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Title: Fraternal Bondage
Author: Sadbhyl and Mydeira
Summary: Two victims of the Initiative's experiments explore common ground.
Rating: NC17 SLASH
Disclaimer: No expensive neck wear was harmed in the writing of this story. Any injured copyrights were unintentional
Notes: Written as a backup for estepheia for the Ethan ficathon. She asked for Spike, post-A New Man, with Initiative-repercussions. She didn't want evil!Ethan (gray is fine) or character death, and preferably NC-17. You got it, baby! PWP all the way . . .

The Watcher was out with his Slayer on another demon stakeout that was likely to keep him for a while, so Spike felt comfortably safe breaking into the man's flat. The bastard had kept him chained in a bathtub for three bloody weeks. Even if that had been almost eight months ago. Spike figured he was owed.

He was just stepping down off the landing before he realized that he wasn't alone in the apartment.

A slow, steady heartbeat echoed off his skin. He focused on it to hone in through the darkness, looking for the shadow that didn't belong in the contoured chaos of the Watcher's possessions. The chair by the window was darker than usual, the shape of it altered by the person sitting in it.

Before he could shift into game face to see more clearly, the person reached out and snapped on the floor lamp next to the chair. Spike winced, turning his head from the sudden brightness.

When his vision cleared, he could see an older man sitting there, one leg crossed casually over the other, elbows resting on the chair arms as he steepled his fingers in front of him. “Why do I have the feeling,” the man drawled in an accent as familiar to Spike as his own, his rough tenor sounding amused, “that you aren't an invited guest.”

Unwilling to let the man know he had been surprised, Spike feigned nonchalance. “Have to be, don't I? Couldn't get in if I hadn't been invited at some point.” He crossed to the desk and pulled open the drawer where Rupert kept his petty cash, glancing back up at the man while taking out the familiar box. “But since you're sittin' here in the dark, I'm doubting you're all that welcome, either.”

The man's lined face showed no emotion. “Ripper and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Spike shrugged. “Won't be attending to it tonight. Watcher's out in the woods with his girl, staking out a nest of Sesmanaklath hatchlings. Doubt he'll be back before sunrise.”

The man's mouth pursed slightly. “How . . . inconvenient.”

Spike turned to head into the kitchen. “That's Rupert. Never thinkin' of the other guy.” He pulled the fridge open and took out a beer, twisting the top off and tossing the cap on the counter. The man sitting in the other room had him curious, though, so after a moment's hesitation, he reached in and grabbed another bottle before heading back into the living room. “You got a name?” he asked, offering the open bottle.

The man looked him over, sharp eyes studying him carefully before he finally reached out to take the bottle. “Rayne. Ethan Rayne.”

“Rayne? The sorcerer?” Spike slumped down on the couch, wrenching the cap off his drink to cast it on the coffee table, propping his feet up as he took a long, satisfying pull at the bottle.

“Yes,” the man answered, drinking more delicately. “And you would be William the Bloody.”

“Spike.” Somehow he felt the man was mocking him.

“Of course.” His eyes glinted over the length of the bottle as he sipped again.

Spike pulled at his beer again, watching the other man drink. Finally he asked, “So, what's your beef with old Giles?”

Ethan set his bottle down on the table next to him before he answered, carefully turning it into some sort of alignment known only to him. “He had me incarcerated by the military some time ago. I'd like to discuss it with him.”

Spike winced in commiseration. “The Initiative. Bastards.” He swallowed another mouthful of beer. “I thought I knew twisted before I met that lot. What they do,” he shuddered, “just ain't right.”

“And you know right,” his companion smirked. “However, I can't argue with you on the twisted. They make the tortures of the Skvlynoq Syndicate seem like a day at the spa in comparison.”

“Don't imagine there's much they could do to you, being human and all,” Spike fished, taking another swig of his beer.

Rising to his feet, Ethan went over to inspect the Watcher's bookshelf. “Never underestimate the ingenuity of the human mind. Quite admirable really, if you look at it objectively.”

“What little I know of you, Rayne, objectivity doesn't strike me as one of your virtues.”

The laugh was bitter and cold. “No, it's not one of my strong suits, but when you've got endless empty hours to fill, you tend to grow as a person.”

