Fic: Thanksgiving Stroll
Title: Thanksgiving Stroll
Author: akinaj
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: 6+
Warnings/Squicks: theoretically there is possible non-con hinted at (can't be more specific without giving stuff away), nothing anywhere near explicit though
Summary: Thanksgiving on the Hellmouth, and Xander strolls around Sunnydale
Feedback: Makes me write more and faster!
Concrit: by email, please
Feedback address: akinaj @ livejournal.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
A/N 1: The original plot bunny for this story was supposed to be my fall_for_sx last year, but a bad case of writer's block prevented me from getting beyond a few sentences. Then I nominated it as my second extra credit story for wip_it_good this summer, but didn't get around to doing it in the end. So when fall_for_sx rolled around again this autumn, I decided enough was enough and that I was going to finish it... you can be the judge whether I managed! ;-)
A/N 2:This fic has an exceptionally long list of contributors to the initial research (both for Season 2 and Thanksgiving traditions), as I was still very new to writing in the Buffyverse when I started it, and I'm also not American and thus not familiar with the usual Thanksgiving customs, so I have to give huge thanks to the following people:
For the plot bunny: amejisuto
Help with Season 2 research: crazydiamondsue, tabaqui, saifai, kat9cha, amejisuto
Thanksgiving research: sodiumlight, kawaiimae, amejisuto, aeb, tabaqui, cleeaz
A/N 3: Betaed by my darling australian_imp. Don't blame her for any mistakes, they are all my fault!
Thanksgiving Stroll
The commentary to this year's Macy's parade was blaring from the TV in the living room as Xander quietly pulled the door closed behind him. His parents, drunk even this early in the day as they were every year on Thanksgiving, wouldn't even notice he was gone until much later, and he hoped to be back by then.
Pulling his shirt closed against a sudden gust of wind, he set off to wander the streets.
Many of the other houses on his street were deserted, people having left to visit their relatives in more normal corners of the country. But some had stayed on the Hellmouth, and through the windows, he could see them watching the parade, or cooking enormous amounts of food, as cars pulled into driveways, spilling out those friends and family members that didn't mind the oddities of Sunnydale. Most of them probably Hellmouth residents themselves, he thought.
Xander considered his options. Buffy and her mom had left town for a mother-daughter weekend, somewhere far away from all slayer-related activities. Willow's parents were home for a change, and had declared that she would have to stay with them, so they could actually have something of a normal family Thanksgiving for a change.
Even Giles was busy, having mumbled something about a weekend trip with Ms. Calendar.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets, lost in thought and not paying attention where his feet carried him. A cloud passing in front of the sun made him look up, as the shadow sent a strange shiver down his spine.
The streets were empty, emptier than before even. Somehow he had wound up in the old warehouse district. Looking around carefully at the dark buildings, Xander clutched the stake in his pocket tighter. He wasn't happy about ending up in this part of town, and he tried to decide on the quickest way home when a sound to his right startled him.
He whirled around reflexively, the soldier in his head briefly standing to attention. But there was nothing to see, nothing to hear, and he almost managed to convince himself that it had been his imagination, when music drifted through the empty street - tantalising and sweet.
The notes wound themselves around Xander's thoughts, luring and enticing him to follow them to their source. His feet followed their rhythm, beating it into the ground as they carried him to an old warehouse, half-hidden among the other buildings. A door stood half-open, and he gently pushed it further open to slip inside.
Like the Pied Piper the music kept pulling him along, further inside and towards a room at the very back. The last rays of the sun played on the walls high above as he found himself in a cavern of red velvet and black silk; decadence gleamed in every corner of the room, and most of all on the silky-smooth skin of the man lying naked on the bed.
Entranced, Xander stepped closer, reaching out to touch the glowing white skin. Blue eyes opened suddenly, their stare drilling into his own, holding him captive.
Pearls of laughter floated somewhere on the air, but neither of them noticed. The music had faded away, and although Xander knew who the man in front of him was, and that he should be running as far and as fast as he could from here, he didn't move a muscle.
Spike stared back just as surprised, hardly believing Dru's latest feat. He hadn't expected to ever get hold of the Slayer's dark boy, despite Angel "giving" him to Spike all those nights ago. But here he was now, and despite his injury, Spike could feel his cock stirring at the prospect of that luscious body in his bed.
"Come closer, boy," he commanded roughly, and was surprised when his order was obeyed immediately. The boy was standing right next to the bed now, just far enough away that Spike could meet his eyes without twisting his neck.
"What's your name, then?"
"A-lex-xander," Xander felt himself replying, slowly, as if his tongue wasn't sure how to form the words. And well it shouldn't since he hadn't actually ordered it to talk. And neither had he told his feet to move, to step up next to the bed of this vampire, who Angel seemed to know so well.
His eyes remained locked with the Spike's though, and he could feel his thoughts slowing, gradually grinding to a halt, as if stopped gently by some invisible hand.
From far away, Xander thought he heard a feminine voice whisper "play nicely, my darling boys," but then all he could think of was the skin gleaming so temptingly on the bed, all that wonderful skin just asking to be touched and kissed and worshipped.
And he sank to his knees alongside the bed, laying his head next to a deceptively slender arm and looking up through his lashes at the other man.
