Anatomy of a Seductionby Jainie G & Mistress Ace
Chapter 10: The Unknown
Riley moved quietly through the cemetery, his attention flicking from object to object as he scanned the area. Even though it was a full ten minutes before sunset, it paid to be vigilant while visiting Sunnydale’s final resting places. Vampires weren’t the only things drawn by the Hellmouth.
He’d already turned back a dozen times, his resolve to see this thing through with Spike wavering in the harsh light of day. Riley found himself questioning his decision to break-up with Buffy right up until a few moments after they sat down on the grass outside of Stevenson Hall. She looked so beautiful in the sunlight, her golden hair swirling around her face like a cloud and he was once again struck by the fact that he still loved her.
But the distant look on her face and the distracted way she talked to him reminded Riley that while he did love her, that feeling was not returned. When he asked how she was, she told him about her training schedule. When he offered to help out, she changed the subject to her annoying little sister who was driving her crazy with borrowing her clothes and not understanding the burdens of being a slayer. She went on and on about how unfair it was that her sister Dawn wanted to grow up so fast when she’d been forced to step into the adult world the day she was called.
When he tried to explain that most 14-year-olds go through that stage, that he’d watched his own sisters try and grow up overnight, Buffy grimaced at him and accused him of being “Mr. Non-Supportive Guy”. Riley closed his eyes and shook his head; he’d done nothing but be supportive ever since they became involved with each other. Funny how quickly she’d forgotten about the whole- turning-traitor-against-the-government thing...
When Riley tried to touch her, tried to hold her hand for just a moment, Buffy shied. It was only a drop of her eyes and a shift of her hand away from his but that movement spoke volumes to one Riley Finn. She didn’t want him, didn’t need him... didn’t love him.
That little movement strengthened his resolve and Riley told her he thought she had too much on her plate and something was going to have to give. Since she couldn’t walk away from her slaying duties, or school, or her friends... and her family was a rather permanent thing, maybe it would be best if he backed off. If they took a break from each other...
Her very first reaction was something bordering on relief as she stared up into his eyes. That expression was fleeting, however, and her eyes clouding up as she realized she was losing him... had already lost him without ever knowing he was slipping away from her. When the tears started to form, Riley felt like a first-class heel; he wanted to take it back, wanted to erase everything he’d done for the past few days and start out with a clean slate for her.
But that wasn’t possible. He’d slept with Spike, he’d allowed the vampire to do things to him that would turn her stomach and Riley wasn’t willing to live a lie... not even to be with Buffy. She deserved better than that. She deserved so much more than he could ever give her.
So he told her she was better off without him. Without the added complication of a broken-down ex-commando who took up far too much of her time. Getting rid of him would help her stress level. She could use the time she normally spent with him to concentrate on being a better slayer. She could spend more time training with Giles, use more time to rebuild her friendships with Xander and Willow and have more time with her mom and kid sister. It was best thing for all concerned if he just bowed out of the picture.
Tears gave way to anger and then finally sullen resentment. Buffy had lost another man in her life. She looked up at Riley one last time and he felt his heart crack open. The words to take it all back were once more on the tip of his tongue when she asked why it was that all the men in her life always chose to leave her? First her dad, then Angel... she stopped at that point, not adding his name to the list of men that she loved.
He bit back the urge to tell her she had stopped loving when Angel left. That he had always been second best and that fact was the real reason why she'd lost him. It wasn't because he'd slept with someone else. If she'd shown him even half the love she still harboured for Angel, he would never have gone to Spike in the first place. Never would have offered his throat to the wolf at the door, nor taken the wolf into his bed and found his own loneliness reflected in that creature's wild heart.
They sat there in silence for the longest time, neither of them able to speak. Buffy finally rose to her feet and brushed herself off. With one final backward glance, she left Riley sitting there. Left him alone with his over-whelming sense of guilt. If the earth had chosen to swallow him up, it would have been a relief.
She never asked if there was anyone else. That subject never came up, which was good... Because Riley would have told her the truth and the resultant firestorm from that little bombshell would have rocked Sunnydale to its foundations. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned... add slayer strength on top of that sort of rage and World War III would have been tame in comparison.
---
He’d worked steadily through the rest of the day, trying to distract himself from the awful thing he’d done. Riley couldn't use school to keep his mind off things since his only class that day was done.
So he did what he promised; he changed the locks on his apartment door. Then went shopping for some serious necessities, just on the off chance that this thing with Spike was for real. Finally Riley spent the rest of the afternoon in the library, doing research on a variety of subjects.
At three o’clock, Riley looked up from his study of the Stockholm Syndrome and realized that he only had a few hours before it was time to fulfil his final promise, to return at sunset. His search for a reason behind the pull he felt toward the vampire had been fruitless. None of the psychology texts he’d pored over had any solid explanation as to why he burned with the need to see him again. Maybe he really had fallen in love with the guy.
This was the Hellmouth... stranger things had been known to happen.
Setting the heavy textbook aside, Riley swivelled his chair around and typed the other matter he wanted to research into the library computer. A surprising number of books showed up in response to that request. His eyes widened as the screen continued to roll and his mouth dropped open... Here was something that would seriously occupy his time until the sun went down.
