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Better than Candy
by Genki Aster-kun
He doesn't stay out as late as he used to. It's been noticed, he knows, by the gossip magazines and the tabloids and the fangirls, all of them speculating on just why JJ's lost his taste for the all-night parties. He gets a kick out of seeing their reasons: that he's got religion, that his bandmates have laid down the law after some sort of legal trouble, that he's got a steady somewhere that he's going home to. He smiles everytime he sees that last one.
It's midnight, and he's done, saying goodbye to whatever pretty girl or boy he was dancing with, impervious to pouts and offers of more drinks or candy. He leaves and arrives home while most of his friends are still out partying. Most of the lights on the first floor are off, except for a few strategically placed to guide the drunk and unsteady bedwards. He doesn't turn any more lights on, doesn't even really need the few that are already on. He only had a few drinks, and that was a lot earlier in the night, and he hasn't been doing as much candy. It's still a gnawing in his gut every now and then, but he's beginning to think that it was mostly the escape, the not-thinking that he was addicted to rather than the candy itself.
He tiptoes up to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and shedding his clothes on the floor while the water heats and then climbing into the shower. The water and soap wash away the makeup and glitter, everything going down the drain in a shiny, multicolored swirl. He makes sure to get the smell of the club, smoke and perfume and sticky-sweet alcohol, out of his hair.
He squidges out onto the bathmat and dries off, carefully making sure that his hair's not drippy-wet. He scoops up his clothes and wraps a towel around his waist. He opens the door to his bedroom and tosses the clothes in without looking before shutting the door again and padding quietly down the hall, to another door. He slips inside and there are no lights here, the shades drawn, and he pauses for a second to make sure that he won't bump into anything, taking the towel from his waist and folding it neatly over the back of the desk chair. The air is slightly chilly on moist skin, and he climbs into bed as soon as he can see the way its occupant is stretched on one side. He slides under the covers to spoon against the (warm!) back presented to him, an arm going around the figure's waist, his face buried in the warm skin at the nape of the neck.
The body next to him shifts, murmuring thickly, half-awake, "Junge?"
"Mmmhmm," JJ sighs as skin-heat sinks into him, and he releases his hold just long enough for the other man to roll over to face him.
JL sounds more awake than a man who was sound asleep thirty seconds ago should sound, but maybe that just meant that he hadn't been really asleep at all. "Did you have a good time?"
"Eh," JJ shrugs a bit, snuggling into JL's arms. "It was ok. The DJ sucked, and there weren't any really good dancers there."
"Ah....I see." JL's hands stroke down JJ's bare back, and JJ half-shivers, half-leans into it. JL's just as naked under the covers as he is, and that's a sign if he ever saw one. JJ's arms wind around JL's waist again, palms splayed against the small of his back.
"Besides," JJ murmurs against JL's neck. "Wanted to come home."
"Really?" JL's thumb teases over JJ's nipple, his mouth so very hot against the base of JJ's throat. "Something here more fun than dancing?"
JJ shivers, crying out softly as the lightest graze of JL's teeth makes him melt into something soft and open and safe and JL's. "Oh yeah...," he whispers. "Much better."
He can barely see JL's smile curving in the darkness, but he knows it's there, and when he leans up to kiss those lips and they open for him, and JL tastes like spice and lager and mouthwash and his hands slide down to cup JJ's ass and pull him close...it's better than dancing, better than candy, better than anything.
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