This was written in response to a challenge Wisteria made on her LJ. It's smut but not. Which will make sense once you've read it. I've put the challenge at the end.
And Spike still doesn't belong to me. Dammit.
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Anticipation
"Oh yeah, been waiting for you. God, so sweet, so hot. Mmmmm."
Spike caresses the smooth, perspiring sides. Strokes the curves and takes a tighter hold. Drops his lips to wrap around the opening and lets his tongue slip out. Just a taste.
"Fuck, baby, that burns. So good."
Flicks his tongue back into his mouth as he breathes out. Once. Twice. Three times. That should do it. Watches as the golden surface ripples. The anticipation is almost too much.
It's time. Spike dips it in, just past the edge, feels it moisten. Just a little bit further, got to get the moment just right. And out again. That's the way. He leans back to savour it.
And then another taste. Lets the liquid slip over his tongue. Honey on fire. Goes right down to his soul.
Giles was right. There's nothing quite like a cuppa and a digestive biscuit.
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The challenge was entitled 'Make Smut Not War' and required 150 words about Spike and an inanimate object. Short and sweet, kinda.