Dirty Boys
This is for nekid_spike's Kink day!
My kink is: DIRT.
Seriously. I love the boys when they are dirty. Grimey. Filthy. *purrs*
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: Kinky!!
Dirty Boys
Spike threw his spade down, letting it bite deep into the earth at his feet. “This is bollocks. We’ve dug up half this bloody field and found nothing but more dirt. Percy’s dropped the ball on this one. There’s no bloody tomb of Shalshimak anywhere NEAR here.”
“Quit your bitchin’,” Lindsey said. He leaned his head back and smiled up at the sky. “It’s a gorgeous night. I’m outdoors. Can’t think of anywhere better to be.”
Spike glanced skeptically up at the rolling clouds that hid the stars. “Right. For you this is work-release. For me it’s just bloody work!”
Lindsey shrugged. The chains between his ankles chimed pleasantly as he hefted his shovel and went back to work. The bright orange prison jumper he’d been given was half-undone, the sleeves tied around his waist. Dirt had settled over his body, sticking to sweat, but he didn’t care. He loved the smell of it, the feel of being in the open air, part of the land. He glanced at the sullen vampire who was poking his shovel at the edges of the pit they were in like he was pushing bits of cake around his plate. “You know, as the non-supernaturally-strong member of this work team, I can’t help but notice I’m digging faster than you.”
“I’m management,” Spike said with a smirk, tugging on the chain that hooked to his waist and led to Lindsey’s ankles.
“Can ‘management’ tell me which direction we should dig next?”
Spike shrugged, chopping his shovel through the dirt wall in front of him.
“Hey - can management take it’s shirt off?”
Spike turned and frowned at Lindsey, who shrugged, resting his shovel on his shoulder. “Then I’d get a better view, you know, if you ever flexed a muscle.”
“Oy! I’m working just as hard as you are.”
“Yeah, because one of us is all sweaty and the other still has his shirt on.” Lindsey swung his shovel down and hooked a clod of earth which he sent flying into Spike’s back.
Spike threw his shovel out of the pit. The ‘cha-shunk!’ sound of it landing was impressively delayed as he stalked toward Lindsey. “Are you just that stupid, cowboy?”
Lindsey’s smile was bright enough to catch what light there was. “What, was that your favorite identical black t-shirt?”
Spike loomed close to Lindsey, close enough that he could see the fine powder of dirt on the downy hairs of his cheek.
“Right,” Spike said, and ripped his t-shirt off over his head in one smooth move.
Lindsey gasped at the sight. Cool milk-white flesh shone like the hidden moon, clean and perfect against the background of the earthen pit they were standing in. He ached to touch, but his hands were filthy, earth encrusting every fine line. His fingers twitched.
Spike tilted his head back, smug smirk fully in place. “Happy, cowboy?”
“Hardly.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“You’re way the fuck too clean.” And, with a wolfish grin, Lindsey tackled.
They landed hard in the center of the pit. Spike arched and howled, and threw Lindsey away from him, only to have the short chain catch and drag him forward too, half-rolling, half crawling back to his knees. “That hurt!”
“Aw! Sorry, Sally!” Lindsey was already on his hands and knees, circling like a dog. “Can’t take a little dirt?”
Spike brushed a hand over his shoulder, where dark earth veiled his skin like a cloud in front of the moon, but his hand was dirtier still, leaving a dark streak.
Lindsey licked his lips.
Spike, sensing a change in mood, tilted his head, his irritation melting away. “Wot?”
Lindsey pounced again.
“Damn it! Chain’s under my arse!” Spike twisted and the two men rolled across the bottom of the pit, fighting for dominance and wrapping each other up in the short chain that connected them until they came up against a soft incline and stopped.
Lindsey was on the bottom. He lifted his hips, pressing his erection against Spike’s slender hips, needing the friction.
“Well,” said Spike, “It’s been a while.”
“Come on,” Lindsey licked his lips. “Let’s get dirty.”
Faster than humanly possible, Spike shimmied out of his boots and jeans, his body wriggling deliciously over Lindsey’s as he did.
Lindsey tore at the rough material of his jump suit. Happily Spike joined in.
“Damn it!” The legs caught against his ankle chains.
