Beauty Effulgent

My Fanfic
Fan Vids
Fic Recs and Links
Contact Me
Sweet Release

Sweet Release
Written for adis723's birthday. She wanted Season Four, evil!Spike and scratching.

Part One
Spike shifted the inert body on his shoulder, feeling the arms sway limply against his back as he hefted it over, sliding it to the floor with a soft whump.

Turning away, he paced around the lair, absently rubbing at the spot on his chest that was still warm from the boy’s body heat.

“Chains, chains,” he muttered, poking under tables and behind wall hangings. Where the bleeding hell was that extra set of chains? Spike frowned, his eyes narrowing. Harm, he thought darkly. Silly cow probably dropped them down a hole somewhere to keep him from making good on his promise.

He dropped to a crouch and peered under the bed, his hand sweeping through cobwebs and rustling old bones until it curved around something cold and heavy that made a thick, satisfying thunk as it scraped against the cement floor. Tongue curving over teeth behind a grin of success, Spike dragged the rusty iron shackles from their hiding place, listening as the links clanked together in an old, almost forgotten tune.

Spike stood, curling his fingers around the lengths of chain, his fingers caressing the manacles thoughtfully as he turned to look at the body splayed out on the floor. A real kill. A good kill. It takes pure artistry, whispered a voice from the past. He snorted. Angelus could keep his poncy charcoal and parchment. Spike did his best work in metals.


Xander jerked upright, snorting and blinking the stinging from his eyes. He shook his head, licking his lips and tasting...whiskey?

“There you are, now,” a cool voice drawled from somewhere beyond his blurred vision as wetness dripped from his eyelashes, burning again. “Thought that would get your attention.”

Xander shook his head again, blinking faster. His face was wet, his hair sticking to his cheeks. He lifted a hand to wipe his eyes and frowned when it jerked back against the wall with a metal clank. He flexed his shoulders again, his eyes widening when he realized he couldn’t move his arms because he was…chained to a wall. A really cold, damp, slimy wall.

A satisfied chuckle rose above the sound of his frustrated jangling of the chains and Xander’s breath stilled in his chest. He raised his head, looking across the room at the now-clear figure who sat sprawled in a half-rotted chair. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and then opened them again. Still there, watching him. Spike. Spike!

Xander swallowed, choked on a gasp and swallowed again. Possible scenarios flashed through his mind. Luring Spike closer and choking him, wait, no breath, uh, whacking him with the chains. Or using his not inconsiderable upper body strength to rip the chains from the wall he could feel crumbling beneath his back and making a run for it…and then tripping over the dangling chains. Or screaming. Screaming for help, a tried and true tactic...or blustering, bluffing, a strong offense was a good defense, so he took a deep breath and said, “You threw whiskey in my face!” And then winced.

Spike’s fingers curled around the neck of the bottle in his hand and tilted it in Xander’s direction. “Just a little taste,” he said, grinning as his voice softened to a purr, “to loosen the tongue.”

Spike shifted in the chair, his legs uncurling as he rose and Xander braced himself against the wall, his hands tightening around the chains as he opened his mouth and yelled. “Buffy! Buff-ay!”

Spike paused, rolling his eyes as he looked around their obviously subterranean surroundings. “Yeah, that’ll…” he stopped, considering. “Actually, that usually works for you, doesn’t it?”

Xander watched as Spike set the whiskey bottle on the ground and stood, stretching. Rolling his shoulders, he started toward Xander, his lips pursing. “Didn’t bring you here to lure the Slayer,” he said, stopping just short of what Xander judged to be biting distance. “You see,” he said, raising a hand to grab one of the chains, pulling Xander closer, “you have something I want.”

Spike’s hands shot forward suddenly, running harshly over Xander’s jacket and then beneath it, skimming his sides and heading for the waist of his jeans.

Xander jerked back, trying to become one with the wall. “Back off, Death Breath,” he yelped, trying to shove Spike off of him with his elbows. “It may work with the chicks, but not with me.”


