Slash FanFic: Storys, Links, FanArt und Diskussionen

[Gast]

vision boy? huh? was hab ich verpasst???? los, sagt mir!


bin gestern auch erst etwa um drei ins bett gekommen, musste aber um sechs uhr wieder aufstehen /(ihr wollt die ringe unter meinen augen bestimmt nicht sehen *lol* )

[margie]

Aaalso Vivion Boy gibt´s hier: http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html

Aber Mys schau mal in deinen Posteingang

[margie]

Xanders POV über Spike

When I fall
By Trixx

I feel like I'm flying
Floating high above the sky
Trapped in a cloud, restless
Unsure of the world around me
Alone in all the trappings that surround me

I twist, I turn, I fall
Plummeting down, into a kiss
Soft lips caressing my own
Tender skin rubbing against me
Bring me back, no longer floating

I'm surrounded by him
Overwhelmed by his eyes
His lips, his skin
The taste of him on my mouth
The essence of him

He touches me softly
Caressing me gently
Loving me, making me whole
And I'm floating
Flying high and free

He's here to catch me
Every time I fall,
Every time I'm free
He ensnares me in his eyes
With his lips, his tongue, his skin

I feel like I'm gone
Lost in the stars that fall behind my eyes
Part of something bigger
Yet so lost and alone,
And he catches me

I plummet, lost, scared
Alone in the decent
Until I land in his arms
I know without doubt or fear
That he'll catch me when I fall.

[margie]

aawww fluffy

Title: Love Unknown
Author: CJ
Pairing: S/X
Rating: PG13
Warning: Slash!
Spoilers: Kinda might be some spoilers for Into the Woods
Summary: Spike and Xander finally have a talk.
Distribution: Want, Take, Have. Just let me know.
Disclaimer: All characters herein belong to Joss Whedon and Company. I earn
no money from these writings.
Author's Note: Just a short little ficlet based on the challenge issued by
Marta (Morrigupriestess) on XanderSlash. I just hope you like it Marta.
Thanks.



Spike lay on the bed, waiting for Xander to return. He wasn't entirely happy
about the boy's continued fight against all things evil, but if Xander wanted
to run off and play with his 'Scooby Gang' Spike didn't see that he had any
right to say anything. After all, his being with the human hadn't stopped him
from hanging out at Willy's and playing rounds of 'Kill the Slayer', had it?

//But he's been gone a long time. What if he's hurt?// The thought came
unbidden to Spike's mind. He sat up, casting his eyes around the room as if
he could find Xander somewhere within it. But it was just a cave, a small,
dark, dank cave he'd found beneath his crypt. He would have liked to be
living in a nicer place, but that would require money, wouldn’t it? Money he
didn't have, and he couldn't really expect Xander to put him up at his place.
Wasn't like the boy actually cared for him, they were just mates, friends,
friends who have sex, but just friends all the same.

//And whose fault is that? Not as if you've told the boy how you really feel
about him is it?// The voice surprised Spike, sounding off in his head, doing
a remarkable impression of his arsehole of a Sire.

"I don't know what you mean." Spike spoke aloud to the voice within his head.
"I can't tell him, he'll laugh at me. He doesn't want love, he's made that
clear. He just wants a shag, maybe someone to hold him when he's down, but he
doesn't want love. Not from me."

//But you don't know that. You won't know until you tell him.// The inner
voice was now low, whispering to him. Telling him things it had told him over
and over again in the months he and Xander had been together.

"I can't tell him, don't you listen. Don't you see. I'm just a replacement
for what he can't have anymore. If I tell him that I love him, he'll leave.
And I'd rather have him this way, than not at all." Spike threw himself back
down on the bed, pulling the sheets up around his neck.

The closing of the door up in the crypt told Spike that Xander was here,
coming back from one of their patrols. Sitting up on the side of the bed,
Spike waited for his boy to climb down the ladder and come to him. His eyes
shone with love, but he quelled it as Xander turned toward him.

The last thing he'd expected was to hear Xander's voice coming to him. Xander
rarely spoke when they were together. "I've gotta say something, 'cause I
don't think I've made it clear. I'm in love with you."

Spike stood, shocked, taking a few steps toward his love. The pain in
Xander's voice ripped at his heart, unbeating or not. Something had happened,
something bad.

"Powerfully, painfully in love. The things you do...the way you think, the
way you move....I get excited every time I'm about to see you."

They were within touching distance now and Spike couldn't help it. He had an
uncontrollable urge to reach out and take Xander's hand within his own. Their
fingers twined together until they almost couldn’t tell where one stopped and
the other began. Xander lowered his eyes to stare at the joining for a
moment, then raised them back up to meet Spike's eyes.

"You make me feel like I've never felt before in my life. Like a man." He
stopped again to look at the ground and shrugged insecurely. "I just thought
you might want to know."

Spike reached up with his free hand, taking Xander's chin in a firm grip, and
lifted his face to meet his eyes. Not saying a word, Spike leaned in and
placed a light gentle kiss on his lips. Spike was surprised when Xander
opened his own lips, darting his tongue out to deepen the kiss.

Spike pulled and Xander pushed until they tumbled back to the bed. Spike
pulled away just enough to stare into the chocolate depths of his boy's…no,
his man's, eyes. "I love you too, Xander. Just as powerfully, just as
painfully. Eternally." And they were lost again in the tender kisses that
once seemed like heated, rushed embraces. Spike sighed into the kiss and
mentally gave his internal voice, that still sounded much too Sirelike, a two
fingered salute. //See there, ya arsewipe. He does love me.//

The End

[Gast]

aaawwwww... knuddlig



danke margie für das file juhu, ne neue "bettgeschichte" (nein, mein bett, nicht das bett der jungs )

[Gast]

http://www.geocities.com/mymango/grnrs.html


irgendwie krank, aber yummy...

[Gast]

ok, zu der story hier gibts keine sequel, und keine prequel, die ist einfach wirklich nur so... und macht eigentlich keinen sinn (alleinstehend) aber ich find sie trotzdem total schön...

Dappled Things (1/1)
By: Meg Graham (mymango@yahoo.com,
http://www.geocities.com/mymango/btvsfantic.html)
Disclaimer: Realistically, folks, no one has ever sued
a fanfic writer. I doubt that such a
nose-cutting-to-spite-face maneuver will start here.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: This is not, in any way, shape, or form, a
series. Nor is it connected to On The Doorstep. More
OTD is to be out soon, but this got in the way. It’s
a snippet, an image. The title is from a poem by
Gerald Manley Hopkins, which I have transcribed in
full at the end.

~*~

Warm, warm flesh.

Blood spreading lavishly just below the surface, where
skin is flushed and beaded with sweat.

Xander runs his tongue down Spike’s inner thigh,
behind the knee, sucking on the soft, warm place
there. Spike exhales softly, half laughing, as Xander
laps gently at the pooled moisture.

Spike reaches down, grabs his lover by the shoulders.
Pulls him up, slow and slick and hard, until they are
forehead to forehead, both panting slightly with the
effort. With the heat.

Xander’s hands run themselves (they have no direction,
no orders from his brain) through platinum blonde
hair. Roots grown out nearly an inch, now,
brown-blonde and *soft*. He hasn’t cut it since he
changed. Hasn’t dyed it, either. Three weeks.

And as Spike looks up expectantly into his lover’s
face, awaiting motion of some sort, Xander’s brow
furrows in confusion and he pulls back. Their legs
remain tangled, a shiny-slick jumble as their cocks
slide slowly, too slowly, against one another. Xander
looks at the man beneath him, and laughs softly.

Spike pauses, confused. Xander laughs again at his
lover’s puzzled look, then runs his left index finger
over the bridge of Spike’s nose. Left, then right.
Hair in eyes, Xander bends over and kisses the spot he
has touched.

Kiss leads to more kisses, and no explanation. Spike
loses himself once again in the sensation, the
friction, and as their bodies move together he forgets
that soft chuckle, that feather-light touch over his
nose.

Later, as Xander sleeps, Spike stumbles, half-awake,
to the bathroom. As he washes his hands he glances,
reflexively, up into the mirror.

And pauses as he sees what Xander saw.

Across his nose, quiet and unobtrusive, is a light
dusting of freckles.

Spike smiles at his reflection, then returns to bed.
He wraps warm arms around his lover, and sleeps.

~*~

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls, finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

[Spike'sKrüml]

ok.now i'm infected.I'm slashed ,girls.

[Gast]

na das wurde aber auch zeit!


seht ihr, ich wusste, wir kriegen jeden rum

[margie]

Hehe ja das ist wohl wahr *gg*

[Gast]

ok.now i'm infected.I'm slashed ,girls.

was hat dich "bekehrt"?

