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I have a confession to make.
I watched Dawson’s Creek again.
I’m begging for help here, people. Intervention time. Stop me before I hurt myself or somebody else.
Because when I watch, sometimes I want to write. And frankly, what? Pacey and the weenie in the tie? And yes, it’s really that bad. I blame Kerr Smith, because he’s so sexy in blue.
But I know it’s really my responsibility.
It’s not Jack’s sexy little fault that I want to know more about the lovely-but-unavailable professor.
~
Also, there is this:
Unknown Interlude in the story “After Life”
WARNING! This snippet may contain ansty present tense and make no chronological sense. Chinstrips, too.
~
JC is beautiful when he comes.
Sunlight gilds the sweat on his long throat, and Billy wishes that he could stay on his knees just a little longer. He wants to see the sleepy blue eyes crinkle at the corners with C’s slow smile. But age comes, even to the defiant ones, so for the sake of forty-year-old knees he swallows noisily and uses C’s lanky frame to pull himself upright.
JC is humming in his throat a little, like he’s just come off the dance floor after the prom date of his life and he can still hear the music. His lips are soft and Billy kisses them for as long as he can before a familiar voice bellows over his shoulder.
“Isn’t this special? Lookit this, Carson. They’re cuddling. Hey, Mr. Popstar, is that jism in your chinstrip? Teen People wants to know.”
Billy doesn’t look up, just hides his face in JC’s bony shoulder and holds the slender hips as if he can escape into JC’s body. He can feel himself shaking, and he isn’t certain if it’s anger or amusement.
He is terribly surprised to hear JC say “Fuck off, Joe.”
Joe actually does, but it can’t be for long.
Something has to give.
~
Night, folks.
I watched Dawson’s Creek again.
I’m begging for help here, people. Intervention time. Stop me before I hurt myself or somebody else.
Because when I watch, sometimes I want to write. And frankly, what? Pacey and the weenie in the tie? And yes, it’s really that bad. I blame Kerr Smith, because he’s so sexy in blue.
But I know it’s really my responsibility.
It’s not Jack’s sexy little fault that I want to know more about the lovely-but-unavailable professor.
~
Also, there is this:
Unknown Interlude in the story “After Life”
WARNING! This snippet may contain ansty present tense and make no chronological sense. Chinstrips, too.
~
JC is beautiful when he comes.
Sunlight gilds the sweat on his long throat, and Billy wishes that he could stay on his knees just a little longer. He wants to see the sleepy blue eyes crinkle at the corners with C’s slow smile. But age comes, even to the defiant ones, so for the sake of forty-year-old knees he swallows noisily and uses C’s lanky frame to pull himself upright.
JC is humming in his throat a little, like he’s just come off the dance floor after the prom date of his life and he can still hear the music. His lips are soft and Billy kisses them for as long as he can before a familiar voice bellows over his shoulder.
“Isn’t this special? Lookit this, Carson. They’re cuddling. Hey, Mr. Popstar, is that jism in your chinstrip? Teen People wants to know.”
Billy doesn’t look up, just hides his face in JC’s bony shoulder and holds the slender hips as if he can escape into JC’s body. He can feel himself shaking, and he isn’t certain if it’s anger or amusement.
He is terribly surprised to hear JC say “Fuck off, Joe.”
Joe actually does, but it can’t be for long.
Something has to give.
~
Night, folks.
