. There was some movement in the shadows. “Warren? Are you down here? I didn’t tell the slayer anything – even after they tortured me.” Why did his voice have to always sound like a
whine? It clashed with his coat.
The infamous door decided it had been open long enough and crashed shut.
Andrew hoped no one noticed him jump. Hopefully that wouldn’t impair the god-becoming process.
He heard movement behind him and spun around. Spike was only inches from his face. Andrew cowered (out of respect, not fear, of course.)
“Ssspike?” He stuttered. Desperate to find some common ground, being on the same side and all. “Hey, cool that you escaped from Buffy, too. Boy, good to be free again, eh?” He added a nervous giggle for effect.
Spike slowly moved closer, driving Andrew back until he was pressed up against the wall behind him.
“The busting through the wall thing. Very Ghostbusters.” Seeing no reaction on the vampire’s face he explained, “When the gatekeeper burst through the chair and grabbed …” Andrew’s babble was cut off as he felt two strong hands grip his shoulders and press him against the wall.
Andrew stood helplessly as Spike tilted his head to the side, showing off his fresh wound. This was it. He was going to die at the hands of William the Bloody. All the blood sucked out of him. Hard as a rock, never having kissed a man. He tried not to think about the fact that this was the most erotic thing that’d ever happened to him. Or about how pathetic that fact was.
But instead of sharp fangs, it was a cool tongue that touched his skin. Gentle licks began to trace the tender area surrounding the punctures. A groan slipped out. He couldn’t exactly help it, could he? Groaning. The sexiest man alive - well, besides Kevin Sorbo - was licking him, tasting him. Ok, so it was more of a you’ll be a ‘good-meal’ taste, rather than a I-want-to-lick-you-all-over taste – but he’d take what he could get.
Tender lips pressed against his neck and began to suck, raising the blood to the surface of his skin. Andrew’s eyes shut and a tingle down his spine made his body tremble. He squirmed slightly, trying to hide his erection from the man pressing up against him.
The vampire’s grip relaxed a bit and he looked left unexpectedly. Hoping to see what had distracted his attacker, Andrew turned as well. Unfortunately, there was no one there. No Warren. No Buffy. Only him and Spike. Somehow
he wasn’t that disappointed. Scared to death – yes, but not that disappointed.
Spike looked back from the nothing and into Andrew’s eyes. There was no mistaking that look. That of a predator to his prey. A classic half smirk formed on his deadly lips. How many death scenes did he need to see to recognize what this was?
Andrew tried to stop the trembling that had taken over his body. He wasgoing to die. He let out a whimper of panic. Why wasn’t he trying to escape? What would Warren do if he was in this situation? Well, he’d probably die too. Not very comforting. At least he wouldn’t die about 60 seconds from climax.
Maybe he could try to overpower the evil beast and make a run for it. If he pushed off the wall, maybe he could flip over Spike and dart out the door. He’d be half way to Canada before the vampire knew what happened. Not going
to Mexico again… no sirree. At least in Canada they spoke English, or he was pretty sure it was English. Everyone was nice and you can drink the water in the hotel rooms.
Now’s the time to try it. Before he starts tasting again.
“Andrew.”
What was that? Did that come from Spike?
“Your name, it’s Andrew.”
It wasn’t spoken in a sexy whisper or even in an intimidating tone, more like a statement of fact. Like ‘the pizza’s here’ or ‘the movie’s starting’. Just ‘Andrew’.
My name.
Is it possible to fall in love with someone who’s about to kill you? Electra King did in The World is Not Enough, but that didn’t end well – for her at least. But then again she did get to sleep with James Bond before he shot her.
Anyway, back to falling in love - I think I just did.
“Andrew.” Whispered in the ear this time. All thoughts of the great white north flew out the basement window.
“Yes.” He sounded a little too breathy, like second rate porn star.
That earned him another creepy chuckle.
“What do you want from me?” Andrew stuttered out.
“You. All I need right now is you. You are very important to us, to the plan.” Spike grabbed each of his wrists and raised them over his head. “You, pet, are the lamb that begins the slaughter.”