Spike laughed, his fingers closing over squirming hips as he listened to the inventive, though futile, threats that fell from the boy’s lips. Well, the git had balls, he thought, as he plunged his hands into the front pockets of conveniently baggy jeans. The squirming immediately stopped as Spike’s fingers dug around in empty pockets, feeling bone and muscle and other warm body parts beneath the denim, but nothing else.

Frowning, Spike jerked his hands free, sliding them around tensed thighs to curve over back pockets, fingers roaming, searching, finding nothing. Arms still wrapped around the boy’s hips, hands clenched over firm curves of ass in a parody of an embrace, Spike drew back, looking up into horrified brown eyes.

“Where is it?” he ask, his voice low and shaking as it was forced from his throat.

He watched as the wide mouth inches from his worked silently and then words stuttered forth.

“And, oh, how I don’t want to guess the answer to that question…” Xander looked down at the few inches that separated Spike’s body from his own, “or why you need to ask it,” he said, swallowing dryly.

Spike yanked his hands away from Xander, turning and putting distance between them. He raked a hand through his hair and then closed his eyes, grinding the heels of hands into them as realization dawned.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “grabbed him too late, probably already had it stashed in the car…”

“Did what, now?” the boy asked, leaning forward as far as the chains would allow.

Spike turned back, looking at the confused, slaw jawed gaze that met his. “Right,” he said slowly, “from the beginning, then. The Slayer has something…something that she took from me…” he watched as light dawned, clearing the confusion from those wide eyes.

“The Gem of Amarra,” Xander nodded, a slow grin starting. “She stomped your ass.”

Spike growled, smiling as he the saw the grin quickly fade to be replaced by that blank look again.

“And, what?” the boy asked. “You grabbed me for some kind of hostage/ring exchange?” His head shook slowly. “Huh-uh. Buffy will find me, kick your ass – again – and you’ll still never get your man jewelry back. Besides,” he said, flicking his hair out of his eyes, “she doesn’t even have the ring any…” Xander’s lips abruptly snapped closed as his brain caught up with his mouth.

Spike’s brow arched. “Well, now,” he said slowly, grinning again, easing closer and carefully dragging chipped black fingernails across the boy’s cheek, “how many ways do you think I can get you to tell me who does?”

Part Two
Xander’s heart, which had finally settled from the shock of Spike’s hands in his pants, okay pockets, but damn close enough, sped up again as he felt those fingernails scrape down his cheek.

Spike thinks I have the ring. Why the hell would Spike think *I* have the ring? Buffy never even considered doing anything with it but giving it to *mental spat* Angel and what good would it do me, anyway? Okay, yeah, it is kinda big and shiny in a whole Green Lantern sort of way, but…

Xander came back from the thoughts of super cool rings of super powers as a finger tapped his lips sharply. He looked up at Spike, who tilted his head and looked at him, waiting.

“So?” Spike asked, dragging his finger across Xander’s lower lip.

“So you’re wasting your time,” Xander said, jerking away and shrugging. “I don’t have it.”

“Not here, no,” Spike said, nodding patiently, a small smile playing on his lips. “But somewhere, eh?”

Xander’s eyes widened as Spike’s hand slid from his face, grasped the neck of his shirt and yanked, sending buttons flying. Before Xander could take another breath, Spike raised his hands, twisting the design on one of his rings and then turning it inward, so that it faced palm out. He pressed his hand against Xander’s bare chest, and Xander felt the sharp sting of a tiny metal spike digging into the flesh above his left nipple.

“Now,” Spike said, looking up at him as he slowly scraped the ring across Xander’s skin, not breaking the flesh but leaving a thin red line, “the Slayer,” Spike continued, his voice lowering, becoming almost soothing, “has something that doesn’t belong to her, that she didn’t earn. But she didn’t take it to keep, she gave it to her boy…”

Xander flinched away from the sharp sensation in his chest that had started out as irritating and was quickly bordering on ‘Ouch, quit it!’ and laughed shakily, “Spike, I don’t know what you think you know about Buffy and me, but she didn’t ask me to go steady…”

“She gave it to her boy,” Spike repeated, pressing the ring in deeper and drawing a tiny bead of blood, causing Xander to hiss sharply. “And she gave him special instructions…a mission, you could say, to deliver it for her.” He met Xander’s eyes with his own. “To L.A.”