[margie]

@ Mys du musst wirklich Repossession lesen!!! Ich hab gestern einfach mal die letzten paar Teile die mir fehlten ausgedruckt und hab sie brav gelesen. Oh man ich hab soooo geheult, die Geschichte ist einfach nur genial.

Und ja Krüml was hat dich überzeugt??

[winterblue]

@margie: hast du auch teil 49 gelesen? der kam jetzt irgendwann ... ich weiß nicht, obs nun gestern war oder nicht, weil ich ja meine mails wieder so vernachläßigt habe. jedenfalls dachte ich nach teil 48, es gibt kein 'weiter' mehr, denn es war einfach so trostlos und traurig. und dann hab ich heute den neueren teil entdeckt und es ist zwar immer noch rostlos und traurig, aber wenigstens gibt es doch noch hoffnung. und ich bin jedes mal so überrascht, wie lazuli es schafft die fic immer weiter und weiterzuspinnen. und obwohl sie schon so lang ist, fällt ihr immer noch was ein bzw. sind immer noch so viele fragen offen. einfach toll.

ich weiß, ich hab jetzt schon länger nicht mehr hier reingeschaut. irgendwie vermisse ich so lange fics a la 'repossession', die einfach ewig lang sind und wo jede woche ein neuer teil rauskommt. ich habe auch keine lust auf zu fluffige fics. keine ahnung wieso.

ich habe aber zufällig diese eine hier entdeckt. nein, fluffy ist sie eigentlich nicht. und lang auch nicht. und vielleicht gefällt sie euch auch nicht. aber ich mag den schreibstil so. die wahl der wörter. und das beste ist, es passt irgendwie in die endhandlung von s5 rein:

Blink and you'll miss it
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox, I’m just borrowing them for a while; they like to play, I like to play, what can a girl do?
Author: Buddy
Pairing: S/X reference to X/A
Rating: NC17
Warning: Angst, m/m sex.
Summary: Set during the last three episodes of Season 5, review your tapes peeps these are a slashers wet dream. Xander’s point of view.
Dedication: I’d like to dedicate this piece to SF(Spikeyvamp), she made me realise I can do so much more when she brought me out of the HB universe to try something else. Thank you honey.

His mind goes to hell in a hand basket the moment he steps on to the RV. He has conditioned his brain to not think about him every two seconds and it helps knowing they are leaving town. True, they are fleeing from a Hell-god but leaving Spike and the insanity behind.

Insanity returns in spades and a little smile of pleasure crosses his lips before he can quash it. Xander feels his legs turn to jelly at the smug grin on Spike’s face but he whole-heartedly backs up Giles’s cold tone as he enquires why Spike is here. What else can he do?

A few miles down the road and he could cope with the travel sickness if only Spike would stop talking about leaving with Buffy and Dawn. It curls his insides in a way the journey never could and after a while he stops trying to figure out if he still feels nauseous or simply heart sick.

Whatever it is, it coalesces into a heavy lump when Tara moves the blind and Spike’s hand starts to smoke, and later he watches helplessly as Dawn bandages his hands. He knows he took the blade to save Buffy. Whoever he saves, it’s to save Buffy, and Spike is so wrapped up in her he can’t see Xander looking, wanting, needing.

Sanity waves at him for a fleeting moment as Spike smoulders under a blanket, a splash of cold water in his face to remind him this is a not a human he harbours feelings for. Then the smell of leather and cigarette smoke fill his nostrils as they lift Giles to the counter and sanity disappears again with barely a glance over it’s shoulder.

His life is playing out like a movie but he doesn’t get the lead. Compared to the other players he feels like he’s on the periphery and he wonders should he even be here? Buffy questions the General and Xander stands on the sidelines watching Spike, his heart writing the score. He can live with that, who notices the music until the movie is over any way? Spike stands facing him, not seeing him, with his arms held across his chest, the protective gesture belying his arrogant stance. Not once does he look; like he’s determined not too and then the possibility is snatched away as Tara’s distress shatters the moment.

Perhaps now he’s an extra with the camera on his face, as he watches Spike watch Buffy; she’s oblivious to the look of disgust that covers up his misery. He doesn’t think, just follows and closes the door when Spike spins on his heels and walks away. There’s a drum in the place where his heart should be and the beat holds his back to the wall.

Spike struggles to light his cigarette and seeing it breaks the stasis that beleaguers him. Promotion brings a speaking part and the words flow as though he knows his lines. He doesn’t know where they come from but they must be the right ones because he pockets the lighter like it’s a plot point. He tries to stay focused; they are fighting a war.

