Ashes to Ashes, 13/30
Apr. 28th, 2008 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grief and a kind of madness take Spike and Xander places they aren't sure they want to go....
A/N: Written for prompt # 11-castration anxiety on my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30 table and tamingthemuse prompt # 93-chimera. For those anxious about the boys' bits, let me say that castration anxiety refers generally to a fear of powerlessness and not any actual castration. Previous chapters in the tags or in my memories.
Xander was asleep. Or unconscious. Spike wasn’t entirely sure which. But he could hear the rapid susurrus of Xander’s heart pumping a full belly’s worth of blood through him. The other man wasn’t dead.
More likely shagged out, Spike smirked as he reached out for his second or possibly third post-coital fag. The flare of his lighter illuminated the hidden valleys of Xander’s muscular body and Spike admired the view, pulling smoke into his dead lungs and enjoying the brief flare of pain brought on by the heated air. He smoked because it passed the time, something that has become vitally important since The Initiative.
Spike stubbed out the cigarette, his harsh gasps for air joining and mingling with Xander’s softer, more even breaths. Not for the first time Spike wondered why they just hadn’t killed him. Every demon waits for death, longs for it in a way he couldn’t adequately explain to the children he now spent his nights with. Not even the Watcher, for all that he knew about demon origins, understood what it meant to be a small fraction of a whole, trapped inside a corpse.
Part of him was all spiny claws and mindlessness, a true beast, only capable of fighting, fucking, and feeding. The rest of him, the smiles, the words, the mind, only a thin coating of humanity smeared over the beast to give it a bit of camouflage. The beast lived a half-life, not fully aware but unable to escape the bondage of the dead husk that surrounded it. If Spike concentrated, he could almost remember a time before this human body…
Pain and rage pushed the vague memories aside. The smoke and shadows of a demon’s formless longing were chimeras, good old sound and fury that signified fuck all in comparison to his here and now. He glanced again at the heavy male body spread out on his bed. Xander bloody Harris was his here and now.
His thoughts drifted back to The Initiative even as he wrapped himself around the warm reassuring bulk next to him. He never stopped thinking about them, about his time in the cage. Twice now he’d been at their mercy and both times had been almost more than he could bear.
Xander shifted in his sleep, hands fumbling and body twitching. Xander would understand his fear. The loss of control, of power, was something Xander bloody Harris would understand all too well, not that Spike had any intention of ever sharing the ghosts that haunted him. He yanked the heavy coverlets up and over their recumbent bodies. The twitch, which had raised a fine crop of gooseflesh over Xander’s body, slowed and halted.
The chip was another cage, one with no key. Spike could remember being bound, remember that helplessness and the fear that went with your existence at the mercy of another. But he’d been beside Angelus then and able to die fighting. Now he was beside Xander, and if the other man took it in his fancy to stake Spike, he was helpless.
Spike lay silent and almost still, his hands running in sweeping strokes over the man who was his here and now. He could feel the fear inside him, a lump that threatened to gnaw its way free, consuming his bones and flesh in great gulps. He let his mind drift, counting all his cages and the many, many chains that bound him.
Chapter 14
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grief and a kind of madness take Spike and Xander places they aren't sure they want to go....
A/N: Written for prompt # 11-castration anxiety on my
psych_30 table and tamingthemuse prompt # 93-chimera. For those anxious about the boys' bits, let me say that castration anxiety refers generally to a fear of powerlessness and not any actual castration. Previous chapters in the tags or in my memories.Xander was asleep. Or unconscious. Spike wasn’t entirely sure which. But he could hear the rapid susurrus of Xander’s heart pumping a full belly’s worth of blood through him. The other man wasn’t dead.
More likely shagged out, Spike smirked as he reached out for his second or possibly third post-coital fag. The flare of his lighter illuminated the hidden valleys of Xander’s muscular body and Spike admired the view, pulling smoke into his dead lungs and enjoying the brief flare of pain brought on by the heated air. He smoked because it passed the time, something that has become vitally important since The Initiative.
Spike stubbed out the cigarette, his harsh gasps for air joining and mingling with Xander’s softer, more even breaths. Not for the first time Spike wondered why they just hadn’t killed him. Every demon waits for death, longs for it in a way he couldn’t adequately explain to the children he now spent his nights with. Not even the Watcher, for all that he knew about demon origins, understood what it meant to be a small fraction of a whole, trapped inside a corpse.
Part of him was all spiny claws and mindlessness, a true beast, only capable of fighting, fucking, and feeding. The rest of him, the smiles, the words, the mind, only a thin coating of humanity smeared over the beast to give it a bit of camouflage. The beast lived a half-life, not fully aware but unable to escape the bondage of the dead husk that surrounded it. If Spike concentrated, he could almost remember a time before this human body…
Pain and rage pushed the vague memories aside. The smoke and shadows of a demon’s formless longing were chimeras, good old sound and fury that signified fuck all in comparison to his here and now. He glanced again at the heavy male body spread out on his bed. Xander bloody Harris was his here and now.
His thoughts drifted back to The Initiative even as he wrapped himself around the warm reassuring bulk next to him. He never stopped thinking about them, about his time in the cage. Twice now he’d been at their mercy and both times had been almost more than he could bear.
Xander shifted in his sleep, hands fumbling and body twitching. Xander would understand his fear. The loss of control, of power, was something Xander bloody Harris would understand all too well, not that Spike had any intention of ever sharing the ghosts that haunted him. He yanked the heavy coverlets up and over their recumbent bodies. The twitch, which had raised a fine crop of gooseflesh over Xander’s body, slowed and halted.
The chip was another cage, one with no key. Spike could remember being bound, remember that helplessness and the fear that went with your existence at the mercy of another. But he’d been beside Angelus then and able to die fighting. Now he was beside Xander, and if the other man took it in his fancy to stake Spike, he was helpless.
Spike lay silent and almost still, his hands running in sweeping strokes over the man who was his here and now. He could feel the fear inside him, a lump that threatened to gnaw its way free, consuming his bones and flesh in great gulps. He let his mind drift, counting all his cages and the many, many chains that bound him.
Chapter 14
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no subject
on 2008-04-29 04:11 am (UTC)*Mwah*
no subject
on 2008-05-01 02:35 am (UTC)