reality_bends | Other kinds of tension

Spike could feel more than hear the sound of pleasure that rose from deep in his throat when Wesley kissed him. The taste of Wesley mixed with alcohol and a slight hint of curry was sweet in his mouth, and Spike's hands were eager and restless as he fell deeper into the embrace. He wanted more contact, more skin, more everything. He began to pull Wesley's two shirts free from his pants, desperate to touch the taut skin he had seen earlier that night.

Wesley tried his best not to hinder what Spike was doing, at the same time anxious not to lose contact with Spike's mouth, which was doing amazing things that left him feeling a bit weak-kneed. His own hands were moving over Spike's body restlessly, unable to settle on any one course of action.

Spike couldn't move fast enough when the fabric finally pulled free. His hands slipped under Wesley's clothing, skimming up his sides and around to his back. He slid his palms over shifting shoulder blades and down a supple spine, along ribs that were too close to the surface, and across enough warm skin to make Spike ache for more.

"You have no idea how good you feel," Spike said, his voice husky, when Wesley had moved his lips away just far enough to take an unsteady breath.

"Not as good as you do," Wesley said.

It was as if his skin was being awakened wherever Spike touched him, cool fingers bringing him back to life millimeter by millimeter. He moved his body helplessly against Spike's -- wouldn't have been able to stop doing so for any amount of money -- and brought his hands up to cup Spike's face, making it easier to plunder his mouth.

The desire in that gesture and the intimacy of Wesley's thumbs brushing over Spike's cheekbones nearly broke Spike's attention to the fragility of the human body. He couldn't stop touching him, couldn't get close enough to him, but he remembered just in time not to hold him so tightly that bones would break.

He wanted them to be naked, to be somewhere other than still standing in the middle of the living room, to be against the wall, on the bed, the couch, the floor, anything that Spike could press Wesley into, but that would mean pulling away, and he couldn't imagine doing that. Instead, not interrupting the kiss, Spike shifted just enough to be able to run his hand up Wesley's abdomen and brush the pads of his fingers over one flat nipple.

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.

Spike was so focused on getting Wesley to make that lovely noise again that he was barely aware of what Wesley's hands were doing until he felt one brushing unimpeded over his lower back. He shuddered, unable to choose between pressing forward against Wesley's body or back against the caress of his bare hand.

Wesley pulled Spike closer with both hands on the small of his back, fingertips sliding just underneath the waistband of Spike's jeans. Their lower bodies rubbed together maddeningly, the layers of fabric separating them making Wesley groan with frustration.

Spike needed more friction, more contact, and definitely more access to skin. "These have to come off," he said, tugging at Wesley's shirts. "Now."

Wesley couldn't have agreed more, but he didn't want to stop touching Spike long enough to cooperate. "There must be a spell for this," he muttered just before their lips met again.

Spike was happily distracted from his mission for a few minutes more, but he wasn't satisfied with how Wesley's clothes restricted where Spike could touch him. "Think we can manage it without magic," he said between kisses, sliding his left hand out from beneath Wesley's clothing to start unbuttoning his outer shirt.

Wesley had to content himself with touching as much of Spike's skin as possible while trying not to get in the vampire's way as his own shirt was unbuttoned. The difficulty of doing both at the same time while rather drunk made him feel clumsy, and he hesitated, pulling back slightly.

Spike stopped immediately when he felt Wesley retreating, and he looked up, unsure of what he would find in Wesley's eyes.

Wesley just smiled at Spike, a bit ruefully. "I'm not sure standing is something I'll be capable of for much longer," he said in explanation, his fingers resting lightly on the smooth skin of Spike's waist.

"That's an easy problem to solve," Spike said, relieved. He cupped Wesley's chin with one hand and kissed him quickly and softly. "Bed?"

Wesley leaned in for another kiss, drawing this one out more, savoring the feel of Spike's lips. "Bed sounds wonderful."

"Keep doing that and we'll get as far as the floor," Spike said, his fingers rubbing random patterns over Wesley's back. "Not that I mind, but..."

"No, no, you're right," Wesley said, stepping back and pulling off his now-unbuttoned outer shirt carefully. He tossed it over a nearby chair and then grabbed the front of Spike's t-shirt in his fist, kissing him again. "Do you think we can walk and do this at the same time?"

