
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2417126.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer
  Relationship:
      Xander_Harris/Spike
  Character:
      Xander_Harris, Spike_(BtVS)
  Additional Tags:
      Episode_Related, Reptile_Boy, Episode:_s02e05_Reptile_Boy, DubCon_(under
      the_influence_of_alcohol), questionable_Adult/Minor_Sex, 16_Year_Old
      Xander, AU, under_the_influence, dubcon, sex_fic, PWP, School_Hard_fic,
      POV:_Xander
  Series:
      Part 2 of Molesting_the_Xander
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-07 Words: 3304
****** Godzilla vs Reptile Boy ******
by dustandroses
Summary
     Xander follows Buffy to a fraternity house for a party, and finds out
     the hard way that frat boys are a lot like bullies. Spike does his
     best to ride in to the rescue, but being evil and all, he's more
     concerned about molesting Xander than actually saving him.
Notes
     Prompt Notes: Inspiration for this chapter taken from the Live
     Journal community Tamingthemuse prompts #420: Flail, #421: Passport,
     and #422: Pyrrhic Victory
     Notes: Xander's quote of "Go, Go Godzilla" is from the song Godzilla
     by_Blue_Oyster_Cult.
     I think everyone who writes Spike/Xander needs to write at least one
     School Hard fic, in which Spike accepts the 'gift' (Xander) that
     Angel offers him in the hallway of Sunnydale High School. This is
     mine. Or at least the second part of it.
     The stories in this loose series can all stand on their own.
Xander felt underdressed. He guessed that’s what he got for crashing a party at
the Delta Zeta Kappa house. He’d only wanted to keep an eye on Buffy, and make
sure she wasn’t falling for that stupid Tom guy’s line, but things never worked
out the way he planned. He’d worn his khakis and a polo shirt, and smoothed his
hair back – doing his best to look older than a high school junior. He wasn’t
good with maturity, though. He was pretty sure that everyone could tell he
didn’t belong.
He’d thought he was fitting in until he noticed that all the frat guys were in
button-downs and ties, expensive jackets and sweaters. They looked all suave
and sophisticated, and he felt like a fool. What was truly weird, though, was
that all the pledges were in … corsets? Oh, wait. He was pretty sure that guy
was wearing a bustier. Xander cringed. When he knew the difference between a
corset and a bustier, it was obvious that he was spending way too much time
with girls.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was either underdressed or way
overdressed. But there was no way he was going all the way home to change now,
so he’d have to do his best to muddle though. He glanced over his shoulder.
He’d felt like someone was watching him all night, but he hadn’t caught anyone
at it yet. Shrugging it off, he took another look around. He hadn’t seen either
Buffy or Cordelia, although Queen C’s car was in the parking lot, so he knew
they were around somewhere. He’d just have to keep a low profile, and stay away
from the frat boys as much as possible.
Frat boys creeped Xander out. Maybe it was all the cross-dressing. Nothing
against those who liked that kind of thing, but making guys who didn’t like it
wear women’s clothing was just odd. Frat guys reminded him of bullies, and he’d
never liked bullies. If Larry ever managed to graduate from high school, he’d
turn out to be a frat guy, Xander was sure of it. What a jerk.
A corseted pledge walked by with a tray of snacks, and Xander followed like a
hound on the scent – were those ‘Pig in a Blankets’ wrapped in bacon? Ohhhh.
Must eat now. He ran right into the refreshments table, and found the pot of
gold at the rainbow’s end. Baby ham and cheese sandwiches, spicy meatballs,
mozzarella sticks, Buffalo chicken bites, and macaroni and cheese balls! Xander
was in heaven. With a mouth stuffed full of jalapeno poppers, he was unprepared
for the two girls in slinky dresses who sidled up to him and smiled
seductively. He turned around, to see who they were smiling at, and was
surprised to realize it must be him.
Eyes burning from a triple helping of jalapeno, Xander swallowed quickly, and
smiled back nervously. He was on cute babe overload, which was confusing,
considering all the dreams he’d had in the last week or so had starred a sexy,
but extremely dangerous psychopath of the male persuasion. It was enough to
drive a boy to wonder about his sexuality, because those sexy psychopath dreams
had more often than not lead to spontaneous hard-ons, and sticky sheets.
All this sexual confusion of late left Xander in a bit of a quandary. There
were two paths he could take at this point: he could suavely start a
conversation on politics and the world at large – impressing the girls with his
erudite charm, or he could beguile them with his usual, more traditional
magnetism. He grabbed a couple of strangely shaped hor d’oeuvres from a passing
pledge and showed them exactly what he was good for.