Spike still had the other end around his slender waist, hanging tantalizingly just over the tawny curls, his fat cock bounced up against it now and then, adding a glint of moisture to the shine of metal.
“Double fucking son of a bitch bastard cunt!” Lindsey continued to fight with his pants. “Who the fuck decided to chain my ankles like this?”
Spike ran a hand up Lindsey’s side, fine particles of dirt ground between smooth skin. “It’s so you won’t run away, Linds. You know that, you naughty boy.”
“Yeah? You wanna fuck me with my legs stuck together? Real fuckin’ convenient that’ll be.” Lindsey twisted, wriggling his ass at Spike in demonstration.
Spike slapped the proffered flesh, leaving a red handprint under the dark grime. “Not letting you go, cowboy. Just spread your knees.”
There was something hot and just plain wrong about the suggestion, and the way Spike was struggling to get some slack on the chain so he could come up against Lindsey. It trailed cold against his thigh now, and Spike’s hands ground dirt into his sides.
Lindsey fisted his own cock. The precum at the tip picked up dirt from the ground and made a little ball that he flicked off with his thumb. “You gonna use lube this time, champ?”
“Piss off, spit is perfectly acceptable lube and that was an extenuating circumstance!” Spike managed to crawl so his knees were between Lindsey’s shins, which were stretched at an awkward angle from his bound ankles, his legs trembling slightly already.
A cool breeze picked up and pebbled all their exposed flesh. He ran a hand again up Lindsey’s flank, enjoying the dip of his waist and the way the dry dirt smoothed the passage and caught on the downy hairs, darkening them, making a wild man of the usually smooth-skinned cowboy.
“So you’re stalling now because?”
Spike bit his lip, not willing to admit he hadn’t brought lube - because of course what man would forget lubrication when heading out for a night of hard labor?
He spit into his hand.
“Oh hell no!”
The cowboy bucked and pushed him off. Again they rolled in the dirt, their muscles straining now, all in sharp relief from the hours of strenuous digging.
Lindsey’s cock left a trail of clean along Spike’s now filthy hip. He rubbed it up and down, smearing pre-cum into that perfect curve while his hands grabbed the end of the chain and pressed it against Spike’s throat. “We doing this dry, the magic healing boy goes on bottom!”
“Come on, Linds! ‘S not like your arse hasn’t been stretched to a size fourteen!”
Spike flexed his supple hips, rolling and twisting to get Lindsey off of him, but they were hard against the wall of the pit and Lindsey had leverage on his side. A rain of dirt clods peppered them while Lindsey wriggled and forced his way between Spike’s legs.
By the size of the erection jamming into his belly, Spike didn’t object as much as he let on.
Soft humus and gritty sand made a strange texture between the thin velvet skin of Spike’s cock and the hard planes of Lindsey’s stomach. They ground and moaned against each other, Lindsey’s own dick digging in the dirt as much as nudging Spike’s crack. It was hard to tell which was harder.
“Well, Texas? You gonna get it in or just play around all night?”
Lindsey had to laugh at how quick Spike could change his mind and his ostensible objections.
He spat into his hand and noticed how the liquid was framed in dark lines of wet soil before he rubbed it over his cock. It felt gritty, and he was sure this would sting afterward, but that wasn’t anywhere near lessening his excitement as the breeze picked up again and Spike’s hair was loosed in ghost-white curls.
Spike obligingly lifted his hips as Lindsey pressed and nudged and forced his way in. No, it wasn’t enough lube, but there was something about that which was better, necessary to the moment. A growl of thunder sounded in the air over them. Clouds were moving fast, dark against darker in unfathomable shapes.
Too tight, too hard, too rough, Lindsey hissed and cursed as he slid home. He faltered and lost his hold on Spike, fingers slipping helplessly, unable to grip as he was seized by sensation.
And then the air left his lungs as he was thrown onto his back. Spike rose above him, a dirt-streaked angel, his hair a bright halo, wavering against the roiling clouds.
