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Spike hadn't exactly had any woods to neck in, either, not that that was quite the same thing. He was mostly unconcerned about location, as it happened, and more concerned with the warmth of her bare skin against his hands, and under his mouth as he kissed down her neck, pulling one strap of her dress off her shoulder as he does so.
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Trees, he found, were convenient. Maybe not as nice as walls, but he'd do his best to take her mind off bark and such.
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She didn't really want to get dropped.
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Which pulls her from the tree a little, or at least her lower half, but he's got her, he's not dropping her.
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It really was. She whimpered, pressing her hips forward and digging her fingers into his back.
"Spike," she gasped.
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She dropped a hand to catch his wrist and tug his hand, not away from the fabric of her panties, but in a different direction, over the top of her thigh. For expediency and convenience's sake.
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His only concern about interruptions is the fact that it would involve, possibly, stopping long enough to tell them to go the hell away.
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He thinks he might be forgiven this, because he's kneeling as he does so to hitch up her dress and replace hand with mouth.
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"Ah- Spike-!" She'd thought the blush had been excessive when they were just clinched against the tree. That had been nothing compared to red she could feel burning in her cheeks now.
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Making that hard to maintain is fun, too.
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