Title:  Sparks (1/10)
Author:  Jasonsnene
Pairing:  Spike/Xander (descriptions of Spike/others, mentions of Xander/Angel)
Rating:  NC17
Warnings:  HAU, M/M
Betas:  aayesha_r and carinas_carinae
Summary:  Spike is a wealthy night club owner.  Alex is a dancer at the club.  Spike wants more.  Alex really doesn't.

Dedicated to my sweetheart purpledodah, who has waited so patiently for me to get off my bum and finish writing this.  I love you, darling. This one's all for you.



 

Spike was bored. It was never a good thing, and usually ended up with him getting in some scrape or other that had his lawyers scrambling. He was lucky that he had them at his disposal; otherwise he’d probably be rotting away in some jail cell, causing a ruckus with the other unfortunate inmates. 

 

He was feeling generous that evening, though. After all, they’d had to work overtime to get him out of the last scrape. He hadn’t exactly meant to start the brawl that ended up destroying the club he’d been considering purchasing. But it was so boring there that he hadn’t quite been able to help himself.

 

Why his business manager had suggested that he check out the club was still a bit of a mystery. Well, actually it wasn’t that big of one. It was an excellent location, and he really could have purchased it and turned it into something spectacular. It was what he did after all. But it was a country western bar. Those places should come with warning labels.

 

All he’d done was wink at a cute cowboy. How was he to know that the cowgirl at his side had anger management issues? She’d come at him screaming like a banshee with her fake nails going for his face. No one threatened his face. She was on the floor before she touched him.

 

No, he hadn’t hit her.  He just grabbed her arm, and then she slipped. Really. The security footage even backed him up. Course, the footage couldn’t tell that he’d encouraged her to go down instead of simply tightening his grip and keeping her upright. She’d threatened his face after all.

 

That, of course, had led to the cowboy going ballistic and coming at him with his ham fists. People always underestimated him.   He took care of his body and had learned some tough lessons in his younger, less fortunate years. The cowboy never knew what hit him. Neither did the one after that or the one after that. By the time the fight was broken up, there were bodies piled around him, and he was still bouncing on his feet, waiting for the next contestant. 

 

Needless to say there were news reports and scandal.   Spike didn’t mind in the least. Until of course, the cowboy couple learned just what his net worth was and decided they wanted a piece of the pie. Over his dead body. He’d fought. He’d won.

 

It was tempting to show up back at the bar again. Kick a little more cowboy ass, maybe get a piece of cowboy ass this time. Actually, now that he thought of it, he should suggest a cowboy night at the other club he owned. He could see it now. Yep, that’s what he’d do. Besides, he hadn’t been there in a while, and there just may be some new dancers to check out.

 

Spike slipped into his favorite leather pants and his trusty Docs. He may have more money than he knew what to do with, but that didn’t mean he was wasteful. Exactly. Hell, who was he fooling? He threw money around like it actually did grow on trees, but not when it came to things he liked. And he liked his leather and he liked his boots. They suited him, and they stayed.

 

Grabbing the first shirt his hand found, he was pleased to see that he’d caught the grey silk. His ex had insisted it brought out his eyes or some such crap. It was probably just a line to get in his pants, and it had worked, so the shirt brought back fond memories of young flesh spread before him while he pounded out his pleasure.

 

He slipped the shirt on, relishing the cool material against his suddenly hot skin. Yeah, he really needed to pick someone up tonight. And if that someone just happened to be one of the dancers at the club, well that suited him just fine. Oz had an eye for flesh, and Spike had sampled the goods more times than he could count. 

 

He and Oz had gotten several good laughs about it. Apparently, the dancers saw it as some kind of status symbol to be chosen by him. If only they knew. Spike couldn’t give a shit less about their status as long as they put out and he came good and hard. Half the time he couldn’t even remember their names. He just called them all “pet” and that seemed to make them happy. 

 

Oz, being the manager he was, encouraged the hierarchy his flings provided. He said it kept the dancers on their toes. They never knew when he was going to show up or who he was going to pick next. But Oz made sure that whomever he chose got the best dancing spots for a while so they all vied for his attention.

 

Happy thoughts of a good fuck in mind, Spike left his bedroom and made his way to the bar. A couple shots of Jack would loosen him up even more, and he wanted to be loose tonight. He didn’t go for the harder stuff, even though there were rumors abounding that he was high on more than life. 

 

Spike heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Giles approaching from the kitchen. “Evening.”

 

“Mr. Spencer. Going out?”

 

“Yeah, call the car for me, would ya?”

