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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, Herbert Spencer.
"Gonna fuck you."
Spike froze in the doorway of their hotel room. Xander's voice was like sandpaper against his ear, catching and pulling at his skin. The vampire shuddered once, but before he could respond, a pair of very familiar hands landed on his back, pushing him forward.
"So hard," Xander continued, voice little more than a hiss, "that your eyes roll back in your head and you choke on your tongue."
"Ah--" Spike tried to respond, but Xander already had one hand worked into his jeans. Plain black clothing went flying this way and that, but all Spike could do was thrust into the hand on his cock and whimper brokenly. Then the hand was gone and Xander was positioning Spike in front of the window, hands splayed on the frame and legs spread wide.
The disappearance of Xander's hands from his wrists was all the warning Spike got. Those hands reappeared on his hips just as Xander's cock pushed into his unprepared body. The first jolt of burning pain rolled through him, making his eyes flash yellow. A dark-hazy city drifted and slid before him, seething humanity laid out in a black-draped vista--his visual entertainment while Xander made and remade his body into a simple vessel of sensation.
Xander bit his lip against the overwhelming feel of Spike's body dragging him in. Dry, warming quickly from friction and effort, Spike clamped strong muscles around Xander's cock, holding him in. Xander's hips snapped back, his hands pushing at Spike to accentuate the maneuver. Then the direction changed and Spike hissed as Xander shoved back inside him. Heat built in his skin as Xander rode him hard and rough. The blonde's pale cock jutted out angrily from his groin, moist from arousal and wanting for contact. Spike couldn't touch himself; both of his hands were needed to keep them from flying though the window.
Xander looked over Spike's shoulder at his solitary reflection in the glass. He knew the vampire was in his demonic visage, even without a mirrored image glaring back at him. Warm, human hands slid around Spike's hips to gather the blonde's genitals.
Spike felt the touch of Xander's hands on his cock and balls and began to sigh in relief--a sound that quickly turned into a breathless scream when those hands tightened cruelly, twisting and pulling. The pain was brutal and unexpected--although it shouldn't have shocked him, given how Xander was riding him without pity. Still, the instantaneous conversion of pleasure to pain was enough to dissolve the vampire's control.
Xander gasped as Spike convulsed around him, hard enough to keep the human from moving. The pressure was nearly painful, ripples of convulsing muscles milking him ruthlessly. In his hands, Spike's body jerked and spasmed, cold seed coating his fingers with slick silkiness. He lifted one hand to Spike's lips, letting the blonde clean himself of Xander's hands.
At the first touch of that cold tongue, Xander let himself come, living heat for once not a shock as it filled Spike's dead body.
"Ninety-three," Xander murmured, pulling out of a still-blinking Spike. "Sun's about to rise."
Spike took a minute to pull himself together before closing the curtains. By the time he was finished, Xander had the bed covers pulled back and was half-asleep, draped along one side like a warm marble statue. Sleep never seemed so attractive.
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