It was Spike's mouth that explored every inch of Wesley's skin, his hips Wesley gripped hard enough to mark, his name Wesley gasped with wonder each time he came.

It was Spike who held Wesley close at night, who was woken by his gentle kisses and warm words, and who had learned how to prepare tea the way Wesley liked best.

Yet it was Angel whom Wesley's eyes followed whenever they were in the same room, and Spike knew with joyless certainty it would be as impossible for him to hold Wesley's heart as to hold the air around him.

~end~