Whisper in a Dead Man's Ear

Spike lies on bed sheets, an unmoving sprawl of rubber limbs and slow-blinking eyes that stare sightlessly at the ceiling above. Even if he had the desire to move he would be unable to, pressed as he is into the bed under the comforting blanket of Angel's weight. Spike's body has become Angel's mattress but both share the one pillow; Angel's face turned so that his lips can breathe ardent words into an eager ear.

The only sound in the room is the beat of prose so filthy that Spike wonders whether Angel's breath has stained him blue. His head becomes filled with words and he sinks further and further into the mattress as his mind grows heavy with glorious wickedness. And when Spike's cock begins to throb in time with the pitch of voice, he moves his head to still Angel's mouth with his own, and returns all his words back to him in sighs and moans.