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Inspired by the mini rant about chocolate orbs on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
estepheia's LJ I wrote this;
It Could Be Worse
Spike pulled out of his lover and planted a kiss on his nose in an attempt to get Xander to open his eyes. He watched, grinning, as Xander managed that much and then rolled off the supine body beneath him. Propping himself up on an elbow, he lay beside Xander and looked at his face, studying each contour, each feature with an attention to detail that made Xander feel uneasy.
"What? Am I breaking out in green spots or something? 'Cos if I'm allergic to vampires, this is a bad time to find out."
Spike chuckled. "Just looking at your eyes, pet," he said. "Did anyone ever tell you they're like -"
"Chocolate," interrupted Xander, bored. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
Spike gasped in horror. "Who said that?" he demanded. "Unimaginative wankers. Nothing like chocolate. It's all flat and sticky and sickly sweet."
"Hey!" Xander objected. "You're talking about a substance that's done much to enrich my life in many different ways. Just because your tastebuds died before they invented a way of putting bubbles in it -"
"Hush, pet, while I tell you what your eyes are really like..." Spike's voice was hot enough to melt toffee and Xander relaxed, smiling, still basking in the glow of a bone melting orgasm. He wasn't going anywhere until his legs stopped resembling jello and this was something new from Spike.
"There's this single malt that you, with your adolescent affinity for alcopops have probably never heard of, let alone tasted. It's called Talisker and it's known as the 'lava of the Cuillins'"
"What's a 'cuillin'?"
"Shut up."
"No, really. I want to know."
"Mountain range on the Isle of Skye."
"Where's Sk-"
"Inner Hebrides."
"And they are?"
"The islands off the West Coast of Scotland. You have heard of Scotland? Good. As I was saying about a decade ago, this malt is one of the most fiery of all the whiskies. It's peppery, explosive, full of the tang of salt and the finish is huge and long."
Xander preened himself slightly. "Sounds interesting but what colour is it?"
"A rich amber, reddish in the firelight."
"My eyes aren't like that at all," Xander objected.
Spike looked puzzled. "Of course not. They're like the peat bog where they get the water to make it. Sort of, well, mud coloured I suppose. Squelchy, too. I fell in one once when I was a lad and -"
Xander rolled off the bed and yanked on his boxers. "For your information, Spike," he said coldly. "My eyes are chocolate coloured. And none of your Cadbury crap. Hershey's will do nicely."
****
The whisky description is genuine, from Michael Jackson's Malt Whisky Companion. I often wish I liked single malts more as my husband collects them and we have dozens. The way they're described is enough to make me want to try them but when I do, they all taste pretty much the same. Apart from the twenty five year old Macallan. Now that's nice. Maybe I just have expensive tastes...
estepheia's LJ I wrote this;It Could Be Worse
Spike pulled out of his lover and planted a kiss on his nose in an attempt to get Xander to open his eyes. He watched, grinning, as Xander managed that much and then rolled off the supine body beneath him. Propping himself up on an elbow, he lay beside Xander and looked at his face, studying each contour, each feature with an attention to detail that made Xander feel uneasy.
"What? Am I breaking out in green spots or something? 'Cos if I'm allergic to vampires, this is a bad time to find out."
Spike chuckled. "Just looking at your eyes, pet," he said. "Did anyone ever tell you they're like -"
"Chocolate," interrupted Xander, bored. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
Spike gasped in horror. "Who said that?" he demanded. "Unimaginative wankers. Nothing like chocolate. It's all flat and sticky and sickly sweet."
"Hey!" Xander objected. "You're talking about a substance that's done much to enrich my life in many different ways. Just because your tastebuds died before they invented a way of putting bubbles in it -"
"Hush, pet, while I tell you what your eyes are really like..." Spike's voice was hot enough to melt toffee and Xander relaxed, smiling, still basking in the glow of a bone melting orgasm. He wasn't going anywhere until his legs stopped resembling jello and this was something new from Spike.
"There's this single malt that you, with your adolescent affinity for alcopops have probably never heard of, let alone tasted. It's called Talisker and it's known as the 'lava of the Cuillins'"
"What's a 'cuillin'?"
"Shut up."
"No, really. I want to know."
"Mountain range on the Isle of Skye."
"Where's Sk-"
"Inner Hebrides."
"And they are?"
"The islands off the West Coast of Scotland. You have heard of Scotland? Good. As I was saying about a decade ago, this malt is one of the most fiery of all the whiskies. It's peppery, explosive, full of the tang of salt and the finish is huge and long."
Xander preened himself slightly. "Sounds interesting but what colour is it?"
"A rich amber, reddish in the firelight."
"My eyes aren't like that at all," Xander objected.
Spike looked puzzled. "Of course not. They're like the peat bog where they get the water to make it. Sort of, well, mud coloured I suppose. Squelchy, too. I fell in one once when I was a lad and -"
Xander rolled off the bed and yanked on his boxers. "For your information, Spike," he said coldly. "My eyes are chocolate coloured. And none of your Cadbury crap. Hershey's will do nicely."
****
The whisky description is genuine, from Michael Jackson's Malt Whisky Companion. I often wish I liked single malts more as my husband collects them and we have dozens. The way they're described is enough to make me want to try them but when I do, they all taste pretty much the same. Apart from the twenty five year old Macallan. Now that's nice. Maybe I just have expensive tastes...