Disclaimer: If wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea, and I'd own Josh and Webb, but they're not, we don't, and I have to say that Josh and Leo belong to the almighty Aaron Sorkin, and Webb belongs to DPB. The lyrics the title was taken from belong to Alice in Chains, and the name of the song is "Heaven Beside You".
Note: Eternal gratitude to Gail for beta reading and convincing me not to give up on this, and to Page for helpful comments and the color of Webb's comforter.
Warning: Guys have sex. If you don't like that, please don't read this.
Rating: A big, honkin' NC-17
Spoilers: Big one for The West Wing episode "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen", and some for others in the second season, but small ones. Nothing for JAG except what kind of car Webb drives.
Timeline note: This takes place shortly after Noel in the WW timeline, and after Family Secrets in the JAG timeline.
Faded by Isilzha
So there's problems in your life
That's fucked up, but I'm not blind
I'm just see through
And out of my mind.
Josh just barely heard the call over the noise of the bar. Smoke and sweat and the sour smell of too many people drinking too much mixed in the gloom. He turned with apprehension crawling up his spine. Nobody here should know his name.
There was a man in a trench coat coming toward him. Secret Service? No, he didn't have one of those ear things or that professionally blank look. His face wasn't giving away much, but Josh saw some relief there. It was no one he recognized. He wondered how deep he'd stepped in it this time.
"Mr. Lyman." The man sounded more positive now.
"Yeah, that's me," Josh sighed. There was no point in lying. Getting caught in a gay bar wasn't exactly a PR triumph, but lying would only make it worse. If that was possible. "What do you want?" //Who are you? Are you about to ruin my life?//
"Leo sent me."
Josh felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead. This was good. Maybe. Better than 'I'm with the Washington Post, Mr. Lyman. Would you care to comment on your presence at the Five and Dime?' Leo sent him? Who the hell was this guy?
"And?" //Sent you to do what, buddy?//
"He says to tell you to be more careful." The man's brief glance around the room spoke volumes. What is the deputy Chief of Staff of the White House doing in a dive like this? Josh could have told him if he'd asked.
//I'm trying to get laid, you asshole, and you're not making it any easier.// Well, he wasn't here to make it easier. He was right; that was the worst part. Or Leo was right. Whatever. The point was that he shouldn't have come.
Josh sighed, feeling his anger and his resistance leave him. He shouldn't have come. He knew that. He'd known that when he left the house. "Fine. I'll leave. Happy?"
He walked past the guy, heading for the door. He was out of the stale air of the bar and blowing the steam of his breath into the cold night before he noticed he still had company.
He glanced over. Why was he still hanging around? Probably trying to make sure he didn't go back in, or just get a cab somewhere else. He could do that. This asshole would never know. But he wasn't going to. "Leo sent you?"
"Yes. He's worried about you." Great. So Leo knew. Well, as long as they never *ever* had to talk about it, Josh thought he could handle that. It could be worse. "Can I give you a ride, Mr. Lyman?"
The man's tone was neutral, but Josh could hear a little tinge of amusement in it. Maybe he was more than just another suck-up trying to get on Leo's good side. Had to be more than that, really, or Leo wouldn't have sent him. Leo knew, and Leo told this guy about him. Who was this guy?
"I'm fine. I'll get a cab." He tried to make his voice as even and uncaring as the other man's, but there was something about this guy. Or maybe he was so horny he'd go for anyone at this point. Women were *not* the same. He'd known that, and he thought he'd known how hard it would be when he started campaigning for Hoynes. Three years was a very long time.
He really looked at the guy for the first time. Three piece suit under that trench coat, button down shirt, oxford shoes. Typical, boring, career-government style. The bow tie was cute, though. Probably worked for the State Department or something. Then why was he looking at Josh with that cool amusement, that look that said 'I know something you wish you knew'? That was no look for a State Department stooge.
"So, how do you know Leo?" //So who the hell are you that Leo would send *you* to come and look for me?// He tried to make it sound like casual enquiry, but from the amused look he got, he hadn't been entirely successful. Then the guy's expression cleared, and he answered as if he'd taken the question at face value.
"I've worked with him from time to time. He speaks highly of you, Mr. Lyman."
Wasn't that nice. He was going home to jerk off alone, unable to get what he needed, but Leo spoke highly of him. That was just fucking wonderful. Maybe that excused what he did next, but probably not.
