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Jan. 21st, 2007 @ 02:33 pm It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

Current Mood:

satisfied

"Burn all the candles out
Make a wish but not aloud"
-- Foo Fighters

[Immediately follows this]

"One of these days, you're going to fucking finish me off," Josh complains as he flops on his back, trying to draw ragged breaths, but there's no heat behind it. Hard to feel anything other than a lazy sense of satisfaction as hard as he'd come, Joaquin's muscular legs wrapped tight around him, urging him to thrust harder, faster until all restraint had completely flown out the window.

Ben's bed had gotten quite the workout. The thought's enough to have Josh chuckling.

"Think it's gonna be mutual." Joaquin laughs a breathless little laugh and blinks at the ceiling. Jesus, but that was a hell of a way to end off this particular tryst of theirs.

He looks over, grins, idly wonders how long it'll take Josh to zero in on the boytoy once they go back out to the party. "We should get dressed."

"Yeah, I guess." Even if Josh doesn't much feel like moving. If they linger too long, Ben might just catch them, and while that would provide it's own brand of amusement, it'd be better to hold the knowledge close and spring it on Ben (and possibly Matt) at a later date.

"One for the road," he says, crooking his finger for Joaquin to come closer.

( No harm, no foul, no problem )

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Jan. 21st, 2007 @ 02:27 pm Don't Believe The Hype

Current Mood: accomplished

"Can you go another round?
I will follow you down and out"
-- The Foo Fighters

(Los Angeles -- July 2002)

Drew hangs up the phone, still chuckling to herself at Ben's persuasiveness. She tightens the towel around her breasts, pushing wet strands of hair from her face as she goes in search of Jake. She follows the salivating scent of sautéed mushrooms and beef to the kitchen, pausing in silent admiration of Jake's naked back and thighs, accentuated by the most faded, worn pair of cut-offs she's ever seen. However, they do frame his rather spectacular ass rather well, so she can't complain too much.

"Smells wonderful," she says, stepping gingerly into the kitchen, trying not to drip too much on the floor. It's a hopeless cause.

"Hmm?" Distracted, Jake looks up. He smiles when he sees her. Adjusting the temperature on the burner (don't want dinner to burn, after all), he steps away from the stove. Fuck, she's hot like this, still wet from the shower, strands of hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. "Not as good as you," he murmurs as he wraps his arms around her and bends to nuzzle her neck.

"Mmmm..." Drew tilts her head back obligingly and drapes her arms around his shoulders. "Maybe I'll just keep you here after all."

( It's not a party if there isn't drama )

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Apr. 8th, 2006 @ 06:16 pm Exploring Limits

Current Mood: accomplished

[Takes place right after this]

(Los Angeles -- late June, 2002)

"You lied," Joaquin mumbles into the pillow before he rolls over to peer at Josh. Smug bastard, he thinks fondly, as Josh stretches.

Josh stops in mid-stretch, wrinkles his nose in confusion. "About?"

"Said you'd wash my hair." Josh's expression is priceless, and Joaquin has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "But did you? Noooo. You were too impatient to get me flat on my back again."

"Didn't hear you complaining." Josh reaches behind him and thwaps Joaquin with one of the pillows before flopping back on the bed. Nothing in the world like relaxing after a good, hard fuck, he thinks, and gives Joaquin an affectionate grin. "Really have missed you, man."

"Fuck, don't get all mushy on me just 'cause you're still in the afterglow." Joaquin steals the pillow and plumps it under his head. He lets the grin out then, and rolls to his side to give Josh a quick, hard kiss. "Missed you, too."

"I know." Josh gives him one of his patented, arrogant grins, and scoots closer, drawn to Joaquin's warmth. "And if you remind me later, I'll definitely still wash your hair. Didn't know you had your heart set on it."

"Should talk to Summer, then," Joaquin murmurs. He curls around Josh, tangling legs and arms together with an ease born of long familiarity.

( Wherein everyone tries something a little different )

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Mar. 12th, 2006 @ 09:59 am Old Friends And New Acquaintances

"I can be your liar...
So shame on me for the ruse"
-- The Foo Fighters

(Los Angeles -- late June 2002)

Josh glances around the darkened yard before rapping sharply on the door. He's practically vibrating with energy, excitement, something, man, he's not sure what to call it. Missed the crazy fucker, he thinks, and rocks back on his heels, hands tucked into his back pockets as he waits for Joaquin to open the damn door already.

