[Oh, that's better! Jack moans softly as those cool lips finally part and he's able to lick around the inside of them, still gentle and almost tentative, still kind of waiting for some sign from Spike - waiting for permission - before mashing their mouths together as he would if this were John. This isn't John, though, a fact that's brought home to him with every inhale and every swipe of his tongue because Spike smells and tastes different. Even if running a careful tongue over the shape of those teeth fails to reveal any fangs. He can't work out if he's disappointed or not by that.
When Spike's hand appears on his waist, he pauses for a moment, going still, mouth open and just breathing, fast and shallow and uneven, into Spike's mouth. Then his fingers tighten on hair unfamiliarly stiff with gel and he dives forward into the kiss, pressing against Spike and pulling Spike against him, no space between them at all.]