---
Riley moved quicker, noting the position of the sun on the western horizon. He didn't want to be late. Especially not tonight. His dealings with Spike the night before and that morning confirmed a suspicion Riley had held for quite sometime. The vampire was used to disappointment, he used to being left behind and left out.
That wasn't going to happen anymore. Not with him... Not if he could help it.
The last of his wavering on the subject had been left at the gates into Restfield. He was going to go to Spike and he was going to see this thing through to the bitter end. After all, he’d shattered one of his lovers’ worlds today... Maybe he could make up for it by making the other one happy?
The young man stopped a few feet away from his final destination and set down the bag he was carrying in order to run a quick comb though his hair. His jeep was great for simple transportation but it played hell on trying to keep his appearance neat and tidy. Despite his nervousness and indecision about keeping his promise to Spike, Riley had taken great pains tonight. He'd dressed carefully, no comfortable plaid or worn blue denim; instead he’d chosen a black leather jacket, tightly fitted black jeans, black boots and a clean white t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin.
Funny to think he wanted to look good for another guy. His buddy Graham would be laughing his ass off while Forest made gagging noises but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the hope that Spike’s eyes would light up, that he would approve... Not that he’d ever seen Spike wear anything other than his leather duster, those scuffed up Doc Martins, tight black t-shirt and equally tight, equally black jeans. The blond wasn’t exactly a fashion plate himself but that didn’t stop Riley from wanting to look good for him.
Bending to retrieve the bag, Riley laughed at how nervous he was being about this whole thing. He'd taken pains with his clothing choices but had been at something of a loss as to what he should bring with him in the way of a present. After all, this was a date... **Oh God, this is a date? Riley, Riley, what in the name of all that’s holy have you gotten yourself into?**
He chuckled at his internal musings about the whole situation because this really was a date. Their first date. And where he came from when you had a first date, you brought a present. With a girl, flowers or chocolates were always acceptable but what could you bring a vampire? A warm, willing victim with a bow around their neck... **Nope, got that already, no bow but ready and willing...**
The question of the present had been answered only a few minutes before parking outside of Restfield. There was a little liquor store on the corner of Main and Oak. He’d bought a six-pack of imported English beer and a good bottle of Kentucky bourbon. There was just no way he was going to drink the cheap shit Spike seemed to favour. Hence, the little brown bag under his arm...
---
Spike picked at his nails, took another drag on his cigarette as he watched the evening news on the telly. It was the only time he got to hear about death and destruction, anymore, since he was no longer able to put the hurt on humans, himself, thanks to the chip. God, he missed that, his demon missed the rush of the hunt, the warm spill of blood in his mouth. The only thing that came close to that dark thrill had been the bloody great shag he’d shared with Captain America.
Speaking of which, where was the boy? He glanced up at the small windows at the tops of the walls, hoping that by the weight of his scrutiny alone, the sun would hurry up and set. His body literally ached, Spike knew it was because he missed Riley. Missed him and feared that he would not return, despite all the reassurances he’d made that morning.
If Riley didn’t return, Spike wasn’t sure what he would do short of dragging him back by his ear and bloody well fucking him into the ground. Not that it wouldn’t be a pleasant way to spend an hour or five but he wanted the boy willing. Force wouldn’t get this thing done between them, force never worked
unless you wanted to break the spirit and he loved the lad the way he was. So there was nothing for it but to wait, to watch and to hope...
As he waited, the fears came trickling back in. Maybe he’d gone back out into the world of sunlight and life and found it really was where he belonged. After all, he was a golden boy, a good man clear through to his bones. Spike knew that much about Riley -- hell, he could taste it in his blood. If the boy was smart, he’d high-tail it back to the Slayer’s side and cosy up to her with the thought of crawling back into her bed and in between her silken thighs. Using her rather nice little body to erase the guilt about what the two of them had done in the heat of the moment last night.
Lord knows, if he was as straight an arrow as Riley Finn, that’s what he’d be doing right now. He’d be buried to the hilt in the Slayer’s hot little box and be banging his sins away. Losing himself in a woman’s flesh so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he’d done the old bottoms up for an undead bloke. Christ, Het-boy must be literally screaming his lungs out right now while she clamped those muscles down around him, the heat and the scent of her washing away all his indiscretions committed while under the influence of a vampire’s bite.
Closing his eyes for a second, Spike stifled the urge to cry as those images washed over him. He was jealous, jealous of all the nights she’d already spent with him. Jealous of the fact that she’d gotten there first and that the boy loved her. If he had the soddin’ chip out of his head, he’d bathe in her blood and then fuck her lover until he cried out his love from him. *His love for Spike... not her.*
The only consolation he had was that Riley hadn’t left him after they’d fucked each other into complete and utter exhaustion. Instead of bolting off into the night, the big man merely made a phone call to check in with his mates and then had curled up in Spike’s own bed. Had invited himself to spend the night; not that he was complaining about that rather startling development. Nor anything else that had happened between them.
There was nothing about that perfect night and morning that Spike would change. Except for the whole leaving thing. Had it been up to him, or more specifically his demon, he would have chained the boy up. Would have lashed him down to his bed and flat-out refused to let him leave. If he’d tucked Riley away down in the catacombs underneath the crypt, Spike would have been able to hide his presence from the Slayer for at least a few weeks.