“Godzilla's attacking downtown Tokyo!” he cried, his hands flailing wildly in
the air. “Argh! Argh!” The girls tittered behind their drinks. Oh, yeah. He
still had it.
When two guys grabbed his arms and dragged him off shouting, “New pledge, new
pledge!” it took him a moment to realize what was going on. By the time he was
wearing a size KK bra, a shiny silver skirt, and a blond wig, Xander knew he
was in trouble.
He had always expected, due to his parent’s monolithic tolerance for liquor,
that the Harris family genes would kick in the moment he drank his first glass
of whiskey. He’d be able to drink like a fish for hours before the alcohol
turned him into a sodden drunkard, weaving around the room and pinching girl’s
bottoms, with a lampshade on his head. Maybe it was the circumstances, because
being force-fed vodka right from the bottle, while everyone around him cheered
and yelled ‘Chug it, chug it!’ or ‘Dance, pledge boy, dance!’ was not conducive
to alcoholic tolerance. Or maybe it was the wig, because in Xander’s opinion, a
lampshade had a certain…genderless quality about it that a shoulder-length
blond wig simply could not pull off.
He kept trying to escape, but the frat boys had him penned in, and it was
impossible to get away from them, especially the way his head was spinning.
Finally, the one shaped like a small moose laughed in Xander’s face, and told
him this was the last time he’d crash a Delta Zeta Kappa party. It was hard to
remember why he was even there, now. Thoughts of an all night orgy ran though
his head on heavy, moose hoofs, but he wasn’t fooled. No one would have invited
Moosehead to an orgy, no matter how desperate they were. There was something he
was supposed to be doing, and it wasn’t a desperate search for the nearest
porcelain god he could be worshiping, although at the moment that was coming in
a close second.
He staggered dizzily, and in a moment of inspiration, covered his mouth, his
eyes opened wide. Someone shouted, “He’s gonna blow!”, and the way cleared
miraculously as he lurched in the direction of the nearest potted palm. Xander
dropped to his knees, his head hung over the pot, and thanked the gods of
gullible frat boys everywhere as he snuck a look around. It was difficult to
tell what was happening from upsidedown, but eventually, Moosehead and his
buddies lost interest in him, and started harassing the girls again.
He scrambled to his feet, only to fall back to his knees, his head swimming.
Yep, that vodka packed a punch. He contemplated trying again for an upright
position, but with a queasy stomach, he decided that maybe the best way to stay
under the radar was to keep on the down-low. Xander crawled around the edge of
the room, avoiding the couples dancing and flirting above him. His goal was the
patio doors he could vaguely see though his stringy, blond bangs and he held
onto that goal by his teeth, chanting, “Go, Go, Godzilla!” over and over again
until the words lost all meaning.
If he hadn’t already been on his hands and knees, he probably would have fallen
over the bunched up fabric of his khaki pants, which had obviously been tossed
in the corner when he’d been stripped and handed a stuffed bra and a sparkly
silver skirt. He threw them over his shoulder, and journeyed on.
He could almost imagine someone calling his name, cheering him on, a siren-song
of “C’mon, Xander, you can do it. Not much farther, don’t stop now,” in an
accent that he almost recognized.
It was hard, though. The alcohol was spinning his brain like a top, and every
inch he traveled was a struggle. Finally, the doors were there, right in front
of him, and he pushed himself harder, scrambling for the exit before Moosehead
could pull him back into the pit of hell. His head and shoulders were barely
over the threshold before Xander’s head started to spin in the opposite
direction. He was dragged out the door and thrown over someone’s shoulder, his
head hanging upsidedown with a nice view of someone’s black-clad ass, tight
jeans curving around well-muscled cheeks.
“Where’d those come from?” Xander giggled manfully. Yeah, vodka was definitely
not his drink. “We going somewhere?” he slurred.
Tipped back over again, he landed on his back, staring up at the night sky.
Spike’s face swam into view.
“Anywhere but the bleeding Hellmouth, mate. I’ve been trying to get you out of
there for the last half hour. Whatever possessed you to sneak into a fraternity
house? I couldn’t get inside to stop them without an invite.”
“Spike!” Xander gasped.
He’d been dreaming about Spike, and Xander was willing to admit, in the safety
of his own mind, that he was one hell of a sexy vampire. That didn’t mean he
had any interest in sharing breathing space with the guy. He flailed about,
trying to force his arms and legs to cooperate, and help him get the hell out
of there, but it was a lost cause. Especially while Spike was trying to
untangle the mess of bra straps, khaki pants, and blond wig he was currently
trapped in.
