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Chapter 3
It was just as Spike had described: small, puckered, and enticing. Why did he want to lick there? It seemed so strange that he should, but he did it anyway, groaning faintly at the feel of that uneven skin under his sensitive tongue. Spike was trying to skitter further up the bed away from his tongue, but Giles held onto his thighs, only raising them higher and giving himself better access. He nuzzled slightly higher for a moment, intrigued by the softness of the sac, its swinging vulnerability… but this was not what was supposed to be happening. Where were the anger and the violence that Spike had wanted? They had ruined his holiday. They had ruined his last-ditch attempt to do what he needed to do, giving life to lifeless spaces on gloomy walls; so let them ruin the vampire's day, too. Giles bit into the soft skin and felt the balls recoil beneath his teeth. Spike made a noise, a muffled scream, and Giles looked up at the sound, then down. Nothing. He was still soft. Fury began to grow again. It was Spike's fault somehow, and Giles wanted him to pay. He felt rather dizzy and sick, though, as the effects of the alcohol began to recede, and the after effects kicked in: pounding heart, rancid stomach, biliousness that made him wince, and a hideous, raging thirst.
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