Xander stared back at Spike, trying to hide his shock and ignore the thin stream of blood trickling down his ribs at the same time. What, was Spike bugging Scooby meetings now? Giles *really* needed to start locking that door.

“And we all know what’s waiting in L.A., eh, mate?” Spike said, twisting the ring slightly.

Xander’s eyes flashed with the pain the ring was causing, but it didn’t prevent a sneer of disgust at the thought of what…who was waiting in L.A.


Spike caught the sudden look of distaste that the boy quickly shook off and quirked a brow. Not an Angel groupie, eh? Probably a good story in that somewhere, if he had time to care. This was taking too bloody long as it was.

He pressed the ring harder, drawing down the boy’s chest and across his flat stomach in a serpentine pattern, unconsciously licking his lips as he watch the blood well, following the path of the spike.

“Only going to get worse, this,” he said, as the pressure of the ring caused stomach muscles to tighten and quiver as the point dipped lower, heading toward the boy’s navel. “You tell me where it is…and it’ll all go away. I get my gem and you go back to your mates.”

Xander laughed at that, causing the ring to stutter against his skin.

Spike smiled. Balls and brains. Misjudged this one, maybe. He shrugged. “Yeah, right then. Still in your best interest to tell me,” he said, drawing the ring in slow red circles around the shallow navel, “intriguing as this is, gonna get boring soon.” He let the spike slip then, scratching down the light trail of hair above the boy’s jeans.

Xander swallowed hard and answered, his voice low and intense, “I don’t have it.” He twisted away from Spike’s hand, the chains rattling against the wall, sending a shower of dirt, plaster and cobwebs down on them.

Spike jerked back, sputtering, and looked into the boy’s face. Fear was there, yeah, the boy was no idiot, but not a guilty secret-to-keep fear. Just the acknowledgement of someone who had walked with vampires and knew without having to be told how this was going to turn out. As well as a kind of belligerent bravery and something steadier…resolute. Fuck. Something was off here.

“Ryan!” Spike bellowed.

The boy stared back at him, glaring. “Xander,” he corrected sullenly.

Spike rolled his eyes and turned away, stalking across the room to fling the door open. “Ryan!” he yelled again, just as the slighter vampire rounded the tunnel and skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Spi…?” Ryan’s obeisant greeting was cut off as Spike’s hand shot out, catching him by the throat and pinning him to the wall, the spiked ring puncturing the skin of the vampire’s neck.

“You told me the Slayer gave the gem to the boy to take to L.A.,” Spike said, his voice menacing, his fingers tightening below Ryan’s chin.

Ryan nodded, his voice strained as he tried to speak. “Yes,” he croaked, “watched her hand it to him and tell him to take it to L.A., give it to Angel.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “The boy, right? Not the octogenarian British bloke with the glasses?”

Ryan shook his head, trying to ease Spike’s grip. “Not the older man. The boy. One of her friends.”

Spike flung Ryan away, flexing his fingers. He frowned, trying to remember who he’d seen around the Slayer besides the boy, Xander. The redheaded witch. The Watcher. The mother. He briefly considered the smarmy git who’d tumbled and discarded the Slayer, and then shook his head. Nah, nothing there. There was no one else.


Xander watched as Spike slammed back into the room. He’d heard him speaking to his lackey, Ryan – heh, someone was absent when they were handing out cool vamp names – and had held his breath, waiting for Ryan to say, ‘the cool looking, redheaded boy with the earring,’ but evidently he’d just been lurking in time to see Buffy talking to Oz before he left and had missed seeing the rest of them.