But it wasn’t up to him, was it? If Riley didn’t return out of his own free will, Spike wasn’t going to force the issue. The young man wasn’t his thrall and he had no intention of turning him into one. **Nasty things, thralls... always clutterin’ up the place and begging for the bite. Always did make my skin crawl, lookin’ at them things. Walkin’ all-you-can-eat buffets, that's all they were... no challenge with one of them. No chase...**
And for Spike -- for all vampires, truth be told -- the chase was the very best part.
Thralls were not to his taste; he much preferred a lover with a little fight left... and lord, didn’t that lad of his have the best fight still left in him. The way he struggled against him, had refused his earlier commands and had only given in after some sweet talking and the tiniest scrape along one finger. Watching and hearing the boy come on command had been better than a dozen perfect kills.
And swallowing his come, drinking it down and making it part of his own undead body was worth the loss of every single kill he’d ever made. To keep Riley in his bed, Spike was willing to forswear killing humans... The chip currently prevented that from happening but if it ever malfunctioned, if it ever released him from the spider-web of pain, the vampire would forgo the adrenaline and satisfaction that came with the hunt to keep the boy at his side.
Just as the anchorman -- altogether too calm and bland for Spike's tastes, but what anchorman wasn't bland? -- reported the latest gruesome headline, a busload of thirty nuns getting flattened by an oncoming train -- he felt it... the little twinge, the tickle at his spine that he'd come to associate with Riley. The soldier was on his way back... just like he'd promised.
The relief he felt would have driven him to his knees if he’d been standing. As it was, tears threatened to flow down his pale cheeks, but he dashed them away with a rough, hasty swipe of his left hand. No need to be acting like some weepy bird who was terrified her man wouldn’t return to her. He wasn’t willing to give his chosen one that much power over him...
Crushing out his cigarette, Spike stood and stretched. He glanced out the dust-covered window at the last of the late-afternoon light. He picked up his t-shirt and tugged it on, not bothering to tuck it into his jeans. If he had his way about things, the two of them would be naked seconds after his lover walked through his door.
The vampire raked a hand through his hair, trying to get it to lay down flat, to make himself look something approaching presentable for the lad. But without his comb, getting the naturally curly locks to lie flat on their own was nearly impossible. His curls had been a bone of contention for his parents, his mum had wanted to let them grow long, to let them cover his shoulders like a honey-blonde mane. His father had always tried to shear them close to his head, claiming they made him look too much like a girl. When he’d been turned, he’d let them grow long to spite his father...
Just like he’d killed the old man but spared his mum... Angelus had sneered at him, had called him a mama’s boy. It was the one thing he’d fought his sire on, he’d insisted that they leave his mum be. And that very insistence had resulted in a world of pain and still hadn’t saved her life. Angelus had tied his mum up and forced her to watch while he buggered her son until he bled. Then and only then did he drain her dry, dropping her body beside her husband’s corpse.
**Jesus, I haven’t thought of that in years. What’s come over me that I’m draggin’ all this stuff up again now?** Shaking off the tattered vestiges of the unbidden memory, Spike retrieved his coat. Best to concentrate on the task at hand, don’t think about the other things for in that way lies madness. And one mad childe was enough for his sire, no need to add another one to the bloody bastard’s list.
He searched the pockets for his comb... lacking both a mirror and a *reflection* to see in that mirror, it was exceedingly difficult to groom oneself. That was the main reason he always combed his hair straight back on his head -- narrowed the chances of random locks poking out at unattractive angles. No need to look like a first-class git. Especially considering just how fucking gorgeous his boy was. He had to look good for Riley, had to look like he deserved to be with a stunner like him.
"Ah-ha!" Success! Spike dug his comb out of one of many inside pockets and quickly ran it through his hair, smoothing the unruly locks back. Tucking the comb back into his duster pocket, he crossed back over to his chair and plunked down. He lit another cigarette and tried to concentrate on the story running on the news about a random seagull attack on the pier.
**Casual is good. Don’t look too eager. Don’t be waiting by the door with a stiffy and smiling like a bloomin’ pillock.** Spike chastised himself as he waited, he was almost 130 yeas old, he’d bedded countless people in the past. But despite his internal counselling, he could feel his body humming, felt his jeans growing far too tight. Sweet Jesus, he was acting like a human teenager, all wriggly and nervous about his first date. He took another drag of his cigarette and shook his head.
*Here. The boy was here.* He could hear him breathing right outside his door... could hear the rapid beat of his heart... could *smell him*. And he smelled so damned good; sunshine and earth, cinnamon and the scent of cloves that was the blood pumping in his veins. Tasty combination, that... Spike turned his head at the sound of his crypt door being opened -- actually opened, not thrown open or kicked open, as was the usual preference for those visiting his humble digs. He smiled as he saw Riley stepping inside, a brown paper bag tucked under his arm.
"Hey... Thought about knocking but that doesn't make much sense with a stone door..." Riley walked in as casually as he could, noting that the place no longer looked like a shambles. Spike had cleaned it up, which surprised him. There were no more random piles of dust on the floor and all the old cobwebs had been brushed down. The metal railings gleamed as if they’d been polished, even the chair the vampire was lounging in looked as if it had been dusted off.
Not only that, the place was ablaze with light, every single candle had been lit and the bed was carefully made up. Riley stood there for a moment with his mouth open, taking it all in. This was the setting for one hell of a seduction; pity they wouldn’t be able to stay here. He was rather fond of those awful peach sheets... Even though they couldn’t stay, Riley was touched that Spike had taken such pains for him.
