RockStarPeach

nekid_spike

Okay, so this was supposed to be light and fun and a little bit hot, but it actually turned out to be none of those things.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Maybe I shouldn’t write so early in the morning *g*

Title:  Invisible Bars

Rating:  Adult

Pairing:  Spike/Giles

Invisible Bars

I’ve spent the past two bloody weeks chained up in his fuckin’ bathtub like it’s some kind of prison, while he pretends to ‘understand’ and ‘help’.  Tells me he knows how I must feel with the chip, tells me he may know of a way to help me, but only if I help him and his little groupies first.

My existence is a fuckin’ joke.  I have to get him to feed me, bathe me, change me; it’s worse than a fukcin’ prison.  I’m starting to think I’d be better off in one of those initiative cells.  At least there I knew what was what.  Knew I was a prisoner, and they were my jailors.

But here, between gentle words and harsh threats, between sharp slaps and tender caresses, I find myself not knowing from one minute to the next whether I’m to act the part of captive or lover.

When I hear the bathroom door open again I hold the breath I don’t need and wait to see what’s on the agenda for today.

He holds the door open as he enters, and I can hear and feel that he’s the only one in the flat besides me.  Lover it is then.  He’d never try to be anything so caring as that with any of his precious little Scoobies about, and he’d never try to be anything so indifferent as what he acts like around the kiddies when it’s just the two of us.

In these moments he’s soft and kind and makes me think that he actually feels something for me, and really, that’s what hurts the most.  It hurts because I know it’s not true, not really, and hurts even more because I wish it were. 

“You’re wrong, Spike,” he says to me as he crosses the cold tiled floor and kneels down in front of the tub, in front of me.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”  He picks up my shackled wrists and traces the outline of my fingers with one of his. 

“I do care.”  He raises my hands and presses his lips to the fingers I try not to move, because if they made even the slightest motion toward those tempting lips it would mean surrender, and I’m not ready for that yet.  One day I will be, we both know it, but not today.

He unlocks the cuffs from the chains holding me to the tub, and physically guides me out onto the bathroom floor.  My eyes don’t meet his as he gently wrestles me down, unfastening first my pants and then his.

I remain passive, staring at the ceiling, as he pulls out my already hard cock, because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response. 

I don’t fight him as he pulls out his own prick and lies on top of me, rubbing us together, hard and gentle, because even though I pretend not to, we both know that I love it.

I try not to flinch as he runs tender fingers through my hair and leans down to join our lips together because any reaction at all would tell him what he already knows; that this is what I want most from him, and I’m afraid if I accept it he’ll take it away.

 I block out all the kind words, murmurs of endearment he whispers into my ear about how me wants me and needs me and wishes I’d let him in, because I just can’t believe him, no matter how I wish I could.

I finally give in a little, thrust my hips up to meet his a small fraction, let out an almost, but not quite, silent cry of pleasure as we shoot all over each other, live and dead seed mixing together on our bodies and clothes.

When he tells me he loves me I break the chain joining the handcuffs that remain around my wrists, and push him off of me, drawing my knees to my chest for a moment, as if that could protect me from myself.

He looks at me, shocked, and I let out a laugh that really isn’t one before standing up and fixing my pants.  “You didn’t really think for a minute those cuffs could actually hold me, did you?”

“Then why…?”  And we both know he means ‘why do you stay?’ ‘why do you drink blood through a straw in a mug held by the slayer?’ ‘why do you let me do these things to you?’.

I just stare at him.  He knows.  We both do.  I climb back into the tub and sit down.  I hold out my wrists, showing off the broken bits of dangling metal.  “You better get another pair before the gang comes back.”

He looks at me for another minute, then leaves the bathroom, but doesn’t shut the door behind him this time.  Maybe that’s something.

END