Spike stopped in the center of the room, his hands on his hips as he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, muttering to himself. Xander flinched as Spike sighed suddenly, and started back toward him.

“Didn’t give it to you, then,” Spike said, turning a grin on him that was so much scarier than the schizophrenic self-chatting. “But I bet you know who got it.”


Spike closed his hand around Xander’s side, feeling the ring bite into the flesh and smiling wider. “Time to get serious, Xander.” The warm body beneath his hand quivered and then tightened as the boy steeled himself. Spike ground the ring in, glancing off a rib, but Xander remained silent, not a whimper, as he stared at a place above Spike’s shoulder, his lips white but unmoving.

Spike frowned. Tough little bastard. Ryan was a vampire, a complete shite one, but a vampire, nonetheless, and Spike could still hear him out in the corridor, moaning over the pinprick in his neck.

Spike shook his head. He could tear this boy to ribbons and he’d still be all stiff-upper lipped and silent. For a moment he envied the Slayer her foolishly brave sidekick; this boy would die for her, over a jewel that meant nothing to him and that was being given to a vampire he loathed. Spike had never managed to turn a minion with that kind of loyalty. Hell, even Dru had proved faithless after he’d devoted a century to her.

Spike loosened his grip on Xander’s side, easing the spike out of the skin. He’d just have to try something else. Now, where were those pliers…? As he moved to check next to the bed, his fingers slid across Xander’s stomach, just glancing above the navel. And there it was. The quivering, the shuddering breath Spike had expected from the bite of the ring into flesh and hadn’t gotten.

Curious, he looked up into Xander’s face and saw the eyes closed tightly, the lips trembling. Spike’s eyes narrowed, and he lifted his other hand, brushing the back of his fingers across Xander’s nipple. Another shudder, a soft groan. Spike smiled. So…not pain, then.

He scissored open two fingers, lightly pinching the nipple and watching in amazed fascination as it hardened and Xander trembled against his hand. He brushed his palm over the nipple again, and then slipped it down the boy’s chest to his stomach, watching the path his hand followed fill with gooseflesh. Christ, the boy was sensitive. He slid his hand lower, wanting to explore how sensitive, and Xander stopped him with a groan.


Eyes darkened with fear and lust met Spike’s. Spike bit his lower lip, grinning wickedly. “Something you need to tell me…Xander?”

Xander shook his head, dropping his gaze. Spike flattened his hand against Xander’s stomach, leaning forward. Capturing Xander’s eyes with his own, he moved in slowly, watching him the entire time, until his lips were poised above the boy’s nipple. He flicked his tongue against it, roughly, and then had to steady them both as Xander jerked against the chains, slamming into Spike with a harsh cry.

Spike pressed harder on Xander’s stomach, sliding his hand beneath the loose waist of the jeans until it closed around flesh, hot and already achingly hard, the tip moist against his palm. He eased his hand up slightly, ripping the jeans open to see what he was working with and, oh, yeah…balls, brains, loyalty and more than enough to play with, here. No wonder the Slayer guarded this one.

He realized he hadn’t heard any of those delicious little moans from Xander since he’d gone exploring down south and looked up, seeing that the boy was biting his lip so hard he was about to draw blood.

“Shh,” Spike said, sliding his hand teasingly up and down Xander’s length, “last person to judge you for getting off on a spot of torture’s a vampire, pet.”

“Not the torture,” Xander gasped, his voice now little more than a breathy moan, “you.”


Spike’s hand stopped moving on his cock and Xander choked back a disappointed moan. The fingers were still closed, cool around him, but it wasn’t enough and Xander knew he was about to start thrusting into that hand and Spike might as well kill him then, because Xander didn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t. But Spike was talking, asking questions, and Xander concentrated, trying to focus his attention somewhere other than his dick and the soft, cool unmoving grip around it.