“Is that so? Missed out on that, what with my brain getting set on fire by their lovely multi-million dollar microchip shoved inside my head. Tends to disrupt one's focus a might,” he tossed back the last of Rupert's sub-par imported beer.

“Could be worse.”

“Next time you get struck by lightning, we'll compare notes.” Pushing himself up from the chair, Spike went to raid the kitchen. He was feeling more than a little peckish at the moment, but Rupert's cupboards showed little promise.

He was surprised when Ethan followed him to the kitchen. He felt the man's dark eyes studying him with clinical detachment. “So, are you Ripper's latest toy?”

Spike turned slowly, his astonishment plain on his face. “You think I'm shacking up with the Watcher? We talking about the same bloke?”

“Oh my, I guess you really don't know him very well at all.” The man's smug amusement spoke volumes of how well he thought he knew Giles.

“And you do?”

Ethan just looked at him, the self-satisfied smirk never wavering. “Oh, Ripper and I go way back.”

“Is that so? Don't see you as a tweed fellow myself.”

Shaking his head, “His skills at repression are amazing. Always have been. It's remarkable that he's managed to keep this charade going as long as he has. Tell him twenty years ago he'd be playing the upstanding father figure and he would have laughed at you. Or worse.”

“You telling me the Watcher had a dark side?” Spike asked incredulously.

“No, William, your humble Rupert Giles was the dark side. And he was never more beautiful than when he embraced that darkness,” Ethan's voice dropped low with fond reminiscence.

The way he spoke about the other man set something within Spike vibrating; the rich, coppery taste of desire coating his tongue as he felt himself get hard. He had seen the Watcher in a rage a time or two, but had never understood the depths of it the way Ethan seemed to. And a flash of understanding came to him. “You didn't come here to talk to him, did you?”

“No.” Ethan's smile remained enigmatic.

“And you didn't come to kill him.”

“Not in the literal sense.”

Spike tried to readjust his thinking about the staid Watcher. “You came here to fuck him?”

“You've pretty much ruled out all of the other options, haven't you?”

“Seems that I have,” he eyed the man speculatively. Then curious, “You can't be expecting a warm reception when he finds you here. He did hand you over to the Initiative, after all.”

“I can assure you, the reception is always warm. Though heated is likely more apt a term.”

It was still difficult to picture Giles with anyone, let alone another man, this man. “I just don't see it, mate.”

“No?” his eyebrow shot up in inquiry. “Pity. And here I thought it was something you understood quite well.”

Spike's eyes narrowed. “You getting at something?”

“Please, Spike,” Ethan scoffed. “Anyone who knows you, knows of you, knows that you ran with Angelus back in the day. Angelus, who was not one to be particularly choosy about his bedmates. And the first thing he did after he lost that irritating soul was to come find you. So don't tell me you don't understand the draw of a man like Ripper.”

“I'm not drawn to Angel.” Spike felt his anger rising. “I can't help it if he can't keep himself away from me. Ponce makes my life a living hell every time I get near him.”

“See? You do understand.”

Spike was starting to, all too well. But he really wanted to wipe the smug, knowing look from the man's face. Maybe it was time to call his bluff. All signs were pointing to the fact that Giles wasn't his sole interest. Spike pushed himself away from the counter where he had been leaning and moved to close the distance between them.

“As I mentioned earlier, Rupert won't be returning home any time soon.”

“Your point being?”

“You might be in for a bit of a wait. How did you plan on passing the time?”

“I hadn't. Did you have a suggestion?” He sounded amused.

Spike licked his lips slowly, blatantly evaluating Ethan's body and the prominent erection that had grown during the course of their conversation. “Depends. You saving that for him?”

Smirking softly, Ethan let his hand drift down to coast lightly over the tented front of his slacks. “Why, do you think it would be better spent on you?”

He wasn't certain why he was doing this, but suddenly Spike had the overwhelming desire to show this man exactly what he was capable of. “Spent in me, on me,” he let his voice drop enticingly low, “whatever you like.”

