S/X kiss meme
Sep. 29th, 2003 01:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
angelchickenI can't write short, apparently. There was a Spike/Xander kiss meme floating around yesterday, and, well, I memed. I wasn't going to, but this was in my head and wouldn't go anywhere. I know I am not a writer, but I figure the more I write the better I'll get, so I am just going to keep posting these little ficlets in hopes that some peeps get enjoyment out of them. Or can offer constructive critism. :) But I don't mind either way.
Anyway:
S/X kiss meme.
1600 words (approx)
No beta
Not mine
Rated PG-13. Or R. I don't know.
Post Hell's Bells
Not angsty
Enjoy.
~~~~~
They had given up on pool.
That is to say, Xander had given up on pool. His reflexes were about as sharp as molasses and he had already lost a hundred dollars to the bleached menace. He’d been hearing grumblings from the Tony Harris camp about lost deposits, collateral damage and “No good, pansy-assed sons with their sham weddings and who the hell was going to pay for the repairs” so Xander thought it was probably in his best interest to hang onto the rest of his paycheck. He would probably need it soon.
Spike was all for continuing the game. Apparently two thirds a bottle of tequila and half a case of “cheep American piss water” wasn’t enough to slow a vampire’s reflexes. Or maybe just this vampire. Xander wasn’t sure.
But eventually Xander had put his foot down and said ‘No!’ to another round of ‘How fast can Xander lose his cash’ and now they were sitting at a high table off the dance floor. Xander was all for the free couch, but Spike refused, muttering something about poofs, hair sticking up and cavemen. Xander hadn’t asked.
So they were sitting at the high table, Xander working on tethering himself to the ground while Spike made scathing remarks about anything and everything.
Until they hit the morose part of the night.
“I miss her kiss. Heh. Xander misses Anya kisses.” He giggled a bit maniacally and Spike shot him a cold look. He composed himself, though it took a minute, and continued. “It’s just, when we kissed it was perfect. All of our problems just . . . faded away. And it was good. No, better than good. It was great. The one time our relationship was perfect. I miss that.”
“Well, stands to reason, yeh? She’s what, a thousand years old? Lots of time to work on her technique.”
“Her what now?”
“Her technique. Kissing skills. Not like you’re the first bloke she’s snogged. Know that in the past hundred or so years I’ve improved. Haven’t had a complaint in over half a century.”
“Great. Crazy Drusilla and crazier Harmony thought you were a good kisser. That doesn’t mean anything.” There was a bit of malice in Xander’s voice, but now he was thinking of all of the people Anya had kissed, and suddenly was feeling a bit less special. Leave it to the evil undead to ruin the one untainted memory he had.
“You think the only people I’ve kissed in the past one hundred and twenty years are Dru, Harm and Buffy?”
“When did you kiss Buffy?”
The deer in headlights look was good on Spike, but it faded far too quickly with a smirk. “Red’s spell. You know, the ‘will be done” bollocks that had us planning our nuptials.” He gave a happy sigh with a fond smile of remembrance.
“And thank you for bringing up that incredibly unpleasant memory,” Xander slurred, his face in an exaggerated grimace.
“Not the point, lack brain. Point is, I am a spectacular kisser,” he cut off Xander’s question, “as I’ve been told by many, many people, and I’ve only a fragment of the experience Anyanka most likely has.”
“Ah, the drunken boasting.”
“More talented than you, ‘m sure.”
“Right. You are the kissing king.”
“I am,” Spike replied, his tone offended. “I’m a hell of a lot better than you, I’d wager.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve had no complaints,” Xander defended himself. “Ever. Not with Cordy. Not with Faith. And not - not - with one thousand year old Anya. I am a kissing god.”
“Is that so?”
Oh shit. Xander knew that tone. The ‘I’m about to suggest something that you won’t like but will probably end up doing in any case’ tone that Spike was so good at. Crap.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. No.”
“What. Don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
Xander turned towards Spike, then almost fell off his stool when he realized how close the vampire was.
His eyes were a deep hypnotic blue. Fuck.