 

“Certainly.”

 

Giles moved around the penthouse quietly and unobtrusively, just like he wanted. Who knew that his Grandmum’s old retainer would suit him so well?  Course, she’d made Spike hire him as a condition of the will so he really didn’t have much choice.  Giles had come in handy though, and was loyal to a fault. He even put up with Spike’s many flings and made sure that he wasn’t disturbed by any rejects who showed up at his door wanting seconds. 

 

Everyone knew that Spike rarely did seconds. If he did, the guy counted himself lucky. Spike just figured there were plenty of bits of ass around, so he didn’t need to get some hanger-on that just wanted a bit of his dosh. Sure, he’d had a few over the past few years that he let hang around a bit. Soon as they started getting all lovey-dovey, though, they were out the door. 

 

Kind of like the shirt guy. He’d let Parker hang out longer than most cause he was a genius in the sack. Spike had never been sucked as well as he’d been by Parker. Probably never would be again. Spike would have rather fucked Parker’s mouth than his ass, and that was saying something. 

 

Last he’d heard, Parker was still working at the club. Oz kept him informed of such things. Not that he really cared. Once he’d told Parker they were done, that was the end of it for him. He vaguely recalled that Giles had been forced to show him the door a few times. Now, the doorman knew that he wasn’t welcome, and they hadn’t seen him since. 

 

Spike finished his third shot and felt the warmth of the liquor spread from his stomach to the rest of his body. Nothing did it quite like Jack. Not even those fancy whiskies Giles thought he should keep around for show. They worked in a pinch, but he never had to bother with that. Giles made sure he always had his buddy Jack on hand.

 

Too bad his Grandmum wasn’t around to see what he’d done with all that money she’d left him. She’d love every minute of it. The rest of the family was still pretty pissed off about it all. No one understood why she’d left her personal fortune to the bastard son of her reformed daughter. 

 

But Drusilla wasn’t the woman they all assumed she was. When she’d found out that Spike’s mother had him and dumped him in an American orphanage, she’d been livid. By that time, he’d been adopted by a decent family and she hadn’t interfered. Instead, she’d contacted his adoptive parents and arranged to have a relationship with him.

 

Spike found it hysterical that no one had figured out that all her trips to spas and resorts were really all just ruses for her to come to America to see him. Drusilla had played them all. She even brought him to England several times when they were all out cavorting at some event or another. He loved those memories the most. 

 

And in the end, it had worked out for the best. Spike wouldn’t have traded it for anything else. His adoptive parents had been great. Lucas owned a club and taught Spike the ropes. Laura was the sweetest lady around, and the best mom a hoodlum like he could hope for. 

 

Thinking of her was the only time he felt twinges of guilt. Laura was a romantic. She believed in true love and all that crap. Of course, she’d found it when she met her husband, so that reinforced her beliefs. Spike’s lifestyle would make her spin in her grave, but Spike had lost too many people in his life to risk setting himself up to lose someone else. 

 

Spike shook off his trip down memory lane and grabbed another shot of Jack for good measure.   “Giles, I’m out. See you in the morning.” He waited impatiently for the elevator and resisted the urge to smoke on the way down. It really drove the building manager crazy when he did it, which always made Spike want to do it more, of course. But Giles had told him that the lady who lived on the floor below was allergic, so he refrained, shaking his head at the thought of how soft he was getting.

 

His car was waiting in front of the building, and Spike chuckled when he saw his bodyguard for the night. Riley hated accompanying him to the clubs. He did it without much complaining, though, because he was paid damn well to keep Spike safe. After the last incident with the cowpokes, his business manager had insisted that he hire guards.

 

He’d complied only after Wesley had provided him with the best looking, and most experienced, bodyguards around. Riley was a looker, that was for sure. Spike wasn’t tempted to test the waters with him though. He just liked having such a good looking man on the payroll. His other guard, Graham, was just as good looking. It made for interesting nights out.

 

Spike stepped out of the lobby and shivered in the cool night air. Spring in Chicago was still cold, but he hated wearing big jackets and he’d be damned before a stupid hat and scarf ever donned his body. Besides, Riley would have made sure the car was plenty warm so all he had to deal with was the few feet from the building to the vehicle.

 

The city was beautiful at night. There was something about the lights and the busy streets. Yeah, New York might be the city that never sleeps, but his city didn’t sleep much either. Even at close to midnight, the traffic was still a pain in the ass and there were still people out on the streets. As they got closer to the club, Spike made sure to check out the neighborhood and see if there were any new businesses he should keep an eye on. 

