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

The Watcher's Master
By Skargasm
For Brutti ma buoni

Souled, un-chipped and horny. Not the world's best combination. Spike sighed, cigarette in hand even though it was unlit. No smoking indoors now – fuckin' do-gooders taking things too far if you asked the non-breathing. Scowling through the darkness of the club, Spike stomped up to the bar and asked for a JD straight. Knocking it back, he looked around with only vague interest. An interest that sharpened as he saw someone he knew in a position he didn't expect. For the rest of the evening, Spike watched, marvelled, noted, and ultimately wanted. Now he simply needed to put his plan into play....


Wesley sat at his desk, turning the envelope round and round in his hand. He was …..surprised. He had never received such an invitation in all the time he had been attending the clubs – he was only peripherally involved in the scene, not involved with anyone in particular, and this invitation reeked of someone who wanted an intense involvement. The question was whether or not Wesley was in the right space for such an involvement?

“You coming?!” Jerking back to awareness, Wesley looked up at Angel in the doorway, nodding as he recalled the meeting he was due to attend.

“Yes, of course, of course. I'll be along shortly – I just need to bring...”

“Fine.” Without giving him time to fully respond, Angel was gone and Wesley sighed. Angel was more and more distant, had less time for his staff, his friends. And Wesley found himself visiting the clubs more and more, needing some connection that until now he had failed to find. Perhaps this invitation had come at a fortuitous time. Shuffling the required paperwork together, he neatly placed them into a folder and walked towards his office door. After a moment's hesitation, he went back to his desk and picked up the black envelope, tucking it into the pocket of his slacks.

Throughout the next hour, Wesley found himself extremely aware of the envelope in his pocket. And uncomfortably aware of his reaction to it – he had never experienced such a level of constant lust whilst discussing contracts for demonic tribes, and it was ….. disconcerting. What was even more disconcerting was the level of attention he was getting from Spike. It was disturbing – the blond vampire was usually full of snark and vinegar, ridiculing Angel at every turn, and doing his utmost to disrupt every meeting he attended. But today, he sat quietly by Angel's side, directly opposite Wesley. And he stared. Wesley could feel the weight of the piercing blue eyes as they travelled over his face, down his neck then his chest. He was grateful for the heavy conference desk which hid his totally unexpected response to Spike's scrutiny – nipples peaking, cock pressing hard against the fly of his trousers.

Wesley knew he stumbled over some of his report, but he also knew it made no difference – Angel didn't even make the barest attempt to pretend he was listening, too busy brooding. Gunn was fixated on squeezing the absolute best deal for Wolfram and Hart through legal means, regardless of the fact that sometimes what was good for Wolfram and Hart was not good for the innocents they were supposed to be protecting. With a heavy sigh, Wesley realised the meeting had come to an end while he had been wool-gathering and he shuffled his papers together once more and prepared to leave the room. As he stood up, he became aware that he was being watched and turning, he wasn't surprised to see Spike standing in the doorway.

“You alright Percy?!”

“How many times must I ask you not to call me that?” He walked over to Spike, using the folder to shield his still half-erect cock.

“What should I call ya then – maybe, Pet?” Was it purely his imagination that put such emphasis on the last word? Thrown, Wesley stumbled, falling into Spike as he put his hand out to grab for support. The file of paperwork hit the floor as his left hand was caught by Spike's and held in a tight grip, offering more than enough support. And his right hand inadvertently landed on the shockingly hard bulge at the apex of Spike's thighs.

Flushing crimson, Wesley removed his hand – or rather, he tried to remove his hand. Spike's other hand held his tightly, pressing it against the rock hard evidence of his arousal.

“Ya didn't answer.”


“What would ya like me to call ya? If not Percy – surely you have a preference??” Brain completely numb, Wesley hardly registered that Spike was speaking English. Without permission, his fingers curled around the solid shaft beneath the dark denim, squeezing gently. “Did I say ya could touch, Pet? Tsk tsk, someone needs to teach ya to wait 'til you've earnt the privilege, luv.”