"Yeah," he chuckled. Leaning his head on his hand, Spike quietly admired that tall, powerful body... new gear... almost all black, too -- none of the lumberjack plaid and too-clean denim. There was nothing wrong with black and tight, nothing at all, in the vampire’s estimation. Talk about looking eminently shaggable. The lad might as well be wearin’ a sign that said ‘come fuck me, Spike’ around his neck.
Trying to maintain his nonchalance, which was quickly and surely deserting him, Spike took another drag off his cigarette. As the smoke swirled around his head, he gestured at his lover’s new kit with one hand. "You look... nice," he purred. With that accent and rich, warm voice, Spike even made the word 'nice' seem... well, like a come-on.
"Thanks... so do you." Riley made his way across the room to where Spike sat. He looked down at him, debating what to do next. What he really wanted to do was pull him up out of the chair and kiss him. Toss the cigarette away, wrap his arms around that lithe body and lose himself in that simple act of possession. But he wondered if that was the wisest way to go...
Spike was playing it so cool that Riley was hesitant. Maybe the vampire had been having second thoughts? Maybe he didn’t want this as much as Riley did? After all, the main thing he'd thought about all day was how much he wanted to be back here. How much he wanted to lose himself in this insane passion again. Even though it scared the hell out of him...
Spike looked up at the boy, an expectant half-smile lighting his face. He tipped his head back onto the cushions, eyes roving all over Riley's body... lingering over the incredibly tight black denims and ... what was this? Spike's eyebrow arched. Boots. No sneakers... *boots* and nice ones at that. Mmmm. *Damned tasty indeed.*
"So... what's the status of the flat situation?" Spike lifted his gaze back up to Riley's face after lingering for one more minute on the very distracting sight of the boy’s crotch so close to his face. He was trying his damnedest to look interested in what Riley had to say, when all he really wanted to do was rip every single shred of clothing off that solid body and molest the hell out of the former solider.
"Locks are changed... we could go back to my place tonight, if you like. I found a few places, one with two bedrooms in a good neighbourhood, it's even got a pool. Should be open this weekend." Riley grinned as he noted how slowly Spike's eyes had tracked up his body. The clothes were acceptable, more than acceptable if that gleam in his companion’s eyes meant what he thought it meant. The vampire looked... *hungry*.
Riley unconsciously ran one hand down his thigh, trying to wipe some of the nervous sweat off his palms. That little movement drew even more attention how *tight* those jeans really were. There was a quick flash of desire in the vampire's eyes that was so much more than satisfying. Passion was simmering right beneath that calm surface. **Oh yeah, still wanted... no doubt there.**
"Well, it's not like I got a lotta stuff to clear out. Just my old trunk and everything else can... fit... in it, I expect." He noted the subtle movement of Riley's hand with avid interest. **Ugh... why, that cock-teasing little...** Spike’s tongue flicked out long enough to wet his lips as he stared at his lover’s denim clad cock, watching it stir under the weight of his steady gaze.
"C'mere," the word was just this side of a growl. It was an order, one that Spike expected to be obeyed.
"Is there something you want, Spike?" Riley moved a little closer, staying just out of reach. This was actually fun, watching how much he affected the vampire. Only fair since the sight of him lounging in the very chair where they’d shared their first kiss had Riley aching with need. Trying the innocent tack, the young man displayed the bag he was still holding, a broad grin the only sign that he was up to something. "I brought some beer..."
"Don't make me get up outta this chair," Spike murmured, voice deadly calm even as a flash of gold glinted in those indigo eyes. Anyone who really knew William the Bloody would have been quaking in fear by now, that tone meant business... usually very bloody business.
"Or you'll do what exactly?" This time the movement was deliberate, one big hand started at his chest and slid slowly down over the taut stomach, stopping just above the black leather belt. Riley hooked his thumb in the waistband, his fingers framing where his cock was already hard. Had been since he started the drive to Spike's place -- hell, probably had been since five minutes after leaving that morning.
So the boy wanted to tease? Well, that was all fine and dandy, but he'd been given his first and only warning... Spike was up and out of his chair before Riley even had a chance to move a single muscle. Without a word, the blond vampire tackled the much taller human to the floor, pinning the boy under him. Somehow Riley managed to keep from dropping the bag on the stone floor when he went down.
---
"Oof... Guess you'll do that..." Breathless, he was completely breathless as Riley stared up into his companion’s fathomless gaze. The hit had not been enough to knock the breath out of him, what was really stealing it was the look in Spike's eyes. There was just that edge of danger, the one that always sent the ex-commando’s heart racing when he was hunting. One of the supreme predators from the demon side of the fence had him down and the question was, what would happen next.
Straddling the boy, Spike took his own sweet time. After all, Riley was down... at his mercy, as it were. He could afford to play with him a bit; this human wasn’t the only one who could be a cock-tease. Snatching the bag from Riley's hands, the blond dug through it. Beer, yes - imported label - even better. Good taste in clothes and even better taste in booze, his lover was chock full of surprises. Like the other bottle in the bag...