And he lifted and ground down, the sensation rough like sandpaper. Lindsey gasped and grabbed hips, leaving dark marks as his fingers slid on sweat to find purchase. Spike rose and fell again, and started an undulating ride, forcing shudders of pleasure with each down-stroke. Lindsey felt his cock grasped and engulfed in satin, tight and smooth and fine and wet, a secret heaven in contrast to the rough texture where their sweaty bodies ground dirt into each other.
Divine and profane. Lindsey was going to have to write a song about this.
Lightning flashed, jagged and perfect across the sky.
A first heavy raindrop hit Lindsey’s chest, impacting like a fist. He gasped.
Spike leaned down, changing the angle, grinding exquisitely, he extended his tongue and licked the spot of clean water, dragging it up through the filth on Lindsey’s neck, tasting the sweet earth and salt-sweat.
Lindsey wrapped his arms tight around Spike’s torso, forcing them impossibly closer together. “Gonna cum!”
“No. You’re gonna make it a little longer,” Spike’s husky voice chided, and his cool, wet tongue flicked the shell of his ear, while his body continued its relentless ride, pushing pleasure deeper and deeper, it ran down Lindsey’s cock and up his spine and griped his brain like the velvet tightness that squeezed his dick.
“Fuck. Fuck,” Lindsey thrashed, threw his head back, meeting each grind down with a hard thrust up, he wanted his whole body inside that heaven.
The rain was falling now, a few scattered drops, thick and heavy as pearls.
But these were only grace-notes of sensation. Neither man would have noticed if the pit around them had collapsed and rained boulders on them. Spike’s knees ground up furrows around Lindsey as the raindrops quickened and got smaller, and then a sudden pause broke and the floodgates of heaven were opened, covering them with a deluge of hard, fast rain. Puddles formed quickly around the rutting pair and the ground softened. Spike’s knees were in mud now up to the top of the bone, and he worked even harder, digging Lindsey into the ground with his passion.
Rivulets of dirt were now running over them, mixing with cleaner water, striping around the contours of muscle and flexing, straining tendons.
Lindsey screamed, mouth filling with rainwater as he thrust up hard, hard, hard, body bowed completely off the ground as he spilled his hot seed as deep as he could get it.
Spike was not long after, he growled in anger at Lindsey’s sudden stillness and beat his body down. His hands grabbed the small of Lindsey’s back with cruel force and lifted him from the mud as he ploughed against Lindsey’s abdomen, making harsh, inarticulate sounds until he came with a roar, only the closeness of their bodies preventing the rain from washing the cum away immediately.
He shuddered and fell against the warm human below him, receiving a hot, delicious kiss, warm saliva contrasting now with dead flesh chilled by rain. He licked along Lindsey’s lips and they laughed, rolling in the mud until they were both covered in it. Lindsey’s clothes were a sodden ball of weight between his ankles and Spike’s neon-bright hair was streaked and packed with dark filth.
As they fell side-by-side on their backs and Lindsey whimpered at the loss of touch, and then at his inability to move his legs, Spike laughed again, blinking up against the rain. “Okay,” he said, “Chain’s gotta come off.”
They snickered like it was the best joke ever and fell against each other, kissing, groping, and growing hard again as the mud squished between toes and around legs.
The rain and mud were cold, and Spike was determined to crawl inside the warmth of the cowboy, who was all too eager to accept the friction of the vampire which banished the cold in swaths along his groin where already his cock was half-hard, lifting when exposed to drip rain-water on his hip.
***
Wesley sighed heavily, looking at the two unrepentant and astonishingly filthy men in his office. “When I said we needed to find the altar of Shalshimak before the midsummer night, I did not think you would interpret that as finding it, uncovering it, and then rutting all over it.”
Spike and Lindsey exchanged secret gleeful glances.
“Three times,” Wes said, and sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Which, by sheer coincidence and the unmistakable force of my luck, is precisely the ritual which awakens Shalshimak and his army of succubi. Well done.”
Spike and Lindsey gaped. “Succubi?”
“Score!” They high-fived.
“That was sarcasm,” Wesley said, but no one was listening to him. “Oh, go take a bath!”
Spike waggled his eyebrows at Lindsey, and they left the room with their arms around each other. Wesley opened up a fresh document and started composing a memo on the subject of never, EVER sending Spike and Lindsey out alone on a job together, ever again. Ever.
