The Nature of Things
Title: The Nature of Things
Rating: NC17
Summary: "Willow’s kicked puppy look had me wondering just how quickly we Scoobies tend to forget the nature of things, especially when it comes to Spike."
AN: Finally managed to get the two together for a fic.
PS: This is really not beta'd, and written in about an hour so please forgive any mistakes. Also, comments on writing in the first person are welcome, I'm not used to it.
If anyone ever asked I’d lie and say I didn’t know when it started. Fein stupidity and they’d buy it, because if there is one thing I’m good at, it’s being donut boy. I don’t see it as a bad thing, mostly it just is. In this case it comes in handy. Then again, the likelihood of someone asking when I started sleeping with Spike is about as likely as someone asking me when I’d started spending the weekends in drag. Only, y’know, I’ve never done the drag thing.
We don’t have romance and flowers and things that made girls go goo-goo-eyed for all those guys on a first name basis with their hairdresser. If I’m being honest we barely have friendship. Mostly it’s just mind-bendingly good sex. I kind of like it that to be honest. There’s no confusion, no expectations and I’m a definite fan of the lack of expectation.
So the whole guy thing took a little getting used to, but there’s something to be said for someone who has spent as long as Spike has learning what he likes. Especially when his parts and my parts are the same. So yeah, we tolerate each other, and when we aren’t flinging insults we’re making with the wild monkey love. I never said it makes sense, but there it is.
While I may be sleeping with the bleached menace, I’m not stupid. I know what he is, and what I am. Which is why I’m in no way surprised when he betrayed us to Adam. Not that I’m ever going to tell anyone, but the sex after that whole debacle was over was something out of this world. Nothing like the angry mumbo, I tell you.
Willow’s kicked puppy look had me wondering just how quickly we Scoobies tend to forget the nature of things, especially when it comes to Spike. I’m not saying I wasn’t angry over the whole sell-out-the-good-guys plan, but I would have been surprised if he didn’t try it. I may like the side effects of the chip, mostly the Xander’s-still-alive one, but that piece of silicone and metal is unnatural. I don’t blame him for trying to get it out.
I’m not sure what makes me tell him that, probably the fact that the rest of the gang have just about put him on their “kill on sight” list and I know he feels a little down about that, and about the fact that at the end of his latest master plan, he still has the chip. We’re not friends, but a man can’t get laid if the other half of this freaky twosome is sulking in a corner.
“Don’t blame you.” I’m not surprised when he doesn’t seem to hear me; he’s got a good sulk going.
“Course you bloody don’t, I’m a demon.” The pause before he answers is so long I’ve almost forgotten I said anything in the first place.
“I know. I’ve never forgotten that.” And for some reason I’m not going to look at too closely, that seems to cheer him up.
Then I watch that slight smile turn into a sneer and can almost feel the insult colour the air before he speaks, one hand cupping his crotch like the obscenity of it is going to offend me, “Like getting your hands dirty with a demon, Harris? That what this is all about?”
It always comes back to this. Spike throwing his nature in my face like it’s somehow going to change… something. I don’t really know what he’s trying to prove whenever we come to this topic, since I can honestly say I’ve never forgotten what he is, and the blatant sexual overtones are pretty much just hot.
So I say as much - ignoring the sexual innuendo - for what feels like the hundredth time since this whole thing started so many months ago, “I’ve never forgotten what, or who, you are, Spike.”
Normally, that would be the end of the argument. He’d curl his tongue behind his teeth, grab me with one hand behind my head and the other in my belt loops and off we’d go again. This time though, his eyes sharpen into something that makes me unconsciously take a step back.
“It’s not the demon factor then hmm? What is it? Getting off on fucking someone who can’t defend themselves?” And this line isn’t brought out often, but I’ve seen it before.
“You can say no, Spike. And you know I’d listen if you did. We may not be bosom buddies, but I’m not about to force myself on you.” Clearly the logical argument train of thought is just pissing him off, since his eyes have a gleam in them I’ve never seen before and I take another step back. This is not how these arguments usually play out. Normally we’re half way to naked by now and I’m concerned by the change in the script.
