This is me, not feeling the Congress. This is me, overjoyed that my job looks safer than it did yesterday. This is me, posting another little bit of JC wondering what side Justin is playing. The sexy bastard.

Oh, and Buffy? Spike. Xander. Sharing space. Wooh!

JC's new song is... well, I shouldn't like it. And I almost don't. Except that I do.

What's up with the shorty thing, though?

In any case:

Morally Ambiguous
by stungunbilly

iv. cupid

“You love me, huh?” says Justin, catching JC’s arm in the hallway.

JC can feel his cheeks heat, a burn in his eyes from the dry air . He looks at the carpet, fuzzy-headed from champagne. He hears the echo of the words in the dense air, feels a thrumming buzz begin low in his belly. Justin moves in closer.

“You said so, ‘C. In front of two reporters and a Playboy bunny.”

Justin’s huge, warm hands seem to be all over him, until one locates his ducked chin and cups it, raising his blushing face. A strong thumb brushes over JC’s lower lip, scorching. He looks up into too-blue eyes, expecting to see amusement, disdain, contempt. But Justin is all black pupil and electric blue swirl, until JC can’t guess at anything behind those eyes.

Until rough, full lips meet his own. Not gently, but passionately, like the eager mouth of a boy J hasn’t been for years. His own lips part helplessly, and his tongue tries its best to leave his mouth for the warmer, wetter one of this man/child who terrifies him in all the best ways.

He thinks, blurrily, “but I don’t know if I love you or anything,” and mumbles it into J's mouth. Only, when his lips move it just seems like more of a kiss. And he never decided, really, why he had said that in the first place.

It was an accident, he thinks, and wonders for a moment why he is being kissed. It doesn’t matter for long, with twining tongues and a buzz that reaches from his throat to his toes. J has him in a firm grip that ramps the thrill higher, and the fear of being spotted by random partygoers makes him compliant when he finds himself pulled by the wrist towards a stairwell.

The ache in his heart is so strong he never even notices it.

~

Dunno if I'm coherent myself; need sleep.
'Night.
.

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