Xander steadied himself and then looked away. Tried to look away. Tried to try to look away. But there was a twinkle in the blue that was amused but not mocking and a small smirk on his lips that, if Xander squinted and turned his head a little, looked like a smile. He didn’t realize Spike could do thrall, a terrible oversight to be remedied at his earliest convenience. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew he was going to say yes.
“What, umm,” he paused to clear his suddenly dry throat with a long swallow of lukewarm beer then licked a stray drop from his lips. Spike’s eyes shot to his tongue then met Xander’s again. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“Nothing you don’t want,” Spiked breathed. He really was invading Xander’s personal space, something that Xander would have though rude, if he could have managed a thought, he was sure.
Xander gulped. His dick was twitching, his heart was pounding and if he didn’t breathe soon he was going to pass out. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head and gasped in a short breath. When he opened them again, Spike was right there and Xander couldn’t even react before he felt cool lips brushing his. Tenative; soft but firm. It was over almost before it began and Spike had pulled back a bit, waiting, it seemed, for Xander.
Who couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could only feel the blood pumping through his body. And he knew with absolute certainty that if Spike didn’t kiss him again he was going to cry. He realized his eyes were still closed and quickly opened them meeting the vampire’s unsteadily but hoping his eyes conveyed the “Kiss me now!” message because there was no way he would be able to speak.
He must have gotten the point across because Spike was leaning in again and this time the kiss had a demanding edge. Spike’s tongue came into play, licking the crease of Xander’s lips and - when Xander’s mouth opened a tiny bit - nipping and sucking at his lips until Xander couldn’t take any more. He opened his mouth with a moan, begging Spike to enter him with tongue and teeth.
He tasted like honey, and with his three remaining brain cells Xander thought that it was strange, but good strange, because he should have tasted sour - like barley and hops, cigarette smoke with a hint of lime - but instead he was sweet. Sweet and sticky and syrupy, tickling the back of Xander’s throat and coating his limbs in a delicious tingle. When Spike started to pull away again Xander whimpered, his arms coming up of their own volition and holding Spike to him, one hand full of leather, the other cupping the back of Spike’s head, keeping their mouth’s together.
Spike responded with renewed vigor, his own hands coming up to tangle in Xander’s hair, his tongue invading Xander’s mouth, probing and dancing with Xander’s, leaving him feeling completely off balance but warm, and safe, and unbelievably aroused.
That’s when it hit him: they were having sex. Right there on the outskirts of the Bronze dance floor. They were fucking madly and passionately, but not with their dicks-- though they may as well have been when every swipe of Spike’s tongue echoed along his painfully hard erection; every nip and suck reflected on his cock and balls bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. It should be illegal, this kiss, at least in public, and he had the brief, hysterical thought that they could be arrested for indecent exposure.
Xander yelped when Spike unexpectedly pulled away, and looked frantically around to see why. But he only saw Spike, shifting in his chair like he couldn’t get comfortble, and it took a moment to realize that they had the same problem. He glanced at Spike’s lap and gave a small internal grin complete with happy dance that he’d made Spike so hard. He lifted his eyes to a much shakier version of Spike’s normal smirk.
Spike opened his mouth to speak, but when he tried, his voice cracked. Xander grinned. He would have said something, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to from words.
Spike lit a cigarette with trembling hands and cleared his throat before trying again.
“So Harris, what do you think? Do I know how to kiss?”
“Heh. Umm. Yup. Quite the kisser you are.”
“And you’re not so bad yourself,” Spike conceded with the false bravado Xander was feeling.
They were quiet for a few moments, darting glances at each other then quickly looking away. If someone was supposed to leave now, Xander hoped it would be Spike. His knees were water, and walking home would be tricky until they solidified .
“So, uh, I should be off. Things to . . . do. Kill. Lots of demons to kill because they are b-bad.” Spike stood and forced Xander’s gaze giving the young man a hard stare. Suddenly he was back in Xander's face, kissing him hard and fast. He took a step back with a smile - a real, honest to god smile – then turned in a swirl of black leather and dissapeared out the front door.
With Spike gone Xander’s head began to clear and, predictablly, his first thought was panic. He brushed it off, though, in favor of remembering the feel of Spike’s lips and tongue intertwined with his own. He looked around and smiled at the few people who were staring, then trained his eyes on the door that Spike had exited through.
