Eaten by Weasels (eatenbyweasels) wrote in ebw_buffyslash, @ 2008-03-22 16:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | 15, 500 words and under, humour, spike/angel/wesley |
2 Drabbles: Fuck a l'Orange/Sunburn. Wes/Spike/Angel. 15
The first one's the hurt, the second is the comfort. Rated "ow!" for bizarre use of oranges....
Fuck a l'Orange
" I'd sooner shove them up my arse!" Flamin' ingrate! Picked 'em out special; full of vitamin C, 'cos you've got to look after humans, or they fill up with snot or drop dead. So Percy hates oranges? Well, I hate letting good food go to waste. Sooo...
Good length of string, canvas needle, sturdy knots; just the job. Twenty minutes of screaming to get all six of 'em up there. Nothing on the noise he'll make when Angel pulls 'em out in one big tug. Serves the rude little bastard right for giving me ideas. He's just lucky I didn't buy grapefruit…...
Sunburn
Petulent over the orange incident, I had put the sun between us; gloated, lay naked in the kiss of rays that fry my kind but slowly. Not slowly enough for my pale English hide.
Spike curses in Anglo-Saxon, as the cold shower pelts him to a shiver. Slipping silently into bed, he spoons up behind me. Back, buttocks, legs; each contact a shock and relief to my blistering skin. I sigh into his touch; he, wrestling his nature, keeps himself very nearly still.
"Any better, pet?" A whisper rough-hewn as the tenderness it betrays.
He cares. The dead, unmitigated fool really cares.