Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1060298.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer
  Relationship:
      Xander_Harris/Spike
  Character:
      Spike_(BtVS), Xander_Harris
  Additional Tags:
      soldier!xander, Episode_Related:_Halloween, First_Time, 16_Year_Old
      Xander, Frottage, PWP, Holiday_Fic:_Halloween, Community:_Fall_for_S/X,
      Community:_tamingthemuse, Angry_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-27 Words: 2925
****** Name, Rank, and Serial Number ******
by dustandroses
Summary
     What would have happened on Halloween night if Spike had run into
     Xander before he found the Slayer?
Notes
     Prompt Notes: Inspiration for this fic taken from tamingthemuse
     prompt #381: Scrimmage
     Notes: For the first of my five days of Fall for S/X Season 10
     For those who are curious, I used a random Social Security number and
     blood type, and chose no preference for religion, since I'm pretty
     sure we haven't been told about one. If we have, please let me know!
     I got the dogtags at mydogtag.com.
     The caps came from Buffyworld.
 

 
Spike watched the little monsters run by with astonishment. “Well, this is
just…neat!” He’d never seen anything quite like it in his hundred and twenty-
four years. They weren’t actually demons, any of them, more like remarkably
life-like fake demons. As if some child with an extremely vivid imagination had
dreamt up the whole lot of them. However, they didn’t smell human, and that was
what was puzzling him most.
This was obviously what had kept Dru in a tizzy all day. Now that it was
active, even Spike could feel the spell, despite his lack of sensitivity to
magic. He could always feel the Hellmouth, and the magic swirling around them
pulled heavily on the Hellmouth’s energy to power its storm. And what a storm
it was, throwing chaos and pandemonium out in all directions.
A familiar scent hit him, and he spun around to see a soldier stride past,
wearing an army uniform with camouflage pants, and holding an M16 rifle at
ready. Now who did that scent remind him of? He followed along, getting a good
hit of adrenaline and not-quite-blind panic – not as calm and collected as he
seemed. He hid it well. Only the white knuckled grip on his rifle gave it away,
and the way his head jerked as he looked from monster to baby monster.
When he looked Spike’s direction, it jogged his memory. This was the tasty
treat Angelus tried to tempt him with several weeks ago, all big, brown eyes
and dark hair, and a spine of steel. He’d admired the kid’s ability to make
jokes while two vampires conversed above him. Spike hadn’t had a chance to
follow him when he ran, he’d had a Slayer to fight after all, but he’d
recognized the boy from the first time he saw him, throwing a stake to the
Slayer in the alley behind the Bronze.
Maybe he could get a bead on the Slayer’s whereabouts if he followed this one
for a while. It was worth a shot, anyroad, and who knew, it might turn out to
be a bit of fun. A girl screamed loudly, and the soldier headed down an alley
toward the noise. Spike wasn’t surprised. He was a friend of the Slayer’s,
after all, it made sense he’d be a white hat, even when he was under a spell. A
pirate, and a caveman argued loudly while a convict in stripes, and a Fu Manchu
villain with a braided mustache that hung down to his knees held a girl in a
nurse’s uniform. They all squabbled loudly about who got the girl first.
Soldier Boy cracked the caveman in the head with the butt of his rifle and he
dropped like a rock, but the pirate jumped him, and they went rolling across
the alley. Spike hated to be a spoil-sport, but if he let the other two have
the girl, Soldier Boy would insist on protecting her, and he’d never find the
Slayer. He pulled her away from them, and told her to run, advice she rapidly
followed. Fu Manchu and the convict came after him, but Spike dispatched them
in quick succession with an uppercut to the jaw for one, and a roundhouse kick
for the other.
Soldier Boy was whaling away on the pirate, and Spike stood back to watch the
carnage. He quite enjoyed watching the boy, there was an almost animal grace to
his movements that had Spike adjusting his cock, and wondering if there was
time for a quick grope before he hunted down the Slayer.
