Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Unexpected Present ❯ Finding Spike ( Chapter 1 )

The Unexpected Present

By Nix

Disclaimers. I don't own Cowboy Bebop and I'm just having fun drafting stories like this.

Warnings…. Very very evil Julia… and very Graphic JetxSpike lemon. We're talking NC17 at the very least, so by clicking the read more you're agreeing that it's legal and all okay for you to read graphic fictionalization of sexual acts and that you aren't in the least offended by yaoi.. by gay male sex. So there.

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The Unexpected Present

It was his fault. The margin of error leading to failure in her plan was so small. It had to be his fault. It had started to go wrong in Mars City when he'd kissed her with the kind of kiss that didn't bother seeing into her, but just accepted and loved her, with lips and skin, and eyes that came alive when she kissed back. It had gotten worse when he said he loved her, and she believed him. Watching Spike and Vicious fight their final fight, it had been like that light flared so bright in him. He lived with a passion that lived only when she touched him. When he'd fallen, the light of life bleeding behind like after burn, that's when the plan had gone all to shit. It was completely his fault, the dumb Martian street boy.

The new plan had been harder than she thought it could possibly be. To take over the known worlds was ever so much easier than to give the man she loved into the hands of peasants that wanted him, wanted to touch and love him. That he would give himself to save them rubbed salt into the wound. And she hated him.

She hated him as she held his naked convulsing body as her own tool destroyed his mind. She hated him as he batted at the air, cried out in pain that she didn't understand, hated him as he sweated and shivered, and died in her arms. She hated him as she washed his trembling body and studied his empty, faded eyes. She hated that Spike was gone, so gone. She dressed him in the wedding outfit she'd dreamed to see him in, and he'd stood, smiled at her, and in some way, he wasn't completely gone.

She'd been told that it would be an hour until his mind could start forming short term memories again. She stood with him before a Priest. She told him what to day. He said it. There were photos. His left hand twitched. She didn't understand. She had run her palm over his cheek, caressed him, and he smiled back at her, nothing but innocence and lost in his eyes. She hated him.

She promised herself that he would die. The connection was there still and she carved away over the hours after he'd left. If he couldn't love her enough, she'd see that there was nothing for anyone else to love either. And she remembered his kiss in Mars City, how he'd crawled up from the foot of the bed, a sheet over his head, pressing down that great aura of green, eyes twinkling, his kisses on her belly, how they'd laughed and drank too much wine, danced naked in the living room. As she stripped Spike's mind away from a distance, like a game of dual Russian roulette with the gun at someone else's head, Julia wondered if she'd ever truly cried before. To rule in hell when one's lover was dancing in heaven seemed too bitter to bear.

And then her toy had been taken away. The connection broke and she was told that some woman out there could fix what she'd spent so many hours unraveling. Tears might be new, but murderous rage was not. And then... She'd watched the images over a hundred times perhaps.

Spike's little ship took a hit and her heart stopped beating as the Swordfish II rolled nose over thrusters. He was bleeding. It was all over the canopy. She was so afraid he would die, even though it was her soliders who had shot him in the first place. The black ship under the Bebop hardly seemed worth looking at, until some new engines fired, and the Bebop, with her Spike tucked inside disappeared, flowed away like spilling sand.

Hyacinth knelt behind her, had for nearly 15 hours now. Hyacinth's twin had built that ship, or had known how to use it, at the very least. She was the bitch that stole Spike. Because Hyacinth had the best chance of explaining this new technology she was still breathing. "I hope that you will chose wisely," Julia said, throwing two photos back on the floor before the captive scientist. One was Hyacinth's lover, an ebony woman with pale eyes. The other was Hyacinth's favorite research associate, a red headed boy who was hardly old enough to have finished school let alone have two advanced degrees. "Consider that if you fail me, Lyronic acid will seem like a blessing in comparison to what I will do to you. You may have two lives. Yours and one of these. The other will have a shower."

Hyacinth covered her mouth and it didn't help, her empty stomach still tried to turn it outside. She couldn't chose. Wiping at her mouth, she crawled face down on the floor. "Me, I will take the shower, please, Mistress! Please please! I beg you!"

