Title: Puppy Love 3/50 - Marking
Pairings: Spander
Appropriate Ratings: NC17 overall but this chapter... R-ish
Warnings: Slavery, nudity, branding, lotta the same from the previous chapter. Nothing much. ADDENDUM! I forgot that this is actually Xander underage (he's 16, almost seventeen) (Set between seasons 2-3)
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Puppy gets marked...
Word Count: 787 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: tamakin
X-posted to: perverted_pages, bloodclaim, btvs_lightsout btvs_slash, btvsatsdotcom, darker_spike, spike_fics, sxandviolence, spanderslash, darker_vault, sickchicks, spike_xander, xander_slash, i_need_a_parrot, all_fics_btvs, nekid_spike
Archived Outside LJ At: adultfanfiction.net and The Spander Files

A.N. This is in response to the prompt table given to me by hawk_soaring. Thanks bunches again!


This fic won an award!





Comments keep my muse well fed.




Drusilla was here tonight. She’d been spending days, and sometimes nights, out “playing with the reindeer,” as she put it. Spike didn’t know what to make of it, but his precious plum was happy so that was all that mattered, right? Besides, he had his boy to keep the sting of boredom at bay, and she was here tonight, that was all that mattered.

Xander was gagged and tied face down to a hobby horse, arse high in the air and his wrists tied to the legs. He was bent in half and presented so deliciously Spike was barely able to control himself. He didn’t want to do things out of order, he needed to stay in line with the script he’d been taught at Angelus’s knee, so he didn’t allow himself to indulge. Spike was going to claim Xander, and he wasn’t about to leave a loophole for him to wiggle out of later. The boy would be his, and he would bathe in the screams, lick the sweat and blood from his soft skin, claim and command every single inch of him… and tonight was the first step.

The full moon rode low on the horizon, and Drusilla nodded to the black robed priest. The circle of witnesses and dark priests began a low droning chant while a minion worked a bellows and raised the heat of the brazier from a dull red to a roaring white. The head priest thrust the enchanted brand into the heart of the flames, calling down blessings from cursed and dark gods.

Behind Xander’s restrained form stood Spike wearing a loose black silk shirt and tight denim pants. His pale hair was artfully spiked and swirled away from his head, making his cheekbones seem more angular and defined. With his hips canted just so, his head tilted to the side and the ornate silver blade glinting in his hand he looked like a dark worshipper, about to shed blood and take a life in his demon lord’s name. Thankfully, this claiming was to be directly between Xander and Spike, no gods or demons to usurp his claim and title, no one to come between him and his.

Spike stood up tall at the nod from his princess, and uttered the words taught to him over a century ago;

By blood and word I bind thee
By right and might I claim thee
By law and flame I mark thee
By the blessings of the cursed gods, I make you mine

The first line was punctuated by Spike slashing his palm with the desecrated blade, splashing his blood over the boys bowed back and head. Xander was shaking his head wildly at the words, trying to buck and squirm off the instrument of his binding. The second line had him standing directly behind Xander, his erection painfully constricted by his tight black jeans. Already the air was perfumed by the salty tang of the tears of defeat Xander was spilling. When Spike made it to the third line, the branding iron was placed into his hand and he pressed it unflinchingly into the tender flesh of the boy’s upper right thigh.

Xander howled and screamed around the gag, trying in vain to get away from the agony while Spike just pressed it harder into his skin, searing and marking him indelibly with fire. At the end of the small chant Spike stalked around the hobby horse and pulled Xander’s head up by the hair, so all Spike had to do was bend over to bury his fangs in the unblemished virgin throat.

Xander whimpered, his only defiance against this further indignity, unable to struggle, weak from pain and shock. He was marked, forever scarred by the symbol of ownership seared into his skin, and the only thing he could do was cry tears of humiliation, fear and pain.

When Spike pulled away from his throat he let the human’s head fall forward, not caring about the pained grunt, or how quickly the whelp lost consciousness. His heartbeat was steady and strong, he’d be fine, what Spike was interested in was the brand. He moved to stand behind his human, slightly to the right and took in the brand. It was a ten centimetre rail road spike with the swirl of an ornate S at it’s widest point, and already it was healed, already the human was ready for more abuse from his rightful Lord and Master, and that meant Spike had done everything right.

No one could take Xander away from him anymore; the boy was his pet, his pup, his toy, now and forever.

Dru giggled in glee, clapping her pale white hands in delight while Spike chuckled darkly, and through it all Xander dreamed of his future and cried silently.




Previous Chapter: Chapter 2 - Collar

Next Chapter: Chapter 4A - Ownership

All parts found on this prompt chart or in my memories.