Pairing: Spike/Wes. Spike POV.
Setting: Angel 5: Smile Time.
Disclaimer: All credit goes to Joss Whedon who owns the characters, and provides the inspiration.
Originally posted under the name Sottovoce07
Moon Over Santa Monica Bay
Some days it just doesn’t pay to wake up. Not that I’m complaining really. Thought I’d copped it for good a few months ago. Didn’t mind either. Tell you the truth, I was ready to draw it down for the last time. Seemed the right thing to do, with the Slayer throwing everything she had at the First. Couldn’t exactly stand by and let her go down with the rest of them. I was her champion, see? She chose me, so I didn’t really have any choice, did I?
What? Oh yeah. Just keep them coming until I say stop. Second thought. Just leave the bottle. Here. Keep the change.
WWF? Yeah, I watch it for a laugh sometimes, but that’s nothing to do with the fight I was in. For fuck’s sake, you got eyes in your head? Do I look as if I’d be caught dead in poncy tights and a mask?
Watch it, mate. The hair’s fine. It’s a look, okay? And my eyelashes are naturally dark. If I were you, I’d shut my cakehole. That is, if you prefer your knackers attached to your body. They don’t have to be you know. Okay, okay. I’m not getting excited. Just don’t like berks like you making comments about the hair. No, leave the JD. I’m not drunk. Not even half way, mate. Just a bad day.
Well, okay. It’s a long story, but the place is pretty dead. Guess you got the time.
Blew this guy, see? Oh for Christ’s sake, get a grip. Didn’t blow him away, you cretin. Blew him. Sucked his cock. What! Don’t pretend you’ve never gone down once in a while. From the look of those lips, I’d guess they’ve been humming a happy tune for more than a few Hamptons.
Shit, don’t you yanks know anything outside your own country? Rhyming slang. Hamptonwick. Prick…dick…? Fuck it, never mind.
Anyway, I was on my knees for this work mate. Well, no. Of course, it wasn’t at the office. Do I look as though I work at an office? It was in his shower.
Why was I in his shower? I wasn’t in his shower, you stupid git. I was…all right, all right, yeah, I did say I was in his shower, but I wasn’t. He was taking a shower and I walked through the wall. Okay, that probably does require some explanation. Right. Back to the Hellmouth.
Hellmouth? Oh buggering Christ. There are hellmouths, see? Where? All sorts of places. Cleveland. I don’t know why Cleveland. Just is. It’s sort of like New Zealand. No, not Lord of the Rings. This isn’t a movie. There really are hellmouths. It’s not some fantasy written by geeky blokes with way too many comic books and Startrek posters wallpapering their basements. Yeah, yeah, the first one was okay, but then it just got stupid. Old fat guys in corsets playing at space invaders. But that’s not what I’m talking about. New Zealand. The earth’s crust gets really thin there. Some of the thinnest spots on earth, apart from your actual volcano.
How do I know this stuff? I read. Just cos I’m dead sexy doesn’t mean I’m illiterate. National Geographic. You should try it some time, the reading. Start with the pictures and sound out the words. Tell your friends. If a few people in this country lifted a book once in a while, you might not be trying to explain your president to the rest of the world. Hey, no skin off my nose. You vote for whoever you want. Free country. And I have no interest in going back to where I came from. Could care less about politics.
Why the fuck am I talking about this shite. New Zealand. The earth’s crust is thin there. Well, in some places the earth is thin between here and Hell. That’s a hellmouth.
I don’t know if the FBI knows about it. Probably. CIA too. Who knows where those guys came from anyway. Did you ever see Men in Black? Yeah? Well, think about it. Matrix? Guys in suits. Firefly. Guys in suits and blue gloves. Aw, fuck. I don’t know what the blue gloves were about. Fuckwits at Fox canceled before we found out. Getting the pattern here? Men in suits? Never, ever trust them. Arseholes to the last man. Or last vampire. Yeah, there are vampires too. Bleeding hell, do you ever look around you, just once in a while? Okay, okay. Don’t shit yourself I was yanking your chain. There are no vampires. Just a Rice thing. Bitch making a whole wad of money from our lot. Um, southerners. Never mind. Just think she might try getting it right while she’s at it. I’m fed up with hack writers and their cliché vampires. Bunch of pansy arsed pretenders.