He turned fully to face the guy, looked him slowly up and down, letting his eyes linger at crotch level for too long. He stepped closer, hoping he could push the other man into stepping back. Neither of them were giving ground, their arms were touching, and Josh could feel himself getting hard. God, this was stupid. So, so stupid.
"Call me Josh, please." It wasn't the words. It was the tone. And, oh shit what was he doing using *that* tone of voice on someone Leo had sent to make sure he didn't screw up? His mind snapped back to him, and he took a step away so they were no longer touching. Did he want this guy to go back and tell Leo that he'd had made a pass at him? The damage could already be done. "Ah, look, I'm sorry, Mr...?"
"Webb. Clayton Webb. It's all right. I don't mind." And the guy was smiling at him, which changed his whole face, made him more approachable, and one hell of a lot more enticing. Josh swallowed.
He tried to complete his apology. "I'm sorry, Mr. Webb, I didn't mean to, uh..." //Didn't mean to, uh, come on to you, but obviously I'm desperate, so please forgive me. Hell.// But Mr. Clayton Webb was shaking his head, brushing off his apology.
"Didn't I just say I don't mind? And, please, call me Clay." And it wasn't just politeness Josh was hearing in that smooth voice, pitched low and intimate. That was an invitation. Not the kind Josh was used to; this guy was a little more subtle than that. He had a hard time picturing Clayton Webb pinching his ass in the press of bodies at the bar of the Five and Dime. Josh met Webb's eyes. No, he wasn't imagining things.
"But you never answered my question, Josh." Webb's voice made the name a caress that promised heat and skin on skin and, Christ, how did he do that with one simple statement? Leo's ultra-conservative three-piece-suit guy was coming on to him. And, Josh realized all at once, there was no way in hell he was saying no. Question? What had he asked? He blanked completely and stared at Webb. //Well, say *something*, for god's sake. Don't just stand there like an idiot. Don't blow this.//
But Webb was smiling still at his confusion, and he was overreacting anyway, but there was just something about this guy.
"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" Webb asked.
Hell, yes. And he knew it was a bad idea, but he really didn't care, and he wasn't going to care as long as Webb kept looking at him with that subtle heat in his eyes. And hadn't he already answered that question? He smiled to himself. Maybe Webb was just looking for a different answer.
Josh tried for a seductive smile, but he had a feeling he was too tense to pull it off. "I'd like that very much, Clay." He put a little of his own desire in his voice, but not too much. He could do subtle as well as the next guy. All right, most days. Maybe not tonight, but he could try.
Webb just nodded and gestured down the street. "My car's this way."
They walked in silence toward the end of the block and what Josh knew just had to be Webb's car. Little and red and made to go fast.
"Nice car." He said it just before they reached it and had the pleasure of seeing Webb's slightly raised eyebrow.
"How do you know it's this one?"
"Is this a test, Clay?"
Again, that teasing, secret smile. "Could be. You never know."
"What do I get if I pass?"
A sidelong glance as Webb unlocked the passenger's door and opened it for him. "I think we've already established that, haven't we?" Smooth as fucking silk, this guy. Josh swallowed and got in the car, ridiculously turned on by this little word game.
Webb got in, started up, and pulled away from the curb. "It looked like you." That got him a surprised look, and he clarified. "The car. It just looked like you."
That got him a short, surprised laugh. Probably, he figured, the first genuine, unguarded response he'd gotten from Webb so far. It sounded good to him. Webb shook his head a little and upshifted before turning to glance at him once more.
"Where are we going, Josh?"
Ah. Your-place-or-mine time. That was easy. His place was a mess, but even if it hadn't been, he wanted to see where Webb lived. It was hard to say it, though. He was as sure of Webb as he'd been of anyone in a long time, but the possibility that it was all in his head nagged at him. He knew nothing about this guy, didn't even know for sure that Leo had sent him.
He took a breath and said it. "Your place. If that's all right." He hadn't meant to qualify it like that. The last thing he wanted to do was put Webb in charge of this. If that's all right. He hated sounding so fucking wishy-washy.
"It's fine with me."
He was so cool. Were they talking the same language here? They had to be. Josh pushed aside his doubts. It wasn't his imagination. Webb wanted him. And he wanted Webb. It wasn't how the night was supposed to go, not how these nights usually went, but the final act would be the same, and that was the important thing.
They pulled up in front of a town house. Josh's hands weren't quite steady, and he fumbled getting his seat belt off, which left him sitting in the car alone after Webb got out. It gave him a moment to think. Was this really such a good idea, even when you compared it to picking up a stranger at a bar?