"Awww, brought me a pressie," Spike held up the bottle of Kentucky bourbon and smiled. This was better whiskey than he’d allowed himself in years. The rotgut stuff he normally drank served one purpose and one purpose only, getting blind, stinking drunk. So drunk that he could forget about being a bloody cripple.
But this stuff... This stuff was sipping whiskey. The stuff you drank when you were stretched out in a comfortable chair, living in clean digs with a dog or two at your feet. And someone beautiful with his head in your lap, sucking away on your cock with his gorgeous hazel eyes closed and a rapturous look on his face.
Breaking the seal and removing the cap, he took a long drink. "Mmmm... very nice." Grinding his hips down against Riley's, Spike took another sip and bent down. He fastened his mouth over the human's half-open one, letting the fine liquor accompany his tongue in a deep, hungry kiss. A kiss would do for now... a long, wet blow would come later.
**Oh God, yes... *this* is what I wanted.** Riley wound his hands through Spike's hair, mussing it so much that it curled around his fingers. Very little encouragement needed now, he knew where he stood... or lay for that matter. He moaned into the vampire's mouth, his tongue searching out the taste of his favourite brand of bourbon. It was a great combination, Spike and Jim Beam...
Pulling back long enough to flash the boy a brilliant smile, Spike queried, "So... miss me? Or did you just miss this?" Before his human companion could respond, their mouths met again. The vampire’s cool tongue slipped inside, tickling the roof of Riley's mouth while his slim hips continued their deliberate thrusting against the young man's.
Riley raised his hips to meet Spike's, one big hand coming to rest in the centre of the vampire's back, holding him there. He assaulted Spike's mouth, claiming it, owning it. Passion had wiped away even the merest hint of fear or awkwardness. He was already planning exactly what he was going to do to his partner as soon as he could get both of them up off the floor and into a bed.
With a big smile on his face, Spike managed to get the former commando's arms out from around him long enough so that he could sit up and pull his t-shirt off, rumpling his hair further. **Well, so much for that... maybe I should just go for the natural/messy look from now on...** Spike thought grumpily as he grabbed the lapels of Riley's jacket and pulled him up into a sitting position. Once he had the boy propped up, the vampire attacked his lips again, biting and licking. He couldn’t get enough of him, would never get enough of him...
Riley’s hands were everywhere at once, running over smooth muscle. Briefly he wondered why he'd never found men attractive until now. There was so much to like about the male body. Not as soft as a woman’s, but solid... and solid was good. It was easy to hold onto without being afraid of bruising the skin with a too harsh grip. So easy to lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh and forget about the outside world for a few hours.
But they had to stop, this couldn't happen here. Buffy might be on one of her nightly patrols and it would not do for the two of them to get caught together. Panic clawed at his throat as Riley broke the connection between their mouths. He was gasping, his body shaking from the sheer weight of desire for his immortal lover. "Stop... We have to stop."
With a noise that was a combination of a frustrated sigh and growl, Spike leaned his forehead against Riley's. Cupping that smooth, warm cheek in his hand, he let his eyes fall closed as he tried to get a hold of himself. The boy had cried a halt to what was shaping up to be another bloody great shag and it was all he could do the keep from slamming him to the floor and taking him despite his protests.
"Sorry, don’t mean to be a wet blanket but there’s no lock on that door, remember? No lock plus Buffy plus us rolling around on the floor equals bad news. Trust me, she's not in a good mood right now." The ex-commando fought the urge to just keep kissing him. He really didn't want Spike to get dusted. But it took every ounce of discipline to keep that in mind because he wanted nothing more to strip off all their clothes and get down to business. "We need to take this somewhere else."
Taking note of the urgency in the boy’s tone and the wisdom of his words, Spike nodded vigorously in agreement. He got to his feet, grabbed Riley's hand and pulled the larger man up with him. "Yeah and fast." The blond bent down to retrieve his t-shirt, tugged it on over his head and buttoned his jeans. Sex could wait until they were somewhere else, somewhere safe from the wrath of a brassed-off slayer.
Riley dusted off the back of his jeans, retrieved the bag from the floor along with the bottle of bourbon. He was glad it didn't get broken during his precipitous fall to the ground earlier. "My place or a hotel? Your choice..." No more of the first date jitters, which was good since they'd already fucked each other pretty thoroughly. And if the last few minutes were any indication, they would be doing so again... very soon.
"Your place? Your place," Spike asked and answered his question all in the same breath as he flopped down into his chair. He stuffed his bare feet into socks and love-worn black boots, tying the numerous laces quickly and with a practiced hand. Now that the fire had been lit underneath him, he was not in the mood for any more delays than necessary.
The vampire hopped up out of the chair and searched about for his duster, which he found hanging on of one of the old candle sconces mounted on the wall. Glancing back at Riley, Spike lifted his scarred brow in question. He wanted to confirm just how permanent this relocation was going to be, "Should we... should we get my stuff now or come back for it later, d'you think?" Shrugging into his duster, he scratched a hand through his hair. Soddin’ curls were going every which way by now.
"We'll come back for it later... Once we get the new apartment. Right now I don't want any more delays." Riley leaned up against the doorway, looking as casual as possible with his hands in his jeans' pockets. It would have worked, too, if it hadn't been for the sizeable erection those hands framed. Time to lay the truth out on the line and see what came of it. "All I can think about is how much I want to get you in my bed... That honest enough for you, Spike?"