Need, sharp and urgent, speared through Spike at the fire in Wesley's gesture. "I bloody well hope so," he said, holding Wesley tightly against him to keep him steady as he walked them, still kissing, toward the bedroom.

Wesley managed not to stumble too badly as they went, although it required him focusing more on what his feet were doing than he would have liked.

The light was still on in the bedroom, the closet door still open, the bedclothes rumpled as he never made more than a token effort to pull them up in the mornings. They paused at the side of the bed, and when the next kiss broke Wesley reached for the bottom edges of Spike's t-shirt, wanting it off of him, needing to see Spike's pale skin and feel it under his hands again.

Spike stripped off his shirt in a single fluid motion and skimmed his hands up Wesley's torso to remove his shirt as well.

"I'm glad one of us is coordinated," Wesley murmured, pulling Spike close and lowering his mouth to trace across Spike's creamy shoulder with his tongue.

Without his shirt, Wesley was warmer, harder, and even more overwhelmingly appealing. Spike didn't quite manage to resist the urge to rub himself against him like a cat, and he closed his eyes with the pleasure of skin sliding against skin and of lips and tongue moving against his flesh. "Shoes off, then no more standing," he said in a rough voice.

Wesley made a hum that was half-protest, half-consent against the curve of smooth skin between Spike's neck and shoulder, and bit down lightly with his teeth.

With a growl of pleasure, Spike ignored what he had just said and pulled Wesley onto the bed, shoes and all. Pressing him into the mattress, Spike devoured his mouth, ran eager hands over his skin, and slowly rubbed against the strong, lean body beneath him.

"God," Wesley muttered as Spike writhed against him. The vampire was more solid than he looked, heavier, and the weight of him made Wesley even more aroused, if that was even possible. He wanted to touch Spike everywhere, for Spike to touch him everywhere, and still there were all these bloody clothes in the way.

Wesley rolled them over so that he was on top, one hand fumbling at the fastening of Spike's jeans.

Spike arched upwards, delighting in the pleasure of having someone above him, wanting him, hard for him. Then his belt and button gave way, and skin that hadn't been touched by anyone but himself in far too long was exposed to those long fingers. It wasn't enough. Kissing and nibbling along Wesley's neck, he slid his own hand between them. He brushed over Wesley's covered erection, for which he was rewarded by an exhilarating gasp, before starting to work on his trousers.

Spike's hand working at the front of his slacks was almost enough to make Wesley groan, but he held it back, trying to focus on what his own fingers were doing. His bandaged forearm rubbing against Spike's jeans helped, but the way Spike's teeth were gently nipping at the skin of his throat -- his unblemished, unscarred throat -- just pushed him the other direction toward distraction.

"God," he said again, hoarsely. "Spike..."

"You feel so good," Spike murmured against Wesley's jaw. "Can't get enough of you." Tilting them so that they were lying on their sides, he managed to unfasten Wesley's pants and slipped his hand inside. He grinned with delight as he wrapped his fingers around Wesley's straining erection. "This for me?"

Wesley closed his eyes and inhaled sharply at the feel of Spike's hand on him. Strong, knowing fingers that weren't hesitant in the least, that touched him as if they'd been doing so for years and knew just what he liked. He felt his own grip on Spike's cock tighten involuntarily. "I see there's some -- " he broke off to gasp as Spike's hand stroked," -- advantage to a hundred plus years of experience."

Spike rocked into Wesley's hand and continued the steady rhythm of his own. "Be happy to show you more," he said with a groan, "if we can get the rest of our bloody clothes off. I want all of you."

Wesley gritted his teeth as another surge of desire rolled through him, then bent his head to Spike's chest and applied them there instead, nipping sharply. He flicked his tongue over Spike's nipple.

"Let me," he suggested, pulling away so that he could quickly divest Spike of the rest of his clothes until he lay gloriously naked on the bed, then removing his own just as quickly, aware of Spike's eyes on him. He slid up Spike slowly, the sensation of skin on skin unbearably sensual, then asked huskily, "Better?"

Spike was happy to lie back and watch Wesley remove their clothing and was even happier when Wesley crawled up him with that heated look of promise in his eyes. Pulling him close, Spike set to touching every new inch of the beautiful body that had been exposed.