"Yeah, yeah," Joaquin calls, making his way to the door. Damn it all, he just got back into town. And his arrival was pretty low key. So who the hell...

"Why am I not surprised," he says with a grin after he pulls the door open.

"Who else, man?" Josh's grin widens as he looks Joaquin over. "Looking good. Guess the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania agreed with you."

"Not looking too bad yourself." Another grin, then Joaquin steps back, shutting the door when Josh steps inside. "Wasn't expecting to see you this time around."

"Yeah?" Josh stops, turns, ducking his head as his brows furrow. "Why not?" They haven't seen each other in almost six months and this is the welcome he gets...fucking Joaquin, man, always on about something.

Leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest, Joaquin watches Josh. "Heard you were making serious time with Jake Gyllenhaal," he finally says. "Sounded like someone had finally managed to reel you in."

Jake. Of course. Why is Josh not surprised that the rumors had managed to hit even Joaquin? "Shouldn't believe everything you hear," he replies with a shrug. "It's nothing serious. He's a great fuck."

One eyebrow lifts, and Joaquin fights to keep from smiling. "Oh, so that's all it is?" He nods, surprised that he's managed to keep a straight face this long. "Thought there might be something to this one, seeing as how often you've been spotted around with him."

( Joaquin's back in town... )

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Dec. 28th, 2005 @ 02:01 pm Puppy Love

Current Mood:

happy

"Did you find some happiness with me?
Now I know the way true love should be"
-- Foo Fighters

(Minneapolis, Minnesota -- Christmas Morning, 2004)

Trying hard not to giggle, Jake creeps back up the stairs. His feet, snug in warm socks (courtesy of Josh, who'd gotten tired of Jake's 'icicle' toes), make no noise, and he hopes Josh is still asleep. "Shhh," he whispers to the bundle in his arms, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Reaching the bedroom, he peeks around the partially open door.

Good. Still asleep. Now...to wake him up.

Tip-toeing across the floor, Jake kneels by Josh's side of the bed and places the bundle on Josh's chest. And smiles to himself when a little black nose inches closer to Josh's sleepwarm cheek.

It's a good dream, and Josh is less than pleased at the interruption to it. Fucking Rita Hayworth, man, in all her 40's glory, just standing there, nude, like in "Gilda", and Josh can practically taste her skin. He bats at the cold intrusion on his neck, wondering who the hell decided that it could invade his dream.

( Guess I'm not the only one that thinks you have sexy feet. )

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Dec. 10th, 2005 @ 03:12 pm Fic: "Packing" - 1/1

Packing
written by Jo
Jake Gyllenhaal/Josh Hartnett
NC17

( They were supposed to be packing, ferfucksake )

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Dec. 9th, 2005 @ 08:01 am Personal Jesus

Current Mood: accomplished

"Your own personal Jesus
Someone to hear your prayers
Someone who's there"
-- Depeche Mode

(Minneapolis, Minnesota -- December 19, 2004)

There's snow on the ground outside, coating everything in a blanket of hazy white. Frost on the windows, on the power lines, icicles hanging from the trees. Flakes continue to drift lazily from the sky in brilliant bursts, and Josh thinks if the weather holds, it'll be a nice, white Christmas.

Perfect for his first one with Jake and his family.

Josh glances out the bay windows one last time before turning to the refrigerator. Breakfast would definitely go over well right about now. He tugs his loose t-shirt (some dingy faded to hell thing that he thinks he bought at some cheesy tourist stand while filming, um, something or another) over his boxers, and flicks on the radio.

Still mostly asleep, Jake rolls towards Josh's side of the bed, expecting to encounter a warm body. When he finds nothing but cool sheets, his eyes open and he peers out. "Josh?" No answer. Grumbling to himself, he rolls out of bed and yelps when his feet encounter the cold, bare floor.

"Christ!" Still grumbling, he drags the comforter from the bed and wraps it around his body before stumbling downstairs, following the music since he's still not entirely sure of where everything is yet, even if they have been here for three days.

( You get my body and a handjob, and breakfast...Sounds like a sweet deal to me... )

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Oct. 4th, 2005 @ 10:44 am It's Only A Game (As Long As No One Gets Hurt)

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: "Low" -- The Foo Fighters

"Me and you
Going nowhere
I'm right beside you"
-- The Foo Fighters

(Los Angeles, early April 2002)

Josh shudders into his orgasm, biting Jared's sweat-slick shoulder to muffle the moan spilling from his lips. Jared's ass is still so tight it should be illegal, even though Josh has already had him tonight. Glazed eyes sweep down, and Josh sees Selma lick her lips as she lifts her head from Jared's cock.

