After The Dance
Wesley was still shivering as
he slid into the steaming bath against Xander, pushing up close to his chest
like a cat seeking warmth, the shudders subsiding only slowly under warm touch
and warm water, poured and rubbed over his skin. Then, he started to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Once a year. Only once a bloody year will I freeze my bollocks off for your birthday pleasure."
Xander slouched down to take them both further into the water, and hid his grin against Wesley's hair where he could still smell the smoke-and-leaf scent of the night air in its waves. "Good thing. I like your bollocks where they are."
They were silent as Xander stretched out a leg and turned off the taps with his toes, leaving no sound but the faint lapping of water against the sides of the tub.
"But it was nice?" Wesley asked at last. He had abandoned his glasses in the bathroom's steam, and looked up at Xander with vaguely unfocused eyes that closed when warm lips brushed over their lids.
For an answer, Xander's hand slipped beneath the water with the soap and wrapped Wesley's cock in a loose, slick grip. "You only call that nice"
"Well, yes." Wesley arched into the touch, smiling when Xander trailed the soap over belly and thighs, letting him move Wesley as he wanted to in the warm water. "The naughty, after all, is for tonight. I did promise you a birthday spanking."
Xander hissed, and Wesley wriggled back against the hardness making itself known against his cleft, a smug smile on his face. "I imagine you'll like that rather a lot as well."
Twenty-six and one to grow on, the man says.
I stopped counting after the first thirty.
And jesus, nobody can deliver a good spanking quite like an Englishman.