Slaughter?
Andrew struggled to free himself from the awkward position, but Spike held him in an iron grip. It was really amazing how strong he was. Like Superman strength, only maybe more like General Zod. “I’m not a lamb. I’m evil. Warren and I - we were evil – we almost brought down the slayer.”
“Evil?” Spike smiled sadly back at him. “You don’t know evil. You are nothing but a silly wanker that lives in a comic book world. This is the big leagues.”
Andrew’s cheeks burned with the sting of truth. “Shut up. You don’t know me. Just shut up.”
Spike smiled back almost tenderly. “See now, that’s were you’re wrong. I know you very well, Andrew. I know all your thoughts, your fears, all your failures. I know you very well.”
Leaning forward, Spike slowly licked the hot tears that had been spilled with the harsh words. He closed his eyes as he savoured the salty taste of his captive. “There’s no need for us to play games, Andrew. I need you and you need me.” He rocked his hips to brush his erection against Andrew’s.
Andrew cringed at the lack of control he had over his body. His heart pounded in his ears as Spike continued to rock against him. It had to be obvious just how aroused he was.
Times like this were supposed to be all consuming, weren’t they? No time to think, caught up in the moment. The rising music blocking out the very real sounds of his coat scraping against the wall, his panicked breathing and the
shuffling of their feet on the dirt covered ground.
His arms tired quickly of the struggle, his body had already given in to the inevitable. He was born and raised for submission, the only thing he ever really did well.
Determined to face his destiny with some purpose, he set his jaw and asked, “what do you need me to do.” Then added, “I can’t kill any one. I… I just can’t.”
“Ya, real evil.” Spike responded sarcastically. He let Andrew’s arms go free and shrugged. “Right then. Get over on the altar.”
Andrew glanced around the room for anything that might be considered an altar and finally looked back at Spike in confusion.
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. “That altar.” He said, motioning to the launch pad of evil.
It certainly didn’t look like an altar, but mentioning that didn’t seem like a good idea. Andrew strutted (as best as one who was walking to his death could strut) to the other side of the room and stood on the circle that had once been covered with the seal. He waited for further instructions.
“Take off your coat and lie down.”
Andrew was about to protest, seeing how expensive the coat was and how naked he felt without it, but decided against it. He removed the coat, and rolled it into a ball to use as a pillow.
Once he was lying in the middle of the altar, Spike joined him.
Kneeling beside him, Spike slowly removed each piece of Andrew’s clothing.
Naked and shivering, Andrew watched as Spike began to remove his own pants. Seeing the vampire’s heavy erection freed, brought a renewed sense of dread to him. “Is this going to hurt? I’ve got a really low tolerance for pain. I might pass out.”
Spike’s eyes caught his and he replied honestly. “Likely. But we’ll do what we can to keep you conscious.”
Andrew’s erection softened slightly in fear. But Spike’s hand was on it immediately, pumping it to its full size again.
“Now, now. We’ll have none of that.” The British accent scolded.
Andrew stared down at the hand job wide-eyed in disbelief. He had almost relaxed enough to enjoy the thought of William the Bloody stroking his cock when he was unceremoniously flipped over.
“Haven’t got much for lube and you’re as tight assed as a sober Englishmen. We’ll have to use an old vamp trick.”
Andrew cried out as sharp fangs were driven into his neck for the second time that day. The vampire drank greedily but stopped soon after he started. Releasing his charge, Spike spit the contents of his mouth into his hand. Using the blood as lube he coated both Andrew’s waiting ass and his own dick.
Andrew suppressed a gag, but his face couldn’t hide just how disgusting this whole thing was getting. Maybe it wasn’t too late to call this off. Maybe he could talk Spike out of this. He was trying to think of a reasonable way to broach the subject when he felt an urgent finger exploring his entrance. The finger circled around, slick with blood – nope, better not think that way – just slick. It was probing gently, seeking entrance. Andrew felt himself unwittingly push against the finger, encouraging it to find the right spot.