“Whu - ?! Oh dear Lord, Spike – I am so incredibly sorry!” Flushing even darker, and realising that he was standing in the doorway to the conference room holding Spike's hand and caressing Spike's blatant erection in full view of anyone who chose to walk by, Wesley yanked both hands away. He dropped to his knees, scrabbling to pick up all the paperwork that he had dropped. His eyes drifted upwards and he realised he was facing Spike's crotch, the contents of which were straining towards him, outlined by Spike's hands resting in the tight pockets of his jeans. He licked his lips, and for a moment he imagined – NO!

Jumping to his feet, Wesley couldn't bring himself to look Spike in the eye, see the derision, hear the sarcasm. He left the conference room as quickly as possible, not meeting Spike's gaze at all. He needed the sanctuary of his office to clear his head. God, if he could respond like that to Spike, perhaps a session at the club was indeed needed. The hardness of the cardboard in his pocket dug into his hips and he realised he was going to take whoever this 'Master' was up on his offer.


of the Wolf, the Ram & the Hart

The Black Skull, 8.00pm

The pleasure of your submission is anticipated.

All is ready for you if you have the courage to face your true desires...

The Master


He stood at attention, shoulders back, feet hip width apart as he tried to orientate himself despite the blindfold. The Illoman demon had done a good job on his harness – the slight strain on his shoulders of his wrist restraints meant his chest was pushed out, the fur lining caressing his forearms. Silently thanking God for the soft leather sheathe binding his cock to his thigh, he waited, straining his ears to hear something, anything to give him a clue whether the Master had arrived or not.

“Safe words?”

“Council for stop, Eton for pause.”


“Counc – Oh! Council for stop, Eton for pause..... Sir.”

“Better. Step forward.” Obeying the smooth voice, Wesley took a big step forward, deliberately not betraying the apprehension he was feeling at moving whilst blindfolded. He hissed as he felt movement right next to him, a slight backwards jerk as he instinctively reacted to the sensation of someone walking around him in a tight circle. He shuddered as a cool finger traced the x of his harness on his back, stopping to trail gently down the line of his spine before coming to a rest at the curve of his cheeks. “Red lights?”

“I.....not that I have reached. Sir.” From behind him, the deliberate press of a leather clothed erection pressing against him, movement then the feel of a tongue suddenly tracking from his shoulder, past his pulse before a gentle kiss was laid at the spot just beneath his ear that made him want to writhe. More kisses, nibbling bites, until he was turned around and given a little shove, the bounce as he hit a mattress the first indication that he could recall that he had been manoeuvred over to a bed. Strong arms helped him adjust, pulling and tugging until his arms were as comfortable as they could get bound behind his back and he was sited in the centre of a bed. Silence, then gentle hands claiming his ankles and pulling his legs slowly, deliberately apart until he was spread before the eyes of his master.

He gasped as gentle fingers caressed his legs to his inner thighs, teasing and tracing the tightness of his balls within the leather sheath before cupping and squeezing their fullness. Wesley bit his lip, not wanting to make sounds if they weren't allowed but shockingly pushed further than ever before - so quickly and by so little. He felt the body on top of his shift sideways then move back, taking a firm stance between his legs. A click of a button and he heard a vibrator begin buzzing.



“I - “

“You can make as much noise as ya like but no talking.” For a moment, the voice was incredibly familiar, then the vibrator was placed high up on his inner thigh, fingers tracing a line behind his balls backwards and coherent thought deserted him.


Delicious. There was no other word for the responses Wesley gave him. Moans, sighs and grunts, hips jerking – so incredibly responsive to everything. The scents wafting off the man were intense – it was like a fog bank of passion, and Spike was hard pressed not to just fuck the man into next week. But teasing and taunting the man was worth so much more.

