Touch
It all started with a touch, an accidental brush of skin against skin, but once started it was not something that could be stopped.
Hand against smooth forearm as the rope was tied in place.
He could not stop himself as his hand traveled upward, almost going into sensory overload just from the feel of the pale skin underneath his hand. It was totally unexpected and brought a small gasp from his lips as he reached the face. Looking deep into those blue eyes he did not see the revulsion he expected; instead was curiousity, and could it be? A hint of a dare?
Caressing lightly stubbled cheek he leaned in. This was better, this was electricity rushing through him, this was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He felt as if he was being driven by some primal force, wild and totally alien to him. Feeling something wet at his lips, he opened his mouth and felt himself being invaded. Cool tongue delving into the depths of his mouth, taunting his own tongue to come out and play. The taste was not something he had been expecting either; smoke and cloves, dark and compelling. He was breathing faster now; short, desperate breaths through his nose. This wonderful circuit was not something he ever wanted to lose.
The loose hand was now carding through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. The whole focus of his being was centered on those cool lips against his, that slowly warming tongue invading his mouth. The other pale hand came free with a snap of rope, its presence soon felt on the small of his back, pulling his body even closer. Soon he was straddling the man beneath him, feeling hardness even through their layers of clothes. The hand on his back was now pulling at his shirt; he knew what was being asked of him. Without having to think about it he raised his arms, and finally his head. The shirt was a blur flying across the room.
The hand was back in his hair, pulling him back into a fierce kiss. He offered no resistance; this was not something he could resist. The other hand was at work on his back, soft touches here and there driving his temperature slowly up. His own hands found flesh as he pulled the the shirt away from the lithe form beneath him. Not wanting to break the kiss he tore the shirt; he did not want any more barriers between him and his goal. His hands roamed freely up and down satiny skin, soft skin housing hard muscle and bone.
Finally breaking the kiss he let his tongue taste lower lip, and then stubbled jaw. Next came the soft spot right behind the ear. The hands were back, this time urging him downward. Slowly now down the graceful arch of neck, down shoulders tensed in anticipation down to a nipple that was already hard and waiting for him. The hands stopped their guidance and resumed their previous tasks. He sucked the nipple, exploring this new terrain with his tongue, sucking harder as the appreciative moans became louder. The hand was back, this time urging him to explore the other nipple. He did so, leaving a trail of wetness between them.
He had never been this hard in his life; his brain felt like it was disconnected, his body was in complete control of his actions––his body and those strong hands that were now urging him even further downwards. Sliding off the lap and onto his knees, hands automatically going to the belt buckle he pulled the leather tongue out of its loop and opened the belt. Next came the button and zipper. He could feel the hard bulge under his hands, waiting for him. Hands shaking a bit, he grabbed hold of the waistband of the jeans and pulled down, eyes feasting on newly exposed flesh. The cock was as hard as his own, but different; there was more skin here than what he was used to.
The tremors in his hands seemed to spread through his whole body, lodging in his chest. Reaching out with one hand, he touched the hardness in front of him. The extra skin gave easily, exposing a cock head just like his own. This he could handle. Lowering his head he brushed his lips against the pink head, breathing deeply, some part of him noted the scent of something dark and musky, along with a faint hint of cloves. His tongue slipped out, tasting the cock in front of him. He heard a gasp from above him, ; the hand was back, brushing through his hair, urging him on. Opening his mouth he took just the head in and circled his tongue around the loose folds of skin. Relaxing his throat he opened his mouth even wider, taking in as much of the cock as he could handle. The taste was something totally new; sharp and bitter, it brought him momentarily to his senses. Almost as if his partner knew this, both hands were now on his head, urging him on. There was also a message there; there was no going back from this point.
He could not take the cock very far into his mouth at first; he was not used to having anything like this. Taking his time, he was slowly able to take in more and more until he felt his nose brushing bristly pubic hair. Feeling light headed from lack of air he came up, panting hard, trying to recapture his breath. Looking up, he saw luminous blue eyes staring down at him; the was something wild there, like a beast had been unleashed. It was frightening.
"Don´t stop now,” The deep voice rumbled. With renewed vigor he went back to the task at hand. Wrapping one hand around the hard shaft, he pulled down on the foreskin, once more exposing the now red head. Pumping slowly with his hand, he lowered his mouth back onto the cock. Teasing first with his tongue, he once more allowed entry; opening wide he took in as much as he could and started in on a regular rhythm. The hands on his head echoed the rhythm, urging him on. The breathing above him was now becoming ragged; the fingers in his hair tightened and the hip his other hand was resting on began to raise up in time with his movements. Soon there was a harsh gasp and he felt his mouth filling with a salty, bitter substance. The hands on his head did not let up at all; he had no choice but to swallow. The hands held him there until the cock returned to its soft state.
The body in the chair then stood up. "This chair really isn´t working for me. I´m taking the bed; you can sleep in the chair if you want. Stay out of the bed though; I don´t share.”
His equilibrium returning in a rush, Xander closed his eyes, not believing what had just happened. He was still hard and aching, and he had been left there on the floor. There was no offer of any kind of return favor. Spike had gotten what he wanted.
He felt as if he had been used. Positions now changed, he pulled himself up into the chair. Covering himself with an old afghan, he turned his back to the bed. He did not want its occupant to see his shaking or his now tear–stained face.
The End
