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href="non90.html">90Sajinn
No, they aren’t mine. I wish they were, but they aren’t. They belong to their creators. No money is being made. I just take them out, put them in pretty dresses, and make them fight each other. No harm, no foul. Feed the writer. Review.
Happy Birthday, AJ.
Spike listened to Xander showering, letting the object in his hands roll around and around. Despite the previous night's 'discussion', the vampire knew that Xander's insecurities were still seething below the surface. It drove Spike crazy, but he understood the boy's situation. All other things aside, Spike was well over a century older than the human, and humans often had odd views of May-December romances... The blonde stifled a giggle at images of black-and-white 50s movies. Xander in a smoking jacket... It was several moments before his composure returned.
Xander's chronic insecurities were why Spike was holding a rather unique object in his hands. Some months before, Xander had presented him with a collar, thus giving himself to the vampire. Though he'd accepted--who wouldn't?--the promises of those lost nights at the Absinthe Room were little more than faded smoke clinging to velvet. Now it was time for Spike to take the initiative, and in a way that time would not wither.
"What's that?" Xander asked as he stepped out of the bathroom, still dripping from his shower. Spike was playing with some sort of metal band, tossing it in the air and catching it with nimble fingers.
"Come here," Spike commanded, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. Xander didn't even blink as he fell to his knees at Spike's feet. The vampire played with the band for a moment longer, before turning to look at Xander.
"You belong to me," Spike commented, his voice even and light.
"Yes," Xander replied. He'd given himself over to Spike a long time ago.
"I begin to think you'd forgotten that," The blonde continued, as through Xander hadn't spoken.
"No," Xander denied vehemently. "I...I can't forget. Not ever."
"Perhaps you need a reminder," Spike finished, his eyes finally meeting Xander's. Crystal blue burned with intense heat. One slender hand came into view, holding up the plain metal band. Xander was distracted by the movement and looked over.
The metal surface was dark and mottled, though strangely smooth. Barely wider than his thumb, the metal was just thick enough to feel solid against bare skin.
"Give me your neck," Spike murmured, eyes narrowing. Xander swallowed, glancing at the band. he didn't see any openings, latches or clasps. That meant magic, and magic meant that it wouldn't just unbuckle and slide off like his other collar.
Spike's cock hardened as Xander exposed his neck, muscles rippling under tanned skin. He brushed that quivering flesh with the band, immediately liking the contrast between his lover's skin and the Damascus steel. A whispered word and the band unraveled into a silky spiral, no more than a feathery mass of hair-fine steel threads. The vampire let one end drape over Xander's shoulder, and then began to wind the spider-silk stuff around the boy's neck.
Around and around the steel went, until finally the last bit fell through Spike's fingers and drifted down onto Xander's neck. As it touched, the band shimmered back into form, once again becoming an unbroken circle.
"Mine," Spike whispered, possessiveness putting an edge into his voice. The word broke Xander's paralysis, but he restrained himself.
Spike let his hands drift down to Xander's forearms, tugging until the boy leaned up. Blue bled into yellow as the vampire shifted form, letting striking ridges brush against Xander's cheek. A warm gasp floated through the room as ivory split living skin, drawing forth ruby blood.
Xander fell open, offering up everything he was to the vampire before him. Every drop of his life that poured forth was a deafening cry of ecstasy. His body sang, reaching into the blonde and finding only welcoming, comforting darkness. Spike curled around the human, similarly affected by this embrace.
Steel dug into the muscles of Xander's throat as they twisted and stretched, the occasional smear of blood staining the smooth surface. Xander managed to work a hand between them, freeing Spike's cock. Rough fingers brought them together. A few short strokes was all it took for both men to climax, hot and cold mingling on the dusty floor.
"Mine," Spike repeated, voice tinged with the demon that hadn't yet receded. A finger traced the edge of the metal band. "Don't question me again."
Xander nodded slowly. Spike nodded once, leaning back. The boy stood on shaky legs, using his still-damp towel to clean them up. The sun was down again, and both men were starving.
"Eighty-four," He whispered as Spike led him out of the hotel room, a slender hand draped over his shoulders. Above the flat band collar of Xander's shirt, a plain steel band shone dully.
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