Content Warning: This story features a 'Death Match', in which one opponent is cut by a sharp object in a consensual setting. Minor descriptions of laceration and blood.
And as always, violence >:)
Halloween night.
On TV, the scantily dressed, male camp counsellor (in short shorts and a crop top, naturally) hesitantly opened the creaking, cabin door. "He-hello?"
Spike pressed himself against Daemian's shoulder, trying to hide himself between the TV and his newest flame's pits (he wasn't sure which was scarier. Damiean blew a lock of hair from his face and smiled, with uncharacteristic warmth, at his guy. "Are ya jumpy?"
The last thing Spike wanted to do was show fear to his occasional opponent. "N-no!"
"Because you've been looking through your fingers this whole time."
"I'm just...making sure my cuticles are in check."
This wasn't Daemian's first attempt at getting Spike to watch a scary movie. Last time had been at Deadboy's haunted hideaway in Sydney. Fresh from Buck's publicity initiative, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters at the local community center in-town, the costumed spellbreakers had all gone their own ways to enjoy the rest of the scariest night of the year. Some had gone to the costume night at the Rainbow Saloon. Others had gone to bed. Though Spike had planned to join the others for frightful frolicking at the club, his newly self-appointed 'boyfriend' had other ideas...namely, horror movies in Spike's dorm room.
So, there Spike sat, dressed as a teenage werewolf, curled into the arms of his newest arm candy. As every day was Halloween for the wickedest spellbreaker at the GSA, Daemian had chosen to go as 'normal'. Or what passed for normal anyway. Inadvertently mimicking Spike's 'varsity werewolf' idea, Daemian had dressed in a black letterman jacket, giving him the look of the high school bully. Brax, Daemian's demon buddy, made the perfect couch. In exchange for a bowl or two of popcorn, that is.
On screen, the hapless jock turned the corner...to discover the headless body of a fellow camp counsellor!
"BOO!" Daemian shouted.
Spike nearly jumped out of his skin. "AAAH!"
"Hahahahaha." Daemian laughed gleefully, taking advantage of Spike's open mouth to push a piece of candy corn inside (they had a whole bag of treats between them).
Brax looked down at an empty bowl full of kernel crumbs. "Hrrrrrhhhh." His glowing eyes shifted towards Daemian. He tapped him on the shoulder. "More...popcorn."
"Okay, greedy!" Daemian sighed, tossing the bowl aside and going for Spike and Kengo's snack cabinet. "Honestly, mate, you're like a vacuum cleaner."
"S-since you're getting up, I'll just go ahead and pause this!" Spike reached over and pressed the TV remote, pausing the TV, and freeing him from gruesome imagery. "Phew. Guess Halloween is almost over soon, huh?"
Daemian considered the flat, unopened bag of popcorn for a moment, before he chucked it towards Brax, who snapped it in one bite with his teeth. Daemian jabbed a finger in his direction. "Trust me, old mate needs the fiber. And ugh, Spike, why do you have to remind me that my favorite Holiday--which is also coincidentally my birthday--is gonna be over soon!" He sighed.
"What!" Spike stood up, startling even Brax. "You didn't tell me it was your birthday, Lachy! I mean, like, I'm new to the whole boyfriend thing, but isn't that something that's kind of...a big deal?"
"My birthday's never been a big deal," Daemian, or Lachlan, said. His face dropped. Gone was the bravado, the aura of deviance and darkness. In the shard of moonlight from the outdoors, and the ambient glow of the TV, the so-called 'Prince of Darkness' looked...forlorn.
Spike didn't consider himself the brightest, but as a survivor of a rough childhood, he could sniff out a sad-boy. "Lachy. I would have made this ten times better than watching some movie."
"Mate," Daemian laughed, sadly, brushing away his hair swoop. "Watching a movie and eating processed sugar is wayyyy better than most birthdays." Then, a more familiar, evil glint caught in his eyes. "Though...I 'spose if you did want to give me a present. There's something I could ask for." With his hands behind his back, and a wide toothy grin, Spike could practically see the devil horns sprout from Damien's head.
He sighed. He knew this moment of surprise vulnerability was too good, and that even if Daemian showed Spike his heart, it was still jet black and ice cold. "Okay. What can the best...er..." Spike knew he shouldn't say the next word... "boyfriend in the world--that's me--do for you?"
