A little involuntary sound escaped Wesley as a jolt of even stronger arousal surged through him at the touch. His hips moved forward, seeking contact with Spike's body again even as he realized that he wanted -- needed -- to feel Spike's skin under his own hands. He reached for the waist of Spike's t-shirt, their arms meeting in a clumsy tangle that had him murmuring, "Sorry, sorry," against Spike's lips, and then there was success as he untucked the back of the shirt and slid his hand over cool skin.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2004-01-15 09:22 pm (UTC)