"Shall I flip a coin for you? Or just send them both? Can you find my Spike for me?"

"Yes, I can! I will! I'll find him! I will find him and give you technology beyond what anyone understands, but my heart will die of grief if either of them are killed. Please!"

Julia reached down from where she sat and ruffled her pet scientist's hair. "Very well, my dear. You may have them both. I wish for you to be happy in my service, but next time you fail me so utterly, I shall have to punish you severely. You will pull pour the acid bucket by bucket yourself, next time. And I don't know if I will let you chose which or not." Julia's touch was soft, comforting, "Now, come, get up. Go home to your lady. Take a week off; enjoy your time with her. I trust you again, Hyacinth, so take a holiday. You'll find Spike when you come back. You'll find this one who made me unhappy, wouldn't you?"

"I will! I'll find him!" Then Hyacinth hated Spike, hated him with all her being.

On the Bebop

On the observation deck, quietly in the door, Jet watched Spike's kata. It was slow, searching. The kicks were soft, but he hadn't lost his balance. The line of Spike's body was as hard as before, that hair flying when he spun. It had been six days since that Japanese doctor climbed up into the Swordfish and fixed Spike up. Neither of them had said anything about the kiss.

Jet had kissed them both now, Faye and Spike. He hadn't said anything to Faye about kissing her either. He didn't know what to say, but when he closed his eyes, it was Spike he was leaning into. The thought made him shiver, sent an odd sensation down his cybernetic arm. Just then, Spike's eyes opened and locked with his.

Still as a sculpture in the dark, Spike held there, leg out fists up, only the glow from the engines highlighting the bare skin, the black of his workout pants. "Jet." Spike mouthed the word and Jet had to rub the edge of his shoulder where flesh met metal.

Life had returned to both of them, thrummed between them. Jet felt 19 again, like he'd never fallen in love before, like disappointment and betrayal had never made him old. He colored and somehow Spike saw it even in the dark. He just knew Spike had seen his cheeks go red. The tall martial artist lowered his leg, ran a hand through sweaty hair and turned to look out at unfamiliar stars. They were so far from home they didn't even know where to look for Alpha-centari, let alone Sol. "Jet, would you hold me, kiss me? Lay down with me, if you could?"

"Spike!" Jet said, and he was sure the blush showed in his voice. He had to ask, had to put his heart out to get it kicked again. A galaxy away and he was still as dysfunctional as ever, "You think I'm disgusting? Old and bald, with a metal arm. Will you cringe if I come over there?"

Spike shrugged and there was quite between them, then he turned, one eye almost glowing in the dark. "What about me? You were a cop, an honest man. I was a gangster of some kind. I don't know if I was a good man or not. I think about that kiss, on the flight deck, when I thought I was gonna die. You taste good. I think about when I got back and you lifted me up out of my ship like I didn't weigh anything and it made me hard, being held by you," he said, as if it wasn't nothing more than what he wanted for lunch as he scratched the back of his neck. "You know, I don't know just how this goes, how to make love anymore. Hell, Jet, I probably don't even remember all the names for the parts. Does that make me a virgin? You like virgins?"

Jet wanted a cigarette, like right now. "I ain't never made love to a man before. I get hard looking at you, think I always have, but I thought it was cuz there was just the two of us and I was hard up."

Spike laughed, a sound that echoed in the observation deck. "If I pulled a muscle, would you come over and catch me before I fell?"

"You want me to?" Jet was really kind of afraid. He didn't know how to do this and he didn't want to hurt Spike.

"Yeah, I want you too."

They stood there for a moment. Jet took a step forward, wondering if his hardness was as obvious to Spike as it was uncomfortable. It was Spike who closed the distance between them, who slide a hand behind Jet's head and pulled him into a kiss.

Jet tasted like, sweet clove and cigarettes, like warmth and coffee, and a little something spicy that Spike didn't know a name for. Their tongues circled around each other, dancing back and forth between mouths. Jet moaned and Spike felt a surge of joy, of wholeness, felt encouraged. He leaned into the bigger man, the thin black cloth not hiding his own erection in the least and then Jet's arms went around him holding onto him gently, but like a man holds to a mast in a storm. "Spike, you don't have to! You don't have to any thing."

