The Perfect Smooch
Friday, September 1, 2000
Xander wondered if he broke Spike. It certainly did appear that way. He looked shell-shocked and he was swaying slightly. His grip on Xander's arms, however, was brutal, like he was
afraid to let go. But Xander wasn't any more sure-footed, himself.
Xander tilted his head and studied the man in front of him. Spike wasn't all that ugly. Even
though it looked like he'd been dipped in white paint, Xander could still see the strong lines of
Spike's cheekbones and the ridges and bumps of muscle carved into his lean body. The erection
trapped by the jeans Xander knew Spike put on, but he could see through with his X-ray vision, was
boringly normal except for the foreskin, which most American men lacked. All in all, Spike was an
eye-pleasing specimen of the humanoid male gender. And Spike sure did know
how to kiss.
"Hey, you home in there?" Xander eventually asked, rapping his knuckles on Spike's head.
Spike blinked rapidly and seemed to return to Earth. "Huh?"
Xander chuckled, the mood broken, and released Spike completely. "Get dressed. I've had enough of the beach."
Spike looked around and appeared startled to find that's where they were. "Oh. Right.
Xander wondered, as he finished dressing, if Spike had brain damage from drowning. He hoped not. He liked Spike just as he was. Not that Xander liked Spike. Really. Hadn't he had this conversation with himself already?
"Let's go for pizza," Xander suggested.
Whatever," Spike mumbled, seemingly lost again in his own world as he secured their bags to the Hawk.
Xander waited until Spike was seated snuggly behind him, the engine rumbling between his thighs, before giving in to what he already knew was the truth.
Xander really did like Spike.