Title: Hello London
Author: Armelle Amaya
Fandom: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Rating: R, I think. Maybe NC17 to be on the safe side.
Summary: Three British badboys, two bottles of nail polish and one set of handcuffs.
Date: 14 January 2000
Archive: Yes to WWoB, CKoS, Britslash, USCL and the RSA [of course <g>], others please ask.
Web Page: http://homes.arealcity.com/thesailorsarms
Disclaimer: There once was a man name of Joss/Who created a show, very posh/But then he took crack/The show just went wack/And now setting it righ's up to us.
Warnings: Not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.
Defense strategy: Te said: "Everyone should think about writing Ethan/Giles."
Author's Notes: I swear I had no idea when I began to write this that Ripper was such a slut. Honest! I just threw Spike at him and then he and Ethan brought out the cuffs and had some fun. Oh and this is mostly 3rd person Spike's POV, so blame him for such terminology as "tasty morsel". **snigger** I really can't help if that he talked like that.
by Armelle Amaya
'Now *this* is my era,' Spike thought to himself, swivelling down another beer. The beer was good, the music was loud and angry and the food was a-plenty. Oh yes, this was definitely his kind of life. And to top things off, along walked a tasty little morsel of meat. Hm, tight jeans, leather jacket, rebel eyes … 'Here, little kitten, come to papa,' he grinned predatorily as he walked up to the young man.
"'Ello," he greeted. "I'm Spike."
"'Ripper'?" he grinned. "As in 'Jack the'?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ripper rolled his eyes. "So did you want something from me or were you just looking for gratuitous entertainment?"
"A little of both. Nice nail polish."
"You think?" A hand was idly lifted to eye level. "Yeah, I guess. I have better one at home, though." And then, with a very powerful 'come hither'-look and a lecherous grin that made Spike's mouth go dry: "Wanna come see my
He really didn't stand a chance. "Love to."
On their way out, they were stopped by another tasty bit.
"Ethan, we were just going home."
"Yes, Spike here and I." Ouch. That was absolutely an 'I dare you to say something about it you hypocrite fuck'-look.
Ethan dared. "Dammit, Ripper, you know I hate it when you bring strangers in there. That's *our* place."
There was an icy silence, eventually broken by Spike. "What's the matter with you, anyway? Afraid I'll steal your boyfriend?" There was a very high foot-in-mouth risk in that one, but hey, if there was one thing Angelus had taught him it was how to bullshit his way out of everything.
Ethan gave him a once-over, only now bothering to look at him properly. "More like afraid my boyfriend will steal you and keep you all to himself."
"Now, Ripper," Spike mock-admonished, "Would you do that? Didn't your mommy learn you how to share?"
Ripper did the lecherous smile thing again. "Of course she did. I'd love to share."
"So, where's this nail polish of yours?" Spike looked around the place. It was a strange combination of ancient books and furniture with modern psychedelic accessories that should have been awful but instead looked oddly … *homey*.
Ripper was standing in front of a table full of stuff. "Right here. I've got 'caffé frappé', 'soot', 'purple haze', 'midnight' …"
"I think these would look good on him." Ethan reached around Ripper and grabbed two bottles. "Here, you take his right hand, I'll take his left."
And then Spike was pushed down on the sofa and squished between two hard young bodies.
'I never tought having my nails painted would feel so fucking *good*!' he
thought, concentrating on the feeling of careful brushstrokes on his nails. When they were finally done, he was aching hard and ready to pounce either or both of them.
"Ah-ah," Ethan admonished, holding Spike's wrist firmly. "You wouldn't want to ruin our hard work, would you?"
"I think he would," Ripper noted. "Perhaps some external restraint is in order." And out of nowhere he produced a pair of handcuffs and out of the same nowhere appeared a ring in the wall and before he knew it, Spike was tied up and immobilized.
"Much better," Ethan complimented.
"Good enough to deserve a reward?" Ripper practically purred.
"Of course …"
Spike stifled a curse. He liked threesomes as much as the next vampire, but being tied up with the other two engrossed with each other was not - no, wait, it was. Now if they'd turn just a little … Ah, yes, now he could have a nice, clear look at them.
Ethan was kissing Ripper as if there was no tomorrow, as if they might be torn apart any given minute. Ripper was going slowly, like they had all the time in the world, one hand behind Ethan's neck and the other leaning on Spike's stomach, making strange and exciting twitchy movements with his fingers.
Against his will, Spike whimpered. The two mortals broke their kiss and turned towards him.
"Seems to me someone's getting impatient. It's not very polite to interrupt people, is it, Ripper?"
"No, not at all. We should punish him. Unless he apologises and asks nicely …"
Fuckers. "All right, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I interrupted you now *please* do something before I explode?"
"Please? Pretty please?"
At *fucking* last there was some reaction, Ethan sliding over him like a snake or some god-damned demon. He whimpered again.
"You know, that's a bad habit you have there. Maybe we should break you of it."
Ripper's voice close to his ear: "Aw, but he looks so *sweet* when he does that." Fingers went through his hair, which was all spiky with sweat. "Make him do it again."
Ethan squirmed a little and made Spike do the whimpery thing again. "You're right, he looks cute like that," Ethan grinned. "Maybe we should get him out of these nasty clothes. See what that makes him do."
"Ethan, I do love the way you think." And they shared another one of those kisses that lasted so long but were over too fast.
"And here I thought you just lusted after my lush, sexy body."
The only answer to that was a chuckle as Ripper moved downwards on the couch to take Spike's Doc Marten's off. "Straight-laced?" Ripper quirked an eyebrow and made a disapproving tsk-ing noise with his tongue. Then quick fingers got rid of the boots. And socks. And another set of fingers was working on his trousers, undoing the buttons faster than he'd thought possible. But maybe his mind was just slowing down because of all the blood going to his groin. He wanted to whimper again, but found he didn't have the breath.
"It seems we broke him of his whimpering habit," Ethan said, undoing the buttons of Spike's silk shirt. Then he halted, and frowned.
"Pity," Ripper remarked. "Something wrong?"
"How do we get his shirt off with the cuffs on?"
Ripper pondered it for a moment. "We don't." He shoved the shirt over Spikes arms until it was all the way up, then wrapped it carefully around the vampire's wrists, tucking the soft fabric between the skin and the hard metal of the cuffs. "There. How's that?"
Spike tried to whimper, but it came out as a low groan.
"I like it when he does *that* too," Ripper grinned.
Ethan chuckled. "So, what else can we make him do …?"
"We could make him groan some more …"
"… or make him beg …" Ethan continued.
"… or have him squirm …" Ripper suggested.
"You know, it sort of takes the fun out of it when they cooperate so easily," Ethan remarked.
Spike held completely still, using only his eyes to beg.
They took pity on him then and be couldn't help but whimper one more time as one mouth descended on his own and the other dove for lower regions.
"You two," Spike stated right before leaving the apartment, "Are a menace."
"We know," Ethan answered, leaning suavely on Ripper's shoulder. "That's why you like us so much. Be seeing ya,
TO BE CONTINUED