He was still sitting in the car a moment later when Webb stuck his head back in the driver's side door. He looked at Josh for a minute before speaking. "Just come inside. I'll make coffee. We'll see."
Josh stared at him for a second, mouth hanging open in the mistaken idea that he had something to say. He shut it with a click and got out of the car.
Josh's place was maybe two steps above college dorm level. His shirts tended to spend more time on his couch than on hangers, and almost all his good furniture had once upon a time belonged to his parents. This place... Webb's place was interior-decorator quality, but Josh had a feeling there had been no professionals involved here. Except that Webb seemed to be professional in everything he did. And so fucking *nice* and *polite* it was making Josh nervous. The guys Josh went home with drank American beer, wore T-shirts with the names of 80s rock bands on them. They fucked him hard and fast and didn't ask him any questions, and that was what he needed.
Coffee? He didn't need coffee. He needed... What he really needed was to decide whether he was going through with this or not. Webb was sitting next to him on the black leather sofa, resting his mug on the arm. He had undone his tie, taken off the suit jacket and vest, and he was watching Josh openly. There was nothing overtly sexual in his expression, but that didn't stop Josh from shifting under his gaze, still hard, and not wanting to leave no matter how bad an idea this might be.
Finally Webb seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. He set his coffee cup on the side table and laid his arm along the back of the couch. "Stop torturing yourself, Josh." His smile was amused without making Josh feel that it was at his expense.
Josh shook his head in denial. "I'm not--" Well, he was, actually. He started over. "Look, Webb--" But Webb stopped him with a touch to his shoulder.
"Finish your coffee, Josh. I'll take you home." Josh didn't want to go home.
What was it about this guy? He wasn't that much to look at, maybe better than Josh, especially at the moment, but still no more than average. All the same, Josh was getting the idea that he was way out of his league. The control in Webb's voice, the way he held himself, everything was saying Webb was more than he appeared, and Josh really didn't know what he was getting in to. He still didn't want to go home.
He cleared his throat. "Uh, just to make sure we're on the same page here--" God, he sounded like he was talking to the White House press corps or something. He was Josh Lyman, goddammit; he worked for the leader of the free world, and he was not going to be intimidated.
"Yes?" Webb's voice, cordial and calm.
How was he supposed to finish that sentence? He wasn't used to sleeping with anyone he might have to deal with in his real life. It was making him nervous. That was the problem. It was throwing him, but he wasn't going to let it. Sure. He still didn't know what to say.
While he was trying to think, Webb got up from the couch and stepped over to stand in front of him. Josh looked up as Webb bent down to him, cupped his cheek with one hand and brushed their lips together. "That's where I am, Josh. Where are you?"
Completely unable to think, that's where he was. But it didn't matter because the question of whether to go or stay had been settled. He wasn't going anywhere. He stood. Webb didn't move away, and Josh's motion pressed their bodies together. Far from looking surprised, Webb just smiled and pulled him into another kiss. This was no brush of lips, and Josh came up for air with Webb's taste in his mouth, still wanting more.
He lowered his mouth to Webb's jawline and started tugging at his shirt, untucking it and running his hands up Webb's back. Josh shut his eyes and sucked in a breath as he felt Webb's hands find their way down inside his pants to cup his ass. Fingers strayed toward his crack, and one hand withdrew to unzip his fly. Josh moaned, stopping his work on Webb's neck and forgetting about anything else as those fingers teased him.
"Hmm?" He blinked, got his eyes to stay open, and looked up. Webb had one hand on his ass, the other stroked his cock through his boxers, teasing him to excruciating hardness. He was going to last about five more seconds at this rate. Just then Webb stopped.
"No, don't, don't stop..."
He pulled himself back together enough to answer. "*What*?" he asked, putting all his frustration into his voice.
Webb just smiled. "I think the bedroom would be better, don't you?"
Josh dropped his head to Webb's shoulder and groaned. "Oh, god, I don't care, Clay. Here, the bedroom, the Oval Office. Just, please, get your clothes off and fuck me, *now*." He was tired of playing it cool. There was no way he could be as cool as Webb was, and he didn't care if he sounded desperate. He was desperate.
He expected that amused smile again, but when he looked into Webb's eyes all he saw was desire that matched his own. "And to think I almost let you take a cab," Webb murmured. He leaned forward to take Josh's mouth again and then stepped away, leaving Josh cold and acutely aware of his own disarray. His pants were down around his thighs, shirt half unbuttoned, cock pressing against his boxers. He ran his tongue along his lower lip and swallowed.
