Poking through someone else's LJ in order to add a series of her snippets to my memories, I came across me teasing her with this, in the winter of 2001:
Xander on Spike. Stretched out on top of him on the floor, covering him completely. Sex? Maybe. Maybe hiding him from the sunlight, because the curtain rod just fell off the window, and it was the quickest thing. Every bit of Xander is just a little bit bigger than Spike. A little taller, a little wider. A little heavier -- or maybe a lot heavier, since Spike doesn't eat so good these days, and Xander's put on a few. Just enough to make him solid and heavy as he presses Spike into the floor at every contact point. Chest to chest, belly to belly, cocks trapped between them, just sliding a little bit, hips and thighs and Xander's knees on the outside of Spike's, but their feet and ankles twined and tangled, rubbing each other's toes. And Xander's arms cradling Spike's face. Shielding him, maybe, or framing him, or just holding off for one more second, to make it even better when he lowers his lips to Spike's wet, red mouth.
*nods* Them's the boys.
- Wow, oldness.