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Divinity Can Wait Till Morning

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You think of God when you’re in the club, hot, sweaty, pulsing masses of students pushing and pulling and shoving as they dance around to the pounding bass line. You think he wouldn’t approve of you being here with an amber drink clutched in your hand, even if you didn’t take one of the pills that Timms offered you earlier with the promise that ‘they were safe, definitely’. He’d been drunk when he said it though, and his eyes flickered from side to side nervously, so you’d refused. Back when you still had a conscience, before the drink took that away. God’s probably given up on you by now, you think. That’s why you’ve ended up here on a Friday night when you should be studying. Of course, you’re here under Dakin’s instruction.