Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

just feel
By shelly
For Jainie

Riley takes another drink. "I just don't get it." He mumbled, passing the bottle to Spike.

Spike takes the bottle with a chuckle, gulping some of the cheap booze before handing it back. "'Course you don't pet. It's a dark thing, like I told ya."

Riley shakes his head, focusing his fuzzy gaze enough to glare at Spike. Takes a swig, grimacing at the taste as he passes the bottle back. "She's not dark, she's not. . .She's not evil. She's good. Buffy's good. I know she is."

Spike bursts into laughter, stopping to clutch at his chest and the hole in it. "Oh, yer priceless, you are. So confused and hurting." Spike smiles, pleased. "But didn't say evil, now, did I? Yeah, she's good. She's the bloody fucking Mother Theresa of vampire slayers, she is. Dark isn't what she is, boy. It's what she wants. She craves it, even if she won't admit it." Spike takes a pull from the bottle. "Don't ya get it? Monsters, boy, that's her thing. All she knows." Wiggles his brows and takes another pull. "We can't really blame the girl if it spills over to her desire in men, now can we? Be right down petty." He hands the bottle over gingerly, still favoring his chest wound. "Not gonna be petty, now, are you?"

Riley reaches for it with a smile and takes a drink. "That vampire super healing of yours takes a while, doesn't it?"

Spike gives him a glare. "What? Haven't tortured enough vampires to know? Or did you just not let any heal?" Gets only a pleased smile from Riley. "Well, don't fret, I'll be just fine in a bit. Bet I'll be dancing on your grave 'fore you get a chance to see mine."

"Oh, goody. I feel all happy now, because I was starting to worry." Riley ignores Spike's snort and takes another drink. "Take off your shirt."


Riley rolls his eyes as he gets up and moves to stand in front of Spike. Takes another drink but keeps the bottle this time. "Take off your shirt." Riley gestures with the hand holding the bottle, making an up and over motion with it at Spike. "I want to see your chest."

Spike quirks his scarred brow and smirks. "Want to see me naked then, do you, boy? What? Fancy a bit of monster in your men, too? Well! Something you and the slayer have in common. It'll bring you two closer, I'm sure. Sharing is good for couples, I've heard."

Riley takes another drink before using the bottle to wave away Spike's comments. "I want to see your wound." He grins at Spike. "Where I stabbed you. Remember that? You screamed all high pitched and girly like? It was nice."

Spike shrugs and removes his shirt.

The wound is small and ugly looking; bloody, red and torn, the edges puckering, already beginning to close. The sight of it makes Riley grin.

Riley hands off the bottle to Spike, drops to his knees and leans in close. Places a hand on Spike's thigh to steady himself and reaches the other out to probe at the wound. Spike flinches but says nothing as Riley coats a finger with Spike's blood. Riley's eyes are locked on Spike's as he brings the finger to his mouth and tastes.

Spike's nostrils flare and he leans forward in his chair but he remains silent.

"Doesn't even taste good." Riley tells him, taking the bottle and washing the taste away.

Spike's eyes narrow at him. "An' why should it? You don't crave it, you don't need it. Right now you're just curious about the blood." Spike leans closer. "'Sides all that, I'm dead. I suspect your blood would be much tastier."

"You think?"

"Oh, I know, soldier-boy. Bet you'd be as fresh and tasty as mother's very own milk."

"Humm. Never thought about it like that. But I am, as you've told me, going for the low. Let's just see." Riley reaches down and pulls a knife from his boot. Lifting his hand from Spike's thigh, he turns it over, clenches his fist, and runs the blade across his arm. Watches Spike watch the blood well up and spill. He keeps his eyes on Spike as he lifts his arm and lowers his head, tongue out, and licks at his blood. Lifts his head with a blood tinged smile. "Well. You were right, Spike. I do taste better than you. Imagine that."

"You gonna share that?" Spike asks, still watching the run and drip of Riley's blood."

It was Riley's turn to laugh. "Now why would I do that?"

"Sharing my bottle with you, ain't I?"

