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snoggedTitle: Hell Is A Lie
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey (Human AU!)
Word Count: 1861
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; dark, slash, oral rape/non-con, adult language (sexual slurs), violence, abusive situations. Erm…let’s call this Dirty!Nasty!Wrong
Setting/Summary: This is AU. Lindsey is a senior in high school. Spike’s a creepy stalker.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ash_carpenter
A/N: Written forash_carpenter who wanted to see one of her favorite boys get face fucked.
The alley behind Public School 48 smelled like old booze and death. Stale cigarette butts and rotting garbage littered the cracked cement and brick walls trapped this repugnant world in shadows, allowing only a few small rays to pass through. Any self-respecting person would probably head in the other direction, taking the sidewalks along the main stretch of highway but Lindsey liked the convenience of it. He liked knowing that it cut his trip in half even if he was never in a hurry to get home.
In fact, he hated home. Home was where he found pain, and broken bones, and bruises. Home was where he could feel the jagged edge of a glass shard against his stomach while his stepfather called him a worthless piece of shit. Home was where his mother stood by and watched as her new husband, Mr. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, disciplined her son and didn’t bat an eye. Even if he wanted to complain to her, she’d just tell him that he should be grateful that they had a house and not a trailer, that he was fed, and that bills got paid on time.
It was really just a big, steaming crock of bullshit. He knew she just said all that because she was a damn whore who’d spread her legs for any man with a hefty pocketbook.
As he descended down the alley, the toe of his shoe made contact with a small pebble and his eyes followed its trajectory as it skittered across the alley floor and made a small ping as it hit the brick wall. He followed after it, almost grateful to have something he could kick around, something to distract him from the self-loathing he felt curling inside his gut because he hated himself for taking it. Taking the shit and the abuse and not fighting it.
When he reached the wall though, he didn’t find the pebble. Instead, he found a piece of rotting fruit, an apple that someone had just thrown in there hoping no one would find it. The smell hit his nostrils and he gagged, bile rising in his throat.
“Oh…fuck,” he groaned, stumbling backwards, trying to get away from the wretched scent.
“I like the sound of that, pretty boy.”
Lindsey paused, head turning to the left, and to the right, trying to seek out the source of the voice, the crude tone. Finally, he saw a man inching towards him, sleek blond hair and an athletic build. Lindsey could see the corded muscles pulsing under the man’s thin black t-shirt, could see the danger in his steps, could see the malice in his cool, blue eyes.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Lindsey murmured.
The stranger chuckled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Lindsey couldn’t pull his eyes away as the blond slid the thin tube between his lips and flicked his Bic, the small flame springing to life to turn the butt ember red. The smoke curled around his fingertips as his features twisted into a grin that left Lindsey feeling chilled. “Name’s Spike.”
“Lindsey.” His own name sounded hollow, almost unfamiliar. He really wasn’t looking to make friends or introductions and he truly doubted that Spike was looking for that either.
Spike took another puff on his smoke. He was fully aware of who this boy was. Had been following him for weeks, actually. He knew what routes Lindsey took to go home, knew what foods he liked, knew what the kids at school thought of him. He even knew about Daddy Wes and the pain-drenched screams Lindsey made when the paddle first slammed down on his pretty boy ass. Finally, he decided to let the boy in on his little secret. “Know who you are, mate. Know you better than you think you do.”
“Who are you?” Lindsey asked weakly, feeling his throat constrict around the words and the smells of the alley.
“Someone who knows what you need, what you wish for when you crawl into your little bed at night. I’m someone who can make those things happen for you. Would you like that, Lindsey?”
Spike stepped forward, amusement twinkling in his eyes as Lindsey stepped back. He always liked a game of cat and mouse, predator and prey. The ones that fought him, challenged him…those were the ones he liked.
“No,” Lindsey replied hoarsely. “Don’t think I’d like that at all.”
Another step forward, another step backward.
“I think you would, pet. I think you’d like what I can do for you.”
Lindsey felt his breath hitch, body carrying him one more step backwards until he hit brick, abrasive and unyielding against his skin. “No…,” he repeated. “Please, I don’t want…”
Spike slid closer, invading Lindsey’s personal space. His hips pressed forward, rubbing against Lindsey’s groin. Lindsey trembled, feeling the hard edge of this man’s cock drag over his hip. The fucker was getting turned on by this. Getting turned on from having someone at his mercy, having someone trapped. It made him sick.
“I think you do want, Lindsey. I think you want what I have. I know you can’t wait drop to your knees, to get those juicy lips around my cock. Bet you’ve thought about being someone’s whore while your daddy pounds that sweet ass of yours. You like it when he makes you scream. When he makes you feel worthless.” Spike’s fingers hovered above Lindsey’s shoulder, feeling the heat rising from the tension and the anxiety and it spurred him on. Lindsey couldn’t have been a more perfect choice for his plans.