“So that’s it, is it? Too much of a nancy to try and find yourself a bloke the old fashioned way. And why bother when you have a perfectly good one lying around.” He’s almost vibrating with tension and I realise I’m so far in the deep end I don’t even know which way is up anymore.
“What are you talking about bleach?” I asked, forced casual and yeah, it’s transparent but I’m worried.
“Didn’t answer me, Harris. You working through some belated Boy Scout fantasy? Had enough of cheerleaders so thought you’d try for the wrestling team and I’m just the Big Bad to give you a taste, hmm?” Clearly I’ve spent too much time around him, since that step into insanity almost made sense.
“I don’t fuck men Spike, I don’t intend to start fucking men. I just fuck you.” Yeah, it’s blunt, but since boy wonder here seems to be sliding the slippery slope into freaking me the hell out, anything to diffuse the tension is of the good right now.
Clearly something of that sentence gets to him, since he pauses from where I’ve only just realised he’s started stalking me across the room, cocking his head. And I realise there’s something almost… vulnerable in his eyes. Ok, maybe we are friends, since I’m suddenly worried about his stupid self.
Inching towards him the same way I see people try to get close to wounded animals, I hold my hand out and very carefully don’t flinch when he glares at it.
“I’ve never forgotten what you are Spike. You’re a demon, and you saw a way to get the chip out. I would have been surprised if you didn’t try to work a deal with Adam. Buffy and the others… they… they tend to think that co-operation and friendship mean the same thing.” I have no clue what I’m trying to do, other than take that look out of his eyes that reminds me of a tiger I once saw at the zoo, pacing constantly up and down the fence line with eyes as empty as the savannah.
He’s passive when I reach him, but for blue eyes staring balefully at me. I mirror our normal routine, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other curling into his belt loops. I don’t kiss him, just hold his face close to mine and breathe warm air across his lips.
“Show me.” I’m pretty damn sure my sanity has left the state when the face reforms in a ripple like water and I’m staring into yellow eyes.
I keep looking as I push him down onto the folded out couch, trying very hard not to treat him like the spun glass I’m suddenly reminded of. Deliberately I rake nails down his forearms, reminding myself as much as him that I know what he is. I try to ignore the way his answering growl clenches my stomach.
Pressing thin wrists into the worn bedding I can’t help but notice how well we work together like this. I ask without words whether he needs me to tie his hands to keep them in place. His answer is also wordless; barely twitching when I release the limbs and pull his shirt from those incredibly tight pants.
This isn’t how things normally go. None of this is normal. But something in me tells me that this is what he needs. His clothes are stripped off with bites hard enough to leave teeth marks for the amount of time it takes me to get him naked. Mine go… somewhere. I don’t quite remember taking them off, but I must have since there they are, on the floor.
The bites I put on his skin as I make my way up his body are hard enough that I’d never try them on a human. Normally I’d never try them on him either, but when the first one has him arching his spine like a bow, I can’t resist. Xander see a button, Xander push a button. The one to his throat may have been excessive, since it’s already an angry purple bruise when I pull away, but his eyes are staring at me like I’m God.
I can’t help but shudder at the sight of him, bound by nothing more than my request and his own choice, looking at me with yellow eyes like I have the answers to everything. I push down the panic I can feel growing in response to the look on his face and shift my hips instead. This time the growl really does make me shiver, and yellow eyes narrow at the knowledge.
His hands stay where I’ve put them but his hips are moving in an unmistakable pattern of “I know I’m sex on legs and I know you want me”. I’m so far past denying it I just bite down on the other side of his neck and ride the sudden kick of his pelvis back down.
“I know what you are, Spike.” I whisper the words in his ear, grinning at the shiver the warm air produces.
He doesn’t answer me but his hips slow slightly and I know he’s listening.
“I know you’re a demon, a vampire.” I can feel him stifle the shiver this time, and nip his neck again in retaliation for his sudden self-control, shifting my hips until his legs are on either side of mine, calves sliding up my thighs to find just the right angle for the rasp of skin on skin.
He must have moved an arm since there’s suddenly a familiar tube being pressed into my hand and those yellow eyes are daring me to say something about it. I grin and bite his lip instead. Too hard for a human but just right for a vampire, who’s suddenly arching up and pressing down and I have to use my free hand to hold his hips still.