He stood and stretched, feeling better than he had in weeks. He kissed Spike. He, Xander Harris, hater of all things vampire, had kissed William the Bloody, vampire extraordinaire. A lot.
He couldn't wait to do it again.
Anyway:
S/X kiss meme.
1600 words (approx)
No beta
Not mine
Rated PG-13. Or R. I don't know.
Post Hell's Bells
Not angsty
Enjoy.
~~~~~
They had given up on pool.
That is to say, Xander had given up on pool. His reflexes were about as sharp as molasses and he had already lost a hundred dollars to the bleached menace. He’d been hearing grumblings from the Tony Harris camp about lost deposits, collateral damage and “No good, pansy-assed sons with their sham weddings and who the hell was going to pay for the repairs” so Xander thought it was probably in his best interest to hang onto the rest of his paycheck. He would probably need it soon.
Spike was all for continuing the game. Apparently two thirds a bottle of tequila and half a case of “cheep American piss water” wasn’t enough to slow a vampire’s reflexes. Or maybe just this vampire. Xander wasn’t sure.
But eventually Xander had put his foot down and said ‘No!’ to another round of ‘How fast can Xander lose his cash’ and now they were sitting at a high table off the dance floor. Xander was all for the free couch, but Spike refused, muttering something about poofs, hair sticking up and cavemen. Xander hadn’t asked.
So they were sitting at the high table, Xander working on tethering himself to the ground while Spike made scathing remarks about anything and everything.
Until they hit the morose part of the night.
“I miss her kiss. Heh. Xander misses Anya kisses.” He giggled a bit maniacally and Spike shot him a cold look. He composed himself, though it took a minute, and continued. “It’s just, when we kissed it was perfect. All of our problems just . . . faded away. And it was good. No, better than good. It was great. The one time our relationship was perfect. I miss that.”
“Well, stands to reason, yeh? She’s what, a thousand years old? Lots of time to work on her technique.”
“Her what now?”
“Her technique. Kissing skills. Not like you’re the first bloke she’s snogged. Know that in the past hundred or so years I’ve improved. Haven’t had a complaint in over half a century.”
“Great. Crazy Drusilla and crazier Harmony thought you were a good kisser. That doesn’t mean anything.” There was a bit of malice in Xander’s voice, but now he was thinking of all of the people Anya had kissed, and suddenly was feeling a bit less special. Leave it to the evil undead to ruin the one untainted memory he had.
“You think the only people I’ve kissed in the past one hundred and twenty years are Dru, Harm and Buffy?”
“When did you kiss Buffy?”
The deer in headlights look was good on Spike, but it faded far too quickly with a smirk. “Red’s spell. You know, the ‘will be done” bollocks that had us planning our nuptials.” He gave a happy sigh with a fond smile of remembrance.
“And thank you for bringing up that incredibly unpleasant memory,” Xander slurred, his face in an exaggerated grimace.
“Not the point, lack brain. Point is, I am a spectacular kisser,” he cut off Xander’s question, “as I’ve been told by many, many people, and I’ve only a fragment of the experience Anyanka most likely has.”
“Ah, the drunken boasting.”
“More talented than you, ‘m sure.”
“Right. You are the kissing king.”
“I am,” Spike replied, his tone offended. “I’m a hell of a lot better than you, I’d wager.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve had no complaints,” Xander defended himself. “Ever. Not with Cordy. Not with Faith. And not - not - with one thousand year old Anya. I am a kissing god.”
“Is that so?”
Oh shit. Xander knew that tone. The ‘I’m about to suggest something that you won’t like but will probably end up doing in any case’ tone that Spike was so good at. Crap.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. No.”
“What. Don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
Xander turned towards Spike, then almost fell off his stool when he realized how close the vampire was.
His eyes were a deep hypnotic blue. Fuck.
Xander steadied himself and then looked away. Tried to look away. Tried to try to look away. But there was a twinkle in the blue that was amused but not mocking and a small smirk on his lips that, if Xander squinted and turned his head a little, looked like a smile. He didn’t realize Spike could do thrall, a terrible oversight to be remedied at his earliest convenience. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew he was going to say yes.
