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Chiaroscuro	By : winterlive Category: > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 1952 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Spike's body fitted perfectly into his, and Xander was suffused with a surge of protectiveness so strong it nearly made him shake. Emotion raged through him, and he tried taking some deep breaths to calm it, fingers curling into the t-shirt stretched across Spike's shoulders. Spike had his arms wrapped around Xander, clinging to him, though he didn't move or speak. Xander stroked his back, words dropping from his lips almost without his consent.

"Shhh, shh. I've got you. I know what I'm doing. I'll do this for us. Don't worry. It's okay. Shh."

Spike drew in a shuddering breath, ribs rising delicately under Xander's fingers, then pulled gently away. Xander was struck again by Spike's looks: dramatic, rich coloring and features that conveyed his emotions with absolute clarity. He was shy, almost blushing, couldn't look at Xander, and he backed away, eyes on the ground.

Spike's fingers settled on his belt. He tried a couple of times to raise his eyes, but never got farther than Xander's chest. He opened his mouth to speak, took a breath, and closed it again. He moved his feet like he wanted to walk somewhere, but stayed put. His breathing was fast, too fast.

Xander got the message, loud and clear. Help me, it said. I need you. He didn't intend to disappoint. Xander briefly ran through what Giles had told him and stepped closer, slowly, one foot at a time. As he approached, Spike settled, all attention riveted to Xander, breathing slowing, eyes locked to Xander's feet.

Xander stopped a foot away. He reached out a hand and touched Spike's golden curls, still damp from the rain. Spike stilled completely. Then Xander flattened his palm, curling his fingers around Spike's head in a caress, and Spike leaned slightly into the subtle pressure.

Xander dropped his hand and steeled his voice. "Okay. Undress."

Spike dropped instantly to his knees. He stripped off the t-shirt first. With significant effort, Xander backed up, sat down on his stool and watched as the pale skin was revealed, an ever-widening strip with its perfect ridges and slight furring. It felt like there was electricity in the air, crackling over his skin and making him jumpy. Being able to tell this gorgeous Adonis to do anything, knowing he'd obey... it was thrilling. Powerful.

Sexy.

Xander felt the blush heating his cheeks as the thought crossed his mind. Earlier, he'd wanted to stop playing master/slave, and given the slight discomfort of having to sit down right now, he was developing a clear understanding of why. It made him widgy to think of it, so he concentrated on watching Spike instead.

Spike folded the shirt and set it on a chair far to his right. He had to lean on one hand, and his muscles rippled along his back as he stretched. Coming back, he sat down on the floor, methodically untied his Docs, pulled them off and tucked the laces in the top. He stripped off his socks and put them in the boots too, all very neat and precise.
Xander couldn't take his eyes off the man's feet, so like his own, full of bones and veins and a dusting of hair. Ugly man feet, which, perversely, made Xander suddenly fond of them. Spike dropped the boots under the chair, and then stood, hands going to his belt.

"No, no, wait." Xander stood up off his chair and walked close. Spike's hands immediately stilled, and Xander noticed his cheeks reddening more. "I want to do this part. Am I allowed to do that?"

Spike, eyes still fixed to the floor, swallowed audibly and nodded.

Xander felt the thrill dance up his spine. "Okay. Put your hands down, at your sides." He watched as the graceful white hands fell away. It was like posing a model, like sculpting, exactly. Molding something, making it perfect, perfect because you said it would be, made it that way. It was also deeply satisfying. "Okay, now move them... hmm. Hold them behind your back, like you did before." Spike lowered his eyes and complied, lithe and beautiful. Xander ran his eyes across the man, excitement thrumming through him. Just like making art, but more immediate, like firing a bb gun all your life and then being given a rifle.
Xander checked the pose, practiced eye catching every nuance. The submission was sweet but... something was missing. "Look at me."
There it was. Shocking blue eyes, lips slightly parted, he looked a little afraid, but then there was the wanting, needing, which had made Xander want him in the first place. It was so trusting, and something in Xander responded to that like a firework responds to a match.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's good." Xander heard the difference in his voice, the new depth. Spike heard it too, because the fear abated a little, and a smidge of the pride he'd shown earlier began to peek through. Good. Let him be proud of himself. Fuck, he should be. It's hard to hold still. Just call me Like-A-Leaf Harris. Xander laughed shakily in the silence of his mind. Supposed to be all mastery here, Will-of-Iron Guy. Giles'd be pissed.

He reached his hands out, let them settle on Spike's belt. He heard Spike pull in a sharp breath, felt the muscles under his fingers twitch, but the cool white hands stayed locked behind Spike's back. "Good boy," Xander praised, and Spike breathed normally. Xander pulled the belt from him slowly, sliding the leather through the shining silver buckle, feeling Spike's body sway with the motion. He drew the belt off with one hand, bracing the other against the soft skin at Spike's shoulder. Xander felt the leather slither and rasp against the black belt loops, felt Spike leaning into him with the pressure, and realized for the first time how much he liked taking off belts. He was almost disappointed when the strip of leather finally lay free in his hand, and he tossed it onto the chair. Spike stood before him, waiting.

Xander's mind raced, talking fast. I want the next part. I want all the parts. It's my project, my work. Until we're finished, he belongs to me. I bought him for three thousand freakin dollars, he's my model, mine. I can do what I paid for, I can tell him anything. I can be who I am, he won't play me. He can't. It's not what he is. I get this from him, I asked for it and he told me I could and he's mine.

His fingers came toward the first button on Spike's jeans and the blond leaned into him, rough denim brushing over his fingers. Eyes still on Xander, the want and need were clear, shimmering in his eyes. Xander let out a breath and slid his fingers between the fabric and Spike's body, surprised when the skin nearly burned him. "You're warm, Spike. Very warm."