“Hold still, dammit. I’m trying to get this crap off you before you strangle
yourself with it.”
Xander stopped fighting. His head was spinning so badly, he was afraid he might
fall off the neatly tended lawn if he wasn’t careful.
“That’s more like it.”
Spike worked carefully, unwinding the wig and the bra straps, carefully
straightening him out, like he had plenty of practice at this kind of thing. He
spoke softly, murmuring words of mayhem about what he’d do to these guys once
he got his hands on them, and although the words were frightening if he
concentrated on them, Spike wanted revenge on those bastards for the way they’d
treated Xander, and he kind of liked that idea.
Xander sighed, and closed his eyes. Spike’s voice was soothing, and the way his
head was spinning, it was difficult to remember why he’d been so upset.
“Once I’ve got Dru’s cure settled, the three of us will get the hell out of
this place,” Spike told him. “What do you say, Xander? New Orleans, maybe? The
French Riviera, or Acapulco? You ever been to the East Coast? New York is a
riot, you’d like it there.”
“What? New York?” Xander opened his eyes. He couldn’t understand why Spike
would want him to travel with them, unless they liked to pack their lunch. “I
can’t go to the East Coast, Spike. I don’t have a passport!”
Spike gave him an annoyed look before tossing Xander’s bra over his shoulder.
“I’ll give you that one, since you’re rat-arsed right now, but if you still
think you need a passport for New York City when you’re sober, we’re hiring you
a tutor as soon as we hit somewhere civilized. I’m not going to spend eternity
with someone who can’t tell the East Coast of North America from the Côte
d'Azur.”
“Huh?” Xander leaned up on his elbows, but his head started spinning again, so
he fell back to the ground, the grass tickling his ribs. “His ribs? Hey! Why am
I naked?”
“Only partly naked,” Spike told him. “I haven’t managed to get you out of your
skirt, yet.”
“I’m wearing a skirt?” He had a flash of memory - Moosehead pulling flashy
silver fabric over his head as he laughed manically. “I’m wearing a skirt! Damn
that Moose!”
“A moose dressed you in a skirt?” Spike laughed, shaking his head. “No more
alcohol for you, mate.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped
Xander’s lips with it. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we? Lipstick doesn’t suit
you.”
Xander shook his head. “Not my color,” he giggled, “but Godzilla liked it.”
“Godzilla, eh? Well, I like you better without any lipstick at all.” Spike
stretched out beside Xander, up on one elbow, leaning over him as he ran one
hand up and down the length of Xander’s body. “Mmmm. So warm.”
It felt good, and Xander pushed his chest out, arching into Spike’s hand. His
body was hot and sweaty, and the fingers on his chest were cool, and
comforting. Spike ran his thumb over one nipple, and Xander gasped. It felt
like his nipple was directly connected to his groin as electricity sparked his
cock to life.
“That’s right, love. You like that, don’t you?” Spike pulled on his nipple,
squeezing it gently, and teasing Xander until he writhed, moaning softly.
He opened one eye to see Spike staring down at him. Spike – the vampire. He’d
been dreaming about a vampire that bit him on the thigh and made him come
harder than he’d ever come before. He just couldn’t figure out why Spike wanted
him.
“Why are you doing this?”
Spike’s fingers slid over to his other nipple, and Xander started to pant as he
pinched it, rolling it between his fingers. “What? This?”
“No, I mean…” He paused, trying to sort out his thoughts. “Well, yeah. Why are
you making me feel so good? Why do you want me? Giles says…”
“‘Giles says...’ He’s that Watcher fellow isn’t he?” Spike asked. “He doesn’t
know me. How can he know anything about me?”
“But vamps are all alike,” Xander argued, fighting hard to focus on his words.
It was difficult to do when Spike was pulling all these wonderful sensations
out of his body. “You take what you want, charging in for the kill as soon as
you drag yourself out of the grave.”
“But I’m not like that at all, now am I? That’s because I’m older and wiser.
I’m not a fledge full of bloodlust who can’t even control his demon. I’m a
Master Vampire.” He leaned close, and whispered into Xander’s ear. “And I
always get what I want.”
“And you want me?” That simply didn’t make any sense to Xander. Why would
anyone want him?
“Oh yes, I do.”
Suddenly, Spike was kissing Xander, cool lips pressed against his, licking and
tickling and making him gasp. Then Spike's tongue slipped inside, and Xander
sucked on it, pulling it further into his mouth, opening wide as it explored.
It felt so good – slick and rough and seductive.
Seductive. That’s the word. He was being seduced, and he didn’t understand why.