Behind him, Brax let out a demonic sigh. "...Beautiful...fool..."
Starry eyed, Daemian took Spike's hands in his cold, black-nail polished fingers. "My precious Spike. Would you....have a death match with me?"
"Oh, sure, I guess I can--WHAAAAT?"
"Heh."
*snap*
The last thing Spike heard before he was thrown into a cold, unfeeling darkness, was the snap of Daemian's fingers. He screamed, but nothing came out. Thankfully, the dark teleportation didn't last long. When Spike next opened his eyes, he found himself standing inside in a familiar ring (Daemian's personal practice ring in Deadman's Gulch), surrounded by tall, interlocking thorns. It was a cage. Situated around the ring, arrangements of jack-o-lanterns (all very creepy) smiled their orange glows. The silhouettes of gnarled trees in the background only added to the effect.
As did the cold, biting leather collar now fastened around Spike's neck. He followed the chain connecting it, by three feet or so, to the other collar, locked around Deadboy's pale neck.
"Kinky," Spike said, looking Deadboy up and down. He was stark naked, save for a leather black thong and spiked wrist cuffs. With the body of an underwear model, and the complexion and face of a romantic vampire, Daemian Gravesend cut an attractive, if not macabre, figure.
"It's kind of...sexy? In a creepy way." Spike looked down to see himself in matching gear. It was bit more BDSM than he was used to, but he didn't hate it. "Spikes for Spike," he said, holding up his wrist cuffs. "I feel like a punk himbo!"
"It's perfect," Daemian fawned. He drew closer, but not in an intimidating way. "Do you trust me?" he said, biting his lip.
Spike looked down. Daemian was subtly but surely pressing his bulge into Spike's. It felt dirty...and amazing.
Spike was charmed. And turned on. This was a lot more deviant than his usual fare. He looked around the canvas. In each corner, there was an assortment of colorful wrappers. Spike looked at his feet and picked up the nearest candy gem, noticing the distinct brand of The Infernals: the jagged skull with the x'd out eyes. Peeling the candy back revealed a jagged, sugar coated bramble or barb.
"Do you like my Deathmatch treats?" Daemian said, sugary sweet. "Or should I say, tricks? These may look tasty, but they're more the razor blades in the apple variety."
Spike gulped. Still, the only real trick and treat here was the sexy demon guy standing in front of him. "Is that dark magick you're working one me?" he said flirtatiously to his opponent and lover.
"No," Daemian laughed, sounding quite sincere. He toyed nervously with his ear. "I'm not actually evil, y'know. Well...I guess define 'evil'. I just like to have fun. Maybe that involves torturing cute guys, but it's not like I eat puppies or anything! But listen here, Spike Waterford. Firebird are a bunch of bloody crooks, and in order to defeat them, you're gonna need to unlock all the powers inside you. Your light shines bright, Spike. Why not try the darkness?" He arched his eyebrows.
Sexy, villainous eyebrows.
Spike gulped. He felt a heat inside himself. Standing naked, chained up, in a leather thong, in the moonlight...well, it felt primal. Naughty. He wanted more. "I...think I might like a little darkness?" He blushed.
"Mmm." Daemian hummed, licking his lips and gliding a finger up Spike's abs to his neck. "It definitely likes you." He kept his slow grind against Spike. By now, they were both obviously hard.
Spike often thought of himself as looking like a (tiny) warrior angel, so fighting a devil (in chains, no less) seemed kind of hot to him. "What are the stakes?"
"Well, if you win, you can do anything you want with me. And if I win..." Daemian giggled, looked around, and cupped his hands to Spike's left ear, chains jangling from both their neck.
Spike listened. "Mhmm. Mhmm. OH! Oh WOW! Oh man, that's nasty." He blinked. "Wait, with BRAX?"
Daemian snickered. Behind him, Brax materialized in a cloud of shadow. A black and white refs uniform clung, haphazardly, to his bulky, demonic torso.
Spike blushed. He'd done some pretty nasty things before, but this was a bit much. He squeaked. "Isn't that like, against the rules or something?"
"Yeah hah." Damiean gently rapped his knuckles against Brax's big chest. "He's a consenting, adult demon. Plus, he's offered to ref."
Brax bowed his head, respectively. "I...am very fair. I take my job...very seriously."