Where was I? And by the way, this bottle is done. Set me up, barkeep. Heh. Always wanted to say that. Oh c’mon. Do I look drunk? Watch. I can balance a peanut on my nose. Wait a sec. Okay, try this one. Shit. Can’t feel my nose. Can you see it? Doesn’t matter. I’m not driving. Or at least not right now. Lost the car. Who cares if I’m a bit…anyway, I’m not. I’ll drink you under the table any day.
So where was I? Well, you’re the one who's supposed to be keeping track. You’re the bartender…s’your job to listen. I’m the one who’s drinking. Can’t expect me to be paying attention to what I’m saying.
Hellmouth? What about a hellmouth. Oh yeah, right. So I was at the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. Yeah that one. The big earthquake. You bought that? Jesus Christ on a swizzle stick. You think an entire town is going to sink into a giant earthquake hole? For fuck’s sake. How stupid…no, no, m’not taking the mickey out of you. Yeah, could happen. ‘Cept in this case, it didn’t. There was an acopa…apocla…fuck…the world was going to end. Big battle. Helm’s Deep. Swarms of baddies coming up out of Hell like cockroaches. And I was the chosen one. Hey! I didn’t choose me. And anyway, why shouldn’t I be the champion? I may be compact, but I’m well muscled. You fucking wanker. I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face so fast you’ll think you…oh, okay. That’s better.
Yeah, I was the chosen one. Had a pendant thingy that did something with the sun. Or maybe soul. Not sure. Ever hold a magnifying glass over an ant hill? Yeah, kind of like that. Those fuckers were crisping and curling up all over the place. It was a blast, best time I’ve had in my life…sort of…’cept I was kind of busy burning up myself. Was funny though. Couldn’t help laughing as I went up like a torch. Always was too reckless for my own good. Or so one nancy boy dickhead seems to think. Can’t help myself.
You all right? You’re looking kind of pale. Okay for some, but not a good look on you. Hey! Don’t worry. I’m real. Here. Feel that? Oh, c’mon, it’s just a hand. I’m not going to bite…well, not now. Want to arm wrestle? Been working on my arms lately. I’ll put a twenty down and see who buys the next bottle. Okay, your loss. No worries, mate. I’m as solid as you are.
Oh yeah. But I wasn’t when I walked through that bloke’s bathroom wall. I died, didn’t I? On the Hellmouth. When I burned up, I…well, I’m not sure what exactly happened, but I was out of it for a while, and then I got sucked around in a big whirlpool kind of thing, and came to, standing in a desk. No, you git, not on a desk, in a desk. In an office. I was a ghost, see.
You can stop looking at me like that. S’what happened. Look, just humour me. You’re supposed to listen, not get all book critic on me. Stranger things have happened. Have you read the newspapers lately? So, I was stuck in this lawyers’ building. Couldn’t touch anything, eat, drink, jerk off. Shit, it was fucking awful. Oh, and I was getting sucked into Hell. But that got fixed. Tell you another time.
And I was just drifting around one night, floating about the empty offices, when I slipped through a wall—thought it lead to the company brothel…yeah, found it accidentally once and had a pretty good time there, watching them get it on. Amazing how many places demons can sport a cock, or several. There was this one--Fellatodemon—no that’s not his real name, just what I called him. Or her. Hard to tell. But it had a…thing…don’t know what to call it, but what he, she, it could do with that…thing…would fill an encyclopedia. I’ll tell you, I took some mental notes that night. Anyway, wasn’t the brothel I ended up in, it was the bathroom of this demon hunter fellow called Wesley. Wyndham-Pryce. Jesus. It’s my own country, but what a bunch of toffy-nosed pricks they are. ‘Cept this fellow…well, he turned out to be all right. Quite a bit more than all right. And he did have his prick out. It was the sweetest looking cock I’ve seen in a long time. Long, thick…um…well, very tasty looking. He was having quite a good time with it too. Wasn’t going to last very long at the rate he was going.
Honest to God, I couldn’t help myself. I let out this great groan. Shit. It had been so long since I got my rocks off, I went absolutely boneless, I wanted a piece of that cock so bad. But I was incorporeal. Fuck me. Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it. Nobody was going to be able to give me a good one in the state I was in. Nor me give any joy either.
