Harry woke the next morning to find himself lying on his side, with Spike snuggling into his front. The vampire's cool flesh was pressed against him, body curled to match Harry's contours. Harry smiled into Spike's fuzzy hair and pressed a kiss against his nape. So typical of the little vampire to want contact, even in sleep. He wondered again how the current Slayer could possibly have run off instead of fully taking advantage. Harry ran a proprietary hand down Spike's chest at the thought: the Slayer couldn't have him now. He belonged to Harry.
At that thought, Harry's morning erection twitched a little against Spike's ripe arse. He sat up on one elbow and reached across the vampire to the bedside table for the lube. Spike was still out for the count, his face slack and peaceful against the pillow; it made Harry smile to think he could sleep so deeply with Harry there, trusting him completely.
Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to have a little fun.
Harry lubed a couple of fingers awkwardly, keeping his left hand dry and propping his chin on it, so he could watch Spike's face. Then he slid his hand down Spike's body, and into his cleft, worming his fingers between Spike's cheeks until he found the crinkled skin of his hole. He tapped at it softly, watching Spike's dark eyebrows contract briefly in a frown before the vampire relaxed again.
Harry chuckled softly, and pressed a finger inside Spike. He pushed it slowly in and out, feeling Spike's muscles relax easily. He worked the other slick finger into the vampire's hole and began playing in earnest. He wriggled the fingers inside Spike, stroking them softly down his inner walls and stretching him slowly. He touched Spike's prostate, running his fingers over it and watching as Spike began to squirm in his sleep, making a soft moan. Harry stopped, waiting, until he relaxed into unconsciousness once more, then continued touching.
He kept playing for about ten minutes: running his fingers round Spike's entrance and tapping them at his hole until Spike's eyelashes began to flutter, then stopping to let him fall back asleep. There was an undeniable power in doing this to Spike without the vampire even being aware of what was going on. Harry's lips curved in a smirk as he played, pressing his fingers inside Spike to the root and pumping them inside to watch Spike's barely-conscious reactions. The dozy whimpers were delicious, as were the tiny gasps. He'd have to remember to tire Spike out again, if it let him do this: treat the vampire as a toy, one that could be played with and allowed to respond only as Harry wished.
Finally, sleepy blue eyes opened. Harry watched Spike blink fuzzily, obviously not entirely awake. A thought crossed his mind; with a wicked smirk, he found Spike's prostate again and pressed.
Spike's eyes went wide as his whole body jerked and a strangled cry was torn from his mouth. Harry laughed, deliberately moving with him to keep his fingers firmly against the gland. He watched Spike's face go slack and his eyes shut in bliss even as the vampire writhed, garbled words spilling from his mouth.
Finally Harry pulled back a little, leaving Spike a trembling, panting mess on the bed. He watched while the vampire slowly calmed down. Then Spike twisted his head to look up at him, with amused blue eyes.
"Havin' some fun with me while I was out, Master?"
Harry grinned and flexed his fingers inside Spike's hole, grinning as the vampire's dark eyelashes fluttered and he moaned. "Lots of fun. I couldn't help myself."
He pulled his fingers from Spike with a pop. Harry grabbed Spike's shoulder and pulled him flat on his back, before rolling on top. He smiled in satisfaction when Spike instantly spread his legs, uncomplaining. He rolled his hips, feeling Spike follow the movement; their erections brushed together and Harry swallowed a moan.
He lifted himself up, hands pressing firmly against the sheets on either side of Spike's torso, caging him with his arms. Then he lifted his left hand to Spike's face, drawing it down the side of his bone-white face, before running one finger down across his plush lower lip. Spike stared up at him with faintly confused blue eyes; Harry thought he saw the shadow of an old hurt. "What're you doing, then?"
"Touching you," Harry said, smiling. "You're so nice to touch and play with... my pretty Spike. So mine."
Spike's lips pursed as he looked up at Harry, eyes confused. Harry wasn't sure if the confusion was due to what he'd said – the mix of affection and unrelenting possessiveness – or simply because he was trying to work out if he could retort angrily and get away with it. Harry decided to head off any silly defiance: he didn't want to punish Spike. He wanted to fuck him.
He sat back, kneeling between Spike's legs, and spread him. The sight of his glistening hole, reddened and open, had him groaning. Then he felt a cool hand on his cock.
He looked at Spike. The blond was blinking shyly and smiling. "Let me slick you up?"
Harry grinned, and handed him the lube.
Spike's long fingers worked smoothly over his cock. Harry watched his face: the mouth slightly open, the eyes intent. Then Spike tweaked the head of his cock wickedly, and Harry groaned. He moved over Spike with a growl and pushed into the exquisite tightness in one long, smooth thrust.
