reality_bends | In bed, but are they sleeping like good little ex-Watchers and vampires? Not yet, anyway.

"Even if it's exactly what I want?" Wesley licked his lower lip thoughtfully, watching Spike's face.

Spike was briefly distracted by the path of Wesley's tongue over his lip, but he looked back up to meet his eyes after a moment. "It's not smart to let me do anything I want." His gaze drifted back to Wesley's mouth. "But I would like to kiss you again."

"I can't imagine anything you want not being something I'd want as well," Wesley said, knowing that this wasn't quite true but unable to come up with any specific examples at that moment. "And I'd love it if you kissed me again."

"Good." Spike caught Wesley's mouth in another kiss, tracing Wesley's lower lip with his own tongue before delving back inside.

Wesley made a happy sound into the kiss and slid his hand around to the back of Spike's thigh, moving against him slightly.

Spike couldn't stop his body from reacting favorably to Wesley's proximity, but he focused on the kiss, not demanding anything else. He was fairly certain that the biggest reason behind Wesley's affection at that moment was to forget about everything else, but he couldn't really bring himself to mind, not when Wesley was so close. Spike got attention, Wesley got to ignore his worries, and they both got comfort. It seemed like a good deal to him.

So Spike just deepened the kiss, his thumb rubbing lightly over the pulse point in Wesley's throat, and didn't worry about anything else.

The effects of the day were starting to wear on Wesley -- he could feel the weariness in his bones, but he continued to cling to Spike, kissing him for all he was worth. The vampire's body was cool against his own, soothing, somehow, and Wesley gradually felt himself begin to relax.

"I love having you this close," Spike murmured between extended kisses. "Feeling your breath. Hearing your heartbeat."

Wesley made a wordless sound of contentment into the next kiss, then he pulled his lips away just long enough to say, "You taste incredible. God, I love your mouth."

"I'm very fond of yours, myself." Spike moved his hand from caressing Wesley's throat to return to smoothing it over his back, tracing the supple line of his spine and feeling his muscles shift beneath his palm. "Fond of all of you."

Loving every moment of being touched by Spike, Wesley arched his body and kissed Spike again. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was drunk, but somehow this was starting to feel like goodbye, a thought that plunged him into a dark place he hadn't ever wanted to go again. "Would you fuck me?" he asked, running his own hands over Spike's body. "Just once more. Please?"

Spike was surprised by the request, and his cock hardened while his mind was more skeptical. He pulled back enough to look into Wesley's eyes and said, "Not that I don't want to - I always want to - but I really don't want to hurt you, love, and you've got to be worn out."

Wesley didn't care if it hurt -- he just wanted Spike inside him. He pulled back far enough so that he could reach between them and touch Spike's cock, rub it, hoping that this would provide the needed encouragement. "Please."

Spike sucked in a shuddering breath, his cock sensitive enough that every touch was magnified. He didn't want to say no, but he wasn't sure that Wesley's body was capable of having another orgasm so soon. "Are you sure?" he asked, searching Wesley's face.

"You don't want to?" Wesley asked, drawing back, letting go of Spike, feeling sick and rejected and disgusted with himself.

"No, pet, that's not what I'm saying." Spike let Wesley move a little way away but kept him within the loose circle of his arms. "Of course I do. I just need to be sure it's going to feel good to you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"No, it's fine," Wesley said, trying desperately to end the conversation before it went any further. "You're right. We shouldn't."

"Wesley," Spike said, cupping Wesley's jaw to keep him from looking away, "What's going on? I can't follow you."

"It's fine," Wesley repeated, managing not to meet Spike's eyes even though it took some doing. He had a sudden, nagging headache and, no matter how desperate he'd been for Spike's touch moments before, all he wanted now was to be let alone.

"It obviously isn't," Spike said, but he dropped his hand from Wesley's jaw and left him free to pull away entirely if he wished. This time there was no question that Wesley was shutting him out, and after feeling so close to him it hurt more than Spike could express.

"I think I should have had a bit more water and considerably less alcohol," Wesley said apologetically, staying where he was and hoping that Spike would believe the excuse, which wasn't, after all, a lie.