"Fuck me if I don't know that, Jet. Hell, fuck me anyway, but first, I want something else. Sit down," Spike said as he pushed his friend back to a shelf that ran half way around the back of the observation deck. Having Jet backed up against the wall, Spike started kissing and nuzzling his neck, hoping maybe to distract him from where his hands were going.

He didn't know what he was doing, but his fingers moved along the length of Jet's desire as if they did. There was a head and a thick roundness, so hard that Spike wasn't sure how it could ever go soft.

"Spike," Jet started, but Spike cut him off with another kiss, a furious kiss, a kiss that was only in Jet's mouth, only Spike claiming territory he wanted as his own for now, as trembling fingers opened up Jet's pants, pushed them apart and struggled with the cloth underneath to reach that pulsing thick hardness. Both of Jet's hands tangled in Spike's hair, not forcing the kiss back into Spike's mouth, but holding onto it, holding onto this man in his arms. Then Jet was standing again, as Spike pushed his pants down.

It wasn't neat, it was desperate, hungry. Spike broke the kiss, lips wet and dark, full of life. "I want to suck your," Spike paused, looked for the word... He didn't think chicken was right.

"Cock," Jet supplied. "It's my cock, Oh god Spike!" It was so hard to hold still as those strong fingers curled around him as if he this one organ were the altitude controller of his whole being. "Ahhh!" Finger stroke up the length, then one nail, too long for a god damn man, circled slowly around through the pre-cum that was already slicking the head up just fine.

It was one of those moments when both of them looked into the other's eyes, when decisions were made in some language that predated human speech. They were a couple, their partnership expanded by mutual consent. Laughter sparkled in Spike's eyes, and he whispered, "I didn't think the word was chicken."

"Oh Spike!" Jet groaned, one hand dropping to the shelf, the other running over his head, as he considered just how inadequate the word 'virgin' was in relation to Spike. It wasn't like this innocence hadn't been there all along, under a veneer of worldly apathy, but now it was right there, no veneer at all, and Jet wasn't sure he could do this, no mater how bad he wanted too.

Spike had dropped to his knees though, and innocence was the farthest thing from his desire sweetened mind. Jet didn't see him lick his lips; wet them again, as fingers held open the jeans Jet was wearing. He nuzzled the black curls, smearing the scent over his face, burying the scent deep in the back of his nose. It was the scent of hunger, of rising passion and he tasted gently, licking up over the soft sack of Jet's jewels, then molded his tongue to the underside of that thickness. Wet as he could make it, he traced the contour of passion hardened organ, raised vein, then around the head, circling with the tip of his tongue like this was some ice cream cone, around, around, licking away sweet taste of Jet's leaking passion.

"Oh my god!" Jet cried out, hands again buried in dark green hair, not pushing, not pulling just trying to keep himself from spinning around. "OH Spike! Spike!"

It was just like smoking, he thought, and that told him he wasn't a virgin at all, but he wanted to pretend he was, as he tightened his lips around that head and pushed his head down, sucking Jet deep into his mouth, to the back of his throat as he licked, suckled, and pulled slowly back out.

"OH MY God," Jet sounded like he was about to start crying and Spike worried that he was doing it wrong, hurting his friend, his lover, his partner, so he broke this kiss too, and stood, just long enough to strip off his tight pants.

Jet sat there, panting, wiping his hand across his mouth. Spike's hard body, cock slender and erect, shiny at the tip with his own slick leaking, was the most beautiful imagine, moment, anything that Jet had ever imagined. A vulnerability clung to Spike, the way he stood with his legs together, slightly to the side. Though all that did was lay warm light over the length of that cock, burnish the green curls around it a bit golden too. "You're green, down there," Jet said, toeing his slippers off even as he reached down and unfastened his shin guards.

Spike stared at the floor, elbows up as he combed wild hair away from his face, even as he hid his face with his arms. "Yeah, I guess I am. Under my pits too. It's natural, guess. Ever know anyone with green hair before?"

"Nope," Jet said, stepping out of his jeans, pulling his shirts over his head at the same time. "I ain't never known anyone like you, Spike."

