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Xander pulled the quilt to his chin, staring at the ceiling and grinning like a fool. The room was dimly lit with candles, the heavy smell of beeswax like dew settling on him. The air was chilly this night, even for January, and quickly he felt Spike’s strong body mold into his, flesh and crevice meeting, cold body slowly warming.
“Wha’chya thinking, pet?” Spike asked, his voice husky and hoarse. He trailed one pale finger along Xander’s exposed forearm.
“You. Me. Us.” Xander gestured, putting his arm around Spike and holding him tight against his too-warm body.
His smile deepened.
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IconSQUEEEEEEEEEEE!!
:)
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