“Boy,” Spike said sharply, and then sighed. “Xander…this,” he said, tightening his fingers around Xander, forcing another moan from him, “this is for me?” He frowned. “What – you got one of those vampire fantasy ticks, pet?” He shrugged. “Would explain the Slayer devotion, I ‘spose.” He frowned harder. “Is this what that Angel look earlier was about? ‘Cause ‘m not followin’ that road again…”

“What?” Xander asked, jerking away and then sneaking in a quick hip thrust back into Spike’s hand. “No. I might even have to clarify that with a, fuck, no.”

“Me, then,” Spike said, looking at him expectantly.

Xander closed his eyes again, willing himself silent and then Spike’s fingers flexed around him and he was suddenly in full-blown share mode. “You…that first night, outside the Bronze. When you walked out, clapping, after Buffy dusted that vamp…it….I…” he sighed. “Buffy was pissed, Willow was scared and I was…hard.”

Spike tightened his grip around Xander’s cock, resuming the slow stroking. “Never would have guessed that,” Spike said with a short laugh.

Xander glared at him. “Maybe if you weren’t always trying to take a taste while Angel holds me down or hitting me with microscopes or slamming me into poles you would have clued in sooner.”

Spike squeezed him hard, just shy of too hard. “My, aren’t we suddenly open and honest? If I’d know a good wank was all it took to make you sing like this, could have saved time stringing up those chains.” He thought for a moment. “Nah. Was worth the visual,” he said, grinning.

Xander looked down at himself, his arms stretched wide by the shackles, chest bare and scored with jagged, red marks, his jeans ripped open, hanging off his hips, his cock hard, dark with blood and disappearing slowly into Spike’s pale grip. Huh. He did look kinda hot.

“So…what?” Xander asked. “You’re gonna jerk the information out of me?”


“No,” Spike said, sliding his hands off of Xander and taking the spiked ring off, tossing it onto the bed. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key and moving to release the chains. “Once I knew for sure you didn’t have the ring, I realized it was already on its way to L.A. Just have to get it from Angel, now.”

His expression darkened at that thought and then he shrugged. “Might as well have a little fun before then. Angel’s not going anywhere. And the thought of torturing you had its charm,” he said, catching Xander’s bloodless arms as they fell from the opened chains and dragging the boy against him. “This is better,” he said simply, dropping his lips to Xander’s neck, “for lots of reasons.”

Spike felt Xander stiffen against him and hid a smile in the curve of his neck. He could practically feel the waves of fear rolling off of the boy as he grazed the skin lightly with his teeth. He flicked his tongue across the shallow bite and then tugged the boy across the room to the overstuffed, stained and rotted pink satin chair.

He fell back into it, tugging Xander to kneel at his feet. Spike looked at the boy trembling before him and reached down, tearing at the fly of his own jeans. “Suck me,” he commanded softly.

He watched as Xander hesitated, his hands trying to cling to Spike’s knees to support himself, but numb from the chains. Spike leaned down, stroking his hand up Xander’s still eager erection and then tightening around it possessively. “For me, remember?”

He sat back again, and Xander’s hands scrabbled up his thighs, tightening as he got his grip back. He looked at Spike, his eyes uncertain, but his tongue already darting over his lips, wetting them.

Spike nodded, reaching a hand to curve around the back of Xander’s neck, surprisingly gentle as he eased the boy’s mouth to his cock. “Yeah, like that,” he breathed as Xander’s lips opened around him. He watched as those dark eyes met his one last time and then slid shut as Xander let himself go, his mouth closing around Spike, hot, wet and eager.

Spike let his head fall back against the chair, his own eyes closing as he thrust lightly to the rhythm of Xander’s sucking. He could last for a while, even with the delicious heat, thanks to his recent bouts with Harmony, but blow jobs had never been high on her list of priorities, unless she closed her eyes and thought of sodding France.

He was surprised that Xander had held back this long, but his fear was probably still riding him as high as his lust, and since the boy probably thought this orgasm was going to be his last, it was giving him extra stamina.

Spike grinned, opening his eyes and looking down at the dark head rubbing against his stomach, the red lips stretched around him. Was all right, he thought, he wanted to have a taste of the boy, himself.