“What, umm,” he paused to clear his suddenly dry throat with a long swallow of lukewarm beer then licked a stray drop from his lips. Spike’s eyes shot to his tongue then met Xander’s again. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“Nothing you don’t want,” Spiked breathed. He really was invading Xander’s personal space, something that Xander would have though rude, if he could have managed a thought, he was sure.
Xander gulped. His dick was twitching, his heart was pounding and if he didn’t breathe soon he was going to pass out. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head and gasped in a short breath. When he opened them again, Spike was right there and Xander couldn’t even react before he felt cool lips brushing his. Tenative; soft but firm. It was over almost before it began and Spike had pulled back a bit, waiting, it seemed, for Xander.
Who couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could only feel the blood pumping through his body. And he knew with absolute certainty that if Spike didn’t kiss him again he was going to cry. He realized his eyes were still closed and quickly opened them meeting the vampire’s unsteadily but hoping his eyes conveyed the “Kiss me now!” message because there was no way he would be able to speak.
He must have gotten the point across because Spike was leaning in again and this time the kiss had a demanding edge. Spike’s tongue came into play, licking the crease of Xander’s lips and - when Xander’s mouth opened a tiny bit - nipping and sucking at his lips until Xander couldn’t take any more. He opened his mouth with a moan, begging Spike to enter him with tongue and teeth.
He tasted like honey, and with his three remaining brain cells Xander thought that it was strange, but good strange, because he should have tasted sour - like barley and hops, cigarette smoke with a hint of lime - but instead he was sweet. Sweet and sticky and syrupy, tickling the back of Xander’s throat and coating his limbs in a delicious tingle. When Spike started to pull away again Xander whimpered, his arms coming up of their own volition and holding Spike to him, one hand full of leather, the other cupping the back of Spike’s head, keeping their mouth’s together.
Spike responded with renewed vigor, his own hands coming up to tangle in Xander’s hair, his tongue invading Xander’s mouth, probing and dancing with Xander’s, leaving him feeling completely off balance but warm, and safe, and unbelievably aroused.
That’s when it hit him: they were having sex. Right there on the outskirts of the Bronze dance floor. They were fucking madly and passionately, but not with their dicks-- though they may as well have been when every swipe of Spike’s tongue echoed along his painfully hard erection; every nip and suck reflected on his cock and balls bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. It should be illegal, this kiss, at least in public, and he had the brief, hysterical thought that they could be arrested for indecent exposure.
Xander yelped when Spike unexpectedly pulled away, and looked frantically around to see why. But he only saw Spike, shifting in his chair like he couldn’t get comfortble, and it took a moment to realize that they had the same problem. He glanced at Spike’s lap and gave a small internal grin complete with happy dance that he’d made Spike so hard. He lifted his eyes to a much shakier version of Spike’s normal smirk.
Spike opened his mouth to speak, but when he tried, his voice cracked. Xander grinned. He would have said something, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to from words.
Spike lit a cigarette with trembling hands and cleared his throat before trying again.
“So Harris, what do you think? Do I know how to kiss?”
“Heh. Umm. Yup. Quite the kisser you are.”
“And you’re not so bad yourself,” Spike conceded with the false bravado Xander was feeling.
They were quiet for a few moments, darting glances at each other then quickly looking away. If someone was supposed to leave now, Xander hoped it would be Spike. His knees were water, and walking home would be tricky until they solidified .
“So, uh, I should be off. Things to . . . do. Kill. Lots of demons to kill because they are b-bad.” Spike stood and forced Xander’s gaze giving the young man a hard stare. Suddenly he was back in Xander's face, kissing him hard and fast. He took a step back with a smile - a real, honest to god smile – then turned in a swirl of black leather and dissapeared out the front door.
With Spike gone Xander’s head began to clear and, predictablly, his first thought was panic. He brushed it off, though, in favor of remembering the feel of Spike’s lips and tongue intertwined with his own. He looked around and smiled at the few people who were staring, then trained his eyes on the door that Spike had exited through.
He stood and stretched, feeling better than he had in weeks. He kissed Spike. He, Xander Harris, hater of all things vampire, had kissed William the Bloody, vampire extraordinaire. A lot.
He couldn't wait to do it again.
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