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slashthedrabble2005-06-10 09:29 pm
ranga.livejournal.com) wrote in slashthedrabble2005-06-10 09:29 pm
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Gods, this is appropriate. My room is about 85 degrees now, and the sun's been down two hours. I've been sweating all day. Gotta love Chicago weather.
BtVs ficlet, 500 words
Pairing: S/X (already together)
Rating: R
Xander rubbed the glass of rapidly melting ice along his shoulder, trying to spread the cool condensation over as much of his neck as possible. The ice was almost gone now, but he couldn’t really bring himself to stand up to get more; the air, thick with humidity, pressed down on his chest when he tried to sit upright, and he slid a little further down on the deck chair, not even wincing when the cheap plastic straps stuck to his skin. The horizon was still glowing dull orange, the last of the sun’s rays melting into a line of golden fire that pooled down in between the hills around Sunnydale. Xander watched it with heavy-lidded eyes. Something about hot weather always made him so… tired.
A tiny breeze shifted the sweat-dampened curls of hair plastered to the nape of his neck, and he leaned towards it in hopes of catching more. Being outside was a vast an improvement on sitting in his un-air conditioned apartment, at least until he could work out how to climb into the refrigerator without asphyxiating. The quiet click of the door alerted him to another presence on the balcony, and he blinked slowly as the sound of bare feet stopped behind his chair. Without bothering to turn his head, he groaned, “Hey, Spike.”
A deep chuckle next to his ear confirmed his suspicions, and his mouth curved just slightly into a smile. Even grinning seemed like too much effort, now.
“Well, look at you,” he felt rather than heard Spike whisper next to his ear, “all hot and bothered. Feeling a little… warm?” The soft puff of breath was surprisingly cold, and he instinctively leaned towards it. There was a hand on his back, sliding up between his soaked undershirt and slick skin, and he arced lazily into the touch, feeling the slow burn of arousal creeping through his already overheated body. He moaned with half-hearted distress, reluctantly curling away from Spike’s touch.
“God, Spike… I’m too darn hot for this. Even if you don’t have body heat. Jesus…” The last was hissed with surprise at the icy touch of lips high on his cheek, much colder than they should have been. Just right. He finally turned to look at Spike, who was kneeling next to the long low lounge chair now, grinning up at him wickedly… with a mouth full of blue teeth. Xander frowned in confusion, his heat-fogged brain not making the connection until Spike held up the empty popsicle stick. Eyes widening as he followed the direction of Spike’s gaze, he wet his lips unconsciously. “Oh, Jesus fuck.”
“So, I’ll be gettin’ to work cooling you down, then.” Spike sounded almost absent as he settled between Xander’s legs, jerking open the cutoffs on his way. When his mouth plunged downwards, Xander’s head flew back so violently he almost cracked it on the aluminum frame of the chair. He panted openmouthed, gasping for words. “U-uh-huh, you do that…”
Yeah. Too darn hot.
BtVs ficlet, 500 words
Pairing: S/X (already together)
Rating: R
Xander rubbed the glass of rapidly melting ice along his shoulder, trying to spread the cool condensation over as much of his neck as possible. The ice was almost gone now, but he couldn’t really bring himself to stand up to get more; the air, thick with humidity, pressed down on his chest when he tried to sit upright, and he slid a little further down on the deck chair, not even wincing when the cheap plastic straps stuck to his skin. The horizon was still glowing dull orange, the last of the sun’s rays melting into a line of golden fire that pooled down in between the hills around Sunnydale. Xander watched it with heavy-lidded eyes. Something about hot weather always made him so… tired.
A tiny breeze shifted the sweat-dampened curls of hair plastered to the nape of his neck, and he leaned towards it in hopes of catching more. Being outside was a vast an improvement on sitting in his un-air conditioned apartment, at least until he could work out how to climb into the refrigerator without asphyxiating. The quiet click of the door alerted him to another presence on the balcony, and he blinked slowly as the sound of bare feet stopped behind his chair. Without bothering to turn his head, he groaned, “Hey, Spike.”
A deep chuckle next to his ear confirmed his suspicions, and his mouth curved just slightly into a smile. Even grinning seemed like too much effort, now.
“Well, look at you,” he felt rather than heard Spike whisper next to his ear, “all hot and bothered. Feeling a little… warm?” The soft puff of breath was surprisingly cold, and he instinctively leaned towards it. There was a hand on his back, sliding up between his soaked undershirt and slick skin, and he arced lazily into the touch, feeling the slow burn of arousal creeping through his already overheated body. He moaned with half-hearted distress, reluctantly curling away from Spike’s touch.
“God, Spike… I’m too darn hot for this. Even if you don’t have body heat. Jesus…” The last was hissed with surprise at the icy touch of lips high on his cheek, much colder than they should have been. Just right. He finally turned to look at Spike, who was kneeling next to the long low lounge chair now, grinning up at him wickedly… with a mouth full of blue teeth. Xander frowned in confusion, his heat-fogged brain not making the connection until Spike held up the empty popsicle stick. Eyes widening as he followed the direction of Spike’s gaze, he wet his lips unconsciously. “Oh, Jesus fuck.”
“So, I’ll be gettin’ to work cooling you down, then.” Spike sounded almost absent as he settled between Xander’s legs, jerking open the cutoffs on his way. When his mouth plunged downwards, Xander’s head flew back so violently he almost cracked it on the aluminum frame of the chair. He panted openmouthed, gasping for words. “U-uh-huh, you do that…”
Yeah. Too darn hot.
no subject
Delicious!
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Or it could just be the kind of thing people write when they're sweltering. I am DYING here. X.x I want a popsicle!Spike.
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*nodnodnodnodnodnodnodnod*
Me, two years ago: It's 85 degrees in the house/ The AC is on. Jaaaaaaaaaames, write S/X popsicle sex with meeeeeeee...
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Love it.
Fun fun fun.
:)
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I want a frozen Spikesicle too, dangit. Or even a melted Xanderpop. :D
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Yum, spike-sicles. They could make a killing selling those on the ice cream truck.
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a perfect little gem!
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