Spike leaned forward submissively, tugging on his own chain. "I dunno...you know how I feel about blood."
Suddenly, Damiean yanked him forward on his loop, bringing his face dangerously close to him. Fear blossomed in Spike's heart, but deep down, he liked it. "Let me bring out your dark side, beautiful," Daemian whispered. He stuck his tongue out and glided it across Spike's neck, tasting him. "I can show you the most wonderous sights. Pain. Pleasure. Indivisible."
Spike tugged his chain away, rolling his eyes in the process. "You got that from one of the movies we watched, D! Hmmm. Dark Nectar huh? Is it...gonna make me sick?"
Daemian and Brax both laughed hollowly at the thought. "Sick? Nah!" Deadboy's eyed bugged out, manically. "SICK AND TWISTED THOUGH? HELL YEAH! Think of it like...a hit of weed. Or ecstasy. That makes you evil for awhile."
"Oh, no zombie mode huh?"
"Haven't you ever wanted to know what it's like to be a heel? A bad boy?"
To be honest, Spike did. He'd always played the babyface. Lately, he wanted to know what it was like to be a bit...wicked. "A bad boy with my bad boy, huh? Hmmm. If you put this enchantment on me, you promise it won't make me squeamish about blood?"
"Not only that, but it'll give you my healing powers for a time. No scars. No bleeding out." He placed his hand, assuring, on Spike's shoulder. "It's...scary and intense...but...hey, isn't that what Halloween is all about? Besides, I might hurt you Spike...but you're still safe with me."
Daemian looked both ways, blushing slightly (obvious with his pale sin) before he wrapped his arms gently around Spike, pulling him in close. A hug.
"You can trust me. Well, with this shit, anyway. I still might use you to get back at the GSA-"
"What?"
"Nothing! :)"
Spike thought smelled like cigarettes (a bad habit) and cheap deodorant. In other words, Spike was turned on. "Okay," Spike said, hesitantly. "So, do I just-"
A cold, constricting pain struck Spike's throat. He realized Daemian and yanked him forward, instnatly activating his own glyph. Spike's instincts prepared him to yank his chain back, but then he found his 'boyfriend's mouth over his.
Daemian pulled back. "Pucker up, butter cup! Hahaha!" His pupils expanded, covering his irises going dark and demonic.
This was all a bit too freaky for Spike. "Ahh, this is scar-"
Deadboy fastened his mouth over Spike's again, assaulting his pallet with his prying tongue. Then, a strange taste (peppery and fruity) filled Spike's mouth. He looked down, mid-rapture, and saw a strange, flourescent, purple oil dripping from his mouth.
Disgusted, Spike tried to pull back, but either found Daemian's hold on him too tight, or the taste of the Dark Nectar flooding into his system too intoxicating. In any case, Daemian pulled back, purple fluid dribbling down his chin and chest. Eyes still hollow black, his tongue slid out of his mouth, lapping up his excess.
It was then that Spike realized how inhuman, how terrifying, Daemian Gravesend actually was!
"Blegh!" Spike spat out. "Oh...it kinda tastes like cherry cola--"
!!!
A dark shadow covered his mind. Though Spike couldn't see the physical effects, his eyes began to glow with a violet, alien aura. His veins pulsed black, beating with darkness. An animalistic insanity took over Spike. A primal need for blood and destruction.
He reared his head back, clawing at his own, matted, blonde hair. The darkness coursed through him, and he was its willing slave. "HhAHHAAhahhaa!!"
"Yessss," Daemian hissed, growing harder, watching his magick take hold. "YESSS! Gooood."
"MWAHAHAHA!" Evil Spike, near naked and already with the body of a sex demon, cackled in the moonlight. He stared hungrily at his opponent. "I dunno what's gotten into me, Damo, but I'm feeling soooo much yummier." Drooling, with an excess mix of Daemian's dark nectar, Spike snarled, leaking precum from his leather thong (threatening to snap off his raging erection). "I wanna see YOUR INSIDES."
"THAT'S MY BOY!" Daemian snarled back. A spectral ringside bell rang, and Brax looked on as arbiter. "Let's fuckin' KILL EACH OTHER!"
Spike grabbed the chain with both hands, pulling Daemian closer to him. He kneed him in the gut, sending him down to the mat with brutal force.
SLAM!
"OOF!" Daemian cried out, shocked...but still smiling.