“No,” Lindsey whimpered, pressing himself tight against the wall. He wanted to sink inside it, melt away into the filth and grit. It would be better than this. He didn’t want this.
Spike smirked, feeling a small bulge bump against his own. He knew it was the fear but he still loved the fact that this little slut was getting hard for him. “I know when you’re lying to me, pet. Know when that pretty little tongue weaves its web because your body knows better than you.”
“No,” Lindsey hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and feeling spit build up at the base of his tongue. He pursed his lips and let it go, the small glob landing right on Spike’s chin. “You will never be what I want.”
Spike growled, low in his throat, hand snaking around to grab the back of Lindsey’s head and throwing him to the ground. He grinned as Lindsey winced at the unexpected pain, as Lindsey’s breath came in shorter intervals, trying to regulate the sharp agony.
“Get on your knees.”
Lindsey blinked. He wasn’t a slut, wasn’t a cheap ride in an alley. And this guy wasn’t going to turn him into one either. “Fuck, no.”
Spike’s eyes were filled with fire as his combat boot made contact with Lindsey’s rib cage, digging into flesh and bone, making things shift and stretch. Lindsey cried out, looking up at Spike with hate etched onto his face.
“I said, get on your fucking knees.”
Lindsey gulped, feeling his body betray him in an effort to avoid further damages. His legs rolled underneath him as Spike’s fingers pulled down his zipper, metal teeth clicking apart with lightning speed. Lindsey averted his eyes and pressed his lips together as Spike reached into the elastic of his boxers and pulled out his engorged cock. The veins pulsed violently inside the thick column, red and purple.
Spike gripped the base of his cock and led it towards Lindsey’s mouth, dragging the head over the boy’s lips, smearing the drops of pre-come that had already formed. When Lindsey refused him, Spike wrenched his erection to the side and brought it crashing down on Lindsey’s cheek. The slap stung, leaving a faint pink mark in the dim light.
“You open that mouth or I’ll put something else in it.”
Dread coursed through Lindsey’s mind as he thought about the possibilities. Thought about that rotting apple and how it would be far worse. He imagined the maggots squirming around the hollows of his cheeks, the citrus burning his throat. He imagined Spike would make him swallow it, would make him take it all. His lips parted, body falling forward as he gagged, spittle hitting the concrete beneath him. Spike took this as an opportunity of course, slamming his cock inside the wet, unwilling cavern.
Lindsey gagged again as Spike fucked his face with eagerness and exhilaration, balls slapping against his chin as Spike’s cock went deeper down his throat. His tongue wriggled weakly, trying to escape the pounding rhythm and the violation but Spike wasn’t letting up. Wasn’t going to let him breathe anytime soon.
Pale hands crawled into Lindsey’s hair, tugging at the dark strands, making his scalp sting and his jaw ached with the stretch of being used. His heart felt like dead weight inside his chest and the tendrils of self-loathing returned, spiking through his body and attaching themselves to every nerve, every tendon, every muscle.
Spike crowed with delight as he picked up the pace, loving the way Lindsey’s throat closed around him, how it pulled him deeper. He knew deep down that his victims thought he was a monster and a rapist but in his own mind, he was a God. A God to be worshipped and respected. The feeling of omnipotence was addicting, consuming. It was what kept him doing what he did, what kept him on the lookout for boys made to be broken, boys who weren’t finding what they wanted at home.
Lindsey grimaced, feeling the weight of Spike’s cock grow heavy against his lips, feeling the salt of flesh in his taste buds and it was the final straw. He was not taking this fucker’s come, not going to suck it up and be the victim. Mama wasn’t there to give him a speech and if she had been, he wouldn’t have given a damn anyways. Without a second thought, his teeth sunk into the hard prick, parting skin and feeling the coppery tang of blood seep across his tongue.
Spike screamed, high-pitched and earth shattering, as he reeled backwards, releasing his grip on Lindsey’s head.
Lindsey didn’t stop, didn’t freeze as he scrambled to his feet and took off in a sprint, vision blurring as he escaped the long stream of murderous curses and threats and entered the supposed paradise beyond the alley where the lawns were pristine and the sun sparkled through the trees.
It was a fucking joke, a fucking lie. Not a single one of those people knew what was good for them. None of them had ever had to fight the way he had. And he was sick of it, done with it.
He wasn’t going to take it anymore. Not going to be hurt anymore. Not going to be someone’s bitch, someone’s whore, someone’s convenient hole.
And the next person to pay for their crimes was going to be dear old Daddy Wes. When Lindsey was done, that cocksucker would know just what it feels like to burn.
