| The Ninety-Ninth |
| Happy Birthday, Pablo Neruda and Julius Caesar. |
••• |
|
As soon as the sun was up and Spike was asleep again, Xander got dressed and slipped away. If he was going to do what he wanted to, he needed as much time as possible. Fortunately, the various bazaars in the city would serve his purposes just fine. Of course, it took a little longer than expected, but how was Xander to know that teal was out of season? ••• Spike woke up to the sensation of warm, familiar hands stroking his thighs. When they bade him lay back and spread his legs, the vampire did so with nary a whimper. The moan that escaped Spike's throat was so unlike a whimper as to elicit mockery at the very comparison. No, it was far too manly to be a whimper. Xander giggled and licked his way down Spike's torso. By the time he reached Spike's cock, the vampire was not-whimpering with abandon, hips thrusting rhythmically. Unwilling to sacrifice a single bit of the image Xander knew he made, the boy took a minute to artfully arrange himself on the bed--legs splayed, chest well displayed, and hair fixed just so. Then he bent down and swallowed. Spike's eyes flew open as the most extraordinary sensation engulfed him. Xander's mouth was so hot, so perfect, so... RED? Definitely red and bits of lipstick smeared down Spike's cock as Xander's makeup smudged during the act of fellatio. Xander was a girl. In a dress. A teal dress. The sight of Xander's large feet in pump heels and oh god those fingers were pushing inside him and rolling his balls and oh fuck Xander's a girl this is so wrong so wrong oh god justswallowonemoretimedeeperdamnyou... Xander grinned around Spike's cock as the vampire came, greatly enjoying the horrified expression on the blonde's face. He knew that Spike was gonna get him for this, but it was definitely worth it. Oh yeah. "Ninety-nine, lover," Xander breathed in his best femme-fatale voice. Spike whimpered. |
••• |