Soldier Boy straightened up, briskly brushing his hands together. “It’s
strange, but beating up that pirate gave me a weird sense of closure.”
Spike heard a familiar voice, and he pushed Soldier Boy back, flattening him
against the side of a dumpster, one hand over his mouth, and the other holding
a knife to his throat. The soldier’s eyes widened, but he understood the threat
and remained silent.
“He was dressed as a soldier,” the little redhead said, her voice wavering in
her concern. “He didn’t recognize me or anything. I told him to stay by the
park, but he’s not there. Where could he be?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” Angelus’ voice was strained.
They were looking for Soldier Boy, were they? Well then, he could take
advantage of that, and use the soldier as Slayer bait. He waited until they
were well past, then he guided the soldier over to the back door of the
warehouse, and pulled the knife off him long enough to break the lock. He felt
Soldier Boy’s muscles tense, so Spike was prepared when he brought up his knee,
aiming for the family jewels. He grabbed the soldier’s knee at the last second
and held on, using it to keep him unbalanced. Pushing him through the door,
Spike laughed at the look of surprise on the Soldier’s face as he hopped
backwards to avoid landing in a heap at Spike’s feet.
Spike gave him an extra push, and he overbalanced with a shout. Spike shoved
the door closed, and took off his duster, while the soldier was down. Soldier
Boy recovered faster than he’d expected, rushing Spike, and knocking him into
the wall beside the door. He aimed several blows at Spike’s gut in quick
succession, but Spike blocked them all, then sent the soldier reeling with a
backhand to the face. He slammed into a stack of wooden pallets, and tumbled to
the ground, the pallets crashing around him.
He rolled to his feet, a board from one of the broken pallets in his hand,
swinging it at Spike’s head. Blocking the board, Spike pulled it out of Soldier
Boy’s hands, and threw it at the back wall. Well, that would never do. He’d
just have to teach this boy a lesson about swinging wood around in front of his
betters. The soldier took advantage of Spike’s momentary loss of concentration,
and charged him, knocking them both to the floor.
They scrambled around for a moment, flipping this way and that, until Spike got
tired of playing around, and put an end to the fight, grabbing both wrists in
one hand, and holding them to the floor over his head. Soldier Boy struggled
valiantly, but to no avail. Once Spike had tired of the play, and started
taking him seriously, he had no chance, and Spike made that abundantly clear.
Eventually, he gave up the struggle, his muscles going slack, relaxing into
Spike’s grip. Spike had no doubt that the fight wasn’t over yet, but at least
he was smart enough to know when the fight was useless, and was willing to
conserve his energy for a later opportunity. He’d have to watch Soldier Boy
carefully.
“Soldier Boy.”
He studied the soldier’s face carefully. It seems he was one who grew on you –
his face was definitely pleasing enough, and Spike liked his spirit, and the
way he moved in a fight. He settled a little more firmly on his seat astride
the soldier, and got a hit of pheromones in response.
“Well, aren’t you something special.” It seemed he liked it when Spike squirmed
in his lap.
“Here now, I can’t go calling you Soldier Boy all the time. You have a name?”
He squared his jaw, and clenched his teeth, refusing to say anything, chin held
high.
Spike just laughed at him. Everything he needed to know should be on those dog
tags lying on his chest. Spike made a serious effort to try and get him to open
his mouth, wiggling his ass directly over his cock, which Spike could tell was
becoming interested in the proceedings, no matter how much he denied it with
his actions.
“Well, let’s just see what these say.” He grabbed the tags, smirking at the
look of frustration on Soldier Boy’s face.
“Harris, Alexander L.”
He smiled slyly, and moved his hips, his ass grinding down into Harris’ lap.
The tags even gave Spike Harris’ blood type. Wasn’t that convenient? “O
Positive, eh? Delicious.”
