thewordofweb | (no subject)

(no subject)

Joe nods and then, on impulse, leans in and grazes his mouth against Web's.

"Beer. Whisky. Done." He grins and turns away. "I'll see you at home?"

I stand there and wait. "I'm escorting you back," I tell Joe with no lightness in my voice, even if being caught off-guard by a pleasant kiss is one thing that will go a very long way. My lips bear a warmth not my own and I instantly yearn for something a little more, but I don't say a word. "Go. Hurry. I don't want to be fucking around this place all night."

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Joe keeps one leg hooked around Web's waist, his fingers pushed through his hair, and he tries not to move.

"If it does, you fuckin' broke it."

"Did not," I counter, shifting him slowly while trying to coax him off it, just in time for one of the legs to snap and then my tug comes faster than before and I pull him onto feet, even if I'm still shaky. I laugh wearily and with a light moan as it starts to crack and crumble. "Your fault."

Joe snags his beer at the last moment, sipping and laughing as the table does fucking collapse.

"How was that my fault? I remember you bein' the one who told me to get my ass on the table."

I groan wearily as I grab hold of him and wrap my arms around his waist, yanking him towards the bed with the beer, whiskey in my own hands as I kiss him on the lips slowly. "I have," I announce with a weary laugh, "never had such good sex than I have with you."

I collapse back on the bed, taking another shot of whiskey before sprawling out naked on the mattress.

Joe gets up on the bed with Webster, sprawling next to him, beer resting on his chest, still trying to get his breath back.

"Thanks," he says, grinning all over his face. "I've never had sex like this in my life."

That gets a stupid grin from me as I glance over at him, unable to help myself from barking out a giddy laugh, draping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer to me, not feeling so angry and possessive now that he's in my bed. "We broke the desk," I complain with bemused disbelief, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Joe bends one knee, his leg hooked over Web's thigh, about as intertwined as they can be.

"We broke the goddamn desk," he murmurs, starting to laugh as he brings his beer up to his lips.

"Jesus Christ."

It's a long moment for me to sober up (hardly literally, considering the alcohol making its rounds in my system), but I do and I smile gently at him. "Joe," I quietly murmur. "Happy birthday, lieb." I have to pry the beer out of the way to land a kiss on his lips, but I manage, hand rubbing circles against his bare back, observing the hickeys that will soon turn color on his neck.

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