The End!
My kink is: DIRT.
Seriously. I love the boys when they are dirty. Grimey. Filthy. *purrs*
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey
Rating: Kinky!!
Dirty Boys
Spike threw his spade down, letting it bite deep into the earth at his feet. “This is bollocks. We’ve dug up half this bloody field and found nothing but more dirt. Percy’s dropped the ball on this one. There’s no bloody tomb of Shalshimak anywhere NEAR here.”
“Quit your bitchin’,” Lindsey said. He leaned his head back and smiled up at the sky. “It’s a gorgeous night. I’m outdoors. Can’t think of anywhere better to be.”
Spike glanced skeptically up at the rolling clouds that hid the stars. “Right. For you this is work-release. For me it’s just bloody work!”
Lindsey shrugged. The chains between his ankles chimed pleasantly as he hefted his shovel and went back to work. The bright orange prison jumper he’d been given was half-undone, the sleeves tied around his waist. Dirt had settled over his body, sticking to sweat, but he didn’t care. He loved the smell of it, the feel of being in the open air, part of the land. He glanced at the sullen vampire who was poking his shovel at the edges of the pit they were in like he was pushing bits of cake around his plate. “You know, as the non-supernaturally-strong member of this work team, I can’t help but notice I’m digging faster than you.”
“I’m management,” Spike said with a smirk, tugging on the chain that hooked to his waist and led to Lindsey’s ankles.
“Can ‘management’ tell me which direction we should dig next?”
Spike shrugged, chopping his shovel through the dirt wall in front of him.
“Hey - can management take it’s shirt off?”
Spike turned and frowned at Lindsey, who shrugged, resting his shovel on his shoulder. “Then I’d get a better view, you know, if you ever flexed a muscle.”
“Oy! I’m working just as hard as you are.”
“Yeah, because one of us is all sweaty and the other still has his shirt on.” Lindsey swung his shovel down and hooked a clod of earth which he sent flying into Spike’s back.
Spike threw his shovel out of the pit. The ‘cha-shunk!’ sound of it landing was impressively delayed as he stalked toward Lindsey. “Are you just that stupid, cowboy?”
Lindsey’s smile was bright enough to catch what light there was. “What, was that your favorite identical black t-shirt?”
Spike loomed close to Lindsey, close enough that he could see the fine powder of dirt on the downy hairs of his cheek.
“Right,” Spike said, and ripped his t-shirt off over his head in one smooth move.
Lindsey gasped at the sight. Cool milk-white flesh shone like the hidden moon, clean and perfect against the background of the earthen pit they were standing in. He ached to touch, but his hands were filthy, earth encrusting every fine line. His fingers twitched.
Spike tilted his head back, smug smirk fully in place. “Happy, cowboy?”
“Hardly.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“You’re way the fuck too clean.” And, with a wolfish grin, Lindsey tackled.
They landed hard in the center of the pit. Spike arched and howled, and threw Lindsey away from him, only to have the short chain catch and drag him forward too, half-rolling, half crawling back to his knees. “That hurt!”
“Aw! Sorry, Sally!” Lindsey was already on his hands and knees, circling like a dog. “Can’t take a little dirt?”
Spike brushed a hand over his shoulder, where dark earth veiled his skin like a cloud in front of the moon, but his hand was dirtier still, leaving a dark streak.
Lindsey licked his lips.
Spike, sensing a change in mood, tilted his head, his irritation melting away. “Wot?”
Lindsey pounced again.
“Damn it! Chain’s under my arse!” Spike twisted and the two men rolled across the bottom of the pit, fighting for dominance and wrapping each other up in the short chain that connected them until they came up against a soft incline and stopped.
Lindsey was on the bottom. He lifted his hips, pressing his erection against Spike’s slender hips, needing the friction.
“Well,” said Spike, “It’s been a while.”
“Come on,” Lindsey licked his lips. “Let’s get dirty.”
Faster than humanly possible, Spike shimmied out of his boots and jeans, his body wriggling deliciously over Lindsey’s as he did.
Lindsey tore at the rough material of his jump suit. Happily Spike joined in.
“Damn it!” The legs caught against his ankle chains.
