Wesley trailed his hand down the outside of Spike's thigh, feeling hard muscle under his fingers. He was mindful now of the way his breathing was affecting Spike, attuned to every gasp and shift, and he let his hand make an even slower, more deliberate journey up the inside of Spike's other thigh, inch by inch.

"I like how it sounds when you say that," he said just as slowly, and dragged his teeth across Spike's hip again, harder this time.