Spike/Wes, 300 words, use, 'along', 'feet', 'duster'.
Wesley paused long enough to ask, “Spike? What are you wearing to the fancy dress party?”
“Don’t –stop –”
“Really, Spike, if you can’t answer a simple question!”
Wesley had stopped. Spike frowned and then opened his mouth.
“Not the duster.” Wes added firmly. Spike closed it again.
“You have one minute.”
The seconds ticked by and Spike thought frantically, Wesley’s warm breath telling him how close his mouth was to – “A vampire?”
“Two minute penalty.”
“Not until you come up with something.” Wesley’s voice was chiding, with an impatient edge to it. Spike growled softly.
“Fine. A Watcher. I’ll borrow a tweed suit and – ah, God! Don’t stop, no, don’t!”
“You’re beginning to annoy me, Spike.”
From his head to his feet, Spike was aching with arousal but when Wes used that tone of voice he meant it. Spike dragged his mind away from the dark hair brushing his thigh and the fingers stroking along his cock and thought. The charity party was a week away, so why was Wes so worked up over it...?
“You want us to go as a pair, don’t you? Why didn’t you just say? Fine. I’ll go as a...pirate.”
“Hmm.” Wes thought about this and rewarded Spike with a smile. He moved up the bed and kissed him with a thoroughness that soon had them panting and thrusting, hardness against hardness, until they found release.
“So shall I go as a nobleman whose ship you’ve captured? Or possibly a naval officer?” Wesley asked, as they lay, spent and relaxed. “I’ll let you choose,’ he added generously.
Spike smiled slowly, savouring his revenge. “Not what I had in mind. I’ll give you a clue though.”
“Repeat after me; ‘Who’s a pretty boy then?’”
Wesley’s answering squawk was very impressive.
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