When the boy said things like that, it was enough to make Spike believe there really was some sort of god or patron saint that looked out for vampires. The tone and timbre of Riley's voice conveyed just how sincere he really was about all this.
"Mmmm... well, I know *I've* always said honesty's the best policy." The blond vampire crossed over to Riley and leaned into him. His left hand crept into Riley's jacket to massage the boy's flank through his pristine white t-shirt. Nice and solid, warm as a crackling fire on a cold winter’s day and just as welcome a respite from Spike’s bleak existence.
Riley stared down into those blue on blue eyes, his voice breaking a little as he confessed. "Never wanted anything like this before... *Never*." He leaned forward, reaching for another kiss but stopped halfway there. Delays were bad, worse yet, they were dangerous. It was time to go. "Come on, let's get out of here. Need me to douse the candles?"
Spike rested his forehead on Riley's broad chest for a moment, nuzzling the soft cotton of his shirt, before lifting his head. He didn’t want to move away from his lover but they really had no choice at this point. There wasn’t much in the place that could burn; he didn’t own much unless you counted the strongbox down in the catacombs. In light of what it contained, however, dousing the candles was probably a very good idea. "Yeah," he nodded. "I'll help."
It took a matter of moments to put out all the candles and Riley gathered up a few of them to put inside his jacket. When Spike raised an eyebrow at his actions, the young man blushed and laughed, embarrassed by his own romantic nature. “I happen to like the way you look in candle-light and I don't have that many at my place."
That quiet confession resulted in a few quick fumbled kisses by the door. Spike was a romantic too, had been his whole life, and it touched him that he shared that same trait with Riley. Their mouths sought each other blindly, tongues tangling before they broke apart, each of them panting. For a moment their gazes locked and it was anyone's guess if they would actually make it through the door.
But reason won out over passion and the two men were out of the crypt. The cool night air descended over their flushed bodies as they moved side-by-side through the quiet cemetery. They’d only gone a few feet when Riley caught a flash of movement to their left. Without stopping to explain, he pushed Spike behind a tall headstone and joined him there.
Holding his hand up for silence, Riley peered from behind the monument, trying to determine the source of that movement. And he found it in record time. Buffy came into view, striding through the graveyard with a stake held in one hand and a very determined look furrowing her brow. The little blonde was in full slayer mode, looking for trouble as she unceremoniously kicked open the door to Spike's crypt before sauntering inside.
Once she was gone from sight, Riley glanced back over his shoulder at Spike. The young man breathed a very shaky sigh of relief, his pulse pounding in his ears from their near miss, "Looks like we just dodged a bullet... Or in your case, a stake."
Spike peeked out from behind the grave marker. If his lungs had been capable of more, they would have mimicked the boy's own sigh. "Jesus," he muttered. ""I mean... fuck, d'you think she --?" He glanced up at Riley, brows furrowed. "What did you tell her? Did you say anything about us?"
"No, I didn't tell her anything about us... Looks like she's just spoiling for a fight with something she knows she can't hurt. Buffy does like one thing about you Spike... She likes the fact that she can kick the crap out of you and you bounce right back." Riley ran one trembling hand through his hair, that had been far too close. "I don't fair quite as well with her. She's cracked more than a few of my ribs and she wasn't even trying very hard."
Spike remained crouched behind the headstone. "Yeah, well, that's me - Spike, also known as William the Undead Punching Bag." The frown remained and darkened considerably as the meaning behind his lover’s words sunk in. The Slayer had hurt Riley... his Riley. His voice was a hairs-breadth away from a determined snarl when he glanced up at his companion. "She try anything today? 'Cause if she did, chip or no chip, I'll bloody well scalp the bitch."
The look Riley shot Spike was full of warning, he might have just broken up with her but he wasn't going to let Buffy get hurt. But something in Spike's expression let him know this outburst was just the vampire being protective. That was an emotional need he understood entirely too well. "No... Nothing like that. It was... Look, I don't want to talk about it. Let's just get out of here before she finds us, okay?"
Spike kept one eye trained on the door of his now-former crypt as he stood up. There were crashing sounds coming from inside, the Slayer was obviously trashing his home. Venting her frustration on his belongings since she couldn’t vent them on his body, "Yeah, let's get goin'."
The ex-marine shifted the bag underneath his arm as he set out again with Spike beside him. They glided through the cool autumn night, moving shoulder to shoulder amidst the quiet crypts and the well-manicured grounds. Close to the front gates, there was a fresh grave, its mound of over-turned soil slightly darker than the surrounding grass. Riley's gaze flicked over it, briefly wondering if a newborn vampire was about to come clawing up out of the ground.
It would be just their luck, getting attacked by a fledge only a few feet away from certain freedom in their effort to escape the wrath of Hurricane Buffy. The noise of dusting a vampire would surely draw her attention and that would really not be good right now.
Spike followed Riley's gaze, dark eyes taking in the grave and the bouquet of flowers which had been laid upon it. Lifting his head slightly, the blond scented the air. "There's a new one here, tonight," he murmured, turning his eyes back to meet Riley's, expression unreadable.
"A new one... You're sure? I mean, you can smell fledges?" Riley returned that steady gaze and read the truth in his companion's surprisingly honest expression. "Talk about your handy talent. Dammit, this is not the time to be slaying. She's too close, she'll hear it..."