Wesley got the shock of his life. He looked so funny, his hand on his dick, cheeks all flushed, hair wet and tousled. But hot. My God, I wanted to fuck him every way from Sunday he was so fucking hot. Wasn’t what was on his mind though. Got to give him props. He stood me down in no uncertain terms. Nothing like an angry upper class Englishman with a few crisp consonants to let you know what’s what. Accent works for them every time. But I’m not totally helpless, you know. Just gave him the full Spike treatment. Did the eyes thing, sucked in my cheeks, pouted the lips, put on a bit of swagger, rolled the hips. A poncy accent isn’t the only thing that works every time. No, I’m not full of myself. It works. Every. Time. Here, this is how it goes. Jeez, you really are a pushover. Back off buddy. It’s not for you. I’m talking here. Not finished my story. Maybe later.
I think maybe it was a bit of curiosity as well that got him. He an ex-Watcher… never mind…too complicated to explain…but they’re trained to be researchers, want to know how things work. And I was incorporeal—had no substance--so it was going to be a bit difficult to make anything happen. He was interested though. Can’t hide that under a towel.
So I talked him through it. I fucked him with my words…not fucked exactly, just gave him the best blow job he’d had in his life. And I was so turned on while it was happening, just wanted to suck, fuck, lick, come all over him. I’m telling you, he was...he is so fuckable. Like this part, mate? Looks like you’re ready for a little action yourself. Well, maybe later. I’ll think about it. Might be your lucky night.
Strangest thing happened. I was talking him through the action, and he was into it in a big way. Had his hand on his cock and just pumping it. Head back, neck curved and exposed—I like that--stomach muscles tight. He was ready to blow. It was so unbelievably hot watching him like that, his mouth pulled back in a grimace, blood pulsing in his neck veins. Don’t know if ghosts can come, you know, ejaculate, because something happened. I got so caught up in what we were doing, my words pouring out like honey from my mouth, and his cock huge and glistening, I just went for it. Dropped to my knees and took it into my mouth. Deep throated that sucker, filled my mouth and half way down my throat. And he came, and came, and came. I was swallowing as fast as I could, and it was still coming. So was I. Soaked the front of my jeans I came so much.
Don’t know how it happened, but I became corporeal while I was on my knees. Felt absolutely everything, tasted his come, that fucking wonderful salty, musky flavour on my tongue, the ridge at the head of his cock against my teeth, the pressure of the tip pushing against the back of my throat. It was all there. Just as good as I’ve ever had in my life. Better. It might have been the best single blow job in my entire life. And judging by his reaction, he had a pretty good time as well. If I thought he was fuckable before, you should have seen him after, his hair curling over his forehead, and that amazing smile on his face. Looked so relaxed and kind of glowing. He’s a serious fellow usually, but he was a different Wesley after I was done with him.
Man, I was so high after that. Best drug of all, that afterglow when you’ve just leaked your mind out your cock. So, gave him a kiss, think I did, maybe not. Meant to. But I was ready to rock ‘n roll. Just had to get out and see what I’d been missing. I was hungry for a start. Needed to get some of that good food down me, and some beers, and some good old putting the boots to whatever nasty thing I could find. Just get the blood flowing again. Or whatever. You get the idea.
That’s not to say that things got easy from then on in. Still had to contend with a tight fisted arsewipe of a…well, hard to say exactly what he is, but we go way back. Known him for yonks. And he’d turned up roses. Penthouse apartment, Armani, fleet of cars, and for fuck’s sake, otter blood for his elevenses. I mean, who gets otter’s blood? Pretty elite market. But, you sign up with the devil, you get perks. Don’t think I didn’t mention that, but the wanker didn’t want to know. And couldn’t abide me. It was always “Get out of here, Spike. Go away, Spike. I hate your guts, Spike.” Fuckwad. It was jealousy. Couldn’t stand it that I was the chosen one. Stupid berk thought he was the champion. Always had his head up his arse so far he was grinning out the other side. Not that you’d notice though. That man can brood with the worst of them. Got a soul? Deal. Get over it. Can’t bring them back.
But Wes. He was confused. I could see it in his eyes. No one else noticed. They all just saw the competent book man. Mr. Megabrains, with his dusty old volumes and incantations. Don’t know how they missed him. He was all cool reserve and impeccable manners. They had no idea what was underneath that calm exterior. But I knew and I felt it every time I was near him. Could smell it when I came into the room. Got me hard even when he wasn’t there. Just had to catch the scent in a room where he’d been, and I could hardly walk from the wood I’d get. Leather duster is handy sometimes. Covers a multitude of sins. Not that I really care, but the ladies talk. Gets irksome.