"Missed a spot," Josh murmurs, and she leans over Jared's shoulder, sharing a sticky-bitter kiss with Josh that tastes of come and sweat.

"You two're gonna kill me," Jared moans, letting his head drop forward.

"Not tonight we're not," Josh quips. He reluctantly slides out of Jared's body with a sigh of regret. "I need to scoot."

"Meeting the boytoy later?" Selma asks. She sprawls on the messy sheets, a pale-skinned goddess, and reaches on the nightstand for Jared's pack of cigarettes.

"Something like that."

Josh can feel Jared's eyes on him as he wanders into the small bathroom to wash up. Doesn't surprise him when Jared follows, taking the washcloth from Josh's hands without a word. Josh allows Jared to wash him off in silence, pausing only to share lazy kisses and fleeting touches.

"Still on for Sunday?" Jared finally asks, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Josh licks his tongue across the spot, soothing it. "Of course," he murmurs, breathing the words into Jared's open mouth. "But I really do need to leave."

"Alright."

***

Once again, Jake finds himself outside, pacing. Unable to help himself, he looks at his cellphone. Fuck. Josh is late.

And not by just a few minutes, either.

Looking up the street, Jake fishes the pack of cloves out of his pocket. Just one, he thinks, to calm him down. Because he doesn't think he needs to stretch his imagination to figure out where Josh is.

After all, Jake's not stupid. He's heard the rumors. Too many rumors from too many sources that are all saying the exact same thing. And it's enough to piss him off, even though he keeps telling himself that this is nothing.

This is just fun. Just a thing, y'know, because the two of them are bored. Well, if that's true, why d'you feel like putting your fist through the wall?

( Tell me you didn't fuck them to see if you could get away with it... )

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Aug. 14th, 2005 @ 10:43 am Coming Home

(Los Angeles, late August 2004)

"I've got another confession
My friend
I'm no fool
I'm getting tired of starting again
Somewhere new"
-- Foo Fighters

Home sweet L.A.

Alright, so that's not exactly true, but Josh'll take it. It may not be home, exactly, but L.A.'s where Jake is, and that's close enough.

Getting all fucking soft in his old age, man. All fucking soft. Not that he can really bring himself to care.

The pilot turns off the seatbelt sign, and Josh grabs his bag from the overhead compartment. The flight attendant gives him another radiant smile as he departs, and he returns it. Lightly flirting with her had passed the time on the flight from New York well enough.

LAX is just like he'd left it -- filled with tourists and businessmen and various entertainment folks on their way to Vegas or wherever the fuck else out of town. Josh says a simple prayer of thanks that he doesn't have to wait in baggage claim as he makes his way to the curb to hail a cab.

Home. Jake.

Yeah, he's a fucking sap. There are worse things in life.

Jake's spent all morning agonizing over this decision. Should he go to the airport to pick up Josh, or should he just wait until Josh gets to the house? It had taken a good two hours before he'd finally said fuck it and snatched up the keys to the Mustang.

Which is how Jake finds himself at the airport, parked in the passenger pick-up lane, leaning against the front fender of Josh's car. Dark sunglasses hide his eyes, and the new haircut (which he still isn't used to, despite having had it for almost three days now) keeps anyone from recognizing him. Amazing what being almost bald will do for you.

Long fingers tap the fender beside his thigh, and Jake checks his watch again. The plane should be on the ground by now. Hell, it should be over fifteen minutes on the ground if the arrival board had been correct. Which means that Josh should be coming out any minute now.

( I meant what I said back there. You walk out without even trying, and we're done. )

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Jun. 27th, 2005 @ 03:27 pm First Date

(February 2002, Off Vine's Restaurant, Hollywood)

Jake slides out of his car, takes the ticket from the valet. Rubs his hands down the front of his jeans, and wonders, for a moment, if the shirt's okay, or if he should've dressed a little different. Too late to change his mind now.

Stupid to be nervous. But it's Josh, and they haven't seen each other for several weeks. Damn commitments, Jake thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. Outside commitments are the bane of any Hollywood relationship, and he knew that going into this. That what this is, then? A relationship?