They moaned simultaneously at the feeling: tight, cool flesh sliding slickly around him, or burning hotness pushing into him, taking him. It took all Harry's self-control not to just thrust blindly until he came inside Spike: the thought of marking him a scent the vampire would smell all day sent base arousal flashing through him. But he groped for control and found it; fucking Spike slowly, he watched his face. God, the way his eyes were so tightly shut, long black lashes against pale skin; the way his pouty lips went slack at Harry's more powerful thrusts; the way he panted unnecessarily as Harry fucked him...
Then Spike's eyes opened and their gazes met. The connection was sizzling with lust, but staring into Spike's blue eyes sent other emotions entirely through Harry's heart. He raised a hand and stroked it over Spike's lower lip; Spike was blinking at him, confused.
Suddenly confused himself, Harry diffused the moment the best way he knew how: he fucked harder. His hands came down on Spike's wrists to hold him down, and he shut his eyes and just moved, loving the feel of Spike's channel and the way the slick muscle was forced to accommodate his cock, his taking.
"God..." Spike groaned. "God, I've got to come." His cock was already so red it looked painful after the denial of last night. Harry considered letting him wank off, watching him work himself desperately... but that wouldn't be nearly so fun.
"What makes you think I'm going to let you come, Spike?" he asked silkily, thrusting leisurely into the vampire. "Do you think you've earned it?"
He hit Spike's prostate right then, and the resulting moan was pleading, broken as Spike's breath caught. "Oh God, Harry come on, fuck..."
"That's what we're doing." He lowered his head, hair brushing lightly over Spike's skin, and caught a pink nipple in his teeth. He tugged at it and Spike moaned again, his back arching, pressing his chest to Harry's mouth. Harry kept playing, biting and sucking, until Spike's nipple was shiny with saliva and reddened with abuse. And all the time he kept up his leisurely fucking, relentlessly driving Spike towards the brink, and didn't even brush his cock.
"Come on," Spike said, voice unsteady. "This is very nice an' all, but I want to get off."
"And I asked you," Harry said, dark voice curling round the words like a snake round silk, "if you think you've earned it."
"I – I got you off yesterday, didn't I?"
The pleading expression on Spike's face, the helpless, entreating look of his eyes, the desperate pleading for relief, knowing it wouldn't happen unless Harry let it, knowing he belonged to Harry – All of it fused in Harry's head and then exploded like a firework, lights sparking in his vision as he came.
He opened his eyes to find Spike staring up at him with a despairing expression. "Harry, Harry it hurts!" He obviously thought he wasn't going to be allowed to come, now Harry had found his pleasure. But his sweet begging was just too lovely not to reward.
Harry grinned down wickedly into Spike's face, raised to him like a flower towards the sun. Then he dropped and drew Spike's petal-soft, granite-hard cock into his mouth in one movement.
Spike howled, his hips jerking uncontrollably against Harry's benevolent mouth. Harry sucked hard, pressing his tongue to the slit and flicking it over the head, wanting Spike to have an orgasm worth the wait. If the noises he was making were any indication, the blowjob would do it: it was in fact the best blowjob in the history of time. But it could still be better: Harry relaxed his throat, and swallowed Spike's cock.
It only took three thrusts before Spike was coming, come shooting from his cock while he howled, his entire body rigid. He came, and came, leaving Harry's throat raw. Finally he was finished; when Harry pulled back, he saw to his amusement (and not a little masculine pride) that Spike was unconscious: his body was absolutely limp, his face still.
Harry disengaged himself with a wince: he wanted to stay here, fucking Spike and stroking Spike and enjoying Spike, but he wasn't going to be able to take care of his vampire if he lost his job.
...What?
When had he started thinking that way? When had calling Spike 'mine' gone from something that got Harry hot in bed, to something that affected his 'real' life? More than that, when had he decided it was his job to take care of Spike?
But then who else was there? And certainly somebody had to take care of him: he didn't seem to be any good at doing it himself. He was unable to defend himself, he was rash and impulsive... he was fucking hot, and Harry was going to make sure no harm came to that beautiful body and endearing personality. He wasn't finished with him yet, after all.
Harry showered and dressed quietly – no time for breakfast. He checked on Spike once more before he left for work; opening his bedroom door, a smile he was helpless to stop broke over his face. The vampire was lying exactly where he had been when Harry left him. His legs were bent up awkwardly and his arms were strewn on the pillow, but his face was peaceful.
Harry smiled indulgently and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll come and see you later," he whispered to the sleeping vampire. Then he ran a gentle, propietary hand down Spike's chest, and left as quietly as he could.
Spike once again gave thanks for the static nature of the wizarding community. He'd seen little of it while in England – being born without magic, and then under the thumb of a patriarch who considered magic users to be dangerous creatures best avoided. Angelus' declaration had, of course, made seeing the wizarding community unbelievably tempting for the young William, and he'd run off to Diagon Alley the moment he was left alone. His subsequent thrashing had left him in agony and unable to move while the other three attended parties. Still, Spike now knew exactly where Knockturn Alley was and that it was a ready source of human blood: on balance, he thought it was worth it.