Spike still had the other end around his slender waist, hanging tantalizingly just over the tawny curls, his fat cock bounced up against it now and then, adding a glint of moisture to the shine of metal.
“Double fucking son of a bitch bastard cunt!” Lindsey continued to fight with his pants. “Who the fuck decided to chain my ankles like this?”
Spike ran a hand up Lindsey’s side, fine particles of dirt ground between smooth skin. “It’s so you won’t run away, Linds. You know that, you naughty boy.”
“Yeah? You wanna fuck me with my legs stuck together? Real fuckin’ convenient that’ll be.” Lindsey twisted, wriggling his ass at Spike in demonstration.
Spike slapped the proffered flesh, leaving a red handprint under the dark grime. “Not letting you go, cowboy. Just spread your knees.”
There was something hot and just plain wrong about the suggestion, and the way Spike was struggling to get some slack on the chain so he could come up against Lindsey. It trailed cold against his thigh now, and Spike’s hands ground dirt into his sides.
Lindsey fisted his own cock. The precum at the tip picked up dirt from the ground and made a little ball that he flicked off with his thumb. “You gonna use lube this time, champ?”
“Piss off, spit is perfectly acceptable lube and that was an extenuating circumstance!” Spike managed to crawl so his knees were between Lindsey’s shins, which were stretched at an awkward angle from his bound ankles, his legs trembling slightly already.
A cool breeze picked up and pebbled all their exposed flesh. He ran a hand again up Lindsey’s flank, enjoying the dip of his waist and the way the dry dirt smoothed the passage and caught on the downy hairs, darkening them, making a wild man of the usually smooth-skinned cowboy.
“So you’re stalling now because?”
Spike bit his lip, not willing to admit he hadn’t brought lube - because of course what man would forget lubrication when heading out for a night of hard labor?
He spit into his hand.
“Oh hell no!”
The cowboy bucked and pushed him off. Again they rolled in the dirt, their muscles straining now, all in sharp relief from the hours of strenuous digging.
Lindsey’s cock left a trail of clean along Spike’s now filthy hip. He rubbed it up and down, smearing pre-cum into that perfect curve while his hands grabbed the end of the chain and pressed it against Spike’s throat. “We doing this dry, the magic healing boy goes on bottom!”
“Come on, Linds! ‘S not like your arse hasn’t been stretched to a size fourteen!”
Spike flexed his supple hips, rolling and twisting to get Lindsey off of him, but they were hard against the wall of the pit and Lindsey had leverage on his side. A rain of dirt clods peppered them while Lindsey wriggled and forced his way between Spike’s legs.
By the size of the erection jamming into his belly, Spike didn’t object as much as he let on.
Soft humus and gritty sand made a strange texture between the thin velvet skin of Spike’s cock and the hard planes of Lindsey’s stomach. They ground and moaned against each other, Lindsey’s own dick digging in the dirt as much as nudging Spike’s crack. It was hard to tell which was harder.
“Well, Texas? You gonna get it in or just play around all night?”
Lindsey had to laugh at how quick Spike could change his mind and his ostensible objections.
He spat into his hand and noticed how the liquid was framed in dark lines of wet soil before he rubbed it over his cock. It felt gritty, and he was sure this would sting afterward, but that wasn’t anywhere near lessening his excitement as the breeze picked up again and Spike’s hair was loosed in ghost-white curls.
Spike obligingly lifted his hips as Lindsey pressed and nudged and forced his way in. No, it wasn’t enough lube, but there was something about that which was better, necessary to the moment. A growl of thunder sounded in the air over them. Clouds were moving fast, dark against darker in unfathomable shapes.
Too tight, too hard, too rough, Lindsey hissed and cursed as he slid home. He faltered and lost his hold on Spike, fingers slipping helplessly, unable to grip as he was seized by sensation.
And then the air left his lungs as he was thrown onto his back. Spike rose above him, a dirt-streaked angel, his hair a bright halo, wavering against the roiling clouds.