I want to take longer, something that has nothing to do with vampire or human and everything to do with my concern for the person in bed with me, but his eyes are a challenge, his heels in the backs of my thighs a demand. He growls again, a long sound on the slow glide. I know it’s deliberate when his face flashes victory at the sudden buck of my hips. I can feel my own narrow in response.
I press him into the bed with the weight of me in him, holding him there only because he allows himself to be held.
Another bite to his neck, hard enough that he almost bucks me off, a single pant giving lie to the affected expression of nonchalance that would look ridiculous on anyone else given the current situation. On him it just makes me bear down with teeth and hips again.
We’re both panting slightly when I press my lips against his ear again, “You’re a vampire, Spike; a fighter. I’ve watched you tear a demon limb from limb and come away looking bloody and glorious. I’ve seen you sink your teeth into a demon and pull flesh from its bones in pieces bigger than my hands.”
I’m well aware I am a unique kind of sick since Spike isn’t the only one who’s getting off on the play by play of some of his gorier battles, but I ignore that in favour of a slow twist. I can feel him cresting the edge, holding on but only barely. One of my hands goes to his hips, changing the angle just enough that his eyes widen and his gaze snaps to stare right through me.
“I have never forgotten what you are.” I hadn’t meant to it come out sounding so much like a promise but suddenly it’s too late since his hands are on my hips, directing me with enough force I know there will be bruises. He’s stretched out like an offering, his back barely on the bed.
One more bite just below his ear and he’s rippling around me, yellow eyes wide. I don’t remember much of the next couple of minutes but when I come to his legs are still around my hips, and one of his hands is wrapped in my hair, holding me in place with my face against his neck.
The skin there is still a livid purple and I lick it on impulse, feeling the shudder go right through him. This time the lick gets a smaller, but no less all encompassing shiver and I try to ignore the feeling growing in the pit of my gut that tells me we passed “barely friends who have sex” territory a while back. Somewhere along the line we've moved into something far more complicated.
Companion piece: The Demon In Me
Rating: NC17
Summary: "Willow’s kicked puppy look had me wondering just how quickly we Scoobies tend to forget the nature of things, especially when it comes to Spike."
AN: Finally managed to get the two together for a fic.
PS: This is really not beta'd, and written in about an hour so please forgive any mistakes. Also, comments on writing in the first person are welcome, I'm not used to it.
If anyone ever asked I’d lie and say I didn’t know when it started. Fein stupidity and they’d buy it, because if there is one thing I’m good at, it’s being donut boy. I don’t see it as a bad thing, mostly it just is. In this case it comes in handy. Then again, the likelihood of someone asking when I started sleeping with Spike is about as likely as someone asking me when I’d started spending the weekends in drag. Only, y’know, I’ve never done the drag thing.
We don’t have romance and flowers and things that made girls go goo-goo-eyed for all those guys on a first name basis with their hairdresser. If I’m being honest we barely have friendship. Mostly it’s just mind-bendingly good sex. I kind of like it that to be honest. There’s no confusion, no expectations and I’m a definite fan of the lack of expectation.
So the whole guy thing took a little getting used to, but there’s something to be said for someone who has spent as long as Spike has learning what he likes. Especially when his parts and my parts are the same. So yeah, we tolerate each other, and when we aren’t flinging insults we’re making with the wild monkey love. I never said it makes sense, but there it is.
While I may be sleeping with the bleached menace, I’m not stupid. I know what he is, and what I am. Which is why I’m in no way surprised when he betrayed us to Adam. Not that I’m ever going to tell anyone, but the sex after that whole debacle was over was something out of this world. Nothing like the angry mumbo, I tell you.
Willow’s kicked puppy look had me wondering just how quickly we Scoobies tend to forget the nature of things, especially when it comes to Spike. I’m not saying I wasn’t angry over the whole sell-out-the-good-guys plan, but I would have been surprised if he didn’t try it. I may like the side effects of the chip, mostly the Xander’s-still-alive one, but that piece of silicone and metal is unnatural. I don’t blame him for trying to get it out.