He nodded at the butcher as the man handed him his brown paper bag, filled with bottles of blood. He was one of the creepier specimens Spike had encountered down this alley, with dark, stringy hair and filthy robes. His 'buy two, get one half-price' offer on human ears was a little disquieting, too.
"Oi! Who're you then?"
Spike turned, and his lip turned up in an instinctive sneer. Three young men – boys, really, they looked younger than Harris and even less competent – had just swaggered into the shop. One of them, a freckled redhead, came forward with a matching sneer.
"Go on, then," he said. "What's in the bag?"
Spike gave him a contemptuous scowl and shoved past. Tried to, anyway – the redhead and his mate, a black man with dreadlocks, got in the way. Spike glared and tried not to notice the prickling awareness of the chip and the fact that English wizards always carried wands; he also studiously ignored the humiliating fact that he was shorter than both of them.
"None of your business, mate. What do you care what a bloke likes to buy when he's shopping?" Spike spoke with forced casualness.
"We don't know what you might be buying," the third youth said coolly. "You might be a dark wizard buying human body parts for your spells. Who knows what people like you put in their cauldrons?"
"I'm not a wizard at all, mate," Spike said. "I don't do spells, with human body parts or not – too many consequences." The sight of a dead-eyed Buffy fighting, then fucking him with such desperation, flashed across his mind's eye and he swallowed. Affecting nonchalance, he turned to look at the butcher without giving the boys his back. "Wanna talk to these boys giving your valued customers a hard time?"
"No point," the man hissed, backing further behind the counter. "Wannabe heroes like these puffed-up little Griffin-doors never listen to men like me. It ruins their sense of moral righteousness."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh." He hadn't understood any of that, except for the fact that he was on his own.
He faced the youths again, deliberately keeping his face and eyes hard. But then he'd been doing that the whole time he'd been in Knockturn Alley, not being a complete idiot, and it hadn't stopped these wankers bothering him. It certainly didn't bother them now: they were pressing closer, invading Spike's personal space. Then, to Spike's utter outrage, the black boy poked rudely at his hair.
"You a wannabe Mal-foi or something?"
Spike didn't understand the word, but he knew it was an insult. He snarled and lost his rag, going into gameface with a furious growl just as one of the other bastards, poking at his brown bag, succeeded in seeing the blood inside.
"Vampire!"
All three of them piled backwards, retreating in a chaotic, stumbling rush. Spike felt a moment of screaming triumph at their fear, feeling at the top of the food chain as he hadn't since before the chip – then the little bleeders stopping retreating, and raised their wands. Spike recognised the expressions on their faces from a thousand fights against and alongside the Scoobies. They were scared, but they fancied themselves heroes and they weren't going to run.
Got to get out. It's just a shame they're so near the door.
Spike's adrenaline-laced thoughts raced, while the youths panted and tried to work up the courage to attack – or maybe just tried to remember if there was a 'staking vampires' spell.
Aha.
He began to advance on the wizards – very slowly, so they wouldn't panic. His swagger and the slow curl of his lips into a predator's grin set their hearts beating ever faster: Spike's nose was full of the stink of fear, with top notes of bravado.
"It's been a while since I had human blood straight from the tap," he said slowly, feeling his demon rise still further at this truth. "And you all seem to have volunteered yourselves for the duty." Spike caught one wizard starting to mouth a spell, and growled. The boy flinched.
"You smell good," he continued, getting closer. He was channelling every menacing, cliched speech he'd ever heard Angelus or horror-film villains say. "That fear – " he let his tongue flick out from behind his fangs, like a snake tasting the air. "Delicious."
Crap! One of the boys was aiming his wand and he wasn't going to stop. Spike dropped the blood and dove, slamming out through the shop door before the idiot boys knew what'd hit 'em. In an instant he was up again and running, racing for his life down the cobbled street and howling with frustrated bloodlust, even as he laughed inwardly at the wizards' defeat and outran them with blissful ease.
Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The paperwork for his current case was giving him a headache: investigating financial fraud involved a lot of forms, not to speak of arguing with the Gringotts goblins over whether he should be allowed to see financial records. Somehow they just didn't seem to realise that –
A sudden commotion outside broke Harry from his thoughts. Thankful for the distraction, he left his cubicle to find Auror Team B, of five people, rushing around yelling to each other. He buttonholed one of the younger Aurors, Smithers, who was staring at them too. "What's going on?"
Smithers jumped. She was still at that Oh-wow-it's-Harry-Potter stage, but no doubt she'd get past the awe once she'd seen his reaction to the coffee running out. "There's been a vampire sighting, Mr Potter," she said breathlessly. "In Knockturn Alley. He was buying blood, and he threatened some kids who asked him what he was doing."
Harry's expression made Smithers squeak and back away.
"Tell me, Smithers," Harry said grimly. "What did this vampire look like?"
