Monthly Service

Ask Spike what his favorite time of the month was in Sunnydale, and he'd answer "one week before the full moon."

Or he would if he wasn't busy clasping the skin at the back of Xander's neck with his jaws, the whimpers vibrating his teeth and making his gums itch to shift over to the right, sink into all that lovely warm blood.

It was worth holding off though, every time, as the boy whined, legs spread, hips canted, and forehead lowering to the ground in submission to the stronger animal. Oh yeah. That Time of Month might be a royal bitch when it came to the human sort, but his sire giving him a boy possessed with a hyena left Spike all sorts of lovely potential.

Potential Spike had been taking advantage of for months before his round with the Slayer in church. So it'd been a bit of a surprise when the boy had found him, turned up at the mansion, eyes wide, pupils dilated until his eyes really did look more animal than human, and oozing pheromones, and dropping his trousers there in the middle of Spike's bedroom.

Bloody beautiful sight, that.

Xander still shook with the battle between hyena and boy, had even while his fingers had been fumbling with his belt. Both creatures wanted to run, but in opposite directions. And only tonight, when the beast knew it was time to mate, was it strong enough to overcome the boy.

And wasn't that just lovely?

"Spike!" The tremor in Xander's voice and the nudge of bare human (mostly) hips back against him returned Spike to the here and now, and he laughed, sliding his hands over warm flanks.

"Right then. Time for your monthly servicing, is it?"

That earned Spike a growl, and a twist from the body under him, and that was more like it. "Don't. Call it that."

Still snickering, Spike lined himself up, tongue curled behind his teeth to savor the tableau for a moment, flushed mortal skin spread open to him and beginning to shake with the effort of holding still, the rising perfume of lust and shame, and wasn't that always a treat?

Add a dash of humiliation, and Spike was almost willing to forego the blood entirely.

Spike's hand cracked loudly against Xander's skin, and he hissed, lurching forward only to be yanked back and impaled on Spike's cock with a shout. "I'll call it whatever I please, boy." He slid back, only to slam home, harder than he'd been able to in weeks, not that Dru'd given him many opportunities to put his recovering nerves to work, and savored the boy's whimper, the hyena's whine. Oh yeah. He'd miss this when he left Sunnydale. Daft hyena thinkin' he's its mate.

Daft, lucky for Spike, had never bothered him much.