"I don't know the word. I don't know how to do this. But I want," Spike turned his back to Jet, both cheeks clenching as he laced his hands behind his head. "I want to be, uh, radished?"

"Ravished," Jet suggested, trailing fingers lightly up Spike's spine. "Can't do that. I only want you if you want it too. You think, maybe you could, feel happy when you look at me?"

Jet's fingers trailed back down Spike's back, over the curve of his waist, down to cup one butt cheek in his palm. Spike was taller, but Jet was bigger, covering Spike's cheek so that his fingers were at the side and one thumb lightly stroked the vale between. Spike leaned back a little resting his shoulder against Jet's, as he looked over his shoulder to look into Jet's eyes. "I feel happy when I look at you. I feel alive, and at home, and damn, Jet I've had a hardon since you carried me back into the Bebop. You think maybe I could be in love with you? Or is that stupid?"

Jet shrugged, moving his hand so his fingers went where his thumb had been, sliding all the way down so his hand was between Spike's legs, his thumb circling over a tight puckered entrance. "I thought I died when you left this ship and I didn't think you were coming back, Spike," Jet said seriously, "If being in love is stupid, I'm one stupid fucker. You okay with where my hand is? Cuz, you gotta tell me if I hurt you, okay? I don't know how to do this either."

"Push your thumb in more, uh? It feels good. You're pretty big, bigger than me." Spike spread his legs, leaned forward a bit and Jet reached around him and wrapped sensitive metal fingers around him, stroked back to green hair.

"I'm sorry I only got metal fingers on this side, but you know, they're sensitive, maybe more so than my other hand, it's just, different. You don't mind being touched with," Jet asked, letting his question trail off as Spike nuzzled his forehead against his throat. "You think you might like it if I slide my cock into you, here?"

Jet followed that with a gentle thrust of his thumb that took it into the heat of Spike's body. Muscles clenched around him and Spike groaned, his breath hot against Jet's throat. "Yeah, Yeah, Jet, that's what I want. Radish me."

"Ravish," Jet teased, thinking how he could to this, because Spike was hot inside, but he wasn't wet like a woman. "I need some oil or something."

"Why," Spike asked, thrusting slowly in and out of Jet's metal fingers.

Jet kissed Spike's temple, forehead, nose, moved down and kissed his lips, all of it a silent apology for whatever Spike couldn't remember that would make him not know they needed oil. If he ever found out or got his hands on someone who'd hurt Spike he was going to kill them, kill them painful. "I love you," he whispered, "Lay down, baby."

Jet slowly pulled his thumb out, reached back for his shirt and threw that on the floor, hoping it was going to be more comfortable on Spike's back than the floor. He just stood there watching as his lover, his lover, he liked that, as Spike lay down, legs bent and wide apart, his own hand on his cock, stroking slowly, base to tip, head back against the floor, glorious green silk halo spread out around his face. It was seduction, Spike really wanted this, wanted him. "You're so fucking beautiful, Spike. I know guys aren't supposed to be beautiful, but you are."

Spike let his eyes roam over Jet, naked Jet, no puffy filled pockets or stupid looking armor, just lean pale man flesh with a thick cock and a heart melting tenderness in his eyes. Spike had known he wanted Jet, wanted to do this, but looking at him now, at the warm engine light lighting his black hair, lighting the muscular curves of his arms, lines on his stomach, Spike whispered, "You're beautiful too, Jet. You're what the gods would have made if they'd incarnated strength and power. Adonis."

Jet laughed, fingers exploring the inside of his metal arm, coming out slick with dark blue oil. "You can't remember cock, but you remember 'Adonis'? Spike, you bastard," he snarled affectionately as he knelt down between Spike's legs, holding up his oily fingers so Spike could see, "I'm so damn glad you're alive and I can know you more, know you like this. It's oil, from my arm, it's like semiorganic, should work good."

"Wouldn't hurt you to use it?" Spike rocked his hips, offering himself.

"Nah, I got plenty. You let me know if it feels funny or not okay?"

"Yeah," Spike said, eyes hooded, lips parted as Jet slide his fingers into him, one, two, slicking the passage with an oil that was made only for Jet Black. "Oh man, yeah, oh, Jet that kinda tingles, but good, yeah, go deeper, hold me, come on Jet!" Spike growled, one foot resting against Jet's shoulder, the other hooking behind the bigger man's knees.

Jet got a bit more oil and coated his cock, before lifting Spike's hips. He'd read about this, read it hurt and gods, ached, and there in Spike's eyes was desire like he'd die if he didn't get his radish, "Promise, you'll say if it hurts."

"I promise," Spike said, but it wasn't that he was promising. Really, he didn't care if it hurt, at least not too much. "I promise," he said again, finishing silently, not to leave you again. Then he lifted his hips, the ring of muscle opening around the large head pressing in.

Jet groaned, sure he'd never felt anything like this, so tight, so hot on the inside, but he had to go slow, had to make sure he wasn't hurting Spike. The ring of muscle clamped down on him just past the widest part of him, and he held still, watching Spike's face. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over his forehead, down his nose and Jet leaned closer, stretching the leg that was casually resting over his shoulder. He kissed the very tip of Spike's nose, looked deep into the disconcertingly different colored eyes. No pain showed, only a hunger, a demanding hunger. Spike reached up and caught Jet's head, pulling him down into a kiss, even as he rocked his hips, getting Jet just a little deeper into his body.

Groaning into the kiss, from the urgency of the tongue taking his mouth to the heat and tightness around the center of his pleasure, Jet braced his cybernetic arm against the floor and slipped his other arm under Spike hugging him close, holding him tightly as passion overcame caution and he thrust forward, hard. His belly pinned Spike's erection between them and their kiss pinned Spike's cry as Jet hit the spot deep with him. Endurance was not high on Spike's virtues right then and he came with enough pressure to spread cream between them, to get it all the way up to their necks. Spike's release, the very idea that he'd gotten Spike off was almost enough to get Jet as well and the trembling, over heated body in his arms, the soft panting moans was more than enough to bring Jet off as well and he with drew, slammed back in, making Spike arch. They clung to each other, having marked each other as territorially as any male ever had.

Jet could hold himself on his arm for hours, had sometimes, but he wanted to be closer to Spike, so he lowered himself, not pulling out, and guided Spike's head to his chest. Spike hadn't stopped trembling and Jet even wondered if he were crying. "You okay?"

"If I sleep for a while, like right here," Spike paused to yawn, one long arm slipping around Jet, holding onto him, "You still gonna love me when I wake up?"

"Yes," Jet said, smoothing Spike's hair out of his face. "Always, Spike. Never gonna stop. You not gonna leave me again, are you? Just disappear one day?"

"If I do," Spike's words were slurring with sleep now, "I didn't go willingly. Keep a hold of me, 'kay?"

"Always," Jet said, kissing the top of his head again. "Gonna take you to my room. Bed's softer."

"Whatever."

Jet shifted, one arm behind Spike's back, he slipped one under those long legs and lifted them both up. They were both naked and Spike was as good as passed out in his arms. So Jet stood there for a couple minutes, just enjoying Spike breathing against his chest, but in the end, he decided it was his goddamn ship. He could walk naked though the halls if he wanted. Ed was sleeping, or had been. Not that that was any great promise that she would be.

Then in the dark, he saw the lighter flash, the burning ember of a lighted cigarette. Faye stood in the doorway, not a word, only visible because of the cigarette. He didn't know what to say to her. The cigarette seemed to be stuck in her mouth and maybe she didn't know what to say either. When she walked out of the shadows, she had her blanket unfolded in her hands. This she threw over Jet's shoulder so that it covered Spike's gangly body and dangled enough to cover Jet in the front. "Don't reach in the back," she said, after blowing smoke over the back of his neck. "I'll make dinner."

Jet nodded and walked away, really not sure what to say just then, with a vulnerable Spike in his arms, his own heart more open than he knew how to deal with.

Faye finished her cigarette on the observation deck, staring out at the unfamiliar stars. She tried to find some passion for being betrayed or rejected, tried to summon up some decent anger. The sounds of them moaning and grunting, kissing and smacking against each other played through her mind more than once before she got even half way through her smoke, and really, she found herself smiling. It was there under those unfamiliar stars, in an unexpected present that Faye grew up a little. It kinda happens that way when you find you have enough heart to love two people.