Spike is on my list of people I’d kneel before in humble servitude.
Finally the finger forced it’s way in. It was uncomfortable and unfamiliar – but not unpleasant. It didn’t so much hurt as tingle and stretch. The blood, er, the lube might have helped..
Soon there were two fingers. All the same feelings as with one, only twice over.
When the fingers were pulled out Andrew felt strangely alone. Like having the fingers in there made him feel something other than alone. Them being there and gone again only made his loneliness more obvious than before they had ever come along.
Before he could ask for them to be put back again, he felt something very different from a finger poking at his entrance. Spike gripped his bony hips tightly and began to push himself in.
Tears sprang in Andrew’s eyes as the pain began. It was intense. How could men do this? Why? This isn’t how he’d fantasized all those times. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He tried to concentrate on something else: the way his hands and knees rubbed against the floor; the way his now limp cock dangled between his legs, anything but what was happening behind him.
Once Spike was all the way in and had started a steady rhythm, the pain began to dull and something similar to pleasure began to start up. Andrew began to relax slightly. It was no longer unbearable.
He could hear Spike grunting and growling behind him. The sounds of how much Spike was enjoying this soon brought his cock back to life. A pale hand reached around and began to pump him, keeping pace.
The feeling was no longer just bearable but something close to amazing. The tingle of being stretched was still present but it only seemed to add the intensity of the pairing.
Spike began to pant and gasp for breath. The strokes became shorter and more erratic.
Sex was so much better than he thought it would be. The only thing that even came close was the time he bumped into Mark Hamill in the men’s room at a Trek Fair.
It was too much for Andrew and he squirted helplessly over Spike’s fist. While calming down from his own orgasm, he felt Spike’s body begin to shudder. He could feel a cool liquid fill him more and more with each desperate pump.
When his butt was healed, he’d definitely ask to try that again.
Spike pulled out and flipped him over so they were face to face. Looking tenderly into his eyes, Spike leaned down to kiss him. Their lips barely touched when Spike pulled back. He smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”
A tingly warmth spread over Andrew’s body. He tried to blink the tears away as he tried to memorize the way Spike was looking at him.
But the expression changed too quickly. It was now hard and cold – as if at the snap of a finger. Spike grinned back at him and his heart sank. Without another word, the vampire sunk his fangs in and drained him dry.
++++
Spike woke to a strange sticky feeling all over. He looked down at himself. He was naked, covered in blood and come. Whose blood and come, he wasn’t sure. He shifted slightly to get a better look at his surroundings. There was a body beside him. Cold and dead. Naked. Covered in blood and come.
He flipped the body over. It was what’s-his-face. The guy with the brother. He hung with Warren. He stared at it in confusion.
“Pity you don’t remember. It was quite the seduction.” He saw himself comment from a few feet away. He was dressed all in black - duster and all. He gave a satisfied smirk. “Nicely done. If I do say so myself.”
“Why…this…” Spike looked down at his dead bedfellow. “Why him?”
“He was the final piece of the puzzle. No ritual is complete without a virgin sacrifice.”
Spike looked away, afraid he was going to be sick. He’d been used again as a puppet in this sick game. After all the horrors he had committed under his own power, he was disgusted to add another rape and murder.
“You really shouldn’t feel so sorry for yourself, Spike. You got off easy this time. It could have been Dawn.”
The End.
es gibt ja noch diese andere a/s fic von jessica walker. die schreibt auch so gut. 
War aber meine erste Fic mit dem Pairing. Und wirklich erschreckend (denn der Trigger ist so ne miese Sache!!!!!) und traurig. Aber ich bin ja grundsätzlich auch für fast alles offen, wenn´s mir nicht gefällt lese ich einfach nicht weiter 
Title: The little things
Author: Angel Jade
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, language, rape and emotional/physical torture implied, character death.
Spoilers: Season seven BtVS, roughly.
Setting: Beginning of season seven-ish.