Knee walking up the bed until he was straddling Wesley's head, he allowed the man a few moments to register his movements. Unzipping his leather trousers, he released his aching cock, painting Wes's lips with pre-cum before tapping his cheek until the Watcher opened his mouth. Hot, wet, tight suction taking him in, and Spike thrust hard, letting his body lead him for a few moments as he enjoyed the smooth movements as Wes bobbed his head and sucked him like a professional. Vaguely, he could hear himself crooning and praising, words tumbling from his mouth as he was sucked, licked and lapped til his head was spinning and a stream of obscenities were flooding from his mouth. It was lovely – made his spine curl and made him want to fuck Wesley's mouth until he came like a train down the swallowing throat, but it wasn't all that he wanted. This – anyone could have this. He wanted more. He wanted Wesley to know who was dragging these moans and cries from him.

Tugging himself free, he got off of the bed completely and stood to one side. Wesley made an appealing figure. Spike had long since untied his hands from behind his back, shackling him to the headboard so that he was stretched out like a smorgasbord for Spike's delectation. The smooth, pink cock was full to bursting, pulsing and throbbing within it's black leather prison, oozing pre-cum that smeared all over Wes's thigh. Stripping down to nothing, Spike took a deep breath. He knew he was taking a risk – Wesley might take one look at him and safe-word his way to freedom. Hell, he might try to stake Spike or worse still, he might tell Angel Spike had done something inappropriate and – No, he wasn't going to do this – he was William the Bloody, souled vampire, saviour of the World. He was strong enough to take whatever the Watcher dished out, even if it was rejection.

But before he risked it all – before he lost the chance to taste the man fully, to take him – he just wanted a little something more. Wanted to take him a little higher. Moving swiftly to the side of the room, he chose one of the special candles provided with the room. If anything was going to make him safe-word, this was it.

“Safe words.” Wesley shook his head, obviously jarred out of his sub-space by Spike's words.

“Er – ummm Council for stop, Eton for pause Sir.”

“Good. Want you to bear this for me, luv. Might sting to start with but it'll feel good – promise.” Wes was nodding before Spike had even finished speaking, a slight frown creasing his forehead before it smoothed out once more and he sank back into his sexual haze.

Stroking a hand down the lean length of Wesley's thigh, Spike tilted the candle, watching as a slight trickle of wax slid onto Wesley's leg.

“AH!!” Pressing his hand against the hardening wax, Spike checked Wes over. His hands were clenched into fists, hips arched up from the bed, but his cock – oh my! If Spike hadn't known the cock ring made it damn near impossible, he would have thought Wes had come.

“Christ, you're hot. 'k Pet?” Wes nodded, biting his lower lip as he slowly sank back onto the bed. “Again?” The nod was slower this time, but Spike knew it was sincere. He stroked down Wes's other thigh, tipping the candle once more and letting the wax splatter over a slightly bigger area.

“FUCK!!” Spike could actually see Wes's balls lift and tighten, smell the blood as the Watcher's fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. Gently, lightly he stroked the reddened area, soothing the ache with the coolness of his skin. Leaning over, he forced Wesley's fingers open, licking the traces of blood in the whitened palms. Wes's chest was heaving and he was panting for breath.

“K?” The Watcher nodded furiously, body automatically leaning in Spike's direction. "Want more?"


“Sure? Wouldn't think less of ya – can be a shock the first few times - “

“Spike for God's sake, do you want me to beg?!”


When the blindfold was yanked off his head, Wes blinked in even the dim light of the room and realised what he had revealed. Damn it, he'd been doing so well up until that point – using sir instead of the name that was on his lips every time he called out.


“I - “

“Don't lie.” For the first time in a long time, Wes saw William the Bloody in front of him. Soul or no soul, the vampire standing there was one quarter of the Scourge of Europe, knew methods of torture that could keep him alive for days and make him beg for death every single one of them.

“I – after the toys, maybe during the er – the ….”