Before he has time to pursue that line of thought, he hears a familiar engine and looks up with a broad grin.

Jesus, the kid looks good enough to eat. Josh walks up the stairs, resisting the urge to smooth his hand through his hair as he meets Jake's wide smile. The sight of Jake's long-limbed body, carelessly attired in jeans and a sweater, hits him like a punch to the solar plexus. Fucked, man.

He shouldn't be so addicted already. This is just sex.

"Hey." He raises his hand in an awkward gesture of greeting, a little lost on protocol. They supposed to hug or what?

( Free to fuck whomever, whenever, remember? )

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May. 16th, 2005 @ 08:29 am Last Day (Part Two)

Current Mood: artistic

(continued from here)

"Just...just one thing." Now that he's at this point, Jake's not sure he can finish. But he owes it to Josh. So he shifts, takes Josh's hand and slides it down until Josh's fingers are brushing the inside of his right thigh, high up near his groin. There's a small patch of skin there, scarred, almost a perfect circle, no bigger than a dime.

"I remember hitting him the first time, then nothing 'til I came around in the ER with a blanket wrapped around me, trying to figure out why my hands hurt so bad," he says quietly, not quite meeting Josh's eyes. "I just...I don't want to talk about him anymore right now, okay?"

Josh's throat works as he swallows, gently strokes the scar. Just small enough to be a cigarette burn.

Fuck.

He pulls Jake closer, placing a soft kiss to Jake's forehead. His voice, however, is laced with steel, and his eyes remain focused on Jake's. "You can't do this to me, Jake. You can't just drop this...what you did to each other...on me and expect me to let it slide. Doesn't work like that. Okay?"

Should've known he'd get this reaction. Part of Jake feels sorry for Hayden when Josh finally catches up to him. But he just looks down, nods. "What else do you want to know?"

"What else is there?" Josh asks. "He do anything else to you? You do anything else to him?"

"Nothing else," Jake replies, voice dull, fingers still where they rest on Josh's chest. "We argued a lot while I was with him, but nothing physical. Not until that night. We were in bed, and he was… Anyway, I told him I didn't want to, and he...did that, and I lost it. I know I beat him, but...I didn't know how bad until a lot later."

"I'm sorry, man." He's been saying it a lot lately. Too much. But it's not enough.

"Not your fault." Jake glances up, then back down. He hates it when Josh apologizes. "I let a lot of shit happen, and I knew better. You taught me better."

"Yeah, I did." Josh lets his cheek rest against Jake's hair. "But, sometimes we do stupid shit anyway. Important thing is that it's over. He won't touch you again." Mine, Josh thinks savagely. And he'll be reminded of that soon enough.

"He's gonna be in L.A. for a while," Jake says, then instantly regrets the words. Fuck. Why the hell'd you have to go and say that?

( You don't have to prove anything to me )

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May. 16th, 2005 @ 08:21 am Last Day (Part One)

Current Mood: artistic
Current Music: "Low" -- The Foo Fighters

"Me and you
Going nowhere
I'm right beside you"
-- The Foo Fighters

(Santa Barbara, August 2004)

The sunlight spearing through the open curtains wakes Josh up, but he simply rolls closer to Jake and screws his eyes shut. Not waking up until he has to, man. No one can make him. 'Sides, he's much too comfortable where he is, all snuggled under warm sheets, next to a warm body.

Jake makes a quiet sound in his sleep and tries to burrow underneath Josh's warmth. The sunlight's irritating, striking across his face as it is, and he wants to escape it. Rude of it to disrupt his dreams like that.

Mmm...there is that patch of skin, however, and Josh thinks it might just be his favorite part of Jake's body. His lips nuzzle the spot, just above Jake's collarbone, and he tightens his arms around Jake to hold him in place. If he has to be awake, he may as well enjoy himself.

There's a soft humming, and Jake vaguely realizes that it's coming from him. Not his fault, though. He's blaming it on the soft lips that are moving over his skin. Nice, that. He decides to give them a year to stop.

"Think I'll keep you right here," Josh murmurs, teeth scraping lightly across Jake's stubbled jaw. Somehow he doesn't think Jake'll object too much.

( Please, Josh. I just...need some time to think. )

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Apr. 3rd, 2005 @ 10:11 am Starfuckers, Incorporated

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: "Starfuckers, Inc" -- NIN

My God's a shallow little bitch
Trying to make the scene"
-- Nine Inch Nails

(September 24, 2004 -- Maroon 5 Benefit Show, The Troubadour, West Hollywood)

The energy's high in the club as Jake slithers through the crowd. He could've waited upstairs for one of the waitresses, but he'd wanted to mingle. Josh had just rolled his eyes and laughed.