Pairings: Spike/Xander
Summary: Spike realises he’s become reliant on the one person who hurts him the most.
Setting: Some time after the end of season 6. Post-soul and slightly AU.
Feedback: angel-jade@buffyrocks.co.uk
Distribution: If you’ve had my permission before, you have it now. Anyone else, ask first please.
Disclaimer: I do not own characters or make money from using them.
Author’s notes: DPWP, dark porn without plot.
Blood dripping onto the cold stone floor, breaking through the silence and he just *can’t* remember how he got the injury, because all the pain seems to merge into one big memory. All he can remember is Xander. Always Xander, it seems like it always has been and always will be. Can vaguely remember when Xander was no one to him. Just a friend of the slayer, no powers, no personality traits that made him anything more than a lackey in Spike’s eyes. But now Xander is Spike’s world and some days he thinks he likes it that way and others he really doesn’t. Depends on Xander’s mood.
There are days when Spike would die just to be beside the one person who can make him feel worthy of existence and there are days when he believes hell would be a better choice. Not even Angelus has made him want and hate so much, and he’s sure that at one point, Angelus was his world. And Buffy, and Cecily and Dru…he realises the loves of his life have always hurt him the most. But Xander…Xander wins awards the others couldn’t dream of. He knows exactly where to make it hurt to keep Spike there beside him. Makes Spike need more and fear more and even hate himself for not deciding whether he even likes the boy or not.
It wasn’t that way at the beginning. Even though he feels as if his whole life has been spent on his knees or against a wall, chained to anything and everything by Xander himself, Spike knows that at some point, he didn’t fear Xander. He didn’t think much of the boy…only of his ability to make it hurt. But as Spike grew weaker, relying on Xander for everything, Xander only grew stronger. More sadistic. And more worthy of a Master title.
Spike crawls carefully across the floor, revelling as the various bruises press down, causing little waves of pain, too small to make him moan, big enough to make him enjoy them. Hears a voice and wonders why he can hear minor things like blood drops and not Xander’s voice. The look on his face must show something of his inability to understand, because Xander gets annoyed and a fist to the jaw shows just how much.
“I asked you a question.” Xander spits, angrily.
“I didn’t hear…” Spike mutters, his voice lacking any emotion.
“Where are you going?” Xander asks, slowly.
“Away.” Spike replies, honestly. Doesn’t care too much about repercussions at the moment, because he feels as if he’s gone numb again. Doesn’t feel anything but the small bruises on his body. Doesn’t hear anything but the little noises and doesn’t see anything but the shadows in the room. Like a blanket, he feels as if he’s covered and his senses can’t work properly until he’s free.
Xander shakes his head, in wonder. Can’t understand the vampire’s behaviour and to be honest, doesn’t want to. “Where you going to go, Spike? You think you belong anywhere else but at my feet or hell?”
Spike stops abruptly, but makes no effort to look at Xander or even move. Just stays there, on his hands and knees, trying to think without everything glazing over.
“Come here.” Xander says with that deceptively nice tone. The one he saves for his friends and anyone else but Spike. And when Spike does hear it, it usually means trouble.
“Can’t.” Spike says, wondering why he’s not moving. “Need to be away.”
“You think you’d last two minutes out there on your own?” Xander asks him, walking closer. “You’re nothing without me, we’ve gone over this a thousand times.”
“I’m nothing with you too. Least when I’m on my own, I’m not hurting.” Spike whispered.
“Hurt? You remember what you said to me that night in the alley? You couldn’t take the pain of what you did, that you needed me to make it stop?” Xander reminded him. “You’re a monster. The people you’ve killed…you tried to rape Buffy, Spike.”
“And in return I’ve let you rape me over and over. When have I paid off my debt?” Spike asked, the mention of Buffy sparking a little emotion in his voice.
“You don’t. You don’t deserve to be forgiven. Everything you deserve, I give to you, you know that.” Xander says, kneeling beside the broken vampire. “You need me to remind you?”
Spike shakes his head, weakly.