"I can get you some water." The alcohol was sounding tempting to Spike; he came to the conclusion yet again that he had not gotten drunk enough, since everything still hurt. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong with Wesley, other than to talk instead of act immediately, but he couldn't have done things differently.

"Would you?" Wesley asked, grateful for more than one reason. He smiled sadly and reached out to touch Spike's face, his heart aching at how very important Spike had become to him in such a short period of time.

Figuring out Wesley's mood was beyond Spike. He couldn't help but think that a few minutes before Wesley would have begged him not to go anywhere, but there was no reason not to get him something to drink. "Be right back," he said, pushing the covers off of himself.

Wesley tracked Spike with his eyes as the vampire sat up. "Thank you," he said. A moment alone was probably what he needed, and the water wouldn't hurt either. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow their last night together -- that in the morning, the real world would reassert itself and take away the one thing that had been providing solace.

Spike gave Wesley a very faint smile and left the room. He didn't even try to avoid the temptation of the whiskey but grabbed the bottle on his way to the kitchen and took a couple of long swallows while standing in front of the refrigerator. He was not going to be upset, he told himself; Wesley was drunk, his life was falling apart, and it would go against the laws of nature if he were thinking clearly. About anything.

He took one last sip, put the whiskey on the counter, and grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator before heading back to the bedroom.

As soon as Spike had gone, Wesley rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths and trying, without much success, to convince himself that things would be all right. He felt slightly nauseated, but suspected it was more for emotional reasons than physical ones, and when Spike reappeared in the doorway he felt a profound sense of relief. "You came back," he said stupidly.

"I said I would," Spike said, hesitating for a very brief instant before walking over to put both bottles on the nightstand beside Wesley. "I can go again, if you want."

"No," Wesley said, very sure of the words. "I don't want you to go. The last thing I want is for you to go."

Spike's smile was slightly warmer as he walked around the bed and got in the other side. "Have some water, pet," he said, getting settled flat on his back. The rough edges of the world were beginning to blur again, thanks to the alcohol, and he welcomed the feeling wholeheartedly.

Wesley sat up and reached for one of the water bottles, opening it and taking a long drink. "Thank you," he said again, pressing the side of the cool bottle to his temple.

"I'll get you more if you need it," Spike said, turning his head on the pillow so that he could watch Wesley.

"This should be more than enough," Wesley said, wishing he'd thought to ask Spike to get some painkillers while he was up. He breathed out slowly, inhaled just as slowly. "It feels like this is ending."

"What is?" Spike asked. "Tonight?" He shrugged. "It'll have to at some point, and I think we're both pretty knackered."

Wesley didn't think he could say what he'd really meant. "We should probably get some sleep."

Spike was silent for a long moment, studying Wesley's troubled face and weighing his options. He would have liked to have shaken Wesley until he made sense, but he settled on saying, "I'm not going to ask what's on your mind, because you'll just tell me again that you're fine, but if there's something I can do you know where I am."

Reaching out a hand, Wesley traced Spike's eyebrow with his thumb and said, in direct contradiction to what he'd said the moment before, "I don't want to go to sleep."

"We don't have to," Spike said gently. "But you'll have to make up your mind one way or the other about that."

"I'm tired," Wesley said, still looking at Spike. "Exhausted, really. But I don't want to sleep when it means this will be over. It... feels like..."

Spike took Wesley's hand and entwined their fingers together. "Like what, love?" he asked, his voice soft.

Wesley looked down at their hands and tightened his grip. "Like tomorrow I'll wake up and this part will have been a dream."

"The part with me?" Smiling slightly, Spike said, "I can promise you I'm not a dream. I'll still be here."

"Will you?" Wesley set his bottle of water back down without letting go of Spike's hand and turned, sliding down in the bed to face Spike. "You won't... in the morning, you won't get up and decide this was all a terrible idea?"

"I might about how much I drank, but I'm not going to feel that way about you." Spike rolled onto his side so that he could see Wesley better. "I love you. If you think that's going to change in the morning, you don't have any idea what I mean when I say it."

Continues here (http://www.livejournal.com/community/reality_bends/52612.html).

In bed, but are they sleeping like good little ex-Watchers and vampires? Not yet, anyway.

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