"You can smell 'em from a mile away... granted, it's not exactly Calvin Klein's Obsession," Spike muttered, eyes darting back to the grave. "More of a mixture of dirt, formaldehyde and rotting flesh. And it might not be the best time... but I don't think we have much of a say about that, now, do we?" The vampire tipped his head to one side, quirking an eyebrow at the young man. Stay and slay... or run away, that was the question.
Not really a question where Riley Finn was concerned. He might be trying to flee from his ex-girlfriend but he knew his duty where the citizens of Sunnydale were concerned. Fledges were easiest to kill just as they were emerging from their graves. They were hungry and disoriented, barely able to stand let alone put up a good fight.
"Guess not. Let's just hope it rises quickly... and doesn't have a sire waiting for it nearby." He scanned around the grave, noting every shadow, every possible movement around them. It wasn't often that a vampire had someone waiting for it to rise but Riley had run into it once or twice. Had almost died the first time it happened because he hadn't been prepared for the attack that blind-sided him. Only Buffy's quick intervention had kept him among the living.
Spike nodded as he fished in his pocket and retrieved a stake, concealing it in the folds of his black duster. His black ensemble was not merely an attempt on his part to look cool. It also served another purpose: making it extremely difficult for people and vamps alike to spot him in full-on darkness. "Doubt it ... the scent's really weak. Probably just a minion," the blond commented over his shoulder as he brushed past the young man and tread carefully in the direction of the grave, stake gripped tightly in his left hand.
Riley pulled a stake out of his jacket as well, circling around to the other side of the grave in question. He didn't spot anything during his circuit but that certainly didn't mean nothing was out there. If life on the Hellmouth had only taught him one lesson, it was never trust his eyes alone.
Just as he'd predicted, a hand soon worked its way up out of the ground, the fingers bloodied from clawing its way out of its coffin. Without realizing it, as he dropped down into a graceful crouch beside the plot, Spike's face shifted. The animalistic ridges of his demon half came to the fore, keen gold eyes glittering. He knew he'd have to take the fledge on before it was all the way out of the ground, otherwise it might put up a fight... normally, the thought of that would excite him - but a fight wasn't what he had in mind for tonight.
As he watched Spike shift into game face, Riley felt a small shiver course through him. Not because he was frightened, he wasn't afraid of Spike at all... But the sight of him in game face reminded the young man that the creature poised to do battle was a demon. He might look like a man and talk like a man, but Spike was still a demon through and through. A demon that he, Riley Finn, had spent the previous night with.
Had spent several blissful hours totally enraptured with, he’d slept with what everyone else would consider a monster. That thought did disturb Riley... but only for a moment. A moment was all he had, for behind him, he felt rather than heard a rush of movement.
Spinning on his heel, Riley turned around, the stake held close to his body, arm poised to drive it home. He hesitated for a second or two, wanting to make sure his sudden assailant wasn’t Buffy. Staking the Slayer was very bad form, even if one had just broken up with her...
It wasn't. He caught the flash of long, dark hair and an unfamiliar face contorted into the demonic aspect of a vampire in full hunt mode. Spike had been wrong about a waiting sire after all.
The flurry of movement caught Spike's attention. He snarled at the attacking vampire, warning it off his lover. Just then, the vamp whose grave he and Riley had been babysitting finally clawed its way through the remaining earth that separated it from the world. Now there were two to take out and Spike was torn. He wanted to protect his boy but if he did, the fledgling would be on its feet and much more of a threat than it was now.
A young man, just about Riley's age, small and bloodless pale with a shock of black, curly hair pushed himself up out of the earth, vampiric ridges sliding into place. With a low growl, Spike lunged forward, driving the stake into the fledgling's heart, causing it to explode in a puff of grey dust. Still crouched, the blond turned, watching Riley and the other vampire as the pair sized each other up.
His attacker was big, almost as big as he was and damned pissed at losing a new fledge. Riley aimed a powerful kick at the vamp's mid-section and noted with grim satisfaction as he heard several ribs break. Nice to know he could do some serious damage when need be.
The vampire doubled over, clutching at its shattered ribs for a moment. As Riley raised his stake, it spun away, using its vampiric speed to move out of range. A very angry, very male voice hissed, filling in the otherwise silent night with its sibilant tones as the creature straightened up. "Sssooo, this is what the slayer is currently wearing as a lover? Funny, I never thought she would spread her legs for a Master's thrall."
Riley shifted the stake in his hand. His eyes narrowing as he waited for the right opening. The kick had been a lucky shot, he might not stay that lucky. But he couldn't stay silent, not after what that thing had said. His choice of lovers was his own and he was damn sure not going to let a vampire question that choice.
The young man’s own voice was low and harsh, rumbling up out of his broad chest as Riley moved to one side. "I am *not* his thrall... Got it?" He shot a glance at Spike, who was rising to his feet, his game face having receded while he watched his boy in action. There was quiet pride and respect showing clearly on the blond’s face as he regarded the two combatants. *Hell on wheels*...
"You let him feed from you..." The big vampire moved closer, scenting Riley, his eyes growing wide and golden in the dim moonlight. "You reek of him, boy. He's taken you as his own... fucked you senseless. S'only a matter of time until he turns you and I'll be waiting... just like you were waiting for mine." Looking over at Spike, the other vamp bared his fangs at the Master of Sunnydale. "I'll be waiting for your boy to rise and I'll drive a stake right through his heart, Spike. Send him straight to hell while you watch."