I’m not sure what makes me tell him that, probably the fact that the rest of the gang have just about put him on their “kill on sight” list and I know he feels a little down about that, and about the fact that at the end of his latest master plan, he still has the chip. We’re not friends, but a man can’t get laid if the other half of this freaky twosome is sulking in a corner.
“Don’t blame you.” I’m not surprised when he doesn’t seem to hear me; he’s got a good sulk going.
“Course you bloody don’t, I’m a demon.” The pause before he answers is so long I’ve almost forgotten I said anything in the first place.
“I know. I’ve never forgotten that.” And for some reason I’m not going to look at too closely, that seems to cheer him up.
Then I watch that slight smile turn into a sneer and can almost feel the insult colour the air before he speaks, one hand cupping his crotch like the obscenity of it is going to offend me, “Like getting your hands dirty with a demon, Harris? That what this is all about?”
It always comes back to this. Spike throwing his nature in my face like it’s somehow going to change… something. I don’t really know what he’s trying to prove whenever we come to this topic, since I can honestly say I’ve never forgotten what he is, and the blatant sexual overtones are pretty much just hot.
So I say as much - ignoring the sexual innuendo - for what feels like the hundredth time since this whole thing started so many months ago, “I’ve never forgotten what, or who, you are, Spike.”
Normally, that would be the end of the argument. He’d curl his tongue behind his teeth, grab me with one hand behind my head and the other in my belt loops and off we’d go again. This time though, his eyes sharpen into something that makes me unconsciously take a step back.
“It’s not the demon factor then hmm? What is it? Getting off on fucking someone who can’t defend themselves?” And this line isn’t brought out often, but I’ve seen it before.
“You can say no, Spike. And you know I’d listen if you did. We may not be bosom buddies, but I’m not about to force myself on you.” Clearly the logical argument train of thought is just pissing him off, since his eyes have a gleam in them I’ve never seen before and I take another step back. This is not how these arguments usually play out. Normally we’re half way to naked by now and I’m concerned by the change in the script.
“So that’s it, is it? Too much of a nancy to try and find yourself a bloke the old fashioned way. And why bother when you have a perfectly good one lying around.” He’s almost vibrating with tension and I realise I’m so far in the deep end I don’t even know which way is up anymore.
“What are you talking about bleach?” I asked, forced casual and yeah, it’s transparent but I’m worried.
“Didn’t answer me, Harris. You working through some belated Boy Scout fantasy? Had enough of cheerleaders so thought you’d try for the wrestling team and I’m just the Big Bad to give you a taste, hmm?” Clearly I’ve spent too much time around him, since that step into insanity almost made sense.
“I don’t fuck men Spike, I don’t intend to start fucking men. I just fuck you.” Yeah, it’s blunt, but since boy wonder here seems to be sliding the slippery slope into freaking me the hell out, anything to diffuse the tension is of the good right now.
Clearly something of that sentence gets to him, since he pauses from where I’ve only just realised he’s started stalking me across the room, cocking his head. And I realise there’s something almost… vulnerable in his eyes. Ok, maybe we are friends, since I’m suddenly worried about his stupid self.
Inching towards him the same way I see people try to get close to wounded animals, I hold my hand out and very carefully don’t flinch when he glares at it.
“I’ve never forgotten what you are Spike. You’re a demon, and you saw a way to get the chip out. I would have been surprised if you didn’t try to work a deal with Adam. Buffy and the others… they… they tend to think that co-operation and friendship mean the same thing.” I have no clue what I’m trying to do, other than take that look out of his eyes that reminds me of a tiger I once saw at the zoo, pacing constantly up and down the fence line with eyes as empty as the savannah.
He’s passive when I reach him, but for blue eyes staring balefully at me. I mirror our normal routine, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other curling into his belt loops. I don’t kiss him, just hold his face close to mine and breathe warm air across his lips.
“Show me.” I’m pretty damn sure my sanity has left the state when the face reforms in a ripple like water and I’m staring into yellow eyes.
I keep looking as I push him down onto the folded out couch, trying very hard not to treat him like the spun glass I’m suddenly reminded of. Deliberately I rake nails down his forearms, reminding myself as much as him that I know what he is. I try to ignore the way his answering growl clenches my stomach.