"Much," he said against Wesley's lips, skimming his hands over back and buttocks, tangling their legs together, and tilting his hips so that their cocks rode against each other with every movement. "If I knew what your clothes were hiding, pet, I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you for as long as I did."

The feel of Spike's cool, strong body beneath his was enough to make Wesley have to close his eyes for a moment. He wanted to taste every inch of Spike, to let the experience consume him and blot out the memories that blended and bled into one another at the back of his mind.

Wesley's mouth traced a path from Spike's lips to his throat, then down across his chest to the silken skin of his abdomen, licking and breathing careless warm air as he went.

Not one for holding back his feelings even in the least appropriate of circumstances, Spike made no effort not to groan his encouragement as Wesley worked his way down his body. Lips, tongue, and not quite enough nibbling teeth slid over him, and when hot breath fanned his erection Spike unclenched one hand from the bedclothes to stroke Wesley's hair, desperate to touch what little of him he could reach but not wanting in the least to stop his exploration. Wesley's thumb brushed over Spike's hip, followed by his mouth, and his next exhalation made Spike's cock twitch and his muscles tense. "Please," Spike begged.

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.

'Looking forward to hearing you say it,' was forming on Spike's lips when Wesley's teeth scraped across skin and bone, and a strangled groan rose from his throat instead. His body felt electrified, tingling and tuned to every gentle and not-so-gentle touch, and he fought to keep still. He knew that there was a good chance that this wouldn't happen again once Wesley sobered up and went to work on his problem, and Spike wanted to enjoy every single minute of it. Then Wesley kissed where he had bitten, his breath blowing in a stream across damp, tender skin, and all thoughts beyond that moment were lost to Spike. "Wesley," he said hoarsely. "Please."

Wesley smiled against Spike's hip and slid his hand the required inch higher to brush over the unbearably soft skin of Spike's balls, fondling them gently with the tips of his fingers. He moved the small amount needed to reach Spike's cock with his mouth, and circled the sensitive head with small flicks of his tongue, not giving enough stimulation to do anything more than tease.

"I thought I... I thought I was the evil one," Spike said between gasps. He was fairly certain that Wesley was trying to drive him insane with those wonderful whisper-soft touches.

Wesley's own cock was aching for attention, but he was enjoying his exploration of Spike's too much to stop. He gripped Spike's cock by the base, holding it firmly, and stroked once before taking it into his mouth, caressing it with lips and tongue, sucking lightly.

Somewhere in the back of Spike's mind floated a comment about how speaking so many demon languages obviously gave Wesley's tongue extra flexibility, but he was too focused on enjoying its movements to give it voice. The sensations of Wesley's warm hands, mouth, and breath around him rushed through him like a flood. He could feel his body tensing and focusing, readying itself for the sort of joyous release he had never experienced in this new combination of demon and soul. He craved it, could nearly taste it in the back of his throat and feel it in the base of his spine, but he wanted Wesley even more.

Moving faster than Wesley could probably see, Spike hauled him upward, pushed him onto his back, slid over him, and claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss. When he moved away to let Wesley breathe, Spike pulled back far enough to wrap his hand around Wesley's erection. "Want me, Wes?" he asked, stroking him firmly and dipping his head to lick over a pebbled nipple.

Breathless, Wesley arched his body under Spike's. It felt as if all of his nerve endings were straining toward Spike's touch, desperate for more. "Please," he said, only vaguely aware that he was saying what Spike wanted to hear.

Wesley's need was evident in the tension in his body as well as his voice, and Spike relished his reaction to every touch. He drew a fingernail lightly over Wesley's nipple before he licked and sucked at it again, his hand sliding up over firm muscle to trace the elegant curve of Wesley's collarbone.

"Please what?" Spike asked, careful not to let the hand squeezing and twisting around Wesley's cock fall into a rhythm that would bring an early end to their pleasure.

Wesley was lost in Spike's touch, deliberately lost for the first time he could remember -- in either set of memories. Still, it was a struggle to say the words, although that didn't make them any less true. "I... want you," he gasped finally.

Continues here (http://www.livejournal.com/community/reality_bends/8459.html).

Other kinds of tension

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