A/N: Yes. Threesome. I believe, dammit.
"Neon Jazz"
Julia quietly closed the door behind her. She locked it, and then turned.
Light from the streetlamps filtered through the windows, casting the dark room in a yellow-grey glow, while the neon shot red and blue darts through the shadows. It was another midnight entrance, and Julia could feel her way around by heart. She shrugged off her leather jacket and hung it on the rack. Next to it hung a blue double-breasted jacket and a black tailed coat. One of the tassels hanging off the black coat shook slightly as a musician in the bar below enthusiastically hit a loud note.
Julia made her way across the room to a half-open door. She slid through it and then closed this door behind her as well. It was better lit in here; a bright sign shone from right across the street.
She could see the two in bed, naked bodies tangled in the sheets. Spike lay with his arm flung over Vicious's waist, and every so often he snored faintly, an accent to the lively jazz from underneath. Next to him, Vicious lay on his back, eyes closed. Julia had the suspicion that, unlike Spike, Vicious was quite awake.
Her suspicion was confirmed when he slowly opened one eye, and then opened the other. The light made his white hair gleam. The white-haired devil, they called him. With his half-slitted eyes, he looked like one. Next to him, Spike with his green-black mop and and sleepy face resembled nothing less than a snoozing dragon. It was appropriate.
"Good evening, Vicious," Julia said softly. He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible incline of his head.
She walked over and sat in a chair by the bed. She pulled off her shoes and socks, massaging the bottoms of her feet. She then shed her pants, folding them neatly on the back of the chair, and her shirt and bra. She was about to put on a tank top when she felt Vicious's arm slip around her waist.
Julia looked down at him. His face was cast in shadow, and the same shadows covered his body, defining every sleek muscle and tendon. She moved, crawling into bed, and he held her close. She lay on top of him, cupping his face in her hands. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
Spike shifted next to them, leaving a small space between himself and Vicious. Julia slid off Vicious, curling up between the two. Vicious kept her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder. Behind her, Spike shifted again, unconsciously pressing up against her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
Next to her face, Vicious's hair floated on the pillow, heavy white silk on cheap cotton. She ran her hand through it, laying her palm on Vicious's chest.
From under the apartment, the sound of jazz came from the bar, and the lights outside buzzed. Julia closed her eyes. Spike and Vicious's breathing mingled with the jazz, a soft undertone to the rippling saxophone and drums like heartbeats.
"Neon Jazz"
Julia quietly closed the door behind her. She locked it, and then turned.
Light from the streetlamps filtered through the windows, casting the dark room in a yellow-grey glow, while the neon shot red and blue darts through the shadows. It was another midnight entrance, and Julia could feel her way around by heart. She shrugged off her leather jacket and hung it on the rack. Next to it hung a blue double-breasted jacket and a black tailed coat. One of the tassels hanging off the black coat shook slightly as a musician in the bar below enthusiastically hit a loud note.
Julia made her way across the room to a half-open door. She slid through it and then closed this door behind her as well. It was better lit in here; a bright sign shone from right across the street.
She could see the two in bed, naked bodies tangled in the sheets. Spike lay with his arm flung over Vicious's waist, and every so often he snored faintly, an accent to the lively jazz from underneath. Next to him, Vicious lay on his back, eyes closed. Julia had the suspicion that, unlike Spike, Vicious was quite awake.
Her suspicion was confirmed when he slowly opened one eye, and then opened the other. The light made his white hair gleam. The white-haired devil, they called him. With his half-slitted eyes, he looked like one. Next to him, Spike with his green-black mop and and sleepy face resembled nothing less than a snoozing dragon. It was appropriate.
"Good evening, Vicious," Julia said softly. He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible incline of his head.
She walked over and sat in a chair by the bed. She pulled off her shoes and socks, massaging the bottoms of her feet. She then shed her pants, folding them neatly on the back of the chair, and her shirt and bra. She was about to put on a tank top when she felt Vicious's arm slip around her waist.
Julia looked down at him. His face was cast in shadow, and the same shadows covered his body, defining every sleek muscle and tendon. She moved, crawling into bed, and he held her close. She lay on top of him, cupping his face in her hands. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
Spike shifted next to them, leaving a small space between himself and Vicious. Julia slid off Vicious, curling up between the two. Vicious kept her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder. Behind her, Spike shifted again, unconsciously pressing up against her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
Next to her face, Vicious's hair floated on the pillow, heavy white silk on cheap cotton. She ran her hand through it, laying her palm on Vicious's chest.
From under the apartment, the sound of jazz came from the bar, and the lights outside buzzed. Julia closed her eyes. Spike and Vicious's breathing mingled with the jazz, a soft undertone to the rippling saxophone and drums like heartbeats.