One finger, just… touching. Becoming familiar.
Spike’s tighter than any girl Xander’s ever been with, but his finger is slick and gentle pressure eases his fingertip inside.
The head of his cock throbs, a sympathetic reaction.
He pushes forward, knuckle by knuckle, and he watches Spike’s face because watching his finger disappear into Spike is just too much.
He thinks that Spike must wear all of his hardness on the outside because inside, he’s soft.
He moves his finger, and he’s so deep, he feels like he’s searching for Spike’s soul.
Spike gasps, and he feels like he’s found it.
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