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Cicirossi
It started with with a (fictional, we hope) ice cream/donut/sex shop rest area on the highway. And then it just grew until it ate Cici's brain.
Rated NC-17. Contains rampant silliness, ice cream abuse, food as sex toys. If you're bothered by slash you might not want to keep reading....
Spike, Xander, and the Buffyverse ©Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers,
UPN, 20th Century Fox, Sandollar, and probably some other people I've forgotten.
It's Joss' world, we just like to play in it.
God it was nice to sleep himself out after vigorous physical activity. Xander was getting very spoiled after only two days of not having to go to work, squeeze in as much time as he could with his friends, spend time with Spike, then get up and work some more. Not that he didn't like his job, because for the first time in his history of miserable employment opportunities, he did. But it was nice to wake up sometime around noon and know there was nowhere to be. Nowhere but here, with Spike's weight on his chest, and Spike's face tucked into the hollow of his neck and shoulder.
Rubbing one leg up against Spike's where they were wrapped together produced a tickly, scratching sensation as hair caught and pulled. By contrast, Spike's back was smooth, the skin soft and fine under his hand. With all of its usual styling gunk washed out of it, Spike's hair was fluffy and just a bit coarse from the bleach, and it stuck up in wild cowlicks under Xander's chin. Yeah, it was nice to be able to savor these things.
Except that he had to pee. As usual. So he detached his Spikey limpet and ignored the ominous rumbling that came from the rearranged pile of limbs as he climbed out of bed. Stretching and scratching, Xander staggered off in the general direction of the bathroom, and tripped over something that tangled up his feet and sent him crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.
"Oooph."
"Wha... Where? I'm on it." Spike popped up off the bed and assumed a fighting stance. He looked like a sleepy, bed head version of a Greek statue. Which was both amusing and arousing. Or would have been if Xander's hip didn't feel like it someone hit it with a baseball bat.
"Just me Spike, being my usual graceful self." Xander fumbled at his feet. "I tripped over, sheesh, the leather pants, of all things. Sorry I woke you up."
Blinking, Spike took in Xander's inelegant sprawl on the floor. "Oh. Well, do you need help?"
"Nope. I'll just crawl to the bathroom on my one unbroken leg, thanks."
"If you can make cracks like that, you're fine." Dismissing Xander's distress, Spike made his way to the club chair he's sat in last night, flopped (in all sorts of places) into it, dug his cigarettes out of the pile of stuff on the table, and lit up. Apparently he was ready to watch the show.
"Thanks. Your concern for my welfare overwhelms me." It was a struggle, but Xander untangled and righted himself. Well, okay he put more wiggle into it than was strictly necessary, but Spike deserved the tease. He limped to the bathroom and came out several minutes later, much refreshed and wearing a hotel bathrobe. Which made Spike frown at him. "So what are we doing today? We can go out and do stuff in the hotel without you getting fried, no windows in the casino. And besides, we need to let them in some time to clean the room, or it's gonna get pretty skanky."
"Yeah. I thought we'd go see the ceiling."
"The ceiling?"
"The shopping place here. Supposed to have this ceiling that mimics the daytime sky, all blue with clouds. But no real windows, it's all enclosed."
Spike's voice was casual, offhand even, but Xander wasn't fooled. No wonder Spike wanted to stay at this particular hotel. He could wander around all day and see the sky, even if it was fake, and not worry about fatal sunburn. "Well, let's get dressed and go. You can buy me food, and then we'll lay on our backs on the floor and make cloud pictures until they ask us to leave."
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