Disclaimer: I don’t own either of the boys. This was just for fun, and I promise I didn’t break them.
Rating, Warnings, etc: Rated NC-17 for smutty fluff.
Dedication: To Carrie and Leon, for giving me presents. To Nemi for making this challenge. To Joss Whedon for creating the characters. To Matt for being the sweetest guy ever. And to Sophie for stalking me. And also, to all my list sibs, because you all are cool and give me good fic.
Author’s notes: I was having fun. I thought we needed some fun fluffy smut. So I provided. Please, show me that you can do the same. *grin*
Robin the Crossover Junkie
“What? Spike, everyone’s fucked in an elevator. It’s like, necessary.”
“Okay. What about…kitchen?”
“I lived with Anya. We did it in every room of the apartment.”
I snicker. Closet. Gay man fucking in a closet. Hee hee.
“Ignore the pun, precious, and answer the question.”
“Yeah. Closet, too.”
“Anyplace you HAVEN’T done it?” Spike asks exasperatedly.
“What, are you mad you don’t get to corrupt me?”
“I got you shagging men, didn’t I?”
“But I’ve had sex in more places than you, so I guess I win.”
“Oh, you win, eh?” Spike said, purring as he sidles up to me. God, he’s so sexy.
“Yeah. I win. What’s my prize?” I reply, leering a little.
“You get to be fucked unconscious,” Spike replies matter-of-factly. I think my eyes lose focus. I love it when he’s blunt.
“Uh…okay,” I say, so intelligently.
“But we’re gonna go someplace you haven’t been fucked yet.”
“Good luck,” I say, shivering as Spike runs his tongue along my jugular.
Spike smirks, and takes my hand, dragging me toward the window. I look at him quizzically when Spike swings the glass open, and starts to climb out onto the ledge just below the window. I just shrug and follow, though. Being with Spike means doing stupid things.
Spike crawls up onto the roof of the apartment building, then reaches down and pulls me up with him.
“We’re going to fuck on the roof?” I ask when Spike starts kissing my jaw. “But someone could see!” I may be horny, but I’m not THAT horny. Of course, if he keeps doing that.
“Free show. Hell, they might throw money,” Spike counters, running his hands up under the back of my sweater, then down into the back of my jeans and squeezing my ass.
“Spike!” I gasp when Spike pulls me against his excited groin. Ooh. Hard. Yum.
“Xan, do you trust me?” Spike asks suddenly, and he’s locked onto my eyes with those icy blue orbs.
“I love you Spike. I’d trust you with my life.” God knows why, but I do.
“Good,” Spike answers, before suddenly tearing my shirt off and ripping my pants open. His tongue is in my mouth before I can protest, and his hands roam across the soft golden skin quickly, as the moonlight shines down on us.
I let out a groan, and am about to try and argue again when Spike leans down and bites my nipple. Only a gasp comes out, and I’ve got to touch skin. I scramble to touch all of him, somehow ripping apart his shirt, just to get to more of that alabaster silk. My tongue dances frantically with his, and it’s always like this, but always so new and wonderful.
I can’t get enough of him. The taste of cigarettes faint in his mouth, the smell of leather on him even though he took his duster off at least an hour ago. The smooth wetness of his pale pink lips, the tightness of his muscles bunching and flexing as he touches me with those amazingly soft hands.
I’m naked, suddenly, and gasping as Spike’s mouth travels over ever inch of my chest, then he turns and is behind me, somehow, licking and nipping at the muscles in my back, tracing my spine with his fingers, and I’m arching under his touch, gasping and trying to cry out, but all that comes out are strangled moans. His tongue at my opening, loosening me, getting me so wet, and I’m about to scream if he keeps that up, and just when I think I can’t hold in the scream for another second, he pulls his tongue out and is standing behind me, his mouth wet and warm on the back of my neck, and I’m shivering. I need him so badly. I need him in me, touching me, always. Never stop touching me. I want to say it, but coherent sentences aren’t looking very probable at the moment, so I just push my hips back at him, trying to put my point across with body language.
He takes pity on me, and he spreads my legs and is in me, just like that, and I moan loudly. He chuckles, but it’s strangled too, a little breathless, and I moan again at the sound. Then his mouth is on my neck again, he’s pushing deep into me, and this connection is so real, so unbreakable, that everything in me is screaming as I stare up at the stars and my lover pounds into my body, over and over, brushing that one spot that makes the stars disappear into the night black star, one hand up around my chest and pinching a raised nipple, the other down between my legs, stroking my balls lightly. His teeth scratch at my neck, and we’re both writhing, rushing toward the final precipice, and I don’t think I can feel my hands, even as they’re raised and my hands are clutching around the back of his head, pulling his mouth closer to my shoulder, and I need him closer, so I start thrusting back each time he thrusts forward, making him go in as deep as possible. We’re both grunting, hard, speeding up, and the stars are brighter than ever as I stare into the night sky.
A final push sends us both over, and I know now that I’m yelling out, and so is Spike. We’re screaming our pleasure into the night, and it echoes back at us but I don’t care because coming this way feels so good, and then it’s black.
Spike’s holding me up. I blink sleepily up at him, still dazed.
“Hey, luv,” he says, grinning smugly.
“I can’t feel my legs,” I tell him.
“Ever fucked on a roof before?”
“Not till now.”
“Good. I win.”
“Oh. So what’s your prize?”
“It’s your turn to fuck me,” he says simply, and I chuckle, even as I move in to kiss him again.
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