The Twelve Days of Spander

Another Nine Minutes
by Werewindle
Notes

There were lips trailing up his leg.

Reverent kisses, wet stripes painted with a wicked tongue, playful nips of strong teeth edging ever closer to where he longed for them most.

His body held rigid in pleasure, vibrating in need, barely daring to move lest his lover disappear. Hands now; trailing up his thighs, soothing and massaging. They roamed over the back of one knee startling a choked laugh out of him. A bite to the join of hip and thigh, suckling a claiming mark brings a moan. Satisfied with the vivid mark his lover gives one more lick to the abused flesh and starts a series of sloppy open mouthed kisses to his groin.

His keening whine gets louder and more desperate as his lover moves inward. Nose nuzzling the hair there inhaling, scenting him, forever imprinting him on his lover’s soul. Fangs graze the skin blow and to the side of his navel drawing a shuddering gasp from him. Slowly just the tips piercing ever so gently in to the tanned flesh before retracting. Sipping from him savoring the drops, lapping the last of the blood: the punctures healing as if they had never been.

Vivid blue eyes peer up at him from behind dusty lashes a devouring look sending shivers down his spine. The barest breath over his erection has him bucking his hips. Desperate, on edge from his lover’s languid exploration. The sight of his lover’s sinful tongue flickering out to capture a pearly drop of pre-come had him straining against the hands holding his hips.

A slick finger brushed his opening, pressing in the slightest bit before withdrawing; again and again just the tip, like waves lapping at the shore. Tenderly his lover prepared him, one finger then two. That wondrous mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock distracting him from the burn of careful stretching.

He can’t help the cry of dismay when his lover’s mouth releases him. His lover moves over him laying in the cradle of his hips and thighs. He surges upward latching on to that beloved mouth, trying to relay just how much this man means to him. His hands scrabble at the pale skin over him mindless in his need.

Finally, *finally* he feels the blunt tip of his lover’s cock start to slide into him. There are no words for this, a hissed “Yessssssss” all he can get out through a pleasure fogged brain. His lover leans closer lips ghosting over his lobe growling “Mine!” as he --

“Six thirty in the morning
I’m in the middle of the sweetest dream
When I hear that clock calling me
I wrestle with the feeling
That the day’s starting way too soon
I hit the button just to buy a little time
To keep you in these arms of mine”

*groan* “Fuck!” That dream again. God, he was going nuts. Every morning that same dream and he could never seem to hold on to it long enough to get to the good part. If things kept going like this he wouldn’t be responsible for-

“Oi! Whelp! Shut that bleedin music off.”

A wicked thought skittles across Xander’s mind. He throws back the covers and jumps out of bed, careening out the bedroom door. “Oooh Spike!” *thump* “Harris! What the hell are - *mumph* ... Oh yeah right there.”

“For another nine minutes
Let the world stop
Steal a few moments from this old clock
’cause this is my dream and I want to stay in it
For another nine minutes
Let the world wait
Whose gonna care if we’re a little bit late
This is my dream and I want to stay in it”

~~~~~~~

A/N: The song lyrics are from Yankee Gray’s ‘Another Nine Minutes’ (hence the title).
They can be found in their entirety here: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/y/yankee-grey/148185.html