Spike stood in the shadow of the alley watching Xander shout out orders, shirt off, skin glistening with sweat in the afternoon sun. He was waiting for the sun to go down, for the workmen to leave, for Xander to be alone with his paperwork. Because once all of that happened, the next step in Spike's plan could come to fruition. Oh he knew that the scoobies laughed at him, how his plans never quite seemed to work out right. But this one - yeah, this one was going to work just fine. He'd done everything he needed to to ensure that was the case.
Funny how the items on his list had changed as time went by. It had once consisted of wholesale slaughter but watching and waiting had shown him that there were other things than slaughter. Angelus had taught him a few things about torture although he still thought that last time the old git had been around if he'd spent less time taunting and more time killing, things would have been a lot different.
He had gone through his to-do list quite efficiently, even if he did say so himself. A fella that owed him a favour provided the hoodoo that locked Red in a mental labyrinth that she would most likely never escape. That girls had always thought she was more intelligent than the rest of them - he'd merely been giving her the chance to prove it.
A blind Watcher wasn't going to see very much but then Rupert didn't really deserve to die so much as have to rely on someone else for the rest of his life - see how he liked being treated like an impotent nuisance.
And the Slayer? Well that had been a work of art in itself. She'd been so sure that one day Angel would change his mind and come back to her, and the daft cow had never been able to tell the different between Angel and Angelus. The look in her eyes had been the sweetest revenge for the months of threats, casual violence and disdain that Spike had suffered.
And then there was one.
Creator of all sorts of nicknames that stung a chipped vampire: Fangless and Bleached Menace to name but two of them. Deserving of the personal touch was this one. And Spike fully intended to do a lot of personal touching. After all, the boy described himself as a nummy treat - all that tanned, warm flesh; big, hazel eyes that followed Spike as he strode around; a mouth that was framing insults while the body language said he would much rather be doing something else with it.......
After the last six months, Spike felt he was most deserving of a treat and he could definitely think of more than a few uses for that mouth. Rolling and lighting a cigarette, Spike squinted up at the skyline - a few more hours til sundown and then Xander Harris was all his....
200 words ~ RtheladymerlinSeptember 24 2011, 20:52:05 UTC
Xander Harris was all his...all that tanned skin over muscles well-defined by hours of manual labour making hands itch to rub over the planes and dips, soaking up all that heat from being out in the hot summer sun until his hands were as warm as when he'd been alive. He could hardly wait to run his tongue along his broad chest with its sprinkling of hairs. Travelling in an ever downward spiral, slowly making his way to his goal. That good size bulge normally hidden beneath baggy, brightly coloured clothing. He was nearly drooling at the thought of peeling away the hideous trousers and ripping away boxers undoubtedly sporting silly cartoon characters. He could hardly wait to discover for himself how well endowed the boy was and wrap his lips around his length until the boy was babbling and begging for more. Showing the boy what it felt like to be spilt open and laid bare. He wanted to find out for himself just why the demon chit had called him a Viking in the sack and make Xander believe Spike was his only reason for living. Oh yeah, Xander Harris was all his...he just didn't know it yet.
Funny how the items on his list had changed as time went by. It had once consisted of wholesale slaughter but watching and waiting had shown him that there were other things than slaughter. Angelus had taught him a few things about torture although he still thought that last time the old git had been around if he'd spent less time taunting and more time killing, things would have been a lot different.
He had gone through his to-do list quite efficiently, even if he did say so himself. A fella that owed him a favour provided the hoodoo that locked Red in a mental labyrinth that she would most likely never escape. That girls had always thought she was more intelligent than the rest of them - he'd merely been giving her the chance to prove it.
A blind Watcher wasn't going to see very much but then Rupert didn't really deserve to die so much as have to rely on someone else for the rest of his life - see how he liked being treated like an impotent nuisance.
And the Slayer? Well that had been a work of art in itself. She'd been so sure that one day Angel would change his mind and come back to her, and the daft cow had never been able to tell the different between Angel and Angelus. The look in her eyes had been the sweetest revenge for the months of threats, casual violence and disdain that Spike had suffered.
And then there was one.
Creator of all sorts of nicknames that stung a chipped vampire: Fangless and Bleached Menace to name but two of them. Deserving of the personal touch was this one. And Spike fully intended to do a lot of personal touching. After all, the boy described himself as a nummy treat - all that tanned, warm flesh; big, hazel eyes that followed Spike as he strode around; a mouth that was framing insults while the body language said he would much rather be doing something else with it.......
After the last six months, Spike felt he was most deserving of a treat and he could definitely think of more than a few uses for that mouth. Rolling and lighting a cigarette, Spike squinted up at the skyline - a few more hours til sundown and then Xander Harris was all his....
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment