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Jan. 19th, 2003 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sam_gamgeeOkay - so not an update perse, but I had to share this.
Quickie disclaimer: I'm not a Spike/Xander shipper. I highly doubt that I ever will be. Not that I don't like the two of them together, it's just that most of the fic that I've found is not up to my standards.
With that said, I'm reading a really kick ass, awesome S/X story set about 6 or 7 years after the end of Season 6 - "Repossession" by Lazuli. I highly recommend it. And I don't know why, but I love these two paragraphs from part 20:
"As Xander spoke Spike zoned out, sick of hearing about William and his place in their life. He sat in silence, contentedly fell back into playing with the chain, and treated himself to a good look at his lover. My lover. Mine. He’s mine, Xander’s actually mine. Hair: dark and silky, maybe a few grey strands at the temples, probably would’ve been cut by now if William hadn’t appeared and turned his life upside-down, but Spike approved, had always liked it longer and tousled. The handsome face… Mine. …showed the stress that he’d lived with recently, eyes like luscious pools of melted chocolate but tired, so tired, however much sleep he got. Almost angular shape to the brow, and the eyebrows peaked to emphasise the angles. Spike loved the look, the shapes. Permanent five-o-clock shadow, and that was something else Spike loved: the thought of that stubble dragging across his skin made him tingle. Tempting mouth… Mine. …with a natural quirk that made him look like he was always ready to smile: the boy had lived up to the look, but a smile was often too much of an effort for the man. Tiny diamond stud in his left earlobe, virtually invisible until the light caught it. Strong, well-toned body. Mine, mine, MINE. Spike veered away from that direction, feeling his cock stir at the mental picture of his beautiful man, stripped down and…
"Clothes, Xander’s clothes, yes, stylish, covering the great body. White t-shirt beneath a brown moleskin shirt. Slate grey jeans, cut to fit well but not to blatantly advertise the goods. Suede belt, so dark a brown it was almost black; the buckle was rectangular, fake-aged bronze and had writing that was almost unreadable. Spike squinted – grateful that William had been far as opposed to near-sighted – read, smiled: ‘Advertise here’. Following the well-shaped legs to the feet, the boots were dark grey leather, expensive, almost square-toed; the quirkily-fashioned heels added a good two inches to Xander’s height. Spike knew where the boots ended, just above the ankle, and he wanted to touch. Feel Xander, a part of Xander that no-one else would bother to stroke and love and claim. Gesticulating as he explained something, Xander’s hands drew Spike’s gaze. Hold Xander’s hands… Mine. …and they felt hard, tough, like he still made window frames and cabinets every day, but they could be so gentle and so tender…"
Quickie disclaimer: I'm not a Spike/Xander shipper. I highly doubt that I ever will be. Not that I don't like the two of them together, it's just that most of the fic that I've found is not up to my standards.
With that said, I'm reading a really kick ass, awesome S/X story set about 6 or 7 years after the end of Season 6 - "Repossession" by Lazuli. I highly recommend it. And I don't know why, but I love these two paragraphs from part 20:
"As Xander spoke Spike zoned out, sick of hearing about William and his place in their life. He sat in silence, contentedly fell back into playing with the chain, and treated himself to a good look at his lover. My lover. Mine. He’s mine, Xander’s actually mine. Hair: dark and silky, maybe a few grey strands at the temples, probably would’ve been cut by now if William hadn’t appeared and turned his life upside-down, but Spike approved, had always liked it longer and tousled. The handsome face… Mine. …showed the stress that he’d lived with recently, eyes like luscious pools of melted chocolate but tired, so tired, however much sleep he got. Almost angular shape to the brow, and the eyebrows peaked to emphasise the angles. Spike loved the look, the shapes. Permanent five-o-clock shadow, and that was something else Spike loved: the thought of that stubble dragging across his skin made him tingle. Tempting mouth… Mine. …with a natural quirk that made him look like he was always ready to smile: the boy had lived up to the look, but a smile was often too much of an effort for the man. Tiny diamond stud in his left earlobe, virtually invisible until the light caught it. Strong, well-toned body. Mine, mine, MINE. Spike veered away from that direction, feeling his cock stir at the mental picture of his beautiful man, stripped down and…
"Clothes, Xander’s clothes, yes, stylish, covering the great body. White t-shirt beneath a brown moleskin shirt. Slate grey jeans, cut to fit well but not to blatantly advertise the goods. Suede belt, so dark a brown it was almost black; the buckle was rectangular, fake-aged bronze and had writing that was almost unreadable. Spike squinted – grateful that William had been far as opposed to near-sighted – read, smiled: ‘Advertise here’. Following the well-shaped legs to the feet, the boots were dark grey leather, expensive, almost square-toed; the quirkily-fashioned heels added a good two inches to Xander’s height. Spike knew where the boots ended, just above the ankle, and he wanted to touch. Feel Xander, a part of Xander that no-one else would bother to stroke and love and claim. Gesticulating as he explained something, Xander’s hands drew Spike’s gaze. Hold Xander’s hands… Mine. …and they felt hard, tough, like he still made window frames and cabinets every day, but they could be so gentle and so tender…"
