Title: Hot 'n' Spicy
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 for porny goodness and kink
Feedback: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Concrit: by email, please
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Notes: yet again, we take a peek at the world of baby!vamp!Xander. You do not need to have read the previous drabbles, it's enough to know that Spike is Xander's Sire.
Pangs
"Spike? I don't feel so good..."
Spike turned, saw, and panicked. Xander was sweating. For the first time in a decade he was really perspiring, droplets forming on his face and chest, trickling lethargically down his cheeks, over his ribs, silently pooling in his navel until it overran.
"Did you get bit last night when we were fighting with those Burkash gits? I know they leave a nasty welt but... Could it be a spell? If that silly little bint is trying another of her tricks I'll..."
"P...pizza."
"You hungry, love? I can..."
"Scotch Bonnet and Five Cheese pizza. Hurts."
Distraction
Xander shifted slightly on the sofa in the corner of the room, altering his grip on his new Gameboy. He was totally oblivious to Spike's recurring gaze; too intent on jumping barrels and dodging digitised blows.
Spike stared lustily for a moment and then forced his gaze back to the game, the cards in hand. It was his own damn fault, he knew that, but still - dressed up in skin-tight leather, accented with silk and chains, his favourite three-buckle collar closed up tight - dressed for clubbing, the second stop of the evening, the boy was a real distraction. So. Damn. Hot.
Slippery When Wet
It burned in all the best places. Hidden nerves and dormant skin cells suddenly came alive, sensitive to every tiny stroke and breath and slap. It spread between them, slick and hot and fuelled their primal hunger. It made them writhe and howl and beg for more. On fingertips it painted fiery patterns in such intimate space, it left a lingering touch where none remained. In breathless gasps they praised it, worshipped, practically deified it, then suddenly the time for words was past.
They came together, limbs entangled, tongues and minds entwined.
"Right. So. Cinnamon oil. Should we buy shares?"
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