He feels the smirk first, all bravado and sharp edges that mock him even now.
The pressure there forces him to just go with it, do it, c'mon, it'll be worth it,
and Xander doesn't know how to say no to that. So he stands still and lets cool lips
touch his, lightly sucking on the bottom lip.
That's when he opens his eyes.
Spike doesn't shut his eyes when he kisses. Xander doesn't know why, and
doesn't care because Spike lies with his body the way he lies with his mouth, freely and
without a hint of remorse. But his eyes, they can't lie. Not when they're inches from
Xander's and he can see flecks of grey and gold in the blue, the pupil widening as Spike's
lying mouth starts delving deeper. And Xander lets him, because he'll do anything for that
He's vaguely aware that there're catcalls and whistles, chuckling admiration
and a hint or surprised shock around them, but he can't muster up the embarrassment to react.
Because Spike's mouth is open, held tilted at that perfect angle so Xander can fuck his mouth
the way he fucks that smooth, tight body, Spike already hard and arching against him, like he
knows what Xander's thinking. Maybe he does, because Xander has never had someone know him like this,
what he needs and what he wants before even Xander does - although contrary stubbornness
and the occasional desire to just be a shit means he won't always get it.
He doesn't know what he'd do, if he did start always getting what he wanted. He likes the chase almost as much as Spike enjoys being chased. And vice versa, not that Spike would ever admit to deliberately provoking Xander into saying things men just shouldn't say to each other.
When they finally break apart, they're both panting, Spike still molded to the front of him, foreheads touching, rubbing noses when they inhale too deeply. Both sets of eyes still open.
"Wow." Their own private peanut gallery has been silent up to now, Xander realizes, and maybe he should look at them. But Spike's still looking at him, and who needs words when they have this?
"Hm?" Spike responds, proving that he has more brain cells than Xander does, and should be kissed again to get rid of them. And now Spike's laughing at him, although no one else knows that, because they can't see the tiniest hint of green, ringed around the pupil like Xander does.
"That was. . . wow," Willow says again. "Um, do I have to remind you that Dawnie's here?"
Dawn's outraged, "Willow!" makes Spike grin wickedly and roll his forehead just enough that he can see the assembled audience.
"That enough, then?" Spike asks, supremely bored and casual. "Or will you be wanting more of a floor show?"
Dawn enthusiastically wants more, but she's known about them for weeks and believes Xander when he says its love. The rest of them. . . believe him now, too. But it wasn't the kiss that convinced them.