The windows are nearly so foggy the curving road ahead almost disappears. He doesn't mind much, it's midnight in Middle America, there won't be anyone coming. The fog isn't the reason he can't concentrate, it's more the constant groans coming from his erstwhile traveling companion, the seat trembles beneath him as he clenches his ass and thrusts into the throat that devours him. Waiting out pauses for breath, encouraging mumblings pushing Angel ever-towards that blissful oblivion that comes so rarely now.
His ears fill with Spike's trademark cursing and fast-beating heart. His skin so hot to the touch that Angel wonders how the windows don't drip from the steam he imagines coming from his cock as they drive on. No destination, no goal other than freedom, this is all that matters now. Matted hair, brown roots growing through plasticine blond, softer than expected against his stomach as his shirt rises and hot breath curls over his skin, sending goosebumps up chest and arms. Angel urges his lover on, airless gasp on his tongue as he anticipates an explosion.
It's a nice fantasy, and for the thousandth time, Angel stares at the empty seat beside him and wishes it were true.
His ears fill with Spike's trademark cursing and fast-beating heart. His skin so hot to the touch that Angel wonders how the windows don't drip from the steam he imagines coming from his cock as they drive on. No destination, no goal other than freedom, this is all that matters now. Matted hair, brown roots growing through plasticine blond, softer than expected against his stomach as his shirt rises and hot breath curls over his skin, sending goosebumps up chest and arms. Angel urges his lover on, airless gasp on his tongue as he anticipates an explosion.
It's a nice fantasy, and for the thousandth time, Angel stares at the empty seat beside him and wishes it were true.
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