Pressing thin wrists into the worn bedding I can’t help but notice how well we work together like this. I ask without words whether he needs me to tie his hands to keep them in place. His answer is also wordless; barely twitching when I release the limbs and pull his shirt from those incredibly tight pants.
This isn’t how things normally go. None of this is normal. But something in me tells me that this is what he needs. His clothes are stripped off with bites hard enough to leave teeth marks for the amount of time it takes me to get him naked. Mine go… somewhere. I don’t quite remember taking them off, but I must have since there they are, on the floor.
The bites I put on his skin as I make my way up his body are hard enough that I’d never try them on a human. Normally I’d never try them on him either, but when the first one has him arching his spine like a bow, I can’t resist. Xander see a button, Xander push a button. The one to his throat may have been excessive, since it’s already an angry purple bruise when I pull away, but his eyes are staring at me like I’m God.
I can’t help but shudder at the sight of him, bound by nothing more than my request and his own choice, looking at me with yellow eyes like I have the answers to everything. I push down the panic I can feel growing in response to the look on his face and shift my hips instead. This time the growl really does make me shiver, and yellow eyes narrow at the knowledge.
His hands stay where I’ve put them but his hips are moving in an unmistakable pattern of “I know I’m sex on legs and I know you want me”. I’m so far past denying it I just bite down on the other side of his neck and ride the sudden kick of his pelvis back down.
“I know what you are, Spike.” I whisper the words in his ear, grinning at the shiver the warm air produces.
He doesn’t answer me but his hips slow slightly and I know he’s listening.
“I know you’re a demon, a vampire.” I can feel him stifle the shiver this time, and nip his neck again in retaliation for his sudden self-control, shifting my hips until his legs are on either side of mine, calves sliding up my thighs to find just the right angle for the rasp of skin on skin.
He must have moved an arm since there’s suddenly a familiar tube being pressed into my hand and those yellow eyes are daring me to say something about it. I grin and bite his lip instead. Too hard for a human but just right for a vampire, who’s suddenly arching up and pressing down and I have to use my free hand to hold his hips still.
I want to take longer, something that has nothing to do with vampire or human and everything to do with my concern for the person in bed with me, but his eyes are a challenge, his heels in the backs of my thighs a demand. He growls again, a long sound on the slow glide. I know it’s deliberate when his face flashes victory at the sudden buck of my hips. I can feel my own narrow in response.
I press him into the bed with the weight of me in him, holding him there only because he allows himself to be held.
Another bite to his neck, hard enough that he almost bucks me off, a single pant giving lie to the affected expression of nonchalance that would look ridiculous on anyone else given the current situation. On him it just makes me bear down with teeth and hips again.
We’re both panting slightly when I press my lips against his ear again, “You’re a vampire, Spike; a fighter. I’ve watched you tear a demon limb from limb and come away looking bloody and glorious. I’ve seen you sink your teeth into a demon and pull flesh from its bones in pieces bigger than my hands.”
I’m well aware I am a unique kind of sick since Spike isn’t the only one who’s getting off on the play by play of some of his gorier battles, but I ignore that in favour of a slow twist. I can feel him cresting the edge, holding on but only barely. One of my hands goes to his hips, changing the angle just enough that his eyes widen and his gaze snaps to stare right through me.
“I have never forgotten what you are.” I hadn’t meant to it come out sounding so much like a promise but suddenly it’s too late since his hands are on my hips, directing me with enough force I know there will be bruises. He’s stretched out like an offering, his back barely on the bed.
One more bite just below his ear and he’s rippling around me, yellow eyes wide. I don’t remember much of the next couple of minutes but when I come to his legs are still around my hips, and one of his hands is wrapped in my hair, holding me in place with my face against his neck.
The skin there is still a livid purple and I lick it on impulse, feeling the shudder go right through him. This time the lick gets a smaller, but no less all encompassing shiver and I try to ignore the feeling growing in the pit of my gut that tells me we passed “barely friends who have sex” territory a while back. Somewhere along the line we've moved into something far more complicated.
Companion piece: The Demon In Me