He pulled his head back and asked, “But why…” Spike’s hand slipped down, and
ran over his trembling stomach, down to brush against his hard-on, and he
couldn’t help but moan. “Oh…why? Why aren’t you just taking what you want? You
have the power…”
Spike laughed in his ear. “I could force you. I could take you against your
will, and it would feel good – to me. But it would be a hollow victory at best,
because you would hate me for it. Now there’s nothing wrong with a little bit
of a fight in the right circumstances, but I want you, not just any boy. I want
you warm, and willing in my bed.”
“Bed?” Xander couldn’t help but laugh, because this felt a lot more like grass
than it did a bed.
“I want Xander,” Spike insisted, “the boy who talks back to Angelus, even when
he’s got you in a headlock.”
“Undead liar guy…” Xander murmured, remembering the night that Angel tried to
give him to Spike.
“That’s what first attracted me to you – that spirit that put Angelus in his
place, even while he was threatening your life.”
But there was something wrong with Spike’s words, despite the way it felt as
Spike slid his hand under the elastic of Xander’s skirt, and inside his boxers.
“Then why wait until I’m drunk, or all groggy… under a mummy’s spell?”
“You remember that, do you?” Spike obviously hadn’t realized he would. He had
his hand on Xander’s cock now, stroking it, and squeezing, and Xander bucked
his hips up into Spike’s strong hand.
“You bit me!” Xander accused him. “On my thigh.”
“And it felt good, didn’t it?”
Xander remembered the bite. The first time he’d touched it, he’d come
spontaneously, his knees buckling under him as he sprayed his come all over the
wall of the shower. That’s when he’d realized that it hadn’t been a dream.
“I want you, Xander Harris,” Spike whispered. “I want you willing. I want you
writhing and squirming, with your arms around me, begging me for more. I want
you like this, and if I came to you without the liquor, without some
assistance, you’d turn me down flat, and you’d never get to have this.”
Spike pulled down Xander’s shiny skirt, and took Xander’s hard-on into his
mouth, sucking fiercely.
Xander screamed as he came, curling around Spike’s head, his fingers digging
into Spike’s shoulders. His head spun dizzily as he rocked, and Spike sucked
his brains right out the end of his cock. He felt himself falling, but he
didn’t remember landing.
“Don’t get me drunk again,” he murmured, as darkness swept over him and his
eyes slid closed. “Next time I want to remember everything.”
===============================================================================
Xander’s head was swimming. He opened his eyes, gasping for breath, but all he
could see was green. Narrowing his eyes as he focused, he realized that the
green was a bush, and if he was right, that was probably grass tickling his
back. He couldn’t figure out why he was lying half-nude under a bush in the
middle of the night, but if he was outside, he really should move, because
there were monsters in the dark.
Spike. Oh, crap. He’d run into Spike again, and Spike had fondled his cock, and
sucked him off – no wonder he felt all blissful and relaxed, that had been one
heck of an blow-job! He looked around, but he couldn’t see Spike, even though
it wasn’t nearly as dark as it should be, seeing that he was under a bush and
all. He tried to sit up, but that was much harder than he’d thought it would
be. He rolled over onto his front, and his stomach sent up flares to remind him
that there had been a moose feeding him vodka earlier in the night, while
Godzilla danced on top of his head.
“I am never drinking again, as long as I live,” he swore to the grass.
Xander opened his eyes, hoping that might cut down on the roiling in his
stomach, and realized one of those half-windows they used in basements was
right in front of his face. The lights were on, and there were people moving
around in monk’s robes. Monks robes? And Spike had thought the giant bra and
sparkly skirt were over the top.
“Holy smokes!” Buffy, Cordelia, and some other girl were chained to the wall!
He struggled to his knees, and shuffled his way out from under the bush. For
some reason, one thigh hurt. He reached down, and pressed against the tender
spot on the inside of his thigh, and almost came in his pants. Damn that Spike!
He must have bitten Xander again. He was going to have to have a talk with that
guy. No biting without permission!
He’d have to worry about that later. He had to get Buffy out of that basement
first, and there’s no way he could take on the whole fraternity by himself.
“Where is Godzilla when you need him?” he complained to his new favorite bush.
Fortunately, by the time he staggered around to the front of the Delta Zeta
Kappa house, Giles was pulling into the driveway with Willow and Angel in tow.
It was quite satisfying beating up that frat guy, but the real kicker was the
giant snake in the basement. Buffy kicked the snot out of Reptile Boy, of
course, and that was that.
Hey, with Buffy around who needed Godzilla?
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