A drabble and a half, because working three night shifts in a row is just stupid. I hope to have a bonus story soon: the one I was working on for this, which wasn't having any of that.
As We Know It
He finally knew he was fucked up when he walked in one day, white paper sack in one hand, cardboard tray of coffees in the other, and they were together, on the couch, moving slowly. JC had an arm slung over Justin's back, so nothing serious yet, no grabbing, but Justin had that little catch at the end of every breath. They looked so good. Perfectly matched, long legs entwined, narrow hips pulsing, bodies, hands... and here he was, newspaper clutched under one arm: sweaty from the hot sun, wearing ragged cutoff cargoes and black socks.
"Hey," JC said, waving over Justin's back, and Justin turned his head against JC's neck. "Where the fuck have you been," he said, morning grumpy, and slid aside and pulled Chris down, and as JC grunted and twisted and pushed, "Fucking heavy, you fuckers," kissed Chris like he was finally ready to begin.
Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister, who is so wonderful. Love you.