FIN
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Spike/Lindsey (Human AU!)
Word Count: 1861
Rating: FRAO/NC-17; dark, slash, oral rape/non-con, adult language (sexual slurs), violence, abusive situations. Erm…let’s call this Dirty!Nasty!Wrong
Setting/Summary: This is AU. Lindsey is a senior in high school. Spike’s a creepy stalker.
Beta:
ash_carpenterA/N: Written for
ash_carpenter who wanted to see one of her favorite boys get face fucked.The alley behind Public School 48 smelled like old booze and death. Stale cigarette butts and rotting garbage littered the cracked cement and brick walls trapped this repugnant world in shadows, allowing only a few small rays to pass through. Any self-respecting person would probably head in the other direction, taking the sidewalks along the main stretch of highway but Lindsey liked the convenience of it. He liked knowing that it cut his trip in half even if he was never in a hurry to get home.
In fact, he hated home. Home was where he found pain, and broken bones, and bruises. Home was where he could feel the jagged edge of a glass shard against his stomach while his stepfather called him a worthless piece of shit. Home was where his mother stood by and watched as her new husband, Mr. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, disciplined her son and didn’t bat an eye. Even if he wanted to complain to her, she’d just tell him that he should be grateful that they had a house and not a trailer, that he was fed, and that bills got paid on time.
It was really just a big, steaming crock of bullshit. He knew she just said all that because she was a damn whore who’d spread her legs for any man with a hefty pocketbook.
As he descended down the alley, the toe of his shoe made contact with a small pebble and his eyes followed its trajectory as it skittered across the alley floor and made a small ping as it hit the brick wall. He followed after it, almost grateful to have something he could kick around, something to distract him from the self-loathing he felt curling inside his gut because he hated himself for taking it. Taking the shit and the abuse and not fighting it.
When he reached the wall though, he didn’t find the pebble. Instead, he found a piece of rotting fruit, an apple that someone had just thrown in there hoping no one would find it. The smell hit his nostrils and he gagged, bile rising in his throat.
“Oh…fuck,” he groaned, stumbling backwards, trying to get away from the wretched scent.
“I like the sound of that, pretty boy.”
Lindsey paused, head turning to the left, and to the right, trying to seek out the source of the voice, the crude tone. Finally, he saw a man inching towards him, sleek blond hair and an athletic build. Lindsey could see the corded muscles pulsing under the man’s thin black t-shirt, could see the danger in his steps, could see the malice in his cool, blue eyes.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Lindsey murmured.
The stranger chuckled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Lindsey couldn’t pull his eyes away as the blond slid the thin tube between his lips and flicked his Bic, the small flame springing to life to turn the butt ember red. The smoke curled around his fingertips as his features twisted into a grin that left Lindsey feeling chilled. “Name’s Spike.”
“Lindsey.” His own name sounded hollow, almost unfamiliar. He really wasn’t looking to make friends or introductions and he truly doubted that Spike was looking for that either.
Spike took another puff on his smoke. He was fully aware of who this boy was. Had been following him for weeks, actually. He knew what routes Lindsey took to go home, knew what foods he liked, knew what the kids at school thought of him. He even knew about Daddy Wes and the pain-drenched screams Lindsey made when the paddle first slammed down on his pretty boy ass. Finally, he decided to let the boy in on his little secret. “Know who you are, mate. Know you better than you think you do.”
“Who are you?” Lindsey asked weakly, feeling his throat constrict around the words and the smells of the alley.
“Someone who knows what you need, what you wish for when you crawl into your little bed at night. I’m someone who can make those things happen for you. Would you like that, Lindsey?”
Spike stepped forward, amusement twinkling in his eyes as Lindsey stepped back. He always liked a game of cat and mouse, predator and prey. The ones that fought him, challenged him…those were the ones he liked.
“No,” Lindsey replied hoarsely. “Don’t think I’d like that at all.”
Another step forward, another step backward.
“I think you would, pet. I think you’d like what I can do for you.”
Lindsey felt his breath hitch, body carrying him one more step backwards until he hit brick, abrasive and unyielding against his skin. “No…,” he repeated. “Please, I don’t want…”
Spike slid closer, invading Lindsey’s personal space. His hips pressed forward, rubbing against Lindsey’s groin. Lindsey trembled, feeling the hard edge of this man’s cock drag over his hip. The fucker was getting turned on by this. Getting turned on from having someone at his mercy, having someone trapped. It made him sick.
“I think you do want, Lindsey. I think you want what I have. I know you can’t wait drop to your knees, to get those juicy lips around my cock. Bet you’ve thought about being someone’s whore while your daddy pounds that sweet ass of yours. You like it when he makes you scream. When he makes you feel worthless.” Spike’s fingers hovered above Lindsey’s shoulder, feeling the heat rising from the tension and the anxiety and it spurred him on. Lindsey couldn’t have been a more perfect choice for his plans.
