Summary: Being a good host isn’t supposed to mean that you have to let your
guest take advantage, right?
Notes: Non-con, bondage, misuse of toys, evil Wesley
Pairing: Spike/Wesley, Wesley/Angel, Angel/Spike, Spike/Buffy
Thanks to gillo for betaing, anything I got right is because of her, anything wrong is my fault.
Spike was shouting his lungs out, and it felt like he’d been doing so forever. He kept demanding answers, begging for whys, asking the name of the bastard that had taken over his home, who had pushed him downstairs, and then locked him up in his own chains.
Oh he’d tried to be quiet at first, but after hanging here for an hour, two hours, he’d been too impatient for the little shit to just continue.
That was the worst of it, being left alone here with his own imagination, (and a background chorus of Mozart, which might be the worst part of it all) and, after twenty years with Angelus and a century with Drusilla, that was a torture wracking him apart worse than an actual bout of torture could have. (Especially if the torture lacked the Mozart.)
Wesley finally joined him downstairs. Finally!
“Took you long enough.” At least that’s what Spike had intended to say. He was stopped from doing so as Britboy forced a ball gag in his mouth the second he opened his lips.
The human scoffed at him and then just ignored him. Spike could do nothing but watch as the wanker inspected his humble living quarters. The man kicked the bed post and snorted as it almost gave way. He’d better not break it, not after all the beer he'd had to buy Xander to get him to help drag it down here The bed was one of the few things he and Buffy tended to miss. That was the only reason the bloody heavy bit of furniture hadn’t been wrecked yet.
Then the human moved on to Spike’s ‘bathroom’. A small alcove with a shower that was tapping its water directly from a well. Clem had installed it for him and Spike had been bloody happy to have it. Even if only to use the cold water whenever Buffy left him hard after he’d finished her off.
Spike almost burst a vein when the human tore apart the shower curtain. So what if it was shredded? It was all he had and the bastard had no right to take what little he possessed away from him.
“I really don’t understand how any creature could possibly exist here, William. You’d think that even something as vile as you would want better than a hole in the ground.”
Spike growled around the gag. Where did that ponce get off insulting his home? Didn’t he realize how many demons Spike had to fight off on a regular basis just to be able to keep it? The lack of mould on the walls alone was enough to make it the envy of every demon in town.
Spike tried to pull at the chains and felt another burst of the chip. What the hell?
“You really shouldn’t try that Spike. With the new setting of your chip, any attempt at escape is interpreted as intent to harm a human.”
Spike refused to believe him, but any further struggle led to an ever-increased amount of pain. It made him try harder until he could feel blood flowing from his nose and he felt himself lost to the dark. It wasn’t until he’d almost slipped away that the human came closer and wiped away the blood.
Wesley hadn’t even bothered to undress Spike yet; there’d be plenty of time for that. With the spell surrounding the place, no one would even think of coming in for at least a week, possibly two. It would be all the time he needed, and if it wasn’t, he would simply have to extend the spell, or take the vampire elsewhere.
But he seriously doubted that the creature could hold out for that long. William the Bloody might be Angelus’ most dangerous childe, but when it came down to it, he was an ignorant fool, easily riled and lacking the patience for anything even remotely resembling a plan. That was, after all, how Angelus made him.
Ah there he was. Wesley watched as the vampire woke up. He could spot the instant that Spike started to breathe. Just as he noticed the second that Spike realized what he was doing and stopped. Wesley took out his knife and cut away the excess clothing, the tattered remnants of the vampire’s shirt and pants. Spike wasn’t wearing any underwear.
As Wesley started to pull off the vampire’s boots and socks, Spike tried to kick him in the face, then screamed as his own resistance triggered his punishment.
Wesley grabbed another set of chains and shackled the feet as far apart as he could so that Spike wouldn’t be able to get in another kick. It also allowed him easy access that he wouldn’t have otherwise.
The chains were really inspired; hung up on the ceiling and the floor, they allowed him to walk around his chosen victim and inspect him from all sides. He let the cold metal of the last chain drape over the vampire’s chest, moving down. Wesley wondered if Spike could even feel the cold. It might be interesting to test it out; empirical research on a vampire’s adaptation to a variety of temperatures and temperature fluctuations. He could use the vampire’s own freezer to create ice and one of his candles to check Spike’s reaction to heat.
Spike was still glaring at him. Wesley took what was left of the vampires shirt and bound his eyes with it. Silenced, blinded, perfectly set up. Spike desperately tried to shy away as Wesley moved his hand over the vampire’s back, down over his buttocks. Spike no doubt would have some choice words with him over that later. But Wesley didn’t care. All that mattered was that Spike’s ass was Angel’s and what Angel would say if Wesley made Spike beg for Wesley to take him.
It didn’t really matter what Spike thought of all this, Wesley considered as he let his finger softly slip into Spike’s sphincter. So utterly tight, tensed, as if Spike was trying to force it back out. But Wesley didn’t let that stop him. He hadn’t expected Spike to cooperate after all. Not this soon in the game. He knelt down next to the bed and pulled Spike’s own toy chest out from under it. He wasn’t disappointed when he opened it.
There were quite a few butt plugs, most of them made for women. Wesley couldn’t help but wonder if Buffy had let the vampire use any of these on her What in God’s holy name could have happened to the girl to corrupt her in this manner?
Wesley didn’t bother to prepare Spike, not the first time around, not since his body was still quite capable of healing right up. He grabbed the largest plug and forced it inside. He could imagine the flesh tearing as blood started dripping down the object.
Wesley then took an ointment that he’d borrowed from a ‘friend’ in Los Angeles, friend in the loosest possible term. He wondered what Lilah would think of it if she’d heard him calling her that. He covered his hands with latex gloves and took a small brush that was included in the package. Even though the mixture was supposed to be harmless to humans, he couldn’t help be anything but distrustful over any gift coming from Wolfram and Hart. He was glad of the gloves as he noticed how greasy the salve was. He covered Spike’s chest with it, forming a huge A over the vampire’s skin. He wasn’t quite sure what was in the salve, but the result quickly showed as it burnt a big red A wherever it touched Spike’s body
He let it work its way in for a moment, before wiping off the remainder. By then Spike was whimpering. Wesley wondered if Spike would beg for mercy if he took the gag out. He wasn’t about to check it out.
The vampire was still mumbling behind his gag as he went over to the bed and lay down. Wesley removed his clothes and was asleep five minutes later. His first dreamless sleep in five weeks.
In response to this request:
RATING: NC-17, please
DETAILS: A bitter Wesley with his throat recently healed (after Angel tried to smother him) seeks out Spike, finds him chipped and worthess for whatever plan he has, but perfectly fine for taking out his frustrations on.
Requested by fanbot on November 14, 2006.
Claimed by liliaeth on November 17, 2006.