He didn’t exactly try to avoid me, but he didn’t seek me out either. In fact, when we were in the same room, he’d hardly look in my direction. I took to walking up behind him when he was talking to Angel…head up arse bloke, yeah…and just passing my hand over his ass on my way past. His voice never changed. Kept on talking in that clipped, careful way as if nothing happened. He was good. I give him that. So I’d try harder. When we’d pass in the corridor, I’d let my hand drop, casual like, just as we were drawing close,.and cup my hand over his cock. Give him a feel. And you know, it was usually hard. Always hard. Got me a nice handful each time. Wouldn’t meet my eyes though. Just a quick flick and then he’d be past. But I could smell him. And I wasn’t doing too well either. I’d have to duck into the nearest toilet and have a quick wank, just to be able to get on with my day. That man really began to grow on me.
I knew I was getting inside his head too. Even though he ignored me most of the time, kept everything strictly business, I could feel him thinking about me, watching when he thought I wasn’t looking. He’d stay late in his office, working over some translation, everything dark except for the glow of his lamp, and I’d come in as if I was looking for something. Poke about the books for a while, flick open a few pages, pretend I was reading. Then I’d ask him what he was translating, stand behind him and lean down as he pointed to phrases he was having trouble with. I know a few languages myself, things you pick up when you’ve traveled a bit, so sometimes I’d recognize words. I’d make sure I leaned close enough he could smell me, and press against his shoulder, not hiding that I was hard. He’d act as if he didn’t notice, but when he turned a page, he’d shift his shoulder a bit so as to brush against my cock. Which would just make it harder.
Played this game for quite a while, him pretending, me touching him whenever I could get a chance. It’s not like me to wait when I want something badly. Never did have any patience. But with Wesley, there was something so…I don’t know…stimulating, I guess about waiting for him to crack. Became a challenge to see if I could get him to break down one day, bend me over his desk and bugger me ‘til my eyes rolled back. Think I understand now what Angel’s thing was for nuns. Hidden under those layers of habit, hands folded as if they can’t be let loose for a moment, and eyes downcast. Englishmen are like that, or at least Englishmen from Wesley’s class. All cast iron good manners, sticks up arses, never crack those stiff upper lips long enough to get a finger through never mind a randy cock. And I tell you, I wanted my cock up his arse, in his mouth, in his earhole if it’d fit.
Wasn’t exactly easy for me. Not used to having to wait to get a leg over. I was beginning to spend so much time in the Gents jerking off that Fred…no, a she, head of the company science lab…she wanted to test me for bladder infection. Had to point out that I didn’t get that sort of thing…doesn’t matter, I just don’t. She wouldn’t let up so I told her what I was really doing in there so much. That shut her up. She backed off and became terribly interested in whatever was down her microscope. Pinked up nicely though. Cute kid. I like her.
The wanking wasn’t doing if for me though, and have to say, I’m ashamed of the next bit. Nah, who am I kidding. Not ashamed. Just didn’t work out as planned. See, there was this former squeeze of mine working as Angel’s PA. I’d been walking around with a boner the size of…doesn’t matter. It was hard. Could’ve cracked concrete with it. I’d bumped into Wesley in the stairwell coming back from the gym. He was a bit breathless and sweaty. Hair all rumpled. I could see he’d been working the arms. They were pumped, blue veins threading their way down his forearm looking…well I just wanted to lick them, lick him. I might have been okay, except as he approached me, he raised his arm to his hair to brush it out of his eyes, and his sweatshirt rode up. Stopped me dead. Just caught a glimpse, a flash of that tight belly with the line of hair leading my eyes down to the tuft of hair peeking slightly out of the waist of his sweats. All I could think was giving those pants a quick pull and diving at the cock. Or flipping him over on the stairs and plunging in, riding him until he begged me for more.