He stroked a fingertip the length of Harris’ neck, and the boy’s muscles
tightened, unintentionally broadcasting his moves to Spike. He wasn’t very
subtle. But he was young, he would learn. He burst into another uncoordinated
frenzy of movement, even though it was obvious he couldn’t escape from Spike’s
hold.
Spike rode out his struggles, taking the opportunity to squirm around in
Soldier Boy’s lap some more. When Harris realized it was only making matters
worse, he quit. His panting seemed more connected to Spike than to his
struggles, though. When Spike rolled his hips, Harris moaned quietly, his eyes
closing as he arched his back to increase the pressure.
“That’s more like it,” Spike murmured.
Soldier Boy’s uniform shirt was unbuttoned, leaving just his green sleeveless
undershirt, what the yanks call a ‘wife beater.’ Spike ran his free hand up
Harris’ ribs, and felt his shaky breaths all the way up his arm. He pulled one
sharp nipple, right through the thin material, and Harris’ whole body jerked as
he gasped.
“Like that, do you? I thought as much.” He did it again on the other side, only
harder, and added a twist at the end, and Soldier Boy’s guttural moan was music
to Spike’s ears. “Very nice.”
His own cock ached in a pleasant way, the tight confines of his black jeans
making it difficult to concentrate. “Now, I’m going to let your hands go, and I
expect you to leave them above your head. Can you do that, Harris?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and Spike smiled at him. “Good boy.”
Harris blushed heavily, from the top of his head down to his chest, at least as
far as the eye could see with that undershirt in the way. Well, there was a
remedy for that. Spike took the top edge of the shirt in his hands, and ripped
it apart, clear down to Harris’ waist. He’d settled down some until then, but
obviously Spike had crossed over some invisible line, and Harris reacted,
bursting into action, taking Spike by surprise, and pushing him backwards to
the dusty floor of the warehouse.
Harris crab-walked backwards, trying to put some distance between the two of
them, but Spike was faster, launching himself at Harris, and knocking him flat.
The soldier used Spike’s momentum against him, rolling them over as he tried to
get the upper hand. Spike let him have at it, giving him plenty of rope with
which to hang himself, and only fighting back enough to keep him close, their
bodies rubbing firmly against each other as they rolled over and over again.
Now this was fun. If the scent of arousal coming off Harris was anything to go
by, Spike wasn’t the only one enjoying their struggles. Soldier Boy stopped
suddenly, his back to the floor, and Spike raised himself up on his elbows to
get a good look into his flushed face.
“You’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” he asked, panting heavily.
Spike shrugged, smiling self-consciously. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt your
feelings. You humans have such fragile, little egos.”
The reminder of the difference between the two sent Harris into one last flurry
of action, struggling futilely against Spike, who simply held still while he
fought, one leg on either side of Harris’, keeping their cocks lined up, and
rubbing against each other the whole time. It felt bloody good, and when he
finally came to a halt Spike attacked Harris’ mouth, forcing his tongue inside
and exploring eagerly. Harris fought him at first, but finally he gave in,
sucking on Spike’s tongue, and biting hard enough to draw blood.
The taste of his own blood in Harris’ mouth brought Spike’s arousal to a fever
pitch, and he started a grinding rhythm, moving his hips sinuously. Harris
finally gave himself over to his fervor, holding on tightly, his hips pumping
frantically. He grabbed Spike’s arse, squeezing and kneading, and pulling him
down, forcing them even more closely together. God yes, this was just what he’d
needed tonight. Harris broke their kiss, his head falling back to the floor as
he panted and gasped for breath, exposing his succulent neck to Spike, just
begging for attention.
He attacked Harris’ neck with dull, human teeth, biting and sucking, chewing on
the soft skin. Harris was close now; Spike could smell the precome soaking
through the material of his camos as they wrestled, bucking and brawling
against each other. He heard the sharp intake of breath that signaled the
beginning of Harris’ orgasm and he struck deep and true, his mouth flooded with
the hot, rich taste. Harris shouted as Spike drank deeply, his senses flooded
with the scent of the soldier’s come, and the succulent, ambrosial flavor of
his blood.
