Miscreation

BY : mcee
Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Slash - Male/Male > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander
Dragon prints: 5495
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

 



Xander squeezes his eyes shut and thick rivelets of tears streak his cheeks and pool uncomfortably in his ears. Deep, panicked sobs shake him and make the searing pain even worse. His damp curls stick to his skin and he can't move, because he thinks maybe it's just like in the movies and if you stay still maybe it'll go away. But it doesn't go away, ever. And it hurts hurts hurts and it's all he can think of. In the end it doesn't matter how old you are or what you've seen or how tough you think you are, pain like this - and they say it's suppose to be orgasmic; they lied - it's terrible, and it makes you nauseous. Xander is afraid he's going to be sick; but it never gets that far - because relief is not something he's allowed to have.


He cries loudly now; he gave up holding it in when Spike - he knew he'd come around, he always knew he'd come around, why didn't they listen to him - had ripped jeans and flesh to shreds and had unceremoniously pounded into him, and it had felt like a sharp blade slicing his insides. The in and out is brutal, feral, and short sharp nails dig into his arms and wrists and hips, drawing blood liberally, and all Xander can do is take it and cry, because he has no doubt Spike would kill him if he so much as wimpered, and because he knows he simply can't. It hurt, it hurt so much, and the pain and the familiar humiliation are blinding. And then he bends his ridged face dangerously close to his own, and razor-sharp fangs pierce the skin of his neck messily and Xander doesn't even get to faint. The pain is there, and so is he, and he'll just have to live it. He doesn't know why he keeps hoping otherwise. But he cries, that he does do, and his shaking arm goes around his aggressor's back and holds tight, because he has to hold on to something.


But Spike doesn't kill him. If he had, the first time, there wouldn't have been a second and a third time, or a fourth, or a ninth or a twentieth. He wouldn't be struggling to remember the last night he spent alone, without anyone - family or demon - staining his sheets. All he keeps remembering is Spike - because the other option is too real and horrible and movie-of-the-week, while this borders impossible - Spike biting, hard, painfully, but not draining him, just enough to hurt and bleed and hold still while he fucks and comes then pushes himself off of him with unnecessary violence. He gets off the bed, where he just stands there and looks down at the boy, half-naked and bloody and crying, but not moving. He licks thick arterial blood off his lips and zips up. Till next time.


 


END




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