i just had to bring this pic back up the on taken after he dropped from heaven to hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot who can really resist jake flat on concreate 
(
This is one of the most sexually provoking images I've seen of Jake. You get the invitation of his beautifully fanged smile, dark features, and (imo) iconically handsome hands. And he's spread eagle in jeans, in black and white. The lack of color gives a beligerent pallete to the course of action one approaching would likely utilize; I can feel myself coming up to him in my little black and white world where all other inhabitants are abducted and the slightly sophisticated argument of shadow and light is in their place, coaxing me to him as if we were soul survivors of a corrupted magnetic field that's fallen onto a cement earth, bringing with it a wave of euphoria that is almost strong enough to pierce my solid attraction to him - for now it only tickles in sensitive places.
Falling onto him, I presume I wouldn't have it in me to articulate the feeling I get as, like 5-point stars, we physically meet wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and, .... I'll call it middle to middle (
). I close my eyes and my lips casually meet the stuble on his chin. It all becomes blurry at this point as I'm stimulated by the static of our clothing which disintegrates from shared body heat. Color bleeds back into the world once I open my eyes. With the transition to color comes a small surge forcing our bodies a few inches apart as our palms are still locked. His fang bearing grin is now two glistening lips, while my point of view makes an extended roundtrip over his body from his lips.
We're still the only inhabitants, but our blue orbs are back. As they stare into each other, his close, mine take their time. I gaze one more time slowly 'around town' and at our nudity, the spaces between shadow and light. And now I follow, I close my eyes and settle..back..down into the warmth. All in all I'm left with not much to say; I feel I'm allowed only so much personal space before the realization clouds me, that his smile is a simple premonition of what the world would be if I were to place it there with my own - a time where curiosity and vulnerability only tickled and, at worst, was blind, incoherent, and felt warm.
Jake makes my stomach growl.
I'm a sucker for jeans.
It's 5 in the morning.
I've had whiskey.
I hope 4 excuses are adequate.
