Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

Tender

For herself_nyc.



Spike shuddered and drove a stifled cry into the pillow, hips working backwards as Xander's mouth slicked him open. He'd already shredded the sheets in two perfectly hand-sized circles on either side of the bed, and was nearly excavating the mattress--not his fault, though. Couldn't blame him, when the randy bastard was cracking him and eating him like an oyster, fucking him to slippery insanity with his tongue.

As one hard shove went deeper than the others, Spike swallowed a howl and wrenched up handfuls of mattress stuffing and forced his thighs a crucial millimeter further apart to accept Xander's mouth. Stubble rasped across skin, around the stabbing, wet prick of his mouth that was getting more forceful, faster, more frantic, wilder, and when Spike couldn't take it any more, he made a high-pitched, desperate sound, and then--as he was winched up another unbearable notch, his body hot and maddened--at last loosed a snarl, vamped out and sank fangs into the pillow, getting an unexpected mouthful of feathers. He spat them out, head butting for purchase, every part of him down below rolling and trembling as Xander's hand held him where it hurt, jacking him, forcing Spike to move as his grip moved, as if he were just some sodding power saw, cutting where he was pointed.

"God, you're brilliant," he said thickly into the pillow.



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