Title: Wilfully Oblivious, 5/5
Words: 490 (approx 1800 in total)
Feedback/Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: "There are none so blind, as those who would not see..."
Notes: Written for stagesoflove 2006, Round 2, 'Exploring the Relationship Through The Senses', stage #5 - Taste.
Also posted here.
Stage #1 - Sight, stage #2 - Hearing, stage #3 - Touch, stage #4 - Smell.
You can start from the beginning, Sight, (all stages are linked internally,) or read the final stage here.
Xander's been trembling on the verge of an apocalyptic orgasm for over an hour now. Spike won't let him come. He keeps whispering 'Soon,' and 'Trust me, it'll be worth the wait,' but Xander knows that Spike just wants to hear him beg. So he does.
"Please, Spike! It hurts, I gotta… Oh! It's… I… Ah!"
So near, and yet so far.
Every time he's about to lose control, seconds away from that powerful, sweet release, Spike stops him - grabs his balls and tugs down just enough to pull him back from the edge.
Spike whispers dirty, teasing, evil-minded words into Xander's ear as he stills his hips and leaves his cock embedded in Xander's ass. Xander begs some more.
"Sweet jeez… Spike, I can't hold… Oh! Oh, fuck, please… Please! I'll… Anything!"
And, apparently, that's the magic word.
Spike licks a broad, wet stripe the length of Xander's neck, nuzzling into the hollow beneath his ear and nipping gently.
"You know what I want," he whispers. "You've always known." He pauses to tug on Xander's earlobe with blunt white teeth. "You think I don't know how much you want it too? It's in your eyes every time you look at me. I hear that hitch in your breath when you see the demon. I've memorised the way you lick your lips, like you're trying to find a taste that isn't there."
Xander shudders around Spike's cock and tries to speak, only managing a short, pleading whine.
Spike thrusts hard, just once, and Xander's head rolls back, his throat arched in a tempting curve.
It's all the encouragement - permission - Spike needs.
He starts to move over in around Xander, pushing him ever higher into a realm of pure sensation. A sensory overload designed to blur the boundaries of pleasure and pain, enough so Spike can steal a draught without reprisals.
He sees - seizes - the moment when it finally arrives - that look of absolute bliss as Xander's body tries to arch into his, to lose cohesion, to shake apart. His fangs slide into flesh that’s hot and trembling, exultant at the lack of searing pain.
That first taste is - incredible. He doesn't know how he's survived this long without it. He knows he never could again.
It burns a fiery path from tongue to throat to belly, energising every cell it touches on the way. He feels suddenly alive, aroused, ecstatic, drunk on Xander's essence, on his life-force.
Spike comes, his mouth, arms, head, heart full of Xander, him in Xander and Xander in him. It's sweet enough to make a vampire weep. Well, almost.
It stops him drinking, at least, too terrified of losing what he's found to take another drop. Moderation in all things is the key. He starts to laugh, and Xander's dazed expression - befuddled satiation - makes him laugh even harder.
He wonders if he'll ever stop.