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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
If rimming could be called practical. Xander didn't think it could. He guessed it didn't have to be, though. Just fun, and the guy getting it done sure seemed to think it was that, at least, the way he was wailing and moaning and wiggling his butt. Kinda seemed like Spike thought it looked fun too, because he was breathing, which was weird enough, but weirder because he was breathing really hard.
"You like that?" After he asked it, he wished he hadn't and clapped a hand over his mouth.
With a disbelieving look out of the corner of his eye, Spike countered, "Don't you?"
"I've never done that." Tilting his head to one side to better see the action Xander added, "I've never done anything like that at all."
"Oh, pet, you're missing out."
"Because I've never done it with a guy? Or because I've never had my ass licked?"
Where oh where did these things come from? Like the filter between his brain and mouth (which was faulty anyway) had completely stopped working. Unholy curiosity kept his eyes glued to the screen when the one guy moved up behind the other guy and oh. Oh holy shit. Spike nudged him again, and Xander jumped a foot in the air.
"What?"
"You've never been with a bloke? You expect me to believe that?"
Finally, something that allowed him to look away from the TV. But then he had to look at Spike, who was still furiously stroking his naked cock. Dry mouth, wide eyes, damp crotch, and wasn't it funny how some small part of his brain cataloged all of those physical sensations. "It's true. Nevernever."
"Way Anya talked I thought you tried everything."
"So did I. Apparently I was wrong."
Now Spike was looking at him with speculation. Hello, penis? That's not supposed to make you happy, he thought.
"Wanna try it, pet?"
Run. Run away, his mind said. Too bad his body leaned forward. "Um, no?"
"Don't sound too sure, there, luv. I think you do."
"Do you?" There went his mouth again, completely independent of the rest of his body.
"Why not? Two's better than one any day, and you aren't so bad."
"Gee, thanks." At least he could still sound snarky, even if his body language said otherwise. Somehow or another he had wiggled a few inches closer to Spike on the couch, so that their legs were touching. Then more than that was touching, because Spike reached over and casually laid a hand on Xander's crotch. His bulging, trying to get out of his pants crotch. And squeezed. And rubbed. Xander moaned. Half-turning toward Xander, Spike reached out his free hand and grabbed one of Xander's hands, guiding it to his own cock and wrapping the lax fingers around it.
I'm holding Spike's cock in my hand, Xander thought. Of course, then he stopped thinking because Spike stopped squeezing him through his pants so that he could open said pants and squeeze without anything in the way. Wow, he honestly couldn't remember ever making a sound like that before. But then, he could never remember a hand on him feeling that way before. Stroking, squeezing, manipulating him in the sort of confident way a woman never could, because they just didn't know how it felt. His own hand moved too, and he watched in fascination as it pumped and slid and mirrored whatever Spike did. If that made sense. His hand was wet and where it touched the tip of Spike's cock and he realized what that was, thought about how gross it should be, then raised his hand to his mouth to taste it.
A sound from Spike made Xander look at him over his hand, and Xander's eyes widened, because it was just about that time that Spike lunged. They both went flying back and Xander felt his spine dent where it connected with the arm of the couch. He had his very own Spikey blanket now, except that blankets didn't move and grind and growl. Their cocks rubbed together and it was so hot that Xander had a fleeting vision of Boy Scouts and sticks and "Ugh make fire." Soon after that, though, there was no room for visions of anything but Spike's stubby black eyelashes and fine grained skin, and then the insides of his eyelids as his eyes rolled back with the force of his orgasm. A rumbly snarl came from Spike and then lots more wet and sticky stuff was there between them and Xander thought, "Spike came on me" just before his head came off and he passed out.
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