Author: akinaj
Fandom: Buffy
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: 6+
Warnings/Squicks: theoretically there is possible non-con hinted at (can't be more specific without giving stuff away), nothing anywhere near explicit though
Summary: Thanksgiving on the Hellmouth, and Xander strolls around Sunnydale
Feedback: Makes me write more and faster!
Concrit: by email, please
Feedback address: akinaj @ livejournal.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
A/N 1: The original plot bunny for this story was supposed to be my fall_for_sx last year, but a bad case of writer's block prevented me from getting beyond a few sentences. Then I nominated it as my second extra credit story for wip_it_good this summer, but didn't get around to doing it in the end. So when fall_for_sx rolled around again this autumn, I decided enough was enough and that I was going to finish it... you can be the judge whether I managed! ;-)
A/N 2:This fic has an exceptionally long list of contributors to the initial research (both for Season 2 and Thanksgiving traditions), as I was still very new to writing in the Buffyverse when I started it, and I'm also not American and thus not familiar with the usual Thanksgiving customs, so I have to give huge thanks to the following people:
For the plot bunny: amejisuto
Help with Season 2 research: crazydiamondsue, tabaqui, saifai, kat9cha, amejisuto
Thanksgiving research: sodiumlight, kawaiimae, amejisuto, aeb, tabaqui, cleeaz
A/N 3: Betaed by my darling australian_imp. Don't blame her for any mistakes, they are all my fault!
Thanksgiving Stroll
The commentary to this year's Macy's parade was blaring from the TV in the living room as Xander quietly pulled the door closed behind him. His parents, drunk even this early in the day as they were every year on Thanksgiving, wouldn't even notice he was gone until much later, and he hoped to be back by then.
Pulling his shirt closed against a sudden gust of wind, he set off to wander the streets.
Many of the other houses on his street were deserted, people having left to visit their relatives in more normal corners of the country. But some had stayed on the Hellmouth, and through the windows, he could see them watching the parade, or cooking enormous amounts of food, as cars pulled into driveways, spilling out those friends and family members that didn't mind the oddities of Sunnydale. Most of them probably Hellmouth residents themselves, he thought.
Xander considered his options. Buffy and her mom had left town for a mother-daughter weekend, somewhere far away from all slayer-related activities. Willow's parents were home for a change, and had declared that she would have to stay with them, so they could actually have something of a normal family Thanksgiving for a change.
Even Giles was busy, having mumbled something about a weekend trip with Ms. Calendar.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets, lost in thought and not paying attention where his feet carried him. A cloud passing in front of the sun made him look up, as the shadow sent a strange shiver down his spine.
The streets were empty, emptier than before even. Somehow he had wound up in the old warehouse district. Looking around carefully at the dark buildings, Xander clutched the stake in his pocket tighter. He wasn't happy about ending up in this part of town, and he tried to decide on the quickest way home when a sound to his right startled him.
He whirled around reflexively, the soldier in his head briefly standing to attention. But there was nothing to see, nothing to hear, and he almost managed to convince himself that it had been his imagination, when music drifted through the empty street - tantalising and sweet.
The notes wound themselves around Xander's thoughts, luring and enticing him to follow them to their source. His feet followed their rhythm, beating it into the ground as they carried him to an old warehouse, half-hidden among the other buildings. A door stood half-open, and he gently pushed it further open to slip inside.
Like the Pied Piper the music kept pulling him along, further inside and towards a room at the very back. The last rays of the sun played on the walls high above as he found himself in a cavern of red velvet and black silk; decadence gleamed in every corner of the room, and most of all on the silky-smooth skin of the man lying naked on the bed.
Entranced, Xander stepped closer, reaching out to touch the glowing white skin. Blue eyes opened suddenly, their stare drilling into his own, holding him captive.
Pearls of laughter floated somewhere on the air, but neither of them noticed. The music had faded away, and although Xander knew who the man in front of him was, and that he should be running as far and as fast as he could from here, he didn't move a muscle.
Spike stared back just as surprised, hardly believing Dru's latest feat. He hadn't expected to ever get hold of the Slayer's dark boy, despite Angel "giving" him to Spike all those nights ago. But here he was now, and despite his injury, Spike could feel his cock stirring at the prospect of that luscious body in his bed.
"Come closer, boy," he commanded roughly, and was surprised when his order was obeyed immediately. The boy was standing right next to the bed now, just far enough away that Spike could meet his eyes without twisting his neck.
"What's your name, then?"
"A-lex-xander," Xander felt himself replying, slowly, as if his tongue wasn't sure how to form the words. And well it shouldn't since he hadn't actually ordered it to talk. And neither had he told his feet to move, to step up next to the bed of this vampire, who Angel seemed to know so well.
His eyes remained locked with the Spike's though, and he could feel his thoughts slowing, gradually grinding to a halt, as if stopped gently by some invisible hand.
From far away, Xander thought he heard a feminine voice whisper "play nicely, my darling boys," but then all he could think of was the skin gleaming so temptingly on the bed, all that wonderful skin just asking to be touched and kissed and worshipped.
And he sank to his knees alongside the bed, laying his head next to a deceptively slender arm and looking up through his lashes at the other man.