“My, aren't we eager to please.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“Ripper really doesn't know what he's missing with you around. Whatever I like? You have no idea what you're getting into,” Ethan chuckled warmly. He studied Spike for a moment, then seemed to reach some internal agreement. “Alright then, follow me.”

They climbed the stairs to Giles' bedroom. “You can't be serious.”

“Can you think of a more appropriate place?”

“The Watcher's bed, eh? Looks like you might be gettin' your revenge after all.”

“Shagging his favorite toy in his otherwise monastic bed. It has its elements.”

“Hey, now, I thought we covered that.”

“That chip in your head may make you harmless to humans, but I seriously doubt he's kept you around out of pity. As much as he may have changed, Ripper has never done pity.”

Spike hesitated. He had just always assumed the Watcher's motivations were professional. The thought that maybe there was more to it opened whole new interpretations on the man's actions when Spike was held captive in this self-same apartment. The chains. The way he had left the shower curtain not quite fully drawn when he came in to use the loo while Spike was trapped in the tub. His offer of another path. . .

But Rupert wasn't here right now. Instead, Ethan watched him knowingly, smirking slightly as he saw realization dawn on Spike.

“Puts things into perspective, doesn't it?” Ethan stepped closer, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Change your mind now? Going to save that for him, now that you know?”

Spike was surprised to hear something in the other man's voice, something almost like loneliness, sorrow. Loss. He couldn't help but wonder how much Ethan had lost out to the Watcher through the years. He understood that, knew what it was like to take second place in every single damn thing his rival touched. The insight connected them somehow, and Spike felt his own isolation eased. “I think I've had about all the perspective I can handle tonight,” he said, gripping Ethan fiercely by the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a bruising kiss, giving no thought to the fact that he act could very well cause a splitting headache.

But the chip did not fire, and Ethan returned the kiss, all sharp teeth and the desire to take control. Spike understood that need and sympathized. He was willing to give the man what he wanted, but he needed a little of his own first.

Pulling back, Spike kept a firm grip on Ethan's shoulder. “What do you say to putting that mouth to better use, mate?”

Ethan considered the hand on his shoulder, then quirked an inquiring eyebrow. “I hardly think you're in the position to be making demands.”

Spike shrugged. “True, but I am in the position to make it worth your while.”

“And I'm to take your word on that?”

“There're no guarantees for men like us. But you have to figure, I've had to pick up a thing or two in the last century. And while you pointed out that Angelus wasn't choosy about his bedmates, he was very particular about how things were done.”

Ethan considered that for a moment. “I can be exceptionally particular.” His words were deep and silken, wrapped around a hard edge of warning.

Spike pressed down. “Good.”

Allowing himself to be pressed to his knees, Ethan's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth barely turning up. His hands came up to deftly undo the fly of Spike's jeans, drawing him out with the casual familiarity only another man could have. “I'm holding you to that, vampire. Whether you want me to or no.”

It might have been the threat, or maybe it was the long fingers wrapping tight around his shaft that made Spike roll his head back. The two together set a heady pulse flowing through his skin that had nothing to do with a heartbeat. When Ethan's strong tongue lashed over the swollen head of Spike's cock, he didn't bother to hold back the moan.

Ethan didn't hurry, taking time to explore every vein, every crease, until Spike growled in frustration. Only then did he slowly take the length of it into his mouth, his mobile lips walking inch by inch down the engorged shaft until Spike could feel the convulsive resistance of Ethan's gag reflex spasming around the head. Letting his fingers tangle in Ethan's hair, Spike slowly began moving, taking over responsibility for action so that Ethan could concentrate on receiving him. The man moaned softly, encouraging Spike to slide faster and faster between his lips, past his teeth, reveling in the scrape and the warmth and the soft wetness gripping him, fighting to hold him in even as he slid out, resisting his advance when he pressed back in. One of Ethan's hands slid up the inside of Spike's thigh until it cradled his balls, rolling them with strong, sure pressure in his palm before sliding back, probing, massaging. The world had begun its familiar red shift when Spike felt two fingers press into his ass, driving deep and sure to find the sensitive organ there. Spike cried out, a hoarse, guttural cry of ecstasy and invasion and came hard, filling Ethan's mouth. Ethan took it without a grimace, without hesitation, as though this was his drink of choice and he preferred it straight from the tap. As Spike settled, Ethan drew back, never removing his fingers from Spike's ass.

“Now then,” Ethan said placidly, flexing his fingers, making their continued presence hard to ignore, “it's time we discussed the particulars.”

Spike was having considerable trouble focusing at the moment, arousal already starting to return. “What's to discuss?” he attempted to sound casual.

“Assuming is never a good idea, especially when a chaos sorcerer and a vampire are involved,” the man continued in the same easy tone, his fingers beginning to slide in and out idly. “I think it best we lay out the particulars now. The first being what happens if you disappoint me.”

“That won't happen.”

“Good to know you're so confident in your abilities. Nevertheless, I feel it is only fair that I inform you ahead of time that I know several spells in which the sacrifice of a vampire is called for. A couple of which would be highly beneficial to me at this point and time.”

That made Spike wonder what he had gotten himself into. But then, it was altogether possible that Ethan was messing with him. So he said, “Why not off me to start with, then?”

“Curiosity. Certain needs. Any number of reasons that really don't matter.”

“Say I don't disappoint. What's to stop you then?”

“Nothing. You'll just have to trust my word. But as you stated earlier, there are no guarantees here.”

The fingers were removed and Ethan rose to his feet.

Spike made a move to kneel, but Ethan's voice stopped him.

“Strip, please. Completely.”

The command sent an electric chill through Spike even as he obeyed. He didn't rush, didn't want the man to think he was too eager. In other circumstances, he'd fight this. He had always fought Angel's domination, even when years of conditioning had made him crave it. But he felt a fraternity with Ethan, and that connection made him willing to submit. This time.

He kicked off his jeans, his boot skittering off across the floor somewhere. Pausing self-consciously, he bent and slipped his socks off, and was surprised when Ethan's hand suddenly stroked his bare ass roughly. He wasn't cruel but commanding, and in that moment Spike realized he wasn't doing this out of camaraderie or revenge or pity. He wanted this, wanted to feel Ethan's power, surrender to his control. Wanted to fuck him and be fucked for hours until they were dead from the pleasure.

Pressing back into the caress, he cast off the denim jacket he wore and pulled the black t-shirt up over his head, dropping it to the side to stand naked and proud before Ethan. Ethan circled him, eyes glittering as he studied Spike's body, caressing a scar here, a mark there until it was all Spike could do not to growl in frustration. Just when he was about to break, Ethan spoke again. “Now undress me.”

Blue eyes met rich brown without flinching, and Spike saw that Ethan was challenging him, trying to see how far he could be pushed before cracking, breaking their bargain. Hiding a smile of smug confidence, Spike put both hands on Ethan's shirtfront to begin slowly undoing the buttons. He was surprised to see his fingers trembling as he reached the last few. To cover it, he leaned forward to coast his lips almost delicately along the warm skin of Ethan's exposed collarbone.

Ethan breathed a soft sigh of pleasure, but when he spoke, his voice was stern. “Did I say you could do that?”

Spike looked up. “You didn't tell me I couldn't,” he smirked, his hand now on the button of Ethan's trousers. He could feel the swell of Ethan's cock under the heel of his hand and swiftly unfastened the fly, eager to see the reality.

“That mouth of yours will get you in trouble, boy.”

He stopped. “Watch who you're calling boy. I'm older than you are.”

Ethan didn't move, but still somehow managed to make his pants fall down around his ankles, baring softly sculpted legs and a long, slender cock bobbing hungrily. “Only in years. In every other way I am a very old man.” He stepped out of his clothing, crossing to Rupert's closet to open the door. “Predictable,” he complained mildly, studying the rows of neckties hanging neatly on the back of the door. “Kneel on the bed,” he instructed, pulling down one tie after the other until he had a handful.

It was different surrendering willingly. Spike could be curious about what was going to happen, anticipate it rather than resist. He did as he was instructed as Ethan circled around behind. Warm hands roughed over his shoulders and down his arms before catching his wrists, pulling them back to meet at the small of his back. Silk rasped over them, and then with a wrench, Ethan cinched them tight together. Spike felt fingers and silk on one ankle and craned his head around to see Ethan looping one end of a blue and silver tie around it. Sensing the shift in position, Ethan looked up and scowled. “No peeking. You wouldn't want me to blindfold you as well.”

