Drabble # 1
chlare wanted Spike/Simon, Simon finding out that Spike is a vampire and getting turned on. Or the word ripple. *rolls eyes*
Remember, be the first one to comment here and get a drabble tomorrow.
The wound is gone within minutes of him finally getting Spike to sit in the chair. A ripple of skin and it's just like it was never there. Like there hadn't been a three inch gash across Spike's arm.
Spike is already off the table, hands raised and Simon wonders if he really looks like he needs placating. He must, because he finds that he's jumped back, pressed himself to the counter.
"How..." his voice squeaks.
"Take it easy, pet."
"Are you an alien?" he asks carefully and can feel his face flushing red when Spike lets out snorted laughter. Spike is shaking his head, still amused and Simon glares at him.
"Not quite." Spike is quick, has Simon cornered against the counter, a spark of something that Simon has always put off as his imagination flashing in Spike's eyes when he'd seen it aimed his way before. Spike's hand splays over his chest and Simon almost forgets what he'd been so worried about a moment before.
"I can smell it coming off of you."
"You-"
"Want me."
Dull teeth scrape over Simon's neck and he can hardly deny what Spike's saying when he can feel his trousers getting tighter. He's not sure when he started clinging to Spike's shoulders but his fingers dig in when there's a sharp stinging prick against his neck.
"Spike."
Spike pulls back and Simon is left staring into yellow eyes. For an instant before Spike is turning to walk away, gone before Simon can think to react. Leaving Simon hard and panting, leaning against the counter for support.
Remember, be the first one to comment here and get a drabble tomorrow.
The wound is gone within minutes of him finally getting Spike to sit in the chair. A ripple of skin and it's just like it was never there. Like there hadn't been a three inch gash across Spike's arm.
Spike is already off the table, hands raised and Simon wonders if he really looks like he needs placating. He must, because he finds that he's jumped back, pressed himself to the counter.
"How..." his voice squeaks.
"Take it easy, pet."
"Are you an alien?" he asks carefully and can feel his face flushing red when Spike lets out snorted laughter. Spike is shaking his head, still amused and Simon glares at him.
"Not quite." Spike is quick, has Simon cornered against the counter, a spark of something that Simon has always put off as his imagination flashing in Spike's eyes when he'd seen it aimed his way before. Spike's hand splays over his chest and Simon almost forgets what he'd been so worried about a moment before.
"I can smell it coming off of you."
"You-"
"Want me."
Dull teeth scrape over Simon's neck and he can hardly deny what Spike's saying when he can feel his trousers getting tighter. He's not sure when he started clinging to Spike's shoulders but his fingers dig in when there's a sharp stinging prick against his neck.
"Spike."
Spike pulls back and Simon is left staring into yellow eyes. For an instant before Spike is turning to walk away, gone before Simon can think to react. Leaving Simon hard and panting, leaning against the counter for support.