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.

Other kinds of tension

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject