Slush Puppy
by
Jane Davitt
“What’re you up to then?” Spike stared at Xander, his lips curling in a
puzzled smile.
“Kind of thought it was obvious," Xander said, debating moving his hand
– which would expose a two strokes away
from popping cock - or keeping it in place which might
prove... embarrassing.
“Well, yeah, and can I say thanks for getting it out of the way before
I’m tied to a chair and a captive audience, but that wasn’t what I
meant.”
So he hadn’t been asleep the night before. Fuck. Should’ve known
vampires didn’t snore.
Spike strolled over and stirred a bowl of melting ice cubes with his
finger. “No beer in sight... and your hand’s dripping.” His hand
snaked across and a finger scooped up some of the droplets rolling down
Xander’s wrist and brought them to his lips. “Tap water.” An eyebrow
rose
heavenward. “Now why do you want to jack off with an icy-cold hand
wrapped around your bits and pieces, hmm?”
Silence wasn’t just golden; it was the only answer he had that didn’t
need to be followed by some form of ritual suicide to escape the shame.
Then Spike unpeeled Xander's fingers, one at a time and replaced them
with
his own. “See? Room temperature, you ninny.”
Spike’s hand was hot against chilled flesh. And he managed to hold out
for five strokes.
The End
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