until it's just the rhythm of body in body, and air scraping out of Xander's lungs, and formless words dropping over him like sweet rain. Spike's eyes are the sea in winter; bruise-blue, stormy, fathomless. Full of lust and love and sorrow, full of want. Xander bites Spike's lips - his collarbones and his chest - bites his throat and cries out as Spike thrusts hard and harder, juddering his flesh on his bones and making his heart skip and skip and skip. Xander can taste blood - can taste the burnt-sugar taint that is the demon, and the smoke-spice essence that is Spike's skin.
Lovely Tabaqui. Buoyed up high by the beautiful intensity of this writing. Lovely and emotionally intense.
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Lovely Tabaqui. Buoyed up high by the beautiful intensity of this writing. Lovely and emotionally intense.