Spike grumbled but turned away. With a grunt of satisfaction, Ethan went back to his design. Spike felt him slip the loose end of the tie on his ankle around the bonds on his wrist, and then he pulled, bowing Spike's body back in a taut arch to tie the end around his other ankle. Finished, he rose to stand in front of Spike and assess his work.

Spike felt exposed, vulnerable like this. His hips were canted forward, making his cock thrust out. Despite his flexibility, the tension on his back kept him from raising his head more than a few inches. “Is all this really necessary?”

Ethan trailed his hand down Spike's arched chest, making Spike hiss at the increased sensitivity. “I did warn you I was particular.” He moved closer, lowering his face to bare inches from Spike's. “This negates the advantage you have with your vampiric abilities. I wouldn't want you pulling off anything I'm attached to in the heat of the moment.” Lowering his head, he finally let his mouth slide over Spike's open one, slow and erotic, giving Spike ample opportunity to taste his own come on Ethan's tongue. When he pulled away, Spike saw Ethan was just as affected by the contact. “Now be quiet and do as you're told, or you won't get what you want.”

“And what's that?” Spike couldn't resist challenging.

Ethan leaned forward until his lips almost rested on Spike's ear before he purred, “My cock up your ass.”

Spike swallowed hard, trying to not to let the effect of Ethan's words show. Because the man had stated the truth. He wanted to be fucked by Ethan, fucked hard and without mercy, wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted before. The desire was so strong that Spike had to wonder if he might not possibly be under some kind of spell.

As if reading his thoughts, “No, Spike, your desires are your own. Mostly.”

Mostly? The idea of being manipulated really didn't sit too well with Spike, and he began to struggle against his bonds. He only succeeded in making them tighter.

Ethan's warm palm rested soothingly on his chest. “Rest assured, Spike, you got yourself into this willingly. While I am not above blatant manipulation to get what I desire, conscious decision adds something that just can't be faked. And trust me, if you relax, you'll enjoy this so much more.”

Spike pushed the panic down, relaxing physically as much as his current position would allow him to.

Seemingly satisfied, the hand was removed and Ethan disappeared completely from his line of sight. Spike heard him rattling through Rupert's nightstand, a mumbled “Only Watchers and priests,” reaching his ears, and there was the distinct sound of a glass bottle being unscrewed. He only had an instant to anticipate before liquid fire dribbled onto his bare chest, tiny pinpricks of searing heat. Every drop of holy water announced itself with a smoky hiss.

“Fucking hell, what do you think you're doing?” Spike screamed.

“Whatever I like,” was the simply reply, as the tiny droplets danced and slid across Spike's chest. “Unless you want to be gagged, I do urge you to keep the complaints to a minimum. Non-existent if you please.”

So Spike bit his tongue, with great effort, and let Ethan continue his torture in silence, with the occasional groan as a particularly large amount fell and trickled down, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It wasn't the first time he'd been treated like this. Holy water was one of Dru's favorite toys, too. But she hadn't had Ethan's finesse. Not a drop landed where Ethan didn't want it, nor ran where he didn't intend until the sacrament burned ecstasy into Spike's skin. Then, as suddenly as he had begun, Ethan stopped. Spike felt warm breath stir against his tender flesh before Ethan's tongue slipped out, running over the welts. His skin cried out against the abrasive and unforgiving exploration. This was not meant to be gentle or soothing. Ethan sought out each mark and worked them into a sensitive frenzy, overwhelming Spike until the sensations lost all meaning. It never became pleasure, but it stopped being pain.

“You are remarkably untouched, aren't you?” Ethan observed against his skin. “You're body shows very little of all that you have been through. A shame, really. Scars tell the most fascinating tales. But everything fades to a clean slate for you, doesn't it?”

“You want me to say that's a bad thing?” Spike ventured a response.

“It has its advantages, I suppose.”

And then there was more burning. But this wasn't holy water. Spike could feel the coolness of metal before the shape exerted its power, briefly branding him with a small crucifix.