“No,” Lindsey whimpered, pressing himself tight against the wall. He wanted to sink inside it, melt away into the filth and grit. It would be better than this. He didn’t want this.
Spike smirked, feeling a small bulge bump against his own. He knew it was the fear but he still loved the fact that this little slut was getting hard for him. “I know when you’re lying to me, pet. Know when that pretty little tongue weaves its web because your body knows better than you.”
“No,” Lindsey hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and feeling spit build up at the base of his tongue. He pursed his lips and let it go, the small glob landing right on Spike’s chin. “You will never be what I want.”
Spike growled, low in his throat, hand snaking around to grab the back of Lindsey’s head and throwing him to the ground. He grinned as Lindsey winced at the unexpected pain, as Lindsey’s breath came in shorter intervals, trying to regulate the sharp agony.
“Get on your knees.”
Lindsey blinked. He wasn’t a slut, wasn’t a cheap ride in an alley. And this guy wasn’t going to turn him into one either. “Fuck, no.”
Spike’s eyes were filled with fire as his combat boot made contact with Lindsey’s rib cage, digging into flesh and bone, making things shift and stretch. Lindsey cried out, looking up at Spike with hate etched onto his face.
“I said, get on your fucking knees.”
Lindsey gulped, feeling his body betray him in an effort to avoid further damages. His legs rolled underneath him as Spike’s fingers pulled down his zipper, metal teeth clicking apart with lightning speed. Lindsey averted his eyes and pressed his lips together as Spike reached into the elastic of his boxers and pulled out his engorged cock. The veins pulsed violently inside the thick column, red and purple.
Spike gripped the base of his cock and led it towards Lindsey’s mouth, dragging the head over the boy’s lips, smearing the drops of pre-come that had already formed. When Lindsey refused him, Spike wrenched his erection to the side and brought it crashing down on Lindsey’s cheek. The slap stung, leaving a faint pink mark in the dim light.
“You open that mouth or I’ll put something else in it.”
Dread coursed through Lindsey’s mind as he thought about the possibilities. Thought about that rotting apple and how it would be far worse. He imagined the maggots squirming around the hollows of his cheeks, the citrus burning his throat. He imagined Spike would make him swallow it, would make him take it all. His lips parted, body falling forward as he gagged, spittle hitting the concrete beneath him. Spike took this as an opportunity of course, slamming his cock inside the wet, unwilling cavern.
Lindsey gagged again as Spike fucked his face with eagerness and exhilaration, balls slapping against his chin as Spike’s cock went deeper down his throat. His tongue wriggled weakly, trying to escape the pounding rhythm and the violation but Spike wasn’t letting up. Wasn’t going to let him breathe anytime soon.
Pale hands crawled into Lindsey’s hair, tugging at the dark strands, making his scalp sting and his jaw ached with the stretch of being used. His heart felt like dead weight inside his chest and the tendrils of self-loathing returned, spiking through his body and attaching themselves to every nerve, every tendon, every muscle.
Spike crowed with delight as he picked up the pace, loving the way Lindsey’s throat closed around him, how it pulled him deeper. He knew deep down that his victims thought he was a monster and a rapist but in his own mind, he was a God. A God to be worshipped and respected. The feeling of omnipotence was addicting, consuming. It was what kept him doing what he did, what kept him on the lookout for boys made to be broken, boys who weren’t finding what they wanted at home.
Lindsey grimaced, feeling the weight of Spike’s cock grow heavy against his lips, feeling the salt of flesh in his taste buds and it was the final straw. He was not taking this fucker’s come, not going to suck it up and be the victim. Mama wasn’t there to give him a speech and if she had been, he wouldn’t have given a damn anyways. Without a second thought, his teeth sunk into the hard prick, parting skin and feeling the coppery tang of blood seep across his tongue.
Spike screamed, high-pitched and earth shattering, as he reeled backwards, releasing his grip on Lindsey’s head.
Lindsey didn’t stop, didn’t freeze as he scrambled to his feet and took off in a sprint, vision blurring as he escaped the long stream of murderous curses and threats and entered the supposed paradise beyond the alley where the lawns were pristine and the sun sparkled through the trees.
It was a fucking joke, a fucking lie. Not a single one of those people knew what was good for them. None of them had ever had to fight the way he had. And he was sick of it, done with it.
He wasn’t going to take it anymore. Not going to be hurt anymore. Not going to be someone’s bitch, someone’s whore, someone’s convenient hole.
And the next person to pay for their crimes was going to be dear old Daddy Wes. When Lindsey was done, that cocksucker would know just what it feels like to burn.
FIN