Webb was watching him again. His eyes raked over Josh's body and brought blood to his cheeks and even more to his cock. What was he waiting for?
Then Webb wasn't waiting any more. He walked slowly to stand behind Josh and brought his hands around Josh's body to finish unbuttoning his shirt. Lips on the back of his neck, one hand twisting his nipple sharply, the other reaching down to pull down his boxers and close around his cock. Josh let out a wordless, choked sound and arched into the touch, dropping his head back to rest on Webb's shoulder.
Webb's mouth shifted to the side of his neck, sucking hard. Two, three more strokes on his cock and he was coming, his hands locked on the fabric of Webb's pants just for something to hold on to, something to keep him from coming apart entirely.
The suction on his neck gentled to light kisses, and Webb kept stroking him until his body shuddered and sagged. There was a second where he would have fallen without Webb's arms around him. Then he felt himself turned and pushed backwards. He fell on to the couch and ended up staring at Webb, who knelt in front of him to remove his shoes and pull his pants and shorts the rest of the way off.
Josh did what he knew he should never do when he didn't know what he was going to say. He opened his mouth. "Dammit, I told you to fuck me; I didn't want to get off like that!" He winced. "Um, not that, you know, that was *bad*."
Not that it wasn't the best he'd had in...hell, probably three years. Just the knowledge in Webb's fingers that women's hands never had, just the knowledge that it *was* Webb's hand... No, that wasn't right. It wasn't Webb he was getting off on. Just that it was a guy, any guy, after so long.
But the way Webb was looking at him, he was having a hard time convincing himself of that. Then the corner of Webb's mouth began to twitch. As Josh watched he lost the struggle and hung his head, laughing quietly. "Josh, you are..." He looked back up, grinning, his hand resting on Josh's knee. Josh saw that openness he remembered from the car. He liked it just as much as he had then.
He smiled back, looking in Webb's eyes. "I am what?"
"You are a very interesting man, Joshua Lyman." He leaned forward to kiss Josh's open mouth. "I was just taking the edge off. We've got all night." He had his hand on Josh's cock, stroking lightly. Josh felt himself getting hard again. "I don't think you'll have any trouble going another round or two."
Josh pushed himself off the couch and pulled Webb up with him. "The bedroom?"
"Unless you wanted to try the Oval Office."
The decorating job carried on up into the bedroom. Forest green velvet comforter, hardwood floor with an expensive looking rug covering most of it... Just nice. Comfortable. Josh sprawled himself on the sleigh bed and watched Webb undress. He'd felt the muscles under those clothes, but seeing them was something else. God, what an ass.
Webb turned from hanging his suit up. One eyebrow raised. "Why, thank you, Josh."
Josh stared for a second, then let himself fall backward with one hand covering his eyes. He hadn't just said that out loud. He hadn't. He had. Would he never in his life learn to keep his mouth shut?
He didn't remove the hand when he felt Webb settle beside him on the bed. A second later Webb's hand was on his wrist, lifting his hand away from his eyes. "You worry too much. This isn't CNN."
"Damn good thing. That would have been worse than Sam and Ainsley Hayes--" He cut himself off, and then realized he had no reason to do so. Webb already knew who he was.
Webb reached out and traced his lips with one finger. "That mouth of yours gets you into a lot of trouble, doesn't it?"
Josh caught his wrist and sucked the finger into his mouth. He watched Webb's eyes and saw them glaze as he ran his tongue down its length, saw him start to breathe a little faster. Webb pulled his hand away.
"You want to try that for real, or are you just teasing?" Webb's voice wasn't breathless by a long way, but it was rougher than Josh had heard it so far. That was something. He was going to break that composure tonight. He was tired of being the only desperate one.
"You know what I want, Clay."
"Yes. I do." He stroked his hand along Josh's side. "So turn over."
Josh was on his stomach almost before Webb finished his sentence, and he heard Webb's low laughter, not mocking, but somehow sharing a private joke between them. He hid his face in the pillow, not out of embarrassment, but because it was suddenly too much for him. Five minutes since he'd come and he was hard again, as hard as he could ever remember being, leaking precome on Webb's velvet comforter. The laughter and the light touch shook him in ways he hadn't expected.
Webb's hand skimmed down his back and stopped, stroking his ass. Josh struggled with himself to stay still. He wanted to reach back and force Webb's hand where he wanted it to be, but he couldn't force any of this, didn't really want to force it. Just wanted to let go, and Webb was letting him do that.