“Impressive what a seemingly harmless object can do. This would have no effect upon you were it any other shape. But two lines running perpendicular to one another incapacitates you can so easily.”

Again, silence save the soft grunts of pleasure-pain from Spike while Ethan worked, winding an intricate pattern of crucifix brands around his chest, always managing to find unmarked skin. The fact that his skin was stretched taut only increased the sensation. There was no shrinking away or hiding. He was exposed and forced to endure every mark Ethan chose to inflict.

Spike wonder if this was what hell was like. Torture in small doses. Nothing you could really complain about, but would drive you mad if it went on long enough.

Ethan's hand dropped to wrap around Spike's throbbing prick, making him cry out hoarsely as the thin film of holy water still on the man's fingers seared his flesh. Ethan just growled in satisfaction and pulled fiercely until Spike was fairly whimpering in pleasure. He felt his balls tighten in prelude to what promised to be a truly shattering orgasm, and he gave out a long, low sigh.

Ethan stepped away.

It took a moment to sink in through Spike's euphoria that there was no relief from his incredible tension coming. “Don't stop,” he demanded, too far gone to care that he was begging. “Please, don't.”

Ethan circled the bed to kneel on the mattress behind him, crawling close enough to look down into Spike's eyes. “Now, was that blowjob worth this?” he asked in slow, teasing seduction, his hands trailing along the angles of Spike's jaw almost tenderly. “I mean, I've been told I give brilliant head, but really . . .”

“Please,” Spike begged again, hoarse and whispered.

Ethan's eyes darkened as the timbre of his voice dropped. “What do you want, Spike?”

Ethan's words from earlier came back to him. “Your cock,” he said with as much surety as he could muster. “Up my ass.”

Leaning forward, Ethan placed one soft kiss just in front of Spike's ear. “All you had to do was ask.”

He moved now, untying one of Spike's ankles with a quick tug that freed him like a cut bow string. Spike fell onto his face on the mattress, his hands still bound behind his back. Ethan's hands stroked roughly over Spike's thighs and ass before gripping his hips to draw him up, Ethan's long cock coasting with a dry slide between his now exposed cheeks. Spike willingly adjusted his position, squaring his knees to push back into the other man's hips.

Ethan just chuckled. “So eager.” Spike heard a drawer open, then felt cool gel squeezed out in a long line over his tight opening. Ethan rested his cock in it, sliding back and forth the length of it until he was fully coated. When the head of it began probing for entrance, Spike groaned. Ethan echoed the sound as he relentlessly buried his length deep into Spike's channel, crushing against his prostrate before sliding off it and deeper.

His fingers sunk into Spike's hips as he pulled him back, making each thrust harder, deeper until he was pistoning away in short, fierce strokes accompanied by pleasured groans and soft, ecstatic sighs. Unable to do more than rock against him, Spike focused on redirecting all the tension of his body into the clenching, resisting muscles encircling Ethan's heated shaft, earning him more grunts of satisfaction. Ethan hitched, and to Spike's surprise, his hand slipped around to grip Spike's desperate cock, squeezing and pulling in time to Ethan's own movements. Spike didn't try to suppress the pleasure suffusing him from the contact, from the still stinging burns in his flesh, from the degradation of being fucked like a girl in the Watcher's bed.

Ethan groaned and went rigid, his balls tightening against Spike's thighs. Spike bit his lip in anticipation, until a moment later Ethan gasped a low, “Christ!” as he came at last, hot and hard and unrelenting. He fisted Spike harder, almost as though holding on to keep from falling, and at last Spike came, too, his come spilling onto the Watcher's sheets as Ethan collapsed against his back.

They lay like that after, neither one in any hurry to move. Spike reveled in Ethan's pounding heart, the bellow of his lungs, the feel of his warm ejaculate seeping out to coat Spike's balls. It was exquisite, and he was in no hurry for it to end.

“Ethan,” a basso profundo, almost animal, voice came from the doorway.

Both of them turned their heads to see Rupert in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming up from the first floor. He wore a ferocious expression Spike had only seen on his face once before, after the teacher bird had been killed, and his fists opened and closed with the threat and violence to come.

Spike could feel Ethan's smile against his ear. “Now the real fun begins.”

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