Oh, just... Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I love you. I... I love you so much. Okay, commenting.

First of all? MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE MIIIIIIIINE. MUAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! ALL MINE!

Ahem. Yes.

This is so fucking perfect. Like, I can't even... I don't even know how you do it because, as I've told you, they are apparently just fucking beyond me. But you just own them, every little bit of them.

I love that Mark is so spontaneous and Markish and that Lucas is just fucking HELPLESS to resist his whims. I love that, really, it's not even about helplessness so much as it's about how Lucas just... what, trusts him? It's like that.

The fucking desk. Joe's fucking desk. I cannot even imagine a hotter location in the world. It's so fucking wrong and so fucking perfect at the same time. Where else is there even a modicum of privacy at Empire? The toilet? Not especially sexy. But Joe's desk? Fucking GUH. And then, just to ADD to the uncontrollable "Hi, I'm all your buttons!" aspect, there's the rimming. EXCUSE ME, PANTIES ON FUCKING FIRE.

a line of goosebumps chasing up his spine and prickling his scalp

I read this and I get fucking goosebumps.

He doesn't care that he's crumpling the latest inventory counts or that he's leaving sweaty handprints on the cover of the Rolling Stone Joe hasn't had a chance to read yet.

The details in this entire paragraph are so fucking unreal. Yes, I know what Joe's office looks like. Yes, I can close my eyes and see it in my head. But, no, not really. Until I read this everything is hazy and blurred together but then, with each of the little details you drop in, something new and desperately important pops up, all bright and crystal clear clarity. Also? ROLLING STONE. I take it as a personal shout-out to me and RS's infamous love/hate relationship.

if Warren

WAAAAAAAAARRRRRREEEEEEENNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! ::FLAAAAAAAAAAIL:: Oh, my baby, you know how I love him.

The slow, splitting push of latex and erection has him twisting against Mark's hands, his sweat-slick body sliding through Mark's hold like water.

Oh. My fucking God. I can't... I don't even know where to fucking BEGIN with how this is the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen in my life. Splitting. Latex. Twisting. Sweat-slick. Like water. The imagery... THE FUCKING IMAGERY INSPIRED IN THOSE WORDS IS FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE. Fuck, my shoulders are tight with the need to just throw my arms in the air and flails until I pass out. You don't even know what you do to me with shit like this.

I love how Mark is just as fucking fucked out as Lucas in the next paragraph. I love that he's all sweaty and breathing hard and fucking sprawled on Lucas. I love the use of the word "boneless", it's so fucking perfect and guh and yes. But, really? The fucking kicker?

Even if it is crazy.

ALKJJJAKLHKLKLKLJSAOP'OP'K9-[IXQ3OPJAWJ FUCK. F U C K. Bring it right back. I just told you a few hours ago how your last lines always fucking kill me? And this is no fucking exception. I always feel like I've got all these loose ends with my last lines but you just... You are a master. The way it sounds in my head, Lucas' voice saying it in my head, is so fucking brilliant and pitch-perfect. God.

In conclusion, I am yours until the end of time should you want me. Thank you so much for this, baby. Best fucking birthday present in the world and it's all for me. ::curls up with::