His own orgasm hit him with a rush, and he pulled his head back, his shouts
echoing in the large room as his hips stuttered and jerked against Harris’,
drawing out a long, low moan from Soldier Boy. Spike tucked his head back into
Harris’ neck, and licked up the slowing stream of blood. He’d never tasted
anything as delicious. He nicked his tongue, and let his blood mix with Harris’
in the wounds; that would help him heal. He’d taken a fair amount, enough to
keep the boy pliant and agreeable. Spike didn’t have enough energy left to
fight both him and the Slayer.
He lifted himself off Soldier Boy with a sigh. He’d much rather relax and have
a beer than face the Slayer right now. But at least she’d be under the same
spell as Harris, so she wouldn’t be much of a challenge. He hated to take her
when she wasn’t at her best, it would feel as if he’d been cheated, somehow.
But Drusilla’s health was more important than his pride, and he needed the
Slayer out of the way, if he was going to find a cure for his Black Rose. He
frowned at the mess he’d made of his jeans, and crossed to the sink on the far
wall, grabbing a handful of paper towels to clean himself up with – as best he
could.
He buttoned his red shirt as he walked back over. Soldier Boy lay on the floor,
not making any effort to get up. Spike dropped some towels on top of him,
admiring the look of him – all messy, brown hair and dark, languid eyes,
looking thoroughly debauched with his limbs sprawled wide.
“Come on, get off the floor, Harris, and clean yourself up. We have a Slayer to
find.” He grabbed his duster off the floor where it had dropped earlier, and
turned around to find the soldier on his feet, back turned as he cleaned up, as
if he had call to be shy at this point. Harris turned around, buttoning up his
uniform shirt over the ruin of his undershirt. Spike put his fingers on Soldier
Boy’s jaw, tipping his head to the side to examine the suck marks on his neck,
teeth and fang marks prominent on his throat. No one would be able to mistake
how he’d gotten those.
Harris jerked free, his chin held high. “Sergeant Alexander Harris, 979-65-
4283.”
“O Positive, yes, I know. Perfectly delicious is what you are. Once I take care
of my Wicked Plum, I may just come back for you. Drusilla and I could have a
lot of fun with someone as tasty as you.”
A wave of magic swept through the room, leaving Harris panting, and blinking as
he looked around him. Spike could tell the moment the spell lifted, although it
took Harris a few moments more to register the change.
“Spike?”
He stumbled backwards, hitting the wall behind him, dark, frightened eyes
taking in the warehouse they stood in, before landing on the scuffed floor
where they’d engaged in their splendid bit of frottage. His wide, shocked eyes
made it clear that he remembered what had happened, and he raised one shaking
hand to his neck, wincing at the evidence he found of their time together.
Well, damn. He’d wasted his time with his Soldier Boy, and missed his chance
with the slayer. He refused to regret it, though. Any time that ended in an
orgasm was time well spent in Spike’s books. He’d just have to find another way
to solve his Slayer problem. He schooled his face to keep his frustration from
showing.
Spike traced one finger along the jaw of the trembling boy in front of him,
smirking as the scent of arousal filled his senses. Teenage boys were such
randy creatures. He touched one finger to the still seeping wounds in Harris’
neck, coming away with a drop of blood. Lifting it, Spike sucked his finger
into his mouth, reveling in the taste of the boy’s rich blood. The arousal in
the air thickened, the boy’s pupil’s shot wide as he stared at Spike’s lips,
mesmerized.
“You tell the Slayer that you saved her life tonight, Soldier Boy. I’ll be back
for her another time. And you?” He hummed as he traced Harris’ lips with his
wet finger. “Mmmmm. I’ll be seeing you again, soon.”
He turned his back, duster flaring dramatically as he left the warehouse – it
never hurt to leave your audience gasping in awe. All the way back to the
factory, his mind was filled with the time they’d spent together. Yes. He’d
definitely be back for that one.
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