Riley takes the bottle and a drink and grins at Spike, doing his best to ignore his alcohol-induced dizziness. "You are sharing, aren't you? You're a nice, generous guy, aren't you Hostile 17. Opps. I mean Spike."

Spike just smirks at him. "Yeah. It's Spike. That's what yer girl calls me, after all."

Riley carefully sets the bottle down before using his bloodied arm to punch Spike in the mouth. Spike laughs and licks the blood from his newly split lip. "She hits me like that too. Only when she does it, I get tingles." Spike tilts his head and purses his lips, blowing a kiss at Riley. "It hurts more, too. Maybe you should try again?"

Riley lifts his arm to throw another punch but pulls back and smiles instead. He shakes his head, hoping to clear it. "You're very good at this, aren't you? The getting reactions thing, I mean." Riley nods his head. "Yeah, you are, but I think I'm tired of reacting for you, Spike."

Spike quickly reaches out and takes hold of Riley's wrist before he can move away. "Come on, boy. You want low? Want to be in control? Gimmie a taste. You've been offerin' yerself up like a bloody blood buffet, so why not share with a real vampire instead of yer two-bit vamp trolls. Give ole Spike a taste. You won't even have to pay me." Sniggers. "I can't bite you, you know that. You and yours have made me all safe and childproof. All suck and no bite, I am, but we can still have. . .fun."

"I really don't like you much at all, Spike." Riley tells him as he holds out his still bleeding arm.

"Yeah, 'course ya don't pet. An' I hate you too. Won't make you taste any less nummy to me and it won't make it any less thrilling for you. Hell, might even add a bit of spice for the both of us."

Spike starts low and moves slowly, savoring. He licks up the almost dried trails of blood that have gathered at the bend of Riley's arm and works his way up, running his tongue across the arm to the cut; to where fresh blood still spills sluggishly from the recent knife wound. Spike rises from his chair, pulling Riley's arm straight up while he's still on his knees, and runs his tongue over every trace of blood, over the drying trails flowing towards Riley's wrist and the drips that have run to the side, before latching his mouth over the cut and just sucking at it.

Spike pulls back, tugging on Riley's arm until he, too, is standing. "Do it again." He's wearing his demon face and Riley doesn't even blink. "I want more." Spike tells him, licking his lips.

Riley pulls his arm away, stumbling a bit. "Where'd the bottle go?"

Spike moves and before Riley can even bend his head to look for the bottle, Spike is before him again, bottle and knife in hand. Spike snatches the bottle away when Riley reaches for it, offering the knife instead. "Do it again." He repeats, letting his face relax into its human visage.

"Or what? You won't share anymore?" Something ugly and like a smile settles over Riley's face. "I don't really need your bottle, Spike."

Spike does smile. "I don't really need -- your blood, Riley. But. . ."

He offers the knife again and Riley takes it this time. Takes it and cuts deep, right above the first cut. Doesn't really feel any pain, but does feel the rush and spill of his blood, feels Spike shudder as he watches and he smiles. It may not be real control but it feels good. He turns and cradles his arm as if he held a football, blocking Spike. He looks over his shoulder and smirks at Spike. "Bottle first."

Spike smiles, bouncing on his feet. "I want you to know that I'm very pleased with you right about now, boy. Absolutely delighted with you, I am."

"Bottle!" Riley barks at him. Spike laughs and holds it out.

Riley turns back around and swaps Spike the bloody knife for the bottle, gulping down it contents as he holds out his bleeding arm.

Spike licks the knife clean. "Should've gotten you drunk ages ago, pet." He takes Riley's arm in his hand and leads him to the bench, pushing him down. "This is a much better you."

Riley just takes another drink. "Shut up and suck, Spike."

Spike laughs again, incredibly pleased with all of this. Places his Riley-blood coated hand on his chest. "Be still my heart." Laughs more, batting his eyelashes. "But that goes without saying, dunnit?"

Riley huffs out an aggrieved sigh. "Less talking, more drinking. See?" Riley takes another drink and shakes his arm, covering them both with blood splatters. "I'm bleeding all over your nice dirty floor."