He heard a drawer open and shut and felt Webb kneel behind him. He was harder than he had been in the living room, trying to keep himself from humping the bed, and nearly shaking with need and anticipation.
"Please..." His voice was barely a whisper. Webb's hand left him for a second, then returned, pushing one lubed finger slowly into him. "Oh, god," he moaned. He bit his lip and moaned through that as well. His hands clutched at the fabric of the comforter. He lifted his body away from the bed. Any touch could make him come at this point, and he needed Webb inside him when that happened.
"Good?" Webb asked him softly.
"Y-yes, will you hurry up already?"
Again he heard quiet laughter. Damn Clayton Webb, anyway. If he didn't get something more than a finger inside him soon, he was going to go insane. More lube, two fingers, and he was crying out, thrusting back to impale himself. Too much, he couldn't wait. Webb's fingers inside him, three now, stretched him, came so close to his prostate he could almost feel it. The bastard was avoiding it on purpose, he was sure, but it was just as well. The first touch there would make him come, and he had to wait.
"Clay, *please*." He couldn't say anything else.
The fingers withdrew and he felt hands on his hips, positioning him, then a kiss pressed to the base of his spine that sent tremors through him. The sound of a condom wrapper being opened. Then, finally, the head of Webb's cock at his opening.
His hands clenched at the dark velvet again as Webb pushed into him, god so slowly, felt like a centimeter at a time. Needed this, oh just move, please just move. He was trying, only half conscious of what he was doing, to push back, but Webb held him and kept the pace slow. Every inch of friction was driving him further out of his mind, and this could go on forever, until he couldn't think, couldn't breathe any more. He could die doing this. Would die if Webb didn't hurry the fuck up.
He felt the last inch go in, and he could take it, but just barely. Clay was big, bigger than Josh had thought just looking at him. Felt bigger anyway. It had been so long. And he felt so good.
"You all right?" And now Webb's voice had that breathless quality he'd been listening for. He needed to hear that almost as much as he needed the cock inside him.
"Yes," he hissed, hoping Webb could even hear him with his teeth clenched and his face pressed to the pillows. He could. One arm wrapped around Josh's chest, and the other hand pulled his own hand away from his cock. He hadn't even realized he was touching himself.
Webb pulled out, still holding his wrist against his stomach. He could feel the head pulling at the entrance to his body before the long slide back in started. His could feel vibration in his throat that told him he was moaning, but he could hear nothing. His breath tore in and out of his lungs. He forced his mind away from the cock inside him and concentrated on the feel of Webb's hand closed on his wrist. If he thought too much about what they were doing, he wouldn't need Webb to hit his prostate, wouldn't need to be touched at all. He'd come just from the thought.
He bit his lip hard. He wasn't going to ask this time. It wasn't just him who wanted this. He somehow kept his mouth shut, but his mind was filled with a litany of pleas. Faster, harder, more, *now*.
Webb gave it to him. The next thrust burned as it went into him, fast and hard enough to push him forward. It was angled slightly up, and he thought he screamed when it hit home. Again, out and the quick thrust back in and almost unbearable pleasure. Webb had his wrist pinned still, and the other hand was supporting both their weights. He had to come, didn't want to, but needed to. If this could go on forever, it would be perfect. If Webb stopped before he came, he was going to kill him.
Again and again until Josh was breathing in pants between thrusts that drove him down into the bed, both arms trapped under him. Flares of heat and their ragged breathing and the press of Webb's body on his was all he was aware of. And then the arm around his chest pulled up and back and brought him upright against Webb's chest, impaled even deeper than before. Tiny jerking thrusts against his prostate, and suddenly Webb's fist was sliding up his cock, and his body stiffened and convulsed in the grip of his pleasure. He moaned as he came and felt Webb pulsing inside him at the same time.
Josh sagged and watched the colors spin inside his closed eyes. Webb was supporting him, one arm still across his chest, one hand stroking his face. He kissed the fingertips as they strayed across his lips.
"Okay isn't the word I would choose." His voice sounded sleepy, sated, and almost smugly happy.
A breath of laughter brushed his ear. Webb laid him down and eased out of him. He would have protested, wanting to keep that connection a litte longer, but he was too relaxed. Besides, Clay wasn't pulling away from him like the guys he picked up usually did. That didn't surprise him somehow. In no way was Clayton Webb like the guys he usually picked up. If he was, Josh would be getting dressed by now. In a few minutes he would be outside, looking for a cab. He smiled to himself. Not tonight.
