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Title: Holiday Fic-card
Author: Ladycat
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At Christmas time, Ethan and Spike exchange gifts.
They match in odd ways. He's more sensitive, but less thorough. Not as crafty, maybe, but has the brute physical strength to do what his lover cannot, and more contacts beside.
And that's just mentally. Physically. . . Spike glances down their intertwined bodies, smiling. He's a little stockier, maybe, and shorter, but otherwise they've both got that long, saturnine grace that only good Englishmen can possess. When it's not all gone to flab, anyway - something Spike's lover never has to worry about. Spike sees to that.
"You're thinking."
"Wheels creaking as they turn, are they?"
"Oh, no, love." Ethan's hand comes up to run over Spike's face, thumb resting between Spike's brows. "You get this little line, right here. I think it makes you look dashing."
"When you aren't wondering just what it is I'm plotting, of course."
"Oh, of course." Ethan sits up, reaching for the brocade robe he wears despite Spike's repeated entreaties to wear something less blinding. "Let's hear it, then, shall we? What delightfully devious idea have you concocted now?"
There's no love between them. Sex, certainly, and a great deal of shared enthusiasm for making people's lives miserable. There is affection, though. Ethan's last partner - real partner, not just bedmate - was Ripper, as far as Spike can tell, and the man is glad to have the company. Glad enough that he submits to Spike's rules. The soul is still there, after all, and while he's convinced it that mayhem isn't necessarily a bad thing, there are lines he can't cross.
Spike rolls onto his stomach, watching the way Ethan's arse moves under the hideous gold and green. If only it was one of those colors. . . "Have you ever wanted to dress up as Santa?"
"And buy in to that saccharin American ideal? Hardly." He pauses, then, half turning back. "Why?"
His grin is toothy and cruel, the one Ethan loves best. "He's making a list, he's checking it twice, he's gonna find out who's naughty or nice," Spike sings softly, watching an answering grin appear. "I've got me a list. Wanna know who's on it?"
Returning to the bed, Ethan leans down for a long, slow kiss. Then he bites Spike's lower lip, hard enough to make it split. "You're far too orderly for me, lover. But I bet you've got something positively terrible to do to all those naughty boys and girls."
Spike yanks him down for another kiss. "When have I ever not? Happy Christmas, love."
"Hm. Doesn't have quite the ring to it. I'll think of something better soon enough. Now, about those naughty presents. . ."
Spike tugs even harder until Ethan's spilled out across the bed beside him. "I think those gifts can wait. I've been a very naughty boy. You ought to start with me."
Ethan's smile could've graced a vampire's fang-filled mouth. "Really? Well, so long as I get something out of it." His laughter changes to a groan as Spike's fingers find his cock, squeezing it gently. "I suppose you'll want me to say something like you're the best christmas present I've ever had."
Spike snorts. "Unless you're saying more and harder, love, I think I may have to break out a christmas gift early. I'll give you a hint. It's red and rubber and it's got these delightfully long black straps attached to it." Ethan gasps, cock rising as he's rolled onto his back. He doesn't bottom for Spike often, but when he does. . . oh yes. This is a very good Christmas.