"Awww, now, see... I was gonna be nice," Spike drawled as he came to stand at Riley's side, toying with his stake. "I was gonna give you till the count of three before I sent you after your boy... what's his name?" The blond's dark eyes darted over to the headstone of the vampire he'd just disposed of. "Matthew. But I guess you just don't appreciate that, do ya?"
His normally handsome face was shrouded with a cruel sneer, then. "You should know better than to come here. This is my turf. Normally, I'm a pretty reasonable bloke... but you've made some rather crude comments to my lad, which I don't appreciate..." Spike's indigo eyes flashed with citrine, then. "So you've got till the count of now." Moving faster than either the vamp or Riley could see, nothing more than a blur of black leather and platinum hair, Spike tackled the other vampire.
Riley watched as his companion knocked the much larger vampire to the ground. The two of them rolled across the fresh grave, kicking up a cloud of dirt. He followed them, stake held ready for an opening. Spike was tough, Riley knew that for a fact but he also knew sometimes the sheer weight of a superior mass could win out. He wasn't willing to chance that the other vampire could win.
The two bodies broke apart, snarling at each other, looking for an opening to rend and tear. But that opening never came. Riley had had enough; he stepped into the line of fire and levelled the other vampire with a right cross. That one punch sent the creature reeling up against Matthew's head stone.
While the creature sought to recover its balance, Riley raised his stake and drove it through the vampire's chest. Open-mouthed, it stared at him in disbelief for a moment before exploding into dust. The young man nodded in grim satisfaction, job well done.
Spike gathered himself up off of the ground and brushed the dirt off of his duster, panting in spite of the fact he didn't need to breathe. "Well... that was fun..." he murmured, arms slipping around Riley's waist from behind. Alright, his boy was alright. Thank God.
Riley straightened, drawing himself to his not inconsiderable height. He nodded in agreement, despite the other vampire's disturbing comments, he'd actually enjoyed the hell out of that confrontation. There was just one thing he had a question about. "Spike? What did he mean by calling me a thrall? What's a thrall?"
"You're not one, if that's what you're wondering," he replied quietly, coming around to stand in front of Riley, gazing up into the boy's eyes steadily. Better set the record straight right now. "They're slaves, essentially - addicted to the bite, do anything for it - lie, steal, kill, you name it. They're like junkies. Some Masters keep 'em... in Europe, they're like a status symbol. There are Masters that have stables full of 'em... dozens and dozens of men and women."
"So a thrall is something like that Renfield guy, right? The one in Stoker's book... which in case you were wondering, I did read in high school." Riley looked down into his companion's eyes, noting the quiet respect that still shone in their depths. A smile quirked his lips as he gently teased his companion about one of the insults Spike had hurled at him in the past. "Contrary to popular belief... I do know how to read."
"Yeah, kinda like Renfield, kinda not..." the blond's arms wound around the boy's waist as he leaned into Riley. He smiled in return, the night he’d lobbed that particular insult was the first night he’d tasted his lover’s blood and that memory alone was enough to leave him hard and wanting... *again*. "I know you can read... you never struck me as a dim bulb."
"Any chance I could end up like that, Spike?" Riley shivered at the thought. He remembered the blank-eyed stare that Xander had developed when he was under Dracula's spell. Xander had been enthralled by the Black Prince and he still eyed spiders in a way that made Riley’s skin crawl. "I'm not gonna start eating bugs, am I?"
"No..." Spike was quick to reassure Riley, his words firm and even. Just as firm as the hands now placed on the young man’s hips, holding him in a loose embrace. "Masters usually have their thralls pegged from the get-go... if I'd wanted you to be my thrall, things would have gone a completely different way."
"Good... I ate my share of bugs during survival training. Not really fond of the taste of crickets." The boy finally smiled, his concerns having been eased by his companion's flat-out honesty. It was then that he remembered the reason why they were standing in the middle of Restfield, instead of being curled up in bed together. "Think we ought to get out of here before Buffy gets bored with tearing your crypt apart?"
Casting a glance over his shoulder in the direction of his crypt, dark brows knitted, the blond sighed raggedly. "Yeah... that'd be a good idea," he murmured, turning back to look at Riley. God, so beautiful, worth the trashing of his home. For this young man, he'd forfeit every single thing he owned.
Gathering up the bag that he'd set aside during their hunting expedition, Riley once again set off for the Restfield gates. Spike fell in step beside him, their eyes continually watching the shadows for movement. If any more vampires or demons were about that night, they were going to come to a very quick end.
The two men made quite the picture. Riley being almost a head taller than Spike and looked the most dangerous. Something in the set of his jaw, in the aggressive angle of his body marked him as such. Despite his companion’s demonic nature, there was no doubt that Riley was the dominant male in this equation.
A slight breeze riffled through Spike’s mussed locks and caused the tails of his leather duster to billow out behind him. He glided effortlessly beside his mortal partner, slipping through the shadows without making a single sound. The two of them were well matched; both dressed in black from head to toe with the exception of the bigger man’s tight white t-shirt. Quite the picture indeed.
They moved like what they were.
Predators, hunters... and lovers...