It was nothing like he expected it.
Not that he had ever expected it. Because if there was one thing Xander Harris never expected, it was to be kissing Spike on a cold starless night when they were supposed to be hunting demons.
But had he been expecting it, which he was not, he would have expected it to be hard and fast. Drilling. Tongues and teeth, lips smashed together in a frenzied bid to be top dog. He would have expected hands tugging hair and biting. Lots and lots of biting.
He would have expected his lungs to feel like they were about to burst, like he simply couldn't breath - like that time he had jumped into the frigid lake that last day of summer when he and Willow had gone to spend their last few days of freedom before sixth grade at his Aunt's house up near Modesto. He'd thought for sure that he was drowning as he struggled to break the surface, unable to draw in full lung of breath once he had.
Instead, it was less uncaged tiger, more mewling kitten, and it made Xander think of lost innocence, and stupid commercials that made him cry. Made him think of the halcyon days when he had laid in a field watching clouds shaped like bunnies roll on by as Willow braided daisies into a crown that she would place upon his head, proclaiming him king of the world.
And Xander didn't know which was scarier, the fact that he was kissing Spike, or that Spike was being gentle, licking at his lips with just the barest touch of his tongue.
It was the whimper that was Xander's undoing. Spike, whimpering as Xander continued to kiss, his hand caught up in the blonde's stiffly gelled curls. A whimper, not a growl, and the soft touch of fingers ghosting over the stubble he'd forgotten to shave off that morning.
A whimper that made Xander wonder just how his cock managed to grow so hard when the rest of his body was surely melting.
Nope, nothing like he had expected at all.