Wesley shuddered -- the touch of Spike's hand was so careful that somehow that made it all the more arousing. "I don't want you to stop," he managed to get out.
Despite the strength of his arousal, Wesley was able to let go of the counter with one hand. He rested it over Spike's where it lay across his stomach, then gently guided it upward and over the faded scar tissue on his abdomen where he'd been shot two and a half years before. "There's plenty that's imperfect," he said ruefully.
Wesley moved his hand back to the countertop and its solid support. "Please," he said again, trying to keep his grip loose and arching his body against Spike's.
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Date: 2004-03-18 08:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 09:14 am (UTC)