He saw me freeze, and I guess my face looked pretty strange because he stopped too and looked into my eyes directly for the first time since his bathroom. I’m telling you, it sent a bolt of pure lust straight to my cock. Like I said, could have drilled cement with the horn I got. I have no earthly idea why I didn’t make my move. Got lost in the eyes. They were so confused, guarded, and yet there was more going on. His pupils flared as I watched him. Saw them open up until the blue was almost gone, and then I was hit by the scent. Pure unadulterated human male. It was intoxicating. I couldn’t help it. I leaned forward to the crook of his neck and inhaled him. Filled my nostrils with the smell of his body--hot, rich, musky, with the trace of soap rising from his skin. And I guess he got startled because he put a hand on my chest and pushed me back. Not hard, not as if he was angry or anything like that. Just as if he wanted me to back off. So I did. I stepped aside and let him pass. Watched him as he climbed the stairs to his floor. He made it to the door before he turned back to look at me. And then he was gone.
What’s that got to do with Angel’s secretary? Oh right, yeah. Forgot what I was leading up to. Well, I jumped her. I was walking through the lobby on my way to the Gents…again…and there she was, standing all pink and pretty in my way. Any port in a storm, mate, and I’d visited this one before. Gave her the old too sexy for my shirt look, and before she was finished blustering, I had her on top of a desk in the nearest office and beginning docking maneuvers. Honestly would have made it too except she began to bleed from the eyes. Makes a fellow pause when the eyes drip just as you’re getting really friendly, and I’m not one for niceties. But that was just long enough for her to throw me off. Went downhill from there, and needless to say, I did not get my rocks off. It was back to the Gents.
Well, that was it for coy seductions. I was going to have Wes if it was the last thing I did. And luckily an opportunity came up tonight. He got a client call while I was in the office. Bloke wanted to meet to discuss some deal that was going down somewhere near the marina. That was it. I offered to drive and Wes accepted. Perfect. Him and me, some good CDs playing, few sips from my flask, and any number of nice dark warehouses to park beside. Not sure whether Wes was on to my plan, but he didn’t hesitate before taking up my offer.
And things played out exactly as I was hoping. Took the long way to the pier to give me lots of time alone with him, offered a drink which he wouldn’t take. On business. Needed a clear mind. So I had a few instead. But the music was starting to do the job. I could feel him relax, getting into it as we drove through the dark. His hand was lying between us on the console, beating out the rhythm during the most amazing guitar solo just wailing away. I could feel him watching me in quick sideways glances, but when I looked back, he stared ahead as if he was concentrating on the road. I started to brush his hand every time I shifted gears, one time even pretending I had missed the stick and accidentally put my hand over his. He let it lie there for a moment, and then drew his back as if he needed to smooth down the fabric of his jeans over his thigh. But I could smell his arousal again. It began coming off him so thick it was filling the air in the car. And of course I was so hard I was just about coming from the friction of my zipper over my cock every time I shifted. I would have given anything to just take his hand and place it where it needed to be. But I didn’t. I wanted him to want me as badly as I wanted him. Jesus, just listen to me. Where the fuck did all this girly romance come from? I was never like this before. Wanted the man though. But he had to make the first move.
Finally, I had to bring it to a head. So to speak. I pulled up at a boat ramp near the marina and said I was lost. What was the address we were looking for. Of course, Wes was prepared for every contingency, especially if it involved research. Fumbled in his bag on the floor and came up holding an LA city map in his hand. All right! So, there we were, heads together, poring over the map, me pretending I couldn’t quite locate where we were, Wes’s finger tracing the streets we’d traveled up to this spot. And somehow, my hand got tangled in his as I was following where his finger was leading, and next thing we were kissing like horny teenagers. Fuck me, how that man can kiss. That thing I said about stiff lipped Englishmen? Bull. Shit. The rest might be like that, but Wes did things with his mouth that had me squirming in my seat, wanting to crawl all over him.
So I was kind of surprised when he pushed me firmly back in my seat, and unzipped my jeans. All right Wesley! Now we’re cooking with gas. And next thing I knew, praise be to all things on earth and in heaven above, he was swallowing my cock as if he’d been to the manner born. Sorry. Bad pun. It was a pun, all right? Shit. Wasted on this crowd. Anyway, I’d been waiting so long for this moment that I was afraid it’d be over before he got his rhythm going. Guess he sensed it because he pulled up to the top of my cock and just held it in his mouth, little licks of his tongue around the tip, nothing that was going to bring me off, but fuck it felt good. And his hand dug into my jeans to fondle my balls, just easing them round on the palm of his hand, rubbing them slowly. Honestly, I fell in love with the man right there. He was so into it, and damn he was good. Who knew? You’d never be able to tell by just looking at him. Mind you, I did have a bit of an idea from our famously hot time in his bathroom. Well, it was famous in my mind anyway. Just never quite got over how hot it had been. And all to the good. It had lead direct…uh, let me rephrase that…not so direct, but it lead to this fucking awesome, I can’t get enough of this and I love you Wes, moment.
