Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

they were focused on something else. He let his gaze drift to the side every time Jimmy leaned forward and was grateful he didn't have to admit aloud that Jimmy had always reminded him a little of the man on the screen. Maybe just around the eyes. And the mouth. And hair. And the shoulders. And, well, the whole build really. If Cary Grant had spent half his life working his abs until they looked they were carved out of stone. Damn it.
    They fell asleep before the second film was even over, Jimmy leaning back against the arm of the couch, Scott sleeping soundly, curled up on the man's chest.
    ****
    With only one weekend left of their break, Jimmy decided they needed to spend some quality time at a few of their favorite bars before burying themselves under course books again.
    The two got ready in their separate bedrooms, but Jimmy was ready before Scott, as usual. The man wore tight black jeans and a dark blue button-down as he leaned against the frame of Scott's door, watching him pull his faded Levi's on. Scott jumped and whipped around when he heard a wolf whistle. "Jesus, wear squeaky shoes or something; you scared the shit outta me."
    Jimmy laughed, grinning, "I'd say I'm sorry, but…"
    "Yeah, yeah." Scott rolled his eyes, buttoning up his jeans and pulling on an old Smiths t-shirt that was two sizes too small, but clung nicely.
    "You look like you're planning on getting laid tonight." Jimmy told him, still watching while Scott found his Chucks from under his bed and pulled those on too.
    He could feel his cheeks pinking a little, glancing up at Jimmy from tying his shoes. "Maybe." Scott told him, "At least a blowjob…"
    "As long as I'm the one you come home with." Jimmy joked, stepping into the room finally, reaching over to Scott's nightstand and pulling the drawer open. "And as long as you're safe." he added, still teasing even as he grabbed a strip of condoms out and tossed them to Scott.
    "Same to you, sweetheart."
    ****
    They were both staggering drunk, just after two in the morning, as they stumbled their way up the three steps that led to their door. It was a short cab ride home, but Scott was sure the driver was glad to be rid of them, laughing at Jimmy who was grinning and waving after the sound of gravel spitting up from under the tires of the cab.
    They'd started in a small pub, shooting some pool and playing some darts, then went down the road to another that had better music and stronger drinks, and then ended up at Scott's favorite dance club. Instead of finding some friends there like they normally would, Scott and Jimmy stuck together, dancing under the flashing lights and pounding rhythm.
    Jimmy kept Scott pressed against him the entire time, his hips grinding, hands even more adventurous than normal. It was the alcohol, Scott told himself, and the fact that they were both letting off a little steam before buckling back down to full time courses and part time jobs.
    "You know what would be really good?" Scott said, kicking his shoes off as he groped for the light switch on the wall.
    "Sex?" Jimmy asked him, a hint of laughter in his voice even as he wrapped his arms around Scott's hips and ground against him from behind like they were still on the dance floor. Scott could feel the hard length of the man pressed against him and it made his own pulse quicken.
    "Yes. Always." Scott told him, laughing, trying to keep his voice light and, at the same time, trying to pull away from Jimmy. "But, I was thinking more like a really good cheeseburger. And fries. From Dick's. Why didn't we make the cabby stop at Dick's?"
    "Because we're idiots. "
    It didn't matter that Scott was trying to pull away because the man was glued to his back. It was like wearing a really big, warm Jimmy-suit. With hands that kept traveling south. "That we are." he agreed, laughing as he caught one of Jimmy's wrists, fingers encircling and holding firmly to keep him from drifting any lower.
    "Hey," An actual giggle from Jimmy told Scott that he was plastered, "I have a dick…"
    "Yes."
    "You have a dick…"
    "…Yes."
    "So, between us…"
    Laughing as he caught the lame joke, "Our dicks don't serve the best fries on the planet."
    Jimmy's hold tightened on him and Scott had to catch his breath, his heartbeat kicking out a tattoo against his ribcage. It turned to a heavy thud when Jimmy's touch became more meaningful, the air in the room feeling charged as Scott picked up on the intention behind the small strokes of the man's