"Oh, yes. Can't have that, can we? What will the maid think come morning?" Spike straddles the bench, his back to Riley, and slides down until his head is resting on Riley's thigh. Spike grins up at Riley as he grabs his arm and pulls it around and to his mouth. Spike closes his eyes as he begins to lick and suck.

"Now that's just disgusting." Riley mumbles, watching Spike at his arm. He takes another drink and looks away. Looks at the wall, letting his eyes follow the cracks until they all end up in the same corner. Moves his gaze to the TV and lets its static snow draw him in for several minutes. When his eyes cross he turns back to Spike. He doesn't look away. Spike's head is rocking back and forth, moving up and down and when it's in his lap Riley takes another drink. Spike's hands are firm on his arm, not hurting, just holding and. . .moving. Spike's thumb constantly strokes as the cuts, milking them. Wonder's if Spike's thinking about what will set the chip off.

Apparently it's not this.

Riley moves his gaze back to the TV's static snow. He's still watching it when he feels Spike take his bottle. He blinks to clear his gaze and refocus and gets nothing but a smiling Spike for all his trouble. "Let's just get this outta the way, " Spike is saying.

"Huh?" He blinks again, but its still the smiling Spike. A Spike that's tugging and pulling at his shirt. "What?" Riley snaps, but he says it though his shirt, which is now covering his face. "What are you doing?" Riley asks, shirtless now.

"Same thing, pet. No need to worry." He pushes and Riley falls back. "Thought we'd just move the cutting up a bit, so to speak."

Riley pops back up. "I don't think. . ."

"As well you shouldn't, pet. No time for thinking, this. Time for feeling and doing. Here." Spike offers the bottle to Riley. "Have another nip." Riley does and Spike takes the bottle back, setting it aside. "There ya go, luv. What we need now is a nice scalp wound, I think. It'll bleed lots and heal up right quick for you."

Riley looks at his hands, not even noticing that Spike has left and come back. "Don't have a knife." He shakes his head to clear it. His arm aches and when he looks at it, it's clean and smooth, marred only with the twin cuts he himself inflicted, both of which look at least a day old. He giggles at the idea of bleeding himself for Spike.

"Here ya go, pet, use this." Spike tells him, holding out a glinting, thin razor. Riley takes the razor but makes no other move. Spike's hand is in hair, smoothing it back, his thumb running across a spot over his ear. "Right here." Spike's mouth is at his ear. "Feel this?" Spike's thumb rubs a little harder, back and forth. "Right here. Cut." Spike moves his mouth to the spot and lets his tongue mark it, over and over again, until Riley's hair is damp and parted. Spike takes Riley's hand and guides the razor to the desired spot. "Cut, Riley."

Riley cuts. Deep. "Shit!" He lets the razor fall.

Spike's hand moves to his head in an automatic attempt to hold the pain at bay, but. . .nothing. He grins.

"Fuck!" Riley mutters holding his hand over his head.

"Oh, don't go on so, pet." Spike pulls Riley's hand away, letting the blood flow. "Spike'll kiss it and make it all better."

Spike pushes and Riley is once again lying with his back against the cold stone bench but his time Spike is over him, resting all his weight on top of him, his hands holding Riley's head still while his mouth and tongue work at Riley's profusely bleeding scalp and his pelvis is rocking against Riley's.

And Riley's hard.

He wants to laugh but manages only a strangled breath. Spike rubs his chest and shushes him and that lets Riley get actual laughter out. He doesn't stop laughing until he feels Spike's hand at his waist, undoing his pants.

He draws in a sharp breath. "Spike. . ." He's not sure what he's going to say, but knows he has to say something.

Spike just unzips him and continues to lick at his scalp.

Riley moves his hand, reaching for Spike's to stop it. "What are you doing?"

Spike moves his head so that he's looking down at Riley, clearly displeased with the interruption. "We're having a moment here, boy. Just shut yer gob and don't stuff it up." Goes back to the blood.

"I don't know what that means but I know damn well I don't want your hand down my pants."

