TITLE: The Fable
Warnings: Bad language and M/M sexual situations.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns none of the characters used
in this story.
Summary: A new take on the old fable of Rumpelstiltskin.
Xander is held in the tower prison of the evil King Liam and has
been ordered to spin a roomful of straw to gold. Can he do
it? Is there someone who can help?
Other than pointing out grammatical errors, comments are greatly appreciated.
Thanks to Naughty Fae for the pre-read and encouragement
Link to previous chapters HERE
Spike struck a strange figure as he stood in the center of the small, circular tower cell. He
was surprisingly unashamed in his nudity and seemed unconcerned with the display of
his physical deformities. Instead, Spike's focus was on the sheepish boy sitting at his feet
with a limp, dripping dick and a sour aftertaste on his tongue.
"Well. That was unexpected."
Xander clambered to stand while fumbling to right himself with shaky hands and on wobbly
legs. The warm after-glow clung to him like the fading embers of a romantic fire. Although,
on some level, Xander accepted the impending doom of their situation, he refused to
apologize for something they had both obviously enjoyed immensely.
Once on his feet, Xander cupped and tucked his personal property back in to his trousers
and he secured the belt at the waist. "Yeah, well my Ma always did say, 'If ya get caught
in a rainstorm, pull out a chunk of soap fat.'"
Spike rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest as he considered the statement.
"Yes, while I'm sure there is a compliment in there somewhere and while I can appreciate
the great philosophical leanings of your mother, I suggest that we get on with this task before
the cold and damp of this room causes my manhood to shrivel and shrink to an embarrassing measure."
Xander hooted and laughed. "You are funnier than a court jester, Spike. I think that's one of
the things I love about you and I swear if we ever get out of this mess....." As soon as the
words of impending doom left his mouth, Xander's face fell and he was reminded of
the improbability of their having a life or future beyond the confines of the small round,
stone walls or even the next two days.
It was a slap of reality that flushed away the last of the euphoria that remained from their
shared orgasm. Part of him wanted to curl up and allow Spike to offer him strength and
comfort but that need was quickly squelched by the bigger knowledge that, as of just two
days ago, Spike had no dog in this fight at all. He was a beast living perfectly well in
his enchanted forest when he was drawn into Xander's plight and now found himself caught
in King Liam's web of greed and deceit.
"You are still free to go, Spike and I would never blame you."
Spike sighed. He cupped his cool, claw-like hand on his boy's trusting face and his
yellow, demon's eyes locked with the soft brown ones. "Tut, tut, pet. It's you and me
and I will never leave you. No matter how this ends, I will be here for you. In this world
and in the next. Now, do your inventory. Unless, I'm wrong, and I seldom am, I expect the
guard will be returning at any minute now and I would rather not be caught here like this.
Or at all."
Xander gave a short nod and adopted an air of cool detachment as he began. "All right.
So, Queen Drusilla it was a name for your shame and we have agreed that it somehow covers
one of your physical deformities so, Spike, my love, lets get down and dirty."
Spike took a deep breath and blew it out. He stood as straight as his hunched back allowed
and he held his arms straight out at his sides while his boy began cataloging each and
every mangled area of the beast's unsightly form.
"Well, we have the odd bony shape of your face. The ridges of your brow, the strange color
of your eyes and the prominent cheek bones. However, on the up-side, you were right when
you said you do have a very nice nose." Xander grinned as he ran his finger down the bridge
and tapped the end of Spike's nose playfully. Before the demon could reply, Xander
stepped back and continued.
"Good chest. Short, stubby arms. Long, thin fingers with very sharp claws which are not
all together off-putting under the right set of circumstances." Xander blushed slightly as
he remembered the feel of those powerful claws scraping across his scalp sensually.
The recollection started the now familiar warmth to infuse Xander's body. Quickly, he
cleared his throat and moved along. "Well, I think we can skip over the very fleshy dick,
which I have already lent a close-up scrutiny to. So, you have bowed legs and despite the
extra toes, remarkably sexy feet."