 

Nothing intrigued him, and he turned his eyes to the lights at the front of the club. Sparks. It was his pride and joy. The club was the first thing he’d bought when he’d gotten the money from Drusilla. He and Oz had worked a miracle on it, if he did say so himself. It was now one of the hottest night spots in town, for a certain crowd.

 

Spike knew that sex sold. He called Sparks his strip club, but in reality, it was more than that. Sure, there were dancers and poles, and occasionally someone took off their clothes. Spike wanted there to be plenty of visual interest, but his heart was in the music.   Oz had a gift for finding the best talent in the area and getting them before they hit it big. They had the best DJ’s, the best bands, really the best of everything.

 

And it made money hand over fist. It was sexy and hot and you were pretty much guaranteed a good time. By the time the car pulled to a stop in front of the entrance, Spike was practically bouncing with energy. He was ready to be inside, dancing and admiring the views. 

 

The bouncers cleared the door, and he made his way inside with Riley as his shadow. He stopped and took a deep breath, drinking in the smells of whiskey and sweat and sex. It never got old. He opened his eyes and saw Oz making his way through the crowd towards him. He greeted his oldest friend with a smile and a hug before they parted and made their way to Spike’s booth.

 

It was on the second level, and Oz made sure it was kept open for him all the time. Everyone knew when he was on the premises. The lighting guys had even made up variations of the light shows. One set highlighted his booth when he was present. The others kept it in darkness. 

 

Spike didn’t really think anyone noticed one way or the other, but he was pleased that they’d made the effort. Besides, having himself lit up as he enjoyed the club was something his ego enjoyed very much. Oz slid into the booth next to him, and they surveyed the crowded floor.

 

“Busy night.”

 

“Yep. Busy month.”

 

That was Oz. He didn’t have to worry about his friend chatting his ear off and distracting him from the floor show. They could talk business in ten words or less. 

 

“Got any new blood?”

 

“Yep.” Oz gestured towards several of the dancers. Spike eyed them all speculatively. It would be a lucky night for one of them. He saw Parker out of the corner of his eye, dancing suggestively and trying to capture his attention. It didn’t work. His eyes brushed right over him and onto the next dancer. 

 

Then Spike noticed the theme of the evening and raised a brow at Oz. His friend shrugged, and Spike could tell he was a little embarrassed. “Angels and Devils, Oz? That the best we got?”

 

“It works.”

 

Spike eyed the dancers again, some of them in tight white shorts that left little to the imagination Their white wings shifted as they danced, drawing attention to muscular backs and tight asses. The other half of the dancers was dressed in red. Thongs that left even less to the imagination with little pointed tails dangling down between their legs. 

 

“Yeah, it does. Was thinking about having a cowboy night in honor of my latest scrape.”

 

Oz chuckled. “I figured. Already got it arranged for next week.”

 

Spike was getting ready to comment when his eye was caught by one of the Angels. He was perfection. Dark wavy hair and a body that made Spike Jr stand at attention. Oz followed the direction of his gaze and frowned slightly. 

 

“Who’s that?”

 

“That’s one of the new guys.”

 

“What’s his name?”

 

“Alex.”

 

“Send him up.”

 

Oz hesitated, and Spike tore his gaze away from the man standing below them to look at his friend. “Just go easy on this one, would ya?”

 

Spike saw the seriousness in Oz’s expression and nodded. That was new. Oz usually didn’t care who he fucked. Oh well, Parker was probably still being a whiny baby. That was probably all it was.

 

Moments later, his vision arrived, carrying a tray with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. He sat the tray down in front of Spike and poured him a glass. 

 

“Hello, pet.”

 

Dark brown eyes were drawn to his, and Spike smiled at the innocence he could see there. “Um, hi. Can I get you anything else, um, sir?”

 

“Just have a seat and have a drink with me.”

 

“Oh, I better not. I’m supposed…”

 

“Pet, you know who I am?”

 

Spike smiled when Alex nodded slowly.

 

“So have a seat.”

 

Alex slid into the booth, and his wings bumped into Spike’s shoulder. He blushed and stumbled out an apology.

 

“No problem, pet.”

 

“Alex.”

 

“What?”

 

“My name. Alex. You don’t have to call me ‘pet’.”

 

“Well, now, pet, that’s where you’re wrong. I like calling you pet. Makes me happy, see? Don’t you want to make me happy?”

 

Alex frowned and slowly nodded.

 

Spike grinned and slid closer. The night was looking up.






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