"HAHAHAA." Spike yanked the chain back, reeling him in like a fish. It was fun to be bad! "Aww, what's wrong, Deadboy? Thought I was just another boy next door? Well this NEW Spike IS the boy next door...with SKELETONS IN HIS BASEMENT."
Struggling to breath, Deadboy's eyes may have turned into the shape of two black hearts. "THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!" But he wasn't a stranger to violence. Strangling himself in the process, Deadboy used the leverage to pull himself up with his side of the chain, getting onto his feet. "Ohhh I am gonna make you BLEED!"
A sharp elbow to Spike's face answered Deadboy's threat. Spike knew he should have been able to dodge that. Daemian was deadly but he had a bad habit of telegraphic his moves.
What Spike hadn't seen was the blood-colored candy apple Daemian had snuck into his other hands. A giant razor blade stuck out the side, hardly concealed. Using the candy apple weapon as a cudgel, Daemian swiped at Spike's arm.
He missed by inches. "How dare you try to cut my perfect skin!" Now, Spike was pissed. He snarled, tearing the weapon from Deadboy's hands and tossing it to the other side of the ring (nearly hitting Brax's head in the process. He tackled Deadboy and tossing him into the side of the cage. "YOU DID THIS TO ME. I'LL SHOW YOU WHO THE REAL DEMON IS NOW!"
Spike put aside any 'legal' spellbreaking techniques, reverting to pure street brawl. He pounded mercilessly at Deadboy's face and torso. Brax stood by and watched (which raised the question of his legitimacy in this match at all). Spike reached down and pulled Deadboy up by his hair swoop, slamming his head into the side of the cage.
"Nobody touches my hair and lives!" Deadboy roared back. He tugged on Spike's chain, bringing him down to his level.
A tangle of muscular limbs, Spike and Deadboy wrenched their bodies into each other, trying to pile on the pain. All the while, the length of chain became less and less.
Wrapped around Spike like a toxic weed, Daemian wrapped the chain around his fists, using it at a makeshift iron knuckle. "You're too pretty, Spikey! I'm gonna make you a monster!"
CRACK.
The fist collided, sickeningly, with Spike's jaw. Instead of falling to the knock-out hook, however, Spike spat onto the canvas. "Ain't bleeding yet, you zombie bitch." He decided on some evil improvisation. "Good boy Spike wouldn't do what he's about to do..." he starred.
SLAM.
"Fuck!"
Spike had taken his spike collar and dug it across Deadboy's face, gouging him in the eyes.
"But good boy Spike ain't here!" Spike laughed. "Come on, baby, BLEED FOR ME."
Spike tried the same technique, hoping to cut open Deadboy's handsome face with his cuffs. As he did, Deadboy caught his arm, and twisted it.
"UGH!"
"Love the energy!" Deadboy said, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Oh, he was hungry alright. "Too bad, cutie. You're in MY cage."
Daemian scooped up Spike with ease, carrying him over to the pile of bright colored, 'barbed' candy wrappers laying in an assorted pile. Even Spike put two-and-two together.
"Nooo," he squeeked, already feeling the sharp pain in his back.
"TRICK OR TREAT, CUNT!" Deadboy cackled, lifting Spike into the air and body slamming him right onto the jagged, sharp candy thorns.
"FUCK!" Spike screamed as he felt his spine buckle and hundreds of sharp points embed themselves in his back. He peeled himself off the canvas, sharp pieces of Deadboy's special candy still embedded into his skin. Streaks of blood ran in tiny red threads down Spike's poor, bruised and bloodied backside.
Hungry for pain and punishment, Deadboy yanked one off his opponent, and popped it into his mouth, despite the sugary weapon's deadly attributes. "Tastes like suffering," he said, crunching down. "Look at that poor back."
"Nnnggg," Spike winced. Even with the soma protecting him, it felt like Brax had clawed open his backside. Pieces of sharp candy continued to fall off him, onto the now bloody canvas. "Shit. I'm too pretty for a deathmatch."
"YEP!" Daemian grinned with evil intent, not wasting a second of his opponent's stunned state. The dark spellbreaker used his chain and wrapped it quickly around Spike's neck.
Spike abruptly fell the dark draw of Daemian's enchantment begin to fade. "N-n-no-"
"Y-y-YES!" Deadboy mocked. He stepped behind Spike, kicking his spine.
