1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 40b | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 52b | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 | 83 | 84 | 85 | 86 | 87 | 88 | 89 | 90 | 91 | 92 | 93 | 94 | 95 | 96 | 97 | 98
href="non90.html">90Sajinn
No, they aren’t mine. I wish they were, but they aren’t. They belong to their creators. No money is being made. I just take them out, put them in pretty dresses, and make them fight each other. No harm, no foul. Feed the writer. Review.
Happy Birthday, DarkenHeart.
"Here, drink this."
Spike's fingers automatically curled around the glass being pressed into his hand. It felt cool but not cold, the liquid contents sloshing slightly as he lifted it. Long before it reached his mouth, the vampire identified his refreshment. Sharp, almost tangy. Familiar, as it had tainted his earlier experiences. Rich, promising. Wine, dark red and inviting.
The first sip quenched the last dregs of lingering dryness on his tongue. The second, slower and meant to be savored. Tastes flowed through his mouth, catching and sliding here and there. Médoc...
"Nineteen ninety-eight," Xander finished. "I'd tell you the label, but it's in French and I'd butcher it beyond comprehension."
"'S good," Spike said, still enjoying those first few sips. He drank more, slowly enough to treasure the initial tendrils of alcohol mixing with his stolen blood.
"Yeah, since we've got three bottles," Xander replied. Spike finally opened his eyes, just in time to see Xander grin and settle down next to him. Warmth was the perfect accompaniment to the wine, so he dragged Xander onto his lap and leaned back on the wall.
"Three, hmm?" Spike mumbled. "More than enough to get good and plastered."
Xander fiddled with a few rose petals, drinking his wine with deceptive speed. In a few short minutes, Spike was refilling both of their glasses. "Are you mad?" The boy asked, looking hard at the mound of flower petals he'd made.
Spike frowned. "Mad? Why would I be mad?" Maybe he'd had more wine than he'd thought--or Xander had.
"You did say you didn't want anything for Valentine's Day," Xander reminded him. The young man's flush, caused by rich wine, sent hot tendrils along Spike's chest.
Spike laughed, the vibrations running through Xander's tense form. "Have I complained yet?" The boy slowly shook his head. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I gripe about coming my brains out, Xander."
"Even if it's for Valentine's Day? And I got you roses," He said, tossing the petals up in the air. Spike caught a red one, crushing it in his mouth. It lent a sour flavor to the wine.
"Valentine's Day, Groundhog Day, The Third Wednesday After The Second Tuesday In July," Spike murmured, "I don't care what day it is, Xander." He really didn't. If Xander was with him, the days didn't matter--nor did the nights.
"Cool," Xander said, smiling. "More wine?"
"Sure."
•••
"Your eyes are crossed," Xander giggled, pointing. "And only one's yellow. How'd you do that?"
Spike blinked. His eyes were crossed? Yes, Xander was a bit... blurry, but he'd chalked that up to the boy moving too fast for him to see. "They're not crossed, Xander. You're drunk."
Xander snorted. "Oh, and you're the picture of sobriety, Mr. I-Can-Drink-A-Whole-Bottle-By-Myself." Of course, he didn't mention that he'd done the same thing. The wine had been good, sliding down with nary a whimper. Perhaps it'd been too smooth; neither man could've made it out of the cabin if their lives depended on it. Xander was sprawled over Spike, dipping his fingers into a wineglass and sucking the liquid off them. The vampire was staring at Xander's fingers with predatory interest. "Want some?" Xander taunted, wriggling wine-covered fingers in Spike's face.
"Yeah," Spike growled, lunging for the mischievous fingers. Xander pulled them back, popping them into his mouth. "Not nice, Xander," The vampire warned, glaring.
Xander giggled and dipped his fingers again. "Fine, fine, you can have them. But whatever will *I* suck on?"
Spike might have been drunk, but he wasn't dead. A single, meaningful stare told Xander just what he could put in his mouth to keep it occupied. Just as salty, wet fingers slid into his mouth, Spike felt something cold and fluid trickle over his hardening cock. The scent of freshly spilled wine hit his nostrils just as a hot, slick mouth took him in.
Xander groaned as the intensely familiar taste of Spike mixed with wine flooded his taste buds. He couldn't tell where the wine ended and Spike began; both were making him even more drunk. The vampire was pulling hard on his fingers, mimicking everything Xander did to his cock. Long, deep sucks, gentle laving. The barest touch of fangs encouraged Xander to use his own blunt teeth, followed by a soothing caress. Slick precome teased him, making Xander even dizzier. The wine alone had him reeling, the world spinning wildly around him. Spike underneath him grounded the boy, giving him something to hang onto. He was alternately hot and cold, desperate suddenly to taste more of Spike and less of the wine. As good as it was--and it was very good--Spike was better.
Spike gripped Xander's wrist, suckling desperately on the young man's fingers. More than once, he stopped himself before sinking his fangs in, just to hold on harder. The boy's mouth was driving him over the edge, his prowess breaking through the lazy haze of alcohol that numbed him. Every movement was echoed, slowed and muffled but Spike could still feel it and had no control over his response. Pale hips arched and writhed, mewling cries falling to the sheets.
Xander tried to ignore Spike's mouth on his fingers as he concentrated on the vampire's pleasure. It wasn't easy; every stroke of that cool tongue reverberated in his cock. The young man knew that a single touch would bring him off; between the blonde's mouth and the utter eroticism of having Spike uncontrolled beneath him was enough to make a statue scream.
Spike took a deep, useless breath. He thought that maybe he'd found enough control to not come then and there. Well, until Xander did *that*. The vampire froze, a scream rattling the bones in Xander's hand, as the boy swallowed him, his free hand pressing gently against the blonde's swollen testicles.
Xander greedily took in his lover's wine-tinged release, letting the velvety slick stuff slide down his throat. Suddenly, he was moving, Spike dragging him up towards the head of the bunk. A cold hand surrounded him as familiar lips pressed against his. He and Spike shared in one release as another was found, spilling hotly into the space between them.
"Sixty," Xander said, tracing abstract patterns on Spike's thigh. "I think I really like Médoc."
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 40b | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 52b | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 | 83 | 84 | 85 | 86 | 87 | 88 | 89 | 90 | 91 | 92 | 93 | 94 | 95 | 96 | 97 | 98