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FIC: Sun - S/X - NC-17
Okay, my site is down for the moment, aff.net annoys me with the “too many connections” error… I give up and post one of my fics here.
Title: SUN
Pairing: S/X
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none, AU in Season 4 BtVS
Warnings: graphic gay sex – duh!
Disclaimer: plot is mine, boys are not *cries*
Parts: 4 (3.512 words)
Part 1/4
Spike’s POV
~~~~~~~~~
My new cage: Xander fucking Harris’ bloody basement.
When I am not tied to a chair; I am trapped by the sun.
Fucking nuts is what I get here, bleeding fucking damn nuts.
But I found myself a prezzie today. Strolled through the house while Harris’ idiot parents were out. Discovered a nice stack of booze. Cheap booze, nevertheless alcohol to make the time pass faster, make it blur and whirl without meaning.
It’s a way to avoid facing things. Alcohol is. Sometimes it’s the only way to face things without breaking apart and crying like some stupid bint. Or so I tell myself. More and more successfully with every drop of the liquid fire, burning down my throat.
By the time I hear the heavy steps of working boots nearing, announcing the whelp’s appearance, I am in the „everything-is-so-fucking-funny-I-will-start-to-bawl-any-moment-now“ state.
Bloody fucking he… llo, gorgeous! Didn’t know the whelp was hiding *that* body from me! I can bloody well *feel* my eyes bugging when I take in the bared torso, the blue dirty jeans riding low on his hips, the t-shirt hanging out of the tool box he carries, making the biceps jump when he pulls it up to place it on the sideboard.
„Spike.“ He greets through gritted teeth. Angry. „Where did you get the bottles?“ He points first to the two empty ones on the floor then to the one in my hand. I watch his pecs flex, working. Bottles? What bottles? Where did you get those abs?
I think I just keep grinning madly at him. It’s not that I could actually say something without making a *slippery* innuendo. And that was not the brightest idea I’d ever had.
Stomping hard on the floor, he comes towards me, his face distorted with rage, the muscles on the tanned torso dancing seductively.
With my mind still on the delicious body, I react on instinct only.
Like a child I pull my bottle behind my back. To do this while sitting on a chair, I *have* to arch my back, thrust my hips forward, square my shoulders.
Grabbing for the bottle, his hand follows mine behind my back, closes around the bottle neck, the other hand supports his weight on the arm of the chair. His face is now so near to mine, less than two inches between our lips.
And now I can feel it:
Through the red button-up and the black t-shirt seeps his heat.
His whole body radiates heat after he’s spent a day working in the sunshine.
Delicious, searing heat.
Nothing like the burning of the cheap booze down my throat.
This is real.
This is as close as I can get to the sun: bathing in the borrowed warmth, enjoying the lingering traces of deadly rays of sunlight secondhand.
I breathe in deeply, scenting what the shining globe did to him.
Smelling sun warmed dirt, sun caused perspiration, sun bleached hair, sun colored skin.
Smelling sunshine.
Pure simple spiritual light.
Cleansing light.
All devouring, all demanding, all causing, all including light.
I open my eyes to glistening dark pools.
„Spike have you…“
„Can I touch you?“ My voice is hoarse, breathless and needy. „Please.“ Whispered.
The anger disappears from his eyes and confusion clouds them.
„Spike?“ So confused.
„Wanna touch you. Can I touch you? Let me touch you…“ I am whining now, I don’t care. I just have to have some of the heat, the light, the sun that clings to him.
„Spike, you’re drunk. You…“ He trails off, when my hand comes up, hovers millimeters over the tanned skin of one of his pecs. He shudders lightly when he feels my coldness chilling his flesh. His nipple rises, begs to be touched. Standing taut and erect the tiny nub covers the missing distance, stretches to my waiting finger tip.
It feels like the littlest hot poker against my digit and he gasps, when finally the small contact is registered by his brain. My finger has to feel like an ice cube to his sun heated flesh.
I hope you enjoyed.
More? *smirks*
ON TO PART 2
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hee hee
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wanna chat? msn or yahoo?
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Will there be more of Wolf Tracks? I really liked that one!
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Yes there will be more Wolf Tracks. Actually I'm gonna come up with a different title, cause for the challenge it had to be a finished fic. So I could leave it there, but I don't want to. :)
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