Wrong

By Shakespeare's Girl

A/N: Actually the first fic written for the challenge mentioned in "Toys." After a few revisions and characterization fixes, I think I got it right. Human AU.

"No," he protested, trying to writhe out from between the wall and the lithe, blond male body pressed up against him. "It's wrong," he moaned, turning his head so he didn't have to watch as pink lips sucked at his neck.

"Not wrong," his molester, Spike, the hottest boy in school protested--not that Liam had been looking, mind you. Spike's lips traveled along the arch of Liam's turned neck. "Can't be wrong when it feels so right, can it?"

"Please, Spike," Liam gasped as the smaller boy's fingers brushed against a shirt-covered nipple.

"Shh now. Calm down, luv. Not gonna do anything you don't want." Spike's voice was soothing--probably came with being British, Liam decided.

"D-don't--"

"Won't, then," Spike promised.

"What?"

"There now. Just wanted a little kiss, mate."

Liam looked at Spike and studied his eyes. Whether or not he truly wanted "just a kiss" was irrelevant now. Slowly, Liam nodded.

"Good boy," Spike purred.

"Good?" Liam repeated.

"Yes. Good and brave for letting me kiss him." Spike smirked, a trademark smirk that could have straight men creaming in their pants when necessary.

Then came the slow lean in, the moment of anticipation, and the gentle, slow press of lips in a first kiss.

Of course, gentle and slow became slick and hot and wet and teeth and tongue, and Spike took and took, giving pleasure in the pursuit of it.

It was the best kiss Liam had ever had.

So of course he pulled away. "No," he panted. "Can't. It's wrong . . ."

Spike just laughed.