Spike sighs. "Means shut bloody well up and don't think 'bout what we're doing and just bloody well do it. Feel it."

"I can't just. . . "

"Yes, you bloody well can!" Spike snaps at him. Placing a hand on the bench next to Riley's head, Spike pushes himself up and reaches down to open his own jeans and pull out his cock. He stays up long enough to further tug down Riley's jeans and boxers, letting Riley's erection pop free before he lays back down.

"This is just. . ."

"Hush." Spike's hand moves back down and he's fumbling and doing things and Riley is not going to ask what and then Spike pushes himself up again and Spike's cock is over Riley's and it slick and rubbing at his and Spike is once again resting all his weight on Riley and he's sucking at Riley's head wound and rocking and thrusting his cock against Riley's and Riley just. . .hushes and feels.

Riley doesn't think about anything as his own hips begin to mirror Spike's movements. Thinks nothing of it when his hand goes to Spike's head and holds it closer to his own. Riley is totally oblivious when his other hand goes to Spike's ass and pushes it down as he thrusts up. Just feels. Doesn't question why the vampire is suddenly panting in his ear, doesn't stop to wonder at the compulsion that has his feet on the bench to better thrust against the panting vampire. He's aware of friction against his cock, knows that it feels good and that's enough for now, that's all he needs. He moves faster, thrusts harder and is pleased when Spike counters his moves; when Spike adds to the friction and feeling, but doesn't stop to think about it. His boots are flat on the bench, his pelvis tilted, holding Spike up while Spike is thrusting down and Riley is just grinding and moving and feeling. When he comes his eyes are closed and he's not thinking of anything but how good it feels. He thrusts and comes and there's nothing but the joy of orgasm. No Spike, no Buffy, nothing but him and how good he feels right now.

Maybe there's a little bit of Spike, but he doesn't bother to think about it. When he does stop to think, he doesn't want to open his eyes.

Doesn't want to wonder if Spike came too, doesn't want to wonder if he's crazy for wondering.

"Well, that was fun, pet." And there's a wealth of satisfaction in that.

Riley doesn't bother to hold back his smirk. The question of vampire orgasm has been answered; however, the question of his sanity, sadly, remains. Riley doesn't open his eyes as he feels Spike move off of him. When he's cold from lack of Spike and he hears clothes rustle and a zipper zip, his eyes remain stubbornly shut tight. When he feels the nudge of a bottle against his cheek he stands up, pulls up his pants and opens his eyes.

First thing he sees is Spike smiling at him, all sated and friendly like. It's the scariest thing Riley has ever seen in his entire life.

"Have a nip, why don't you, pet? You probably need it."

Riley takes the bottle. "I really don't like you, Spike." Riley takes a drink, checks the bottle's contents and brings it back to his mouth, killing it.

Spike raises his brows. "That so? And here I was thinking all kinds of less than murderous thoughts about you." Waves a hand in the air. "Don't think over much 'bout that, though, pet. It's only the afterglow, m'sure. I 'spect I'll be wanting you dead again by the time yer out the door." Spike tells him, jerking his head towards said door.

Riley picks up Spike's discarded shirt and uses it to wipe himself clean as best he can. Ignores Spike's protests as he dips the shirt into his open pants to wipe. Tosses the shirt to the floor and throws the bottle against the wall, jerking at the sound. Riley zips his pants and looks for and finds his shirt, quickly pulling it on. "Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"This?" He can't think of the words, so he gestures with his hand towards the bench and then himself and then at Spike.

"Never happened, pet. Oh, it was nice and all, don't get me wrong, and you do taste as sweet as anything that ever came from a mommy's tit, but this'll just be our little secret. Wouldn't do the neither of us any good to go telling stories, now would it?"

"If I never see you again, Spike? That'll be okay by me."

"And what about if you do?"

"Listen, Spike." Riley began.

"Oh, run along now." Spike told him, chuckling. "Yer about to kill the afterglow. Almost as bad as killing the moment, that. Be a luv and bugger off, won't you?"

"Yeah. I'll be a luv."