Con Onor Muore - Pirate Jokes - Sweat (1 drabble and two... drablets?)
Pirate Jokes
Spike/Wesley - PG
This was written for the "Special Hell Bus verse" at nekid_spike
.
"Perverted inarticulate harlots, the lot of them, if you want my opinion..." Spike goes off mumbling, still limping heavily from the bus ride to Hell. His duster is ripped in places, barely covering creamy naked flesh.
Wesley follows clumsily. He wishes he had more hands to keep his own ripped pants from disintegrating. Exhaustion doesn't even start to describe how he's feeling. He hardens though, at the flash of a bare butt.
"And did you hear their pirate JOKES?"
The vampire turns, tilts his head slightly and gives the watcher a weary, blaming look.
"Don't remind me, luv. Please."
Sweat
Spike/Lindsey - NC17
Yes, this has the "Special Hell Bus verse" stamp too...
"Seriously, Texas, you’re going home like that?”
Lindsey doesn’t need to hear that. He’s painfully aware that he’s 98% naked. His towel is probably still hanging on the harlot’s hat like a white terry flag. He's wearing her thong, but the silky crumb is more symbolic than anything. He has no idea where his own hat is. Last time he saw it... he shivers slightly.
“Do I have a choice?” he shrugs, as the elevator doors open.
The vampire slips in behind him. At least, Spike's been lucky enough to keep his duster, even if it reveals more than glimpses of bare ivory skin.
He can feel a few droplets of sweat pooling just above his upper lip, and the only tangible thought in his mind is that the world is just unfair.
“Could go back to my place, 's close. Might have a problem fitting in my shirts but it’s worth a try.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
He knows he sounds more petulant than he wants to. In a blur of black torn leather, Spike is now very close, his hands flat on the steel wall, framing him. He has this intolerable smirk.
“No Texas, 'm saying I’m slim.”
His loins tighten at the word, and at the feeling of this cool body pressed against his. He knows he’s going to sweat and he hates that.
“Depends where…” he finally manages to groan.
Spike grins again, and the cab stills when the vampire pushes the red button.
“Ever done it in an elevator, pet?”
He forgets his own name when the thick cock pounds into him, but he can still feel the sweat running down the back of his neck and he wishes he could ignore the hot red spots tainting his face.
Con onor muore
Characters: Spike/? - G - 100 words
I'm Italian... Opera is in my genes.
"Madama Butterfly" was at the Gershwin Theatre on Broadway. One night only. You didn't want to miss it, so we didn't. I knew I was going to cry, as always. When I heard the first notes of "Con onor muore..." I turned my head. This is when I noticed the two men in the private loge next to ours.
They were half hidden in the shadow, but I couldn't have mistaken the look of rapture on the blond man as the broader one behind him was caressing his neck.
He was looking at you the whole time. You never noticed.
Spike/Wesley - PG
This was written for the "Special Hell Bus verse" at nekid_spike
.
"Perverted inarticulate harlots, the lot of them, if you want my opinion..." Spike goes off mumbling, still limping heavily from the bus ride to Hell. His duster is ripped in places, barely covering creamy naked flesh.
Wesley follows clumsily. He wishes he had more hands to keep his own ripped pants from disintegrating. Exhaustion doesn't even start to describe how he's feeling. He hardens though, at the flash of a bare butt.
"And did you hear their pirate JOKES?"
The vampire turns, tilts his head slightly and gives the watcher a weary, blaming look.
"Don't remind me, luv. Please."
Sweat
Spike/Lindsey - NC17
Yes, this has the "Special Hell Bus verse" stamp too...
"Seriously, Texas, you’re going home like that?”
Lindsey doesn’t need to hear that. He’s painfully aware that he’s 98% naked. His towel is probably still hanging on the harlot’s hat like a white terry flag. He's wearing her thong, but the silky crumb is more symbolic than anything. He has no idea where his own hat is. Last time he saw it... he shivers slightly.
“Do I have a choice?” he shrugs, as the elevator doors open.
The vampire slips in behind him. At least, Spike's been lucky enough to keep his duster, even if it reveals more than glimpses of bare ivory skin.
He can feel a few droplets of sweat pooling just above his upper lip, and the only tangible thought in his mind is that the world is just unfair.
“Could go back to my place, 's close. Might have a problem fitting in my shirts but it’s worth a try.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
He knows he sounds more petulant than he wants to. In a blur of black torn leather, Spike is now very close, his hands flat on the steel wall, framing him. He has this intolerable smirk.
“No Texas, 'm saying I’m slim.”
His loins tighten at the word, and at the feeling of this cool body pressed against his. He knows he’s going to sweat and he hates that.
“Depends where…” he finally manages to groan.
Spike grins again, and the cab stills when the vampire pushes the red button.
“Ever done it in an elevator, pet?”
He forgets his own name when the thick cock pounds into him, but he can still feel the sweat running down the back of his neck and he wishes he could ignore the hot red spots tainting his face.
Con onor muore
Characters: Spike/? - G - 100 words
I'm Italian... Opera is in my genes.
"Madama Butterfly" was at the Gershwin Theatre on Broadway. One night only. You didn't want to miss it, so we didn't. I knew I was going to cry, as always. When I heard the first notes of "Con onor muore..." I turned my head. This is when I noticed the two men in the private loge next to ours.
They were half hidden in the shadow, but I couldn't have mistaken the look of rapture on the blond man as the broader one behind him was caressing his neck.
He was looking at you the whole time. You never noticed.