and the dogs are sick and i've started praying again

"Bust," Jack says lowly. Of course, his last throw is the one time Robby hits the bullseye. "I win."

"That you do." Robby takes his beer back from Jack. Their fingers brush over the condensation.

Behind them, their friends flurry around the dart board to set up a new game. "Start without me," Jack says. "I'm taking a smoke break."

"Do you mind sharing?" Robby asks before he can stop himself.

Jack finishes the last of his beer; a bit of it dribbles out the side of his mouth and strings a tempting trail down his neck. "Not at all."

The thin yellow light of the alleyway creates a halo around Jack's curls. Robby rocks back and forth on his feet, pretending to be interested in the crumbling bricks, as Jack digs a pack out of his pocket.

"Only one left."

"Ah." Disappointment crashes on Robby hard. "That's alright, man. Thanks anyway."

Jack places the cigarette between his lips. "We can share."

Robby laughs, but it fades as Jack lights it without breaking eye contact. "Share... a cigarette?"

Jack's sun-kissed skin is emphasized as his cheeks hollow around the drag, he nods and releases the smoke slowly. "If you want."

"Uh," Robby is hypnotized by the way Jack wets his lips. "Sure." He holds a hand out, but it's ignored. Jack flips the cigarette between his fingers and places it an inch away from Robby's mouth.

He stares at Jack for a moment, taking in the challenge behind his eyes, then delicately wraps his lips around the end, tentatively brushing calloused skin as he sucks in a breath. Jack pulls the cigarette away and steps forward; the toes of his shoes knock against Robby's.

Robby exhales. The blood in his ears matches the dull thud of the bar's music through the walls.

"There's an idea," Jack says lowly. He takes another step, crowding Robby against the rough brick. "We could actually share."

"What do you mean?"

"Open your mouth." Robby obeys embarrassingly quickly. The sharp bite of the smoke overwhelms him as Jack releases his drag into his mouth. His thoughts float away with it. "Your turn."

Jack pokes his tongue ever so slightly over his bottom teeth; his mouth looks hot and inviting. Robby blows his hit inside it.

The cigarette twitches slightly in Jack's hand. "You know, buddy of mine did a study abroad in London. He said over there they call these fags."

Ash falls to the concrete. "Why's that?"

"I don't fucking know." Jack smirks, "I prefer the fags we have here."

Robby's dick twitches. "Do you know any?"

The smirk grows. Jack nods. "Do you?" He takes a long drag; his Adam's apple bobs deliciously with it.

"Intimately," Robby answers.

Jack leans closer, holding the smoke in only centimeters away from Robby's mouth. He up with enchanting eyes, giving one last out Robby has no intention of taking.

Robby presses his lips to Jack's and takes in the smoke. Bitterness has never been so appetizing.

The next kiss is a real one. No excuses, just hungrily licking into each other's mouths with the small buzz lingering in the back of their minds. Realistically, the kiss tastes terrible, but Robby would rather die than give up the stale aftertaste of nicotine right now.

Jack rolls his hips against Robby's. Their belt buckles clack together in the quiet of the night, not that either of them can hear it. Anything that isn't Jack panting into his mouth gets washed away in Robby's mind.

Even through two sets of jeans, Jack's dick feels heavy. Robby wonders how thick it is, if he wouldn't be able to stop the drool leaking from the corners of his mouth as he buried his nose in Jack's pubic hair. He moans softly into Jack's mouth.

Jack traces Robby's teeth with his tongue one final time, then moves downward, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. The cigarette is still perched between two of his fingers, his wrist resting on Robby's shoulder. Robby tilts his head and takes another quick drag. He's never had a buzz like this from nicotine before.

A firm hand cups Robby's bulge and massages it. Smoke slides from Robby's lips as he lets out a weak noise, which only encourages Jack's movements. He's beginning to fiddle with the zipper when the loud, metallic screech of the door interrupts them.

Jack rips himself away, and Robby busies himself with finishing off the cigarette.

"Yo, Jack," the person says. "Can I have one?"

Jack digs the box out of his pocket and tosses it. Robby squints at him knowingly, but Jack doesn't have the sense to be ashamed. He stares Robby down and licks across the bottom of his teeth.

"Hey, man, I'm gonna head out," Jack says, never taking his eyes off Robby.

"Oh, already?"

"Yeah, I got some stuff I need to take care of at home."

"Me too," Robby says. He flicks the cigarette to the ground.