The enemy has infiltrated their ranks and the film freezes when Glory knocks Spike into his outstretched arms; he just wants to be lost here. Suspended time allows relief at his nearness and molecules try to fuse so he can’t leave his side. Fast forward and he’s gone, but he’s still nearby, and one look is a screen capture full of ’maybes’.

His head full of white noise he can’t break his role, it’s much easier to argue and fight than try to change the script. The hospital affords some distance to clear his head but it wrenches at his heart to see him leave. The air feels a lighter place but nevertheless bereft; he knows the feeling well.

His return is a jolt, must keep a neutral face, but the shock is unexpected and it twists with longing despite his resolve. Need is physical and he can barely stop his traitorous body from responding to the return of a severed limb. Is it cruel fate sending them out together or is providence smiling upon his weary and battered head?

They have somewhere to be and they walk stiffly, hardly a word passes between them and a new script plays out in Xander’s head. He can’t listen to it, they have a world to save but what’s the point if he can’t be in his arms? A fight with a demon is not so unusual and they get what they came for.

They leave Doc’s place and Spike’s step falters when they turn down the alley. He puts down the box and stops. Xander walks into arms that encircle him but he’s too stupefied to understand the change in direction. This is not what he expected; ad libs are for the professionals, yet he follows Spike’s lead when his lips mash down and he forces his tongue passed his lips.

Xander tremble’s in his arms, but stage fright won’t slow him down. He pulls Spike closer and clutches at his hair, a prop to keep him steady. He holds his breath as the heel of Spike’s hand rubs the outline of his hardness; an insolent look on his face.

"Is this really for me Harris? I’ve got to hand it to you, you speak volumes with the things you don’t say."

"Spike I ..."

"Don’t spoil it now, we don’t have time to wax lyrical and it’s this you really want isn’t it?"

His hands disappear under his shirt, cool fingers play across skin. He drops kisses across his jaw line, tenderness so unexpected. Xander pushes him back against the wall and drops to his knees in front of him. He runs his hands up the outside of his thighs and buries his nose in the mound at his crotch.

Then he looks at him steadily and the lust on Spike’s face surprises him; half lidded eyes and lips a swollen pout. The feast before his eyes would satisfy a greedy man and Xander doesn’t know what to taste first; just that he wants it all. Spike lowers his zipper and frees himself, an offering to the starved and Xander engulfs him like he has so many times before, dreams fading against reality.

Taking what he wants he pleases the object of his desire, not choreographed but a dance for the blind. The music plays in his head prompted by the soft sighs and moans coming from the one above him and he swallows in eagerness when it reaches it’s crescendo.

Kissing him again he discovers more tenderness and it seems misplaced in a creature of his nature. Yet this is why he’s here, he’s coveted for so long that which is normally reserved for another. Pressed against his back he wants him to feel it too and he enters him slowly.

Should the world end this night he shall rest in peace; something he will never know again if it doesn’t. His other life is waiting in the wings, ready to give him another walk on part and he’s so tired of the emptiness. Surrounded by cool flesh he pretends he can keep this place and exchanges it for his heart.

Spike trembles under his touch as he slides his hand up and down him and he grows harder with each clumsy thrust. Pleasure erupts for both of them in bitter sweet bursts and they cling to one another like they will never let go. Kisses so fervent, tasteful and addictive and then the only thing surrounding Xander is air.

"Spike?"

"I can’t. Go back to your life Xander if you have that chance; you know I can’t."

He smiles around the lump in his throat and bites at the lip that dares to betray him. He nods because there are no words. They have somewhere to be and they walk stiffly, hardly a word passes between them and a new script plays out in Xander’s head. He can’t listen to it, they have a world to save and what’s the point if he can’t be in Spike’s arms?

~Fin~

und auf der Weetabix and Alcohol seite gibts ein paar neue bildermanips.

[Gast]

yep, die "blink and you'll miss it" fic hab ich auch schon irgendwann mal gelesen... total schön. gefällt mir auch mal wieder besonders der schreibstil...



hmmm... vielleicht liegt das schon an repossession, dass du momentan nichts anderes lesen magst, weil, wenn auf der einen seite alles so depressiv ist kann man ja schlecht gleichzeitig was völlig überdrehtes fröhliches lesen...
mensch, ich muss die fic echt endlich mal anfangen

[Gast]

na?