Nodding to a few people he knows, Jake continues to work his way closer to the bar. The night's not even half finished and his buzz is starting to wear off. What he needs is another drink and some more weed. In that order

"Oh my god, you're Jake Gyllenhaal!"

Uh oh. The voice is just this side of shrill, and Jake hunches his shoulders as he turns. "Nope, sorry, just look like him."

"No, you're him!"

Fuck. Jake sighs inwardly and nods. Too much make-up, too much burgundy in her hair, too much everything to be honest. Well, he can spend a minute or two playing nice.

The opening band had been good, but nothing spectacular. Not why he's here, though. Maroon5 isn't his favorite band or anything, although they've got a few decent songs, but Jake likes 'em and has been friends with 'em forever and it's for a good cause, so here they are. Surrounded by Young Hollywood's Elite -- the Simpsons and Lacheys and Duffs and DiCaprios all looking incredibly chic and incredibly boring. Josh doesn't know how Jake talks him into these things. So not his scene. Give him a crowded dance floor or a secluded spot of beach and he's a happy man.

He lifts his bottle of beer to his lips, idly wondering what the fuck could be taking Jake so long. He's got a new joint that he's just itching to smoke, but he'd promised Jake they'd split it. Suffering through this little charity dig'll go over much better once he's flying again.

( What, honey, you thought you were going home with me? )

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Feb. 21st, 2005 @ 06:07 pm Second Verse Same As The First

Current Mood:

hungry
Current Music: rain

"Sometimes love is calm and easy and sometimes it's just plain dirty."
-- Jake Gyllenhaal

(January 2002, Golden Globes, L.A.)

"Jake, are you paying attention?" Maggie looks more than a little peeved as she reaches over to give Jake a sharp jab in the ribs. He turns his head just enough to give her a withering look.

"Mom's not here to protect you," he says, but they both know it's an empty threat. For the most part. She can only push him so far. "And, no, I wasn't listening. What'd you say?"

"Oh!" She glares at him, and Jake knows her palm is itching to slap the smirk off his face. Then her eyes slide to his left, go a little wide before snapping back to meet his. "I was, um, just asking what you'd, you know, thought about it all so far."

( No fucking way it could be like that twice. )

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Jan. 16th, 2005 @ 11:03 am

no__rules fic: "Hurting To Heal" 1/1 (Jake/Josh)

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: "Learning to Fly" -- The Foo Fighters

I'm looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me burn out bright
-- The Foo Fighters

Jake's not in the room when Josh lets himself back in, but one look at the note on the bed has Josh smiling and turning around to head back out. The beach is all but deserted at this time of day -- it's easy to spot Jake's familiar figure and jog towards it, taking the time to admire the way the sun glints reddish highlights in Jake's dark hair.

The water's cold, but then the Pacific never truly gets warm. It doesn't matter to Jake. The ebb and flow of the waves around his ankles and hips is soothing as he sits there, watches the ocean. He knows he should move back, out of the rising tide. Knows that he needs to return to the room soon. But some sixth sense pokes at him, and he doesn't have to turn to know. Josh. It's almost frightening how quickly he's become attuned to his...lover? ex-lover? Josh's presence.

( I don't want your fucking obligation and I don't want the games )

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Dec. 12th, 2004 @ 01:17 pm Start As You Mean to Go On

“You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I wanna play the game
I want the friction”
-- Muse

(December 2001, “Black Hawk Down” L.A. Premiere)

"This is insane."

Jake looks over at his sister and nods. "Movie deserves it, though," he says, and takes a sip of the beer in his hand. His eyes move over the crush of people in the room, seeking out familiar faces.

Over and over, his gaze is drawn to one person. Josh Hartnett.

There's something about him that intrigues Jake. Something about the way he's shed the public persona and is slouched on one of the couches in the corner. Almost as if he's holding court. Watching him, Jake's pretty sure that Josh is high. Then Josh looks up from the group he's with, waves to someone across the room, and smiles.

Jake's eyes zero in on the dimples that appear and, for a moment, he forgets to breathe.