Once he sensed I’d settled down a bit, he went back to sucking with a fine, fine intensity that I think I will appreciate for the rest of my life when I’m jerking off to the memory. He did it all, and I was so ridiculously grateful. He pulled my jeans down so he could reach my balls better, and held them in his hand, teasing each one round with his fingertips, holding them in his palm and working them gently and then hard. While he was doing that with one hand, the other had my cock by the shaft and stroked as he sucked on the head, lightly rubbing his teeth against the ridge, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit, pressing the flat of this tongue against the sides of my cock and stroking up as his hand continued to pump.
Then he hummed. Just vibrated around my cock, and that was it. I arched up into his mouth and let go, come pulsing out of my cock like it would never stop. I lost control of my hips, kept thrusting up into his mouth until the waves of orgasm finally subsided and I was able to collapse back into the seat in a boneless heap.
Man oh man. It was worth waiting for. When I was finally able to focus my eyes again. I looked over at Wesley. He was still licking his lips a little, cleaning up the last traces of me. Fuck. He looked so sexy, I leaned over and kissed him hard, sliding my tongue over his lips to taste myself, and plunging into his mouth to catch what was in there too. His tongue met mine, and we kissed each other as if we were never going to get another chance, our teeth scraping against our lips, and tongues meeting and stroking, sucking at each other.
He was still as hard as a rock, his hips moving against me as I pressed as much of my body as I could against him. He mumbled something under my mouth so I pulled back. Want to fuck you. Sit on me. Well, I don’t need a formal invitation. I wriggled out of my boots and jeans in a second and twisted round to kneel over him. His cock was out and standing proud against the folded back denim at his zipper, dark hair curling at its base. He was fumbling in his bag again, head pressed against my belly as I waited, my cock starting to rise, sliding against his cheek. Finally, he pulled up, holding a tube of vaseline in his hand. What? I get dry lips. This said, slightly embarrassed after I raised an eyebrow in his direction. Uh huh. Whatever. And then he was coating his cock and fingers, and entering me, opening me up, moving his fingers deeper, rotating them until I was ready. It was fucking brilliant. I’d waited for this man for weeks, and it was just about to happen. He pulled his fingers out, and I began to sink down, the head of his cock stretching my hole, and then in one long, heaven and angels I am born again slide, I was full of him. And it was downright fucking perfect.
For about half a minute.
I had just kneeled up to begin pushing down again when my knee caught the hand brake. One moment, I was at heaven’s gate; the next, we were on the move. Wesley’s head came up, eyes wide. What’s happening? We both looked out the window at the same time to see the lights of a moored boat beginning to slide past. The brake! Pull the brake up, Wesley shouted as the car began to gather speed down the ramp. Fuck fuck fuck. I was arse upwards trying to free my legs enough to shift into a position where I could reach anything, and Wesley was shoving at me, trying to get at the brake himself. We were all knees and elbows and knocking heads and muttered curses. The car was in full motion, sliding silently toward the water, and then splash, it was in. The both of us froze, eyes locked, my arse pressed against the windshield, heheh, my moon over Santa Monica Bay. And then we began to laugh. Howled, wheezed, choked with hysterics as the car floated gently out into the water, and began to sink.
Aw fuck, Wes, I said. I was so ready for this. No, not this…water was beginning to seep in the door frame…ready for you to fuck me. I’m pretty sure my voice came out in a small wail. And Wesley’s eyes crinkled as he grinned at me. We’ll do it, he said. Just not quite yet.
Then it was quick kiss for good luck and Abandon Ship. I had just enough time to get my jeans back on and we were off, swimming back to shore, leaving Angel’s car settling into the water like a dignified old queen. Just like its owner. ‘Cept for the dignified part.
Wesley called a cab and went home. I was too pissed off to sleep, so came here. Thought I’d drown my sorrows, get properly bolloxed before I go back.
Come to your place to dry off? Thanks for the offer, mate. Think I’ll give it a pass. Not saying you’re not quite the tasty number, luv, but I’ve got my sights set. And maybe it’s time I pushed off. If I hurry back, I might be in time to catch a shower with a special fellow. Counting on it.
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