bleeding out arrogance | sins spin the bottle blitz

Look, his name was Spencer Salem. Of course he typically liked attention. But this wasn't typical. It'd started off disastrous, then gotten so humiliating around the ten minute mark that it seemed kind of funny, but now it was just... Shameful.

It was a morning to be expected of him: eyes fluttering open, that blissful moment we think we might still be asleep, still able to believe in anything we've ever wanted to believe in. And an instant later, for another instance, there was a question in them: Where am I? And then, only two instances after his eyes had first opened, he looked at the body sleeping next to him. Josh, from the gym. Jack, he meant- Ja... Jay... Jeremy? Or was it Philip?

Craig?

Shit.

There was a security lock on the front door; long story short he fell climbing down a fire escape and ripped the seat of his pants so everyone walking by on the sidewalk saw his ass the entire way home.

By the time he arrived at Leo's, he was already a couple j's deep and feeling loose, prancing through the front door, grabbing Leo by the shirt and pulling him in for a chaste peck on the cheek, "Thanks for having me."

He scanned the rest of the room, crooked smile at the rest of his friend and a wave of black fingernail polish toward them, "Hey Babes, sorry for the wait. Felt like I had to go through fuckin customs at the station."

Truth be told, he'd been stuck in his closet trying to find something to hide the mouth-sized bruise on the nape of his neck, but the details weren't all that important in the end of it. He staked his claim on the floor right next to Ripley with an exasperated sigh, leaning his head onto her shoulder in wait.

Poe spun the bottle and it landed on Lorna, Spencer laughed and clapped for them, "Oh that's gonna be hot!" he exclaimed.

"Five seconds! Ready, set, go!"

"I could lie,
say I like it like that,
like it like that"

His first instinct was to stick his tongue out playfully at Poe, fingers from both hands going in to tickle his chest for a bit of fun.

"S'okay," he said, "I'll kiss you after so that you can say you kinda got to kiss her!"

He rolled onto his knees and crawled forth with his hands so that he was eye to eye with Honey. She was named perfectly, because she looked like she'd been dipped in the stuff. Golden and soft; the candlelight of a windowsill. He grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger and closed the gap between them.

He made sure to give them a show, stiffening the rest of his body, arcing his back so that he could push into her more as his other hand cupped the back of her head. When they called time, he pulled away and his eyes met hers and he smirked and kissed her on the forehead, quick and easy.

"Damn!" he laughed. He wiped the corners of his mouth and retreated to his position on the floor. As one could imagine, this was probably high on his list of favorite nights. Dinner and a show.

Leo went next and you would've never known it by looking at him, but Spencer's stomach balled into a knot for a brief moment. Maybe it would land on him.

Maybe it wouldn't.

He returned his head to Ripley's shoulder and watched the bottle spin, his cheeks catching a little color to them. Dumb. Stupid. Bad idea. Not something he would ever allow himself to follow through on. And then the end of the bottle came to a rest pointing right at Spencer's feet, and he met Leo's eyes and saw a flash of something that looked a lot like fear and, for whatever reason, it gave Leo something like hope, but not quite.

Whatever it was, it was enough to send him straddling Leo's lap.

"Them's the rules, I guess. Ripley, you go next."