He pushed Xander back, ignoring the look of startled fear on his face as he lowered him to the floor and kissed down his chest, licking the few still seeping cuts until he reached the boy’s cock and swallowed him whole. He licked up the length, breathing in salt and copper and the boy’s sweet, male scent and something…other.

He raised his head. “Got lucky, did we, Xander?” he asked, his voice low but thick with implied danger.

Xander looked back at him, his eyes confused. “What? Uh, trying to…’til you stopped. Again.”

“Not me,” Spike said, running his tongue around his mouth. “Girl. Virgin. And recently.”

Xander’s face scrunched in horror. “Ew! And that’s personal…and I’m not…I mean I showered, so that’s just…” he groaned as Spike sat back, moving away from him. “She just showed up. Naked. With condoms. Black ones. What would you do?”

Spike shrugged, nodding, and Xander continued, “And, anyway, I know you’ve been banging Harmony, who I wouldn’t have touched on a bet when she was alive, so…” Xander gestured to his cock, hard and still wet from Spike’s mouth and grinned hopefully.

Spike laughed. Balls, brains, loyalty, nice cock and amusing. He could get used to this one. He moved back over Xander, turning so that as his lips slid down around Xander again, his own cock was poised at Xander’s mouth. The boy quickly took the hint and began licking slow, sweet stripes up and down Spike’s length.

Their lips moved in tandem and then not, one sucking deeply as the other just licked teasingly and then Spike tightened his hands around Xander’s hips, sucking hard as he thrust into the boy’s mouth.

Spike pulled back, swirling his tongue around the head of Xander’s cock and then closing his lips around it as Xander jerked beneath him and came hard, groaning around Spike’s flesh and sending delicious tingles through him. He felt his balls tighten and pulled out slightly, shuddering as he came and painting Xander’s chin and neck with his release.

Spike fell to the side with a happy groan and then grinned. Well, been a while since he’d done that. He listened to Xander’s breath and heartbeat slow to normal and then speed up again as fear came riding back, full force.

Spike turned and stroked a finger down the racing pulse in Xander’s neck. “Now’s the part you’re not gonna like, pet,” he said regretfully.

Xander sat up, eyes wide. “See, here’s a better idea. Why don’t I go with you to L.A.? Angel won’t be expecting me and I can just tell him that Buffy wants the gem back and…” he stopped at Spike’s choked gasp. “What? It’s a good plan. Better than your, ‘throw down with Angel and steal ring’ strategy.”

Spike stared at him. “You’d rather that I, who, trust me, would only use the ring to kill more of your kind utilizing the full twenty-four hours, have the ring rather than Angel, champion of the people and soldier of the light?”

Xander face filled with more cynicism than Spike thought he had ever felt in his own advanced years and spat, “Yeah, we’ll just see how much of a champion he is when he gets this ‘get out of dusting free’ card and even Buffy can’t kill him.”

Spike shook his head. Balls, brains, loyalty, great cock, funny *and* he hates Angel? I bloody love this boy!

“It’s a nice thought, pet,” Spike said, “but it would never work.” He got to his feet, buttoning his jeans. “Well, been lovely, but…” he shrugged, vamping, and lunged for Xander.

“Spike!” Xander cried and then slumped into his arms as Spike’s fist glanced against his temple, knocking him out.

Spike gently eased Xander to the floor, smiling down at him with more than a little regret. “Sorry, pet,” he said softly to the unconscious boy. “Slayer would have never stopped coming for me if I’d taken you. But once I have the Gem of Amarra again…” Spike’s smile turned predatory as he gazed down at Xander. “I’ll be back,” he promised darkly.

He leapt to his feet, grabbing his duster off the chair. He looked back at Xander one last time as he shrugged into it and then turned and headed off for L.A. Yeah, he’d be back for that one.


Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series are the intellectual property of FOX, Mutant Enemy, and Joss Whedon. Fan fiction on this site is written for fun, NOT FOR PROFIT. No copyright infringement is intended.