Spike bit his lips from the inside, and Xander understood him instantly, as though his thoughts were hovering in the close air. Suddenly, Xander realized something. "Wait, Spike. Wait right here, I'll be right back." He pulled his fingers from the band of Spike's jeans and rushed across the room to the computer panel that controlled the lights. He pushed a few buttons and the lights dimmed and yellowed, giving everything a soft luminous glow. Spike stood where Xander had left him, and as Xander returned, he let his eyes rove over the half-naked man standing so perfectly still on his studio floor, blue eyes still looking at him as instructed.

He neared again, this time standing much closer. "All right, stop looking at me." Spike's eyes flashed to the floor. "Good. Now do it. Slowly." Spike dropped his head to watch his own hands, moving to the buttons, still biting his lips. Xander felt the heat coming off him, standing as close as he was, could almost feel Spike's knuckles brushing the front of his own jeans as he slid the first button free. Spike's breaths were deep and even, but his fingers shook. There was a slight snick as the button was freed, and his jeans fell open just a tiny bit, exposing the skin beneath. Xander wanted more. Now.

The next button went, Spike's blunt fingers pulling at the fabric, then the next. The jeans fell open more each time, and Xander could clearly see now that he wore no underwear.

Good. That's good.

Xander stopped him at the last button, stilling the hands with his own and moving them behind Spike's back. Spike clasped them there, and Xander could hear his breathing get harsher, faster. He moved his own hands to the split fabric, and as he touched a corner, Spike made a tiny high-pitched sound. Xander flicked his eyes up to Spike's face and saw that his eyes were closed, and that he was biting his lips so hard they were white outside.

"Shh." Spike's eyes flew open and he was back to being afraid. He stopped biting his lips, and they fell open just a bit. Xander looked at him gently. "You were supposed to be quiet." Spike was stricken, miserable, instantly, and Xander saw the reason - when Xander'd played the In Charge card, Spike called his bluff, but this was different. This was disappointed, this was Xander needing Spike to be perfect and Spike failing - and Spike couldn't shrug that off. He knew Xander needed him, knew it wasn't a bluff, and if he failed, he really failed. No games.

Xander laid his hand on Spike's head again, and Spike lowered his eyes, ashamed. "Shhhh. It's okay. Just do as I tell you, okay? Exactly. I need you to do that." Spike lifted his eyes, brilliant blue shining with unshed tears, and nodded. "Okay," Xander said, and petted Spike's head, running his fingers through the curls. Spike closed his eyes and rubbed into Xander's hand. "Good boy," Xander told him. "Okay, new rule. You can't say words, but you can make sounds, okay? No words, just sounds. All right?" Spike immediately sighed, open-mouthed, nodding his assent, leaning into Xander's touch. "Good. Good boy. That's my good boy." Spike mmm'd, smiling a little, then steadied himself on his feet and looked up at Xander again in that shy way, little smile on his face, fucking gorgeous.

Xander felt the thrill again, this time through a very different area, and took a deep breath. It's only natural. It's only natural. It's only natural. Oh, God... okay, Xan-man, get a grip. Whatever happens, it doesn't matter, just so long as I get to finish my painting. Gotta get to it.

He swallowed and let his fingers move to Spike's jeans. He took both sides of the fly and pulled them so the last button popped free and the fabric spread apart, exposing the flat belly beneath. The flat belly, and the gracefully curved, shiny-tipped, flushed-red, completely rigid cock beneath.

Xander, unthinking, ran his tongue over his lips, and Spike whimpered, watching the movement. Xander heard it, stepped just a little closer, and Spike swayed toward him. They were almost flush with each other now, could feel the body heat radiating off one another. Xander ran his fingers around to Spike's sides, brushing the skin so lightly that he wasn't really sure Spike could feel them - only his breathing, harsh and ragged, said he could.

Tucking his fingers into Spike's waistband, letting the tips brush lightly along soft skin, Xander took hold of the fabric and pushed at it. He loosened it, pulled at it, but it wouldn't budge. It might as well have been painted onto Spike, and he saw no alternative, so he knelt down and pulled from the legs.
It worked. The jeans slid down Spike's legs. And Spike, high above now, let loose with a long, loud, harsh groan that seemed to come from the deepest part of his being. Xander pulled at the jeans until they pooled around Spike's feet. He kept his eyes carefully averted, but his head was so close to Spike that his hair might have brushed the other man's skin. He barely restrained the urge to lean closer, to feel the slight pressure as his hair parted.
Carefully, he put his hand to the back of Spike's knee and pulled forward. Spike pulled his foot free of the jeans, and Xander murmured to him. "Good boy, good." He took Spike's foot, put it back behind the jeans and placed it on the floor, then did the same to the other foot, making Spike step backward. Xander, eyes still carefully averted, picked up Spike's jeans and stood, turning his back to Spike, folding them carefully and setting them on the chair. And then there was no excuse.

He turned and looked at his Slave, standing naked on the hardwood floor, surrounded by white-draped canvas. Spike's hands were folded behind his back, eyes turned demurely to the ground. He shook, breathing ragged, every motion defined perfectly by the flood of low amber light that bathed every part of him. He stood stiffly, clearly waiting, wanting. As Xander looked on, a tiny drop of clear fluid slid down his proud cock. Xander's eyes followed the drop as it wove its way down, rolling over the shaft, the root, down the tender skin of his balls. Every square inch was completely smooth, devoid of any hair at all. It was so erotic that Xander actually shivered.

"Okay. Good. Now, go get on the bed."
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Chiaroscuro