“Then stop pretending you’re worth all this trouble and get back into bed. I need to go out. And don’t make me have to hunt you down again. Last time wasn’t pretty; this time won’t be much better. Okay?”
Everything about the boy’s voice is so soft and caring. Flowers and candy instead of the pain and torment it should be. Spike used to be fooled by it. To an extent, still is.
“I don’t mean to make you mad.” Spike says, quietly.
“I know, but you do.” Xander says, hand running through Spike’s unbleached hair. “As long as you’re sorry, it’s okay.”
“I am.” Spike says, suddenly finding that all he wants is for Xander to forgive him. The little things matter now. With everything, it’s the little things. He can always work on the big things later, but right now, he needs to please Xander. It’s a small step and one he’s almost certain he can make.
“Good boy.”
He knows where it comes from. Sees a glimpse of Angelus in Xander and knows he has issues from the past that have never quite gone away.
Trying to get to his feet, his eyes dart around the hazy room and locate the bed shaped object. Staggering over, he hears the door shut softly and knows Xander’s gone. Hates to be alone, but is happy at the same time. Doesn’t have to pretend to be alive when he’s alone. Small mercies.
And if he honestly believed he deserved mercy, he’d probably have run far away by now. He might not be able to hurt anyone but himself anymore, but he knew he could run. And he knew Xander would follow. Because as pain obsessed…and Xander obsessed…as he was, he knew Xander was right there with him, finding sheer pleasure in causing pain. Xander was as lost as he was. And as much as Spike hated it, he was glad he wasn’t alone.
And when Xander got back, he’d be sure to show him that.
*****
Tbc
ich frag mich, wieso die leute Xander wirklich so brutal schreiben können... (hab jetzt die fic vorher nicht gelesen, aber gestern ne andere, bei der ich mich so aufgeregt habe...)margie hat geschrieben:Whoa also nee die Fic ist zwar traurig, aber mir gefällt Xander da gar nicht. Nein nein so ist er einfach nicht.
) 
genauso gehts mir aber auch mit spike ... ich meine, klar, wenn die fic zu einer zeit spielt, als er noch mit angelus etc. rumhing, kann ich mir schon vorstellen, dass er auch dementsprechend *brutaler* war, aber xander dann so sklavenmäßig zu behandeln suckt einfach. 
ganz klar, darf fics sind meistens etwas vom besten, weil sie einen wirklich so viele gefühle durchleben lassen, dass es einem ganz sturm werden kann davon, aber wie du so schön sagst,es muss logisch erklärt sein.Astarte hat geschrieben:Zu der von winterblue geposteten Fic "The little things", nichts gegen Darkfics, denn das ist ein Stoff nach dem ich süchtig werden kann, bzw. bin, siehe "Modus vivendi", aber wenn dann bitte schön mit erklärendem Plot und DPWP within a human, just doesn't seem quite fitting!
ich kann mir aber auch da nicht vorstellen, dass spike je so war, wie angelus... er war ja schon immer der "etwas andere vampier"genauso gehts mir aber auch mit spike ... ich meine, klar, wenn die fic zu einer zeit spielt, als er noch mit angelus etc. rumhing, kann ich mir schon vorstellen, dass er auch dementsprechend *brutaler* war, aber xander dann so sklavenmäßig zu behandeln suckt einfach.
ich sage nur: noch nicht.Attendee: I know you have two main girlfriends, Cordelia and Anya...
Nicky: And no matter what people say he hasn't had a boyfriend, okay? *smiles*
*wunschdenk* Also ich weiss auch nicht welche Fic sie meintwinterblue hat geschrieben:welche meinste du denn, Mys? die, die margie gepostet hat, glaub ich, ist doch ziemlich entgültig und die von jessica walker ist auch eine stand alone story.
ich hab noch was gefunden, dass nick auf der boston con gesagt hat:
ich sage nur: noch nicht.Attendee: I know you have two main girlfriends, Cordelia and Anya...
Nicky: And no matter what people say he hasn't had a boyfriend, okay? *smiles*