He watched Clay pull back the comforter and get between the sheets. When Clay held out an arm, gesturing for him to come closer, Josh didn't hesitate. This was where he wanted to be.
The sheets were a little chilly, but he was warmed almost immediately as he was pulled close against Clay's body. There was no warning at the back of his mind as he curled himself closer into that embrace and hid his face against Clay's neck. For the first time since the shooting there was warmth and darkness as he drifted off, and nothing else lurking at the back of his mind to make him afraid.
"Josh? Josh, come on, wake up." He heard the voice in his ear and curled himself tighter. It couldn't possibly be time to get up yet. "Josh." The voice was firmer this time, and there was a hand on his shoulder.
"Mmm?" he managed.
"Open your eyes," the voice said with definite amusement. Nice to know he could brighten someone's morning. No, wait; he knew who this was. The last threads of consciousness fell into place, and he smiled.
He didn't open his eyes, but reached out and pulled Webb down to him, their mouths meeting and devouring each other with no conscious effort. The kiss was as deep and hot as yesterday. Webb wasn't holding back, which told him what he wanted to know about where he stood this morning. Something was wrong, though.
He broke the kiss and opened his eyes. "Why aren't you naked?" Webb was dressed, looking only slightly rumpled after his roll in the bed, but a glance at the window told him it was still dark out.
"I have to go. It's work."
Josh blinked and tried to focus. What the hell time was it anyway? "It's dark out. It can't be morning yet."
"It's not. I got a call." He was making no attempt to pull away, and Josh let his hold loosen, still trying to make his mind get with the program.
"What time is it?"
"Three." Webb watched him with no sign of impatience, no sign that he had to be anywhere.
"Three in the morning? Who the hell do you work for, Clay?" He levered himself upright, pulling the covers with him. The room was a little cold, especially without Clay in bed with him.
Josh looked up from rearranging the blankets, a grin already pulling at his lips. "No. Not really?"
"Yes, really." Webb was frowning a little in confusion. Josh shook his head. It was too much to go into at this hour.
"Okay, give me five minutes to get dressed. I'll get a cab. Did you make any coffee?" he ended hopefully, but Webb was shaking his head. "No coffee?"
"No cab. Go back to sleep. You look like you need it. I'll send a car for you around eight, all right? The alarm's set for six-thirty, and the door will lock behind you." He started to get up, but Josh caught his hand.
"I-- I don't even know your number." But one night stands don't exchange numbers, do they? He never had. Never wanted to up until now. The look on Webb's face was telling him this was one more time he should have kept his mouth shut.
The voice was gentle, but that didn't help. "Josh... You know we can't do this again. It's too dangerous. For both of us."
Josh let go of him, looked down at his hands. He nodded. "Yeah. I know."
"Go back to sleep, Josh."
Footsteps told him when Clayton was gone. He lay back down, but didn't think he'd be going back to sleep. He heard noises down the hall and classified them without thinking. Stopping to straighten his tie in the bathroom. Picking up his briefcase. Then, clearly, going down the stairs. Pause. Back up.
There were quick steps back toward the bedroom, and Josh closed his eyes as they reached the doorway and paused.
"Forget something?" His voice sounded cold to him, but Webb probably couldn't tell. Didn't know him well enough. Never would, apparently. Dammit, he had to stop this. Webb was right; it wasn't safe. He didn't care. Didn't want to let this go so easily.
//You take me home and fuck me like some goddamned charity case, split in the middle of the night, and now what? Leave me the hell alone already.// He kept his eyes closed. Webb could get whatever the hell he forgot and leave. Josh didn't want to see him again.
"Yes, I did forget something." He heard Webb's voice startlingly close to him, and then Webb's arms were around him, Webb's lips on his, and despite his best intentions he was responding. He opened his lips to Webb's tongue and reached his arms around under the suit jacket, doing his best to muss that immaculate exterior.
They parted slowly, Webb sucking Josh's lower lip until distance made it impossible. Before Josh could think of anything to say or do, Webb was pressing a card into his hand. "Don't call tomorrow, don't call a week from now, don't call a month from now. Do call before you decide to pick up some stranger at a bar. All right?"
Josh found he had to swallow before he could speak. Even then his voice was shaky and breathless. "Okay."
Webb kissed him quickly once more and was out the door and down the stairs before he could say anything else.
He looked at the card he had crumpled in his hand and smiled, wondering how long he could keep himself from calling.
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