Table Manners

"You know this is wrong, don't you?" Agonisingly slow slide in.

"Wrong. Yeah." Slide out and it feels even better somehow, because it means he's that much closer to the moment when he's filled again.

"You know this is something that you can't ever tell anyone about." Two sharp, fast stabs that leave him gasping.


"Please what? Please do this...or this...?" The friction is unbearably good but the voice is distracting him.

"Can you just shut up? Please?"

There's a moment of huffy, annoyed silence and then the urge to press on a sore spot gets too much.

"Thought you liked me talking dirty, pet. Thought you got off on it. Always wondered if it was what I was saying or the English accent."

He's had enough. "You were brought up with table manners and all that, right? Pretty - ah, God, yes - keen on that back then?"

The teasing rhythm falters for the first time. "Yes. I suppose. Why?" His voice is uncertain and Xander smiles.

Slamming his hands down hard against the table, he pulls off Spike's cock and turns. Before Spike quite grasps what's happening those strong hands are on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees, and Xander's cock is just a tongue's stretch away.

"What are you -"

Xander's hips sway forward lazily. "Ssh. Don't talk with your mouth full, Master William," he whispers.

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