And he lifted and ground down, the sensation rough like sandpaper. Lindsey gasped and grabbed hips, leaving dark marks as his fingers slid on sweat to find purchase. Spike rose and fell again, and started an undulating ride, forcing shudders of pleasure with each down-stroke. Lindsey felt his cock grasped and engulfed in satin, tight and smooth and fine and wet, a secret heaven in contrast to the rough texture where their sweaty bodies ground dirt into each other.
Divine and profane. Lindsey was going to have to write a song about this.
Lightning flashed, jagged and perfect across the sky.
A first heavy raindrop hit Lindsey’s chest, impacting like a fist. He gasped.
Spike leaned down, changing the angle, grinding exquisitely, he extended his tongue and licked the spot of clean water, dragging it up through the filth on Lindsey’s neck, tasting the sweet earth and salt-sweat.
Lindsey wrapped his arms tight around Spike’s torso, forcing them impossibly closer together. “Gonna cum!”
“No. You’re gonna make it a little longer,” Spike’s husky voice chided, and his cool, wet tongue flicked the shell of his ear, while his body continued its relentless ride, pushing pleasure deeper and deeper, it ran down Lindsey’s cock and up his spine and griped his brain like the velvet tightness that squeezed his dick.
“Fuck. Fuck,” Lindsey thrashed, threw his head back, meeting each grind down with a hard thrust up, he wanted his whole body inside that heaven.
The rain was falling now, a few scattered drops, thick and heavy as pearls.
But these were only grace-notes of sensation. Neither man would have noticed if the pit around them had collapsed and rained boulders on them. Spike’s knees ground up furrows around Lindsey as the raindrops quickened and got smaller, and then a sudden pause broke and the floodgates of heaven were opened, covering them with a deluge of hard, fast rain. Puddles formed quickly around the rutting pair and the ground softened. Spike’s knees were in mud now up to the top of the bone, and he worked even harder, digging Lindsey into the ground with his passion.
Rivulets of dirt were now running over them, mixing with cleaner water, striping around the contours of muscle and flexing, straining tendons.
Lindsey screamed, mouth filling with rainwater as he thrust up hard, hard, hard, body bowed completely off the ground as he spilled his hot seed as deep as he could get it.
Spike was not long after, he growled in anger at Lindsey’s sudden stillness and beat his body down. His hands grabbed the small of Lindsey’s back with cruel force and lifted him from the mud as he ploughed against Lindsey’s abdomen, making harsh, inarticulate sounds until he came with a roar, only the closeness of their bodies preventing the rain from washing the cum away immediately.
He shuddered and fell against the warm human below him, receiving a hot, delicious kiss, warm saliva contrasting now with dead flesh chilled by rain. He licked along Lindsey’s lips and they laughed, rolling in the mud until they were both covered in it. Lindsey’s clothes were a sodden ball of weight between his ankles and Spike’s neon-bright hair was streaked and packed with dark filth.
As they fell side-by-side on their backs and Lindsey whimpered at the loss of touch, and then at his inability to move his legs, Spike laughed again, blinking up against the rain. “Okay,” he said, “Chain’s gotta come off.”
They snickered like it was the best joke ever and fell against each other, kissing, groping, and growing hard again as the mud squished between toes and around legs.
The rain and mud were cold, and Spike was determined to crawl inside the warmth of the cowboy, who was all too eager to accept the friction of the vampire which banished the cold in swaths along his groin where already his cock was half-hard, lifting when exposed to drip rain-water on his hip.
***
Wesley sighed heavily, looking at the two unrepentant and astonishingly filthy men in his office. “When I said we needed to find the altar of Shalshimak before the midsummer night, I did not think you would interpret that as finding it, uncovering it, and then rutting all over it.”
Spike and Lindsey exchanged secret gleeful glances.
“Three times,” Wes said, and sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Which, by sheer coincidence and the unmistakable force of my luck, is precisely the ritual which awakens Shalshimak and his army of succubi. Well done.”
Spike and Lindsey gaped. “Succubi?”
“Score!” They high-fived.
“That was sarcasm,” Wesley said, but no one was listening to him. “Oh, go take a bath!”
Spike waggled his eyebrows at Lindsey, and they left the room with their arms around each other. Wesley opened up a fresh document and started composing a memo on the subject of never, EVER sending Spike and Lindsey out alone on a job together, ever again. Ever.
The End!