For a time Connor felt like family, had the scent of ages on him, like coming home. But that was all gone now. The first kiss shattered the sense of brotherhood that had grown between them in the months since Spike had found him. The first night Connor rolled over in the cold and stayed long past needing warmth, Spike felt like he was being held by a stranger.
Fighting Connor, hurt Connor, betrayed Connor, the many versions of this miracle child grown to man, they all had their own familiarity to Spike. Wanting, hungry Connor, he was something new. This was a creature nothing like the father that gave him life, or the kidnapper who molded him into a killer. Spike was reminded of Darla during a hunt, all feral ambition and coy looks, this boy was his mothers child after all. The way Connor coaxed his cock to life when he needed something, hands everywhere, improbably lithe frame bending to fit plumb with Spikes every move, it frightened him the way Connor knew his body.
Long conversations turned to begging sessions, Connor needing the monsters to be chased away, mythic night ritual of taking and giving, shouting to the moon in naked dance. The words drip from Connors lips, please, more, stop before I love you. Spike kisses the words away, tangling his fingers in long hair, brushing away brown locks, looking for something of Angel in his eyes. He finds nothing. When the dawn threatens to end their desperate need for night, Connor presses harder against him, riding against him as though chased by more than the suns fatal rays.
Spike tries to soothe the frantic pace of their sex, wishes it was something more than fucking the demons away. But this isnt a tender moment between friends, those are saved for the daylight hours when there is nothing to do but bide their time. The night is for twisting of bodies, bending of necks, unintentional bloodloss. Spike struggles to keep his body in check, unsure of how much the boy can take, even less sure of how much he can bear to see in those eyes that tell him nothing. Connor fights him each time they get too close, throws punches and scratches too deep for comfort, and yet each night he falls to his knees, pulling Spike from his clothes in moments of insatiable need.
Wishing he was stronger, Spike tries to hold Connor until the sun rises, tries to talk of things that matter, plans that could be made. Connor fucks him harder, never sure if he should top or surrender, wonders aloud why he stays with a vampire instead of searching for Angel, or his family.
Spike knows that staying with him, holding him at arms length and yet cock deep, is safer. Connor does not fear what he cannot know, and so he seeks no knowledge except that which can be found in Spikes bed. He learned everything he knew from his father, and a thousand things he wish hed never known from his fathers son, but there is no brotherly love here, none he will face or name. Neither is willing walk away from this place alone, and so they stay.Feedback