“Blow job. 'Gelus always told me I talked too much during a good fuck. Like he'd know – his definition of a good fuck wouldn't make my top ten.” Spike sighed, then sat down heavily on the side of the bed. “Why'd you let it carry on?”


“Even vampire hearing can't decipher that one. Speak up, Pet – it don't get more embarrassing than this, believe me!”

“Because I LIKED it!” Wes knew his cheeks were flushed, was aware of his erection deflating as his sense of excitement drained from him. Who knew why Spike had done this – boredom? Some evil plan to get his own back for what exactly?

“Only liked? Mustn't be doing my job right as Master if you just liked it Pet.” Wesley froze in his bonds, slowly deciphering what Spike had said.

“I don't understand. What are you getting out of this?”

“Oh Watcher, if you could see yourself. You're beautiful – so strong in body and mind. And there's honour in ya – went against your friends to do the right thing. Takes a strong man to do something like that.” One strong finger traced Wes's cheekbones, down to his mouth before tracing his lips. Unbidden, his tongue dipped out and he lapped at the questing digit. “Peaches can't see it cos his head's up his arse, but you are a beautiful creature – deserving.”

Wes shook his head.

“I know what I deserve. Rejected by everyone within Sunnydale. Ejection from the Watcher's Council. Wholesale condemnation from my friends. Don't play mind games with me Spike – I am fully aware of my lot in life. If you are simply wanting to get back at Angel somehow - “

“This has nothing to do with Angel. Wouldn't want ya if ya had been his. Want something of my own – I saw you, in one of the clubs the other week. Saw ya and wanted ya. S'why I set this up. Peaches can fuck off – not interested in anything o'his. Well apart from his whiskey, some of his money and that Viper is kinda nice - “

“Focus Spike!” Spike grinned at him, and Wesley shook his head – he knew the vampire was much more capable than most people gave him credit for. You didn't reach nearly 140 years of age and become a Master Vampire without some skills. But why would such a creature want him – he was nothing special. Although Spike had said....

“Ya can believe me. I ain't lying – no need for me to is there? You're tied here, can't get away. Could do anything, call ya anything and there's nowt ya could do about it. So why would I bother lying?” In a swift move, Spike was once more lying between Wesley's legs, looking down into his eyes.

“You want me.”

“Yeah, I want ya. I want – everything. I want a friend, a companion, a lover. I want to talk to ya, drink with ya, play games with ya. An' so much more.”

“Like what?” Conscious of his erection once more filling the leather sheath and pushing up against the cool, hard body on top of his, Wesley tried to concentrate. This was important. This was everything.

“I wanna fuck ya. I wanna take ya higher than anyone else ever has or ever will. I wanna see ya bleed, see ya smile, see ya come – I want to see everything, I want to be everything.”

“I've already called you Sir and.....”

“We was playing – not now. Demons don't use safe words, Pet. You'd be mine – belong to me. I do whatever I want.”

“I understand, I completely understand.”

“S'that what ya want then?” Undulating his hips and dragging a groan from Wesley, Spike leaned down and moved in close, scenting Wesley's neck and licking a broad stripe from shoulder to ear. “Wanna belong to me? Wantin' me ta be master or would anyone do?”

“No – not anyone. I want – I need you – God, Spike I can't concentrate when you - “

“Ya mean it?” Leaning back, Spike looked Wesley in the eye. “No takin' it back once ya say it. Gonna belong to me in front of all of 'em – Gunn, the soddin Scoobies when they visit, Fred? An' Peaches – he'll know just from tonight, but I ain't gonna be a dirty secret ever again.”

“No. No secret. I'm..... proud to be yours, to belong to you. Proud to call you Master.” Spike hissed, demon face to the fore completely without volition at the heartfelt honorific. Gently, he pressed his lips to Wesley's, tongue darting out to lick the pale pink lips, darting delicately between fangs in a kiss that was sweet and hot, lustful and hinting at burgeoning love?

“Last chance Pet.”

“No safe words needed – Master.”