"GHGRRR!"
Spike couldn't make a noise. He was cut off by the chain wrapped around his neck. He grabbed it, trying to pull it apart. Even with his super-powered strength, Spike could barely get a budge on it. Deadboy wasn't just magickally powerful, but dangerously strong.
Brax lowered himself to Spike's level. "Give?"
"Nnnmmm."
"I think that's a no!" Deadboy laugh. "But that's not how death matches work, now, do they, chook?"
Deadboy tugged tighter. Spike could feel the darkness sink he. He knew it was futile to tap. He looked up, catching the glint of something reflective in Deadboy's hands.
The evil sadist looked down at him. "You forgot the most important part about a cage fight, mate. Always check to make sure your opponent doesn't smuggle a foreign object into his budgie smugglers. And this ain't not budgie."
Spike didn't even know what a budgie was; he just wanted to make sure his head didn't pop off! That's when his eyes zeroed in on the familiar object in his so-called boyfriend's hands.
"You're from Brooklyn, ain't ya, cutie? Well, haven't you always wondered what it was like to feel like a Brooklyn pizza?"
A pizza cutter. The circular blade was most definitely familiar.
"D...d..." Spike struggled. He could probably yank these chains off like Samson if he pulled hard enough.
But it was too late. Licking his lips, Deadboy lowered the sharp object to Spike's sweat covered, unblemished brow.
"I've wanted this for so long..." he moaned.
SNICK
Spike blinked, confused. "That's...it?" The pain was quick and sharp, but hardly the brutality Spike expected. Deadboy let go, dropping Spike to the canvas. Struggling to breathe, the Sailor rolled as far as the length of chain would let him (which wasn't far) and attempted to get on all fours.
Drip. Drip...
Dots of red peppered the canvas below him. Heart beating faster, and fear slowly creeping over him, Spike touched a dinger to his face and pulled back red.
"My...face. My beautiful face!" Spike, eyes wide with terror, looked into the reflection of the pizza cutter, dripping with his own blood. Daemian had indeed turned him into a monster and given him the humiliating, infamous crimson mask!
The sight alone was enough to drive the power of the dark nectar out of Spike, replacing it with raw terror. In the moonlight, Daemian looked like a death god--a beautiful horror story. He sneered down at Spike, the defeated, and yanked his chain, pulling him to his knees in front of him.
"That's the match," Brax growled. "The victor, Deadboy Daemian! Grrrrr."
Brax held his tag partner's hand up, but Daemian brushed it away like an afterthought. He was mostly interested in his latest acquisition. His new pet.
Unbeknownst to Spike, the dark enchantment laid upon him had an additional effect. With blood drawn, pouring freely from Spike's once-handsome face, it activated pure terror and submission. He trembled like a frightened dog, looking into the eyes of his master.
Daemian reached down and stroke his gored lover's cheek with the side of his hand. "Are you gonna' be a good puppy for me, Spikey? Hmm. Spike. You already have a dog's name, don't ya?"
"...Yes."
Deadboy leered in, closer. "Say it."
"I...I'll be a good doggie. W-w-woof."
"HAHAHAHA! Love the enthusiasm, cutie. Mine. You're ALL MINE. HAHAHA!!!" With a manic lust, Deadboy leaned and licked Spike's chest, up to his neck, and then across his bloodied face.
Even Brax, looking on, was taken aback. "My kindred! That is unsanitary."
"Relax, mate, I'm on PreP!" Deadboy blew his hair swoop back, studied Spike's face, and sighed. "I could put you out, I suppose. I didn't really get the finisher I wanted..."
"N-N-no, master. I'll do anything."
"Aw, that's right! We did have stakes, didn't we." Grinning still, Daemian pressed his thumb to Spike's gushing wound, sealing it up. He sighed. "Don't want my precious boy to bleed out, yeah?" He kissed Spike, taking away the fear.
Trembling still, completely submissive, Spike fell into Deadboy's chest. "So...so scared," he said, teeth chattering.
Daemian caressed his hair, tenderly. "But alive." Another kiss, longer this time. Connecting by mouths and chains, the two near naked men fell into each other's arms, a cloud of shadow and deviance surrounding them. "And now...I'm going to make you feel more alive than ever before, Spike. Time to give you a very happy Halloween..."
To Be Continued!