***
( Knew you'd burn for me )

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Nov. 14th, 2004 @ 09:18 am The Journey Is the Destination

Current Mood: awake
Current Music: "My Hero" -- The Foo Fighters

"Truth or consequence
Say it aloud...
There goes my hero
He's ordinary"
-- The Foo Fighters

Things couldn't really be much better. Good CD in the stereo, wind ruffling his hair, top down, warm weight snuggled against him as the Mustang eats the miles on the 101. Josh glances down at Jake, at the lashes fanning the top of curved cheekbones, reassures himself that this is real, that Jake is real and warm and asleep beside him.

They've been on the road for almost two hours now. Stopped for gas once, but Jake's been asleep almost the entire time. Josh had almost forgotten that. So many things he'd forgotten in an effort to get Jake out of his sytem. Stupid, really. Jake hadn't gone anywhere. Thank God.

Without a sound to indicate he's awake, Jake opens his eyes. He's not sure where he is for a brief moment, then it all comes back. Josh. Every bit of it's real. It happened. And he's really here again, with Josh.

Jake smiles, snuggles a little closer. He lets his still sleep-clumsy hand slide over Josh's thigh and listens to the song playing. It's got a good beat. And, just like that, it gives Jake an idea.

Josh smiles, folds his hand over Jake's. He's happy -- for the first time in a long while. Sun shining, birds singing, all of that rot, but it's still true. He's got Jake's undivided attention for the next few days, and he plans to spend them all reminding Jake how good it could be between them.

The song changes -- some infectious tune -- and Josh starts to sing along, humming mostly, doesn't really know the words, but he's in the mood.

( Not nice to tease )

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Oct. 15th, 2004 @ 11:29 pm Morning After

Current Mood:

tired

Jake's not quite awake when he cracks open one eye and winces at the stab of sunlight. The fuck...? It takes several seconds to remember where he is. Elijah's pool house. Right. Got it.

Once his brain's worked out that bit of info, Jake slowly becomes aware of a warm, heavy weight across his waist and thigh. Even more slowly, the events of last night start to filter back, muted and hazy, fogged by the X he took.

Josh's X.

Fuck, I didn't. Tell me I didn't. Jake opens both eyes, turns his head. Doesn't move a muscle when he sees Josh's face on the pillow beside him. I did.

Muscles scream in agony, protesting the movement when Jake shifts. Okay, not such a good idea. More memories return, words spoken in the dark, the feeling of belonging again, Josh in him, under him, surrounding him, owning him. "Well," Jake murmurs, lets his eyes linger on the scattered bruises and scratches decorating Josh's torso, "This is going to be interesting."

Okay, whoever replaced Josh's brain cells with melted swiss cheese needs to go ahead and have their sandwich already so he can die in peace. Whatever the fuck that means. All Josh knows is that his limbs feel like wet noodles, he's thirsty and sore and aching in places he didn't even know existed. And there's a whale on his chest. At least, he thinks it's a whale.

Could be a dolphin or a tiger. Josh isn't discriminating. He'd just like it to move so he can breathe.

( Wanted you to hate me the way I hated you )

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Oct. 5th, 2004 @ 04:59 pm Ficlet: "Privilege" 1/1

Current Mood: accomplished

Privilege
Jake Gyllenhaal/Josh Hartnett
R

( Read for more )

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Sep. 22nd, 2004 @ 10:32 am August 2004 (part two)

Current Mood: accomplished

(continued from here)

Jake's still shaking when he starts to come back to himself. He forces his lungs to work, sucking in huge gulps of air. Josh's weight is warm against him, pinning him in place still, and Jake welcomes it. Welcomes it even though his skin's still too tight and the drug's still raging through his body. "Fuck," he mutters, tastes copper with every swallow.

"Soon's we find a flat surface," Josh mumbles, not moving. Doesn't think his legs would support him if he tried. The rampaging need is still clawing inside him, but is sated for the moment. He places a soft kiss to Jake's lips, blinks to clear cloudy vision. "Jesus..."

"He didn't have anything to do with it," Jake murmurs, grins with ravaged lips. He shifts just enough to wrap his arms around Josh's shoulders. Lust and need and want still lurk close to the surface, but he's able to ignore them for the moment. And he's smart enough to know that'll change the second Josh wants it to.

"No, he didn't." Josh experiments with shifting back, is pleased when he can actually move. "Lij has a bed in this joint, right?" he asks, licking his lips as his gaze roams over the purplish bruises forming on Jake's collarbones and neck.

( Not sleeping )

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