As Xander moved around to stand at the cursed man's back, Spike shuddered. Without
the benefit of the reflecting pool, he had never been able to see his back side and could
only imagine the extent of the damage done by the mage's power. His arms dropped limply
and he waited for Xander's response.
Xander swallowed around the lump in his throat. The last thing his lover would want was
pity and Xander had too much respect for him to show any despite the horrific sight of
the twisted, bumpy spine and shoulders. "All right. I've seen worse."
Spike's face screwed up in disbelief. "You have?"
Xander shrugged sheepishly. "Not really. Okay, so, you have a lump on the back of your skill,
a big hump on your back and the cutest little bubble rump I have ever seen."
Spike fought against the relieved grin that threatened to over-take him and, instead, he gave
a quick butt cheek flex in response. "So, all that tells us is that you are a sex fiend that can't
get enough of my wily ways."
"Yeah, you are a regular Thor. A God with a huge, swinging hammer."
Spike snarled happily. "Yes, I am so. 'Hammer' is the code word for my pecker, yeah?"
Xander hesitated. Although he didn't think that 'hammer' was a name that would be a
magical spell-breaker, he didn't want to dent Spike's ego. "Um, yeah, sure. Hammer.
Possibly. Okay, so here we go. I'm going to think of some names for your deformities
and you just chime in when something clever or creative pops in your mind. Okay?"
"Um..." Before Spike could find fault with the very plan he himself had suggested,
Xander cheerfully began.
"Bow legs. Camel rider. Cluster toes. Freaky feet. Midget arms. Dwarfy. Humpback.
Bumpy brow. Cat's eyes. Bat ears. Buck tooth. Lizard..."
"ENOUGH!" Spike growled and immediately seemed to fold in on himself. He was surprised
at how hurtful the session had become although he knew that Xander in no way meant to
cause him pain. Shame contorted his face and his yellow, glowing eyes turned dull and
lifeless. His pink lips pouted and his feet kicked at nothing in particular. "This is getting us nowhere."
Xander scratched his head unaware of the discomfort he was causing. "You didn't feel
anything on any of those names? No tingle? Nothing nibbling around inside you?
Nothing shifting or trying to morph? When I cracked on your feet, did it feel like a toe
or two might drop off?"
Spike snatched his clothing up off the dusty floor and he jammed his arms and legs in as
he jerked and pulled until he was fully dressed. "Yeah, I felt something. The urge to kick
your ass. Think up a few more names and let's see if I can morph my boot about three
inches up your rear end!"
Xander fell silent. He was shocked at the angry heat in his lover's voice. When he realized
why, Xander felt more than a little contrite in the knowledge that he had gotten a bit
carried away. Admittedly in his enthusiasm he had forgotten that wrapped around the
cold demon was still the heart and soul of a sensitive young prince. "Gee, I'm sorry,
Spike. Damn. I was only trying to help. Shit. Maybe we're just barking up the wrong
tree. I really thought.... But obviously..."
Suddenly both men froze as the familiar clanking of a huge key into the lock of the solid
door sent shock waves bouncing around the small space. For a flash of a moment their
eyes locked in stunned terror before Xander reacted. He darted across the floor with
speed and agility, diving on the brown cloak, snatching it up and tossing it around his lover.
The second the brown cloak surrounded him, Spike flipped the hood up and in the length of
time that it took to turn the key and push open the door, Spike had effectively
disappeared, replaced by a small furry bat that lurched upward and out of sight just in
the nick of time.
"STEP BACK, YOU WORTHLESS INFIDEL!"
Obediently, Xander moved away from the rickety, wooden wheel that sat all but forgotten
in the center of the room. He had mixed feelings about Spike's departure. Naturally he
was relieved that his lover had escaped what would surely be a quick capture and certain
death, but at the same time, Xander was unhappy about being left all alone.
He watched the lead guard warily. He was one of the bald, dark-skinned sentinels from
earlier who seemed more adept with his sword than with his brain. After visually surveying
the area, the guard clapped his huge, paw-like hands. It was a loud, cracking, echoing sound
that triggered the start of a steady parade of eunuchs who entered, single file through the
Efficiently and under the guard's pointed, shouted instruction, the castle slaves
steadily delivered their cargo. As they did so, they were careful to leave a
pathway through the center of the room providing a narrow walkway from the door to the spinning wheel.
One by one, each of the King's peons carried heavy, bound tuffs of straw strapped to their
bent backs. As soon as they entered, they would grunt, heave and drop their burdens on the
cold stone floor before hurrying out, presumably to retrieve another. This patten repeated
itself for what, to Xander, seemed like an eternity. When completed, the room was packed
nearly floor to ceiling with mounds of golden, fluffy straw which stirred up a heady dust
that made breathing uncomfortable. Xander sneezed. His mouth and throat felt dry as
much from panic as from the lack of fresh air.
When it finally seemed as though there must be no straw left in the kingdom save what
was jammed into this room, all the slaves silently shuffled out leaving Xander alone with
the captain of the guard. Waving the tip of his sword in a wide arc, he growled. "You
spin dis. NOW!"
Xander glanced up toward the opening in the tower wall where he knew Spike was hidden.
Even though the small, enchanted bat could not be seen by the naked, human eye, it gave
Xander courage and comfort to know he was there. When he turned his face toward the
guard, there was a new, surprising calm about the prisoner that the guard found puzzling.
"You spin dis now?"
Xander heaved a deep, tired sigh. His shoulder lifted then dropped dramatically. "I don't
know. I'd like too. You know I would do anything for that lovely King Liam, or Angel Face
as I call him but...."
The guard rubbed his huge palm over his sweaty bald head. He was totally unnerved
and confused. He had never had a prisoner that showed such a lack of cooperation or fear
in the face of death or dismemberment and to disrespect his royal Highness was simply
unheard of. "Angel Face? You call King Liam...." The guard stuttered and he found his
mouth simply refused to put the two names together in the same sentence.
Xander slid his hand over his flaccid penis as he winked and he grinned suggestively. "Oh,
yeah. His royal highness is VERY fond of me and because of that, he would have your head
for not offering me food first. Now, I believe I would like a platter of cold meats and
cheeses followed by some fresh fruits and a large flagon of ale."
The guard's face screwed up in a manner so bizarre that Xander thought he actually looked a
bit like Spike. With a scowl, Xander put his fists on his hips. "Of course, if you don't
believe me, you could always go directly to the King himself. Go ahead. Interrupt him
in his chambers and inquire as to how to do your job. I'm sure he would be most patient
The guards eyes bugged and he gasped in horror at the outlandish thought. Immediately,
he made the determination that an executive decision was warranted and he would do
whatever held the best chance of saving his skin and keeping his bald head on his
shoulders. Darting to the door, he snatched it open and shouted as he got as far from this
source of trouble as possible. "Send for the page! Prepare a platter of food! Bring the
buckets and the ale! Move! Move, you stupid slime!"
Xander looked up toward the wooden ceiling beam and he chuckled while whispering.
"Well, we might die in the morning, Spike but at least we will party tonight."
Within the hour, the guards brought what Xander knew would be his last meal in the tower
room. They set the platters and the buckets on the floor inside the doorway which was the
only spot available and then they waited for their next instruction. After casting a critical
eye, Xander finally gave it a nod of acceptance and a dismissive wave of his hand. "That
will do. Now, I want that door locked and no one is to enter until the rising of the sun.
Anyone who looks upon me as I spin my golden thread will find his eyeballs shot from his
head by a royal arrow."
A murmur of terror rippled through the slaves as they tripped and stumbled over each other
in the attempt to be the first one out of the room. When the last one fell across the
threshold, Xander was again alone.
He could tell, as the fading bar of light reached its furthest spot on the circular wall that the
night time was only minutes away. The darkness he had previously feared would now
be welcomed with open arms. "Come to me, Spike. My love. My handsome demon. If
this is our last night on Earth, let us spend it together."
Xander closed his eyes. He stood tall and straight with his hands swinging at his sides.
He tipped his head back and he listened intently. Soon, in the silence of his cell, a soft
fluttering could be heard that caused him to smile. It came closer and closer until he could
feel the air that pulsed from the beating of the wings as the small swishing caressed his
cheeks and he murmured. "Spike."
"I am here, my love. I am with you always."
When Xander opened his eyes, the familiar, cloaked and hooded figure stood directly in front
of him. Because the light was gone from the sky, the man's features were again vague
and indistinct but it didn't matter. Nothing was hidden between them. Xander knew every
inch of his lover's body and more importantly, Xander knew Spike's heart. As a man, Spike
was bigger than the demon who had cursed him. The demon may be a creature of hate, but
Spike was a man capable of great love and that love was for Xander.
"My boy. My Xander." There was no shame or embarrassment as Spike discarded the
heavy, brown garment and stepped forward to embrace his love.
Xander nuzzled his face next to Spike's neck and he inhaled the rich scent of his man. Even
after three days of confinement, Spike still carried the damp, woodsy smell of freedom
and forests. It was both comforting and depressing as it spoke of hope and hopelessness.
"After all of our good ideas, we still have no name or plan, Spike. If the guards come back
in the morning and the straw is not spun, it will mean my death."
Spike's face moved marginally against Xander's head as he nodded his agreement. "It is
true but we can again postpone the inevitable. Do you want me to do it? Shall I convert
the straw to a golden thread? We can talk as I work. Maybe we can think of...."
"No." Xander lifted his head and stepped an arm's length away as he stared directly into
the golden, glowing cat's eyes. "No. I've had enough. I won't extend my captivity and I
won't supply a greedy King with any more undeserved spoils. If this is to be our last night,
let it be OUR night and not his."
Spike whole-heartedly agreed and tipped his face upward, pressing his lips to Xander's in a
kiss that quickly went from companionable to a heated, open-mouthed craving. Their
tongues dueled as they grabbed and clawed at each others clothes. Their hard, erect cocks
tented their pants and bumped against each other until suddenly, Xander pushed back.
"Wait. Wait. I don't want this to be over too soon."
Spike whimpered in response to Xander pulling on the reigns of their desires. His dick and
his demon screamed in protest but the man in him understood. "Yeah. Slower. Sure. I can
For the next eight hours, they were just two lovers enjoying an evening of togetherness as
though they hadn't a care or a worry in the world. They feasted on the wonderful foods
from the King's own larder and they drank the ale until their minds buzzed and swam.
At midnight, they slowly reached for each other and for hours they rolled on the mounds
of straw in a passionate clutch of raw ecstasy. The stalks poked them sharply in the ass,
stuck to their sweaty flesh and tangled comically in their hair.
They used their hands and mouths again and again to coax the fluids of sex from each other
and just before dawn, Spike entered his boy's body in one last coupling of lust, love
and desperation. Locked in the grip of copulation, Spike moved, slowly, in and out. Back
and forth. Each time withdrawing and then sinking back into the warm welcoming channel
of his lover.
Quietly, they murmured. They muttered and they swore their love and allegiance to each
other until finally, one last time, the reached their powerful, draining orgasms almost simultaneously.
By then, they were exhausted. Too tired to think or worry, they fashioned a bed on one of
the mounds of straw and they curled up in each other's arms to await their fate in the rising
sun. With no regret or fear, they slept peacefully with dreams of Kings and castles. Of Pans
who frolicked in the forests and of dark-haired maidens who smiled down on them as they
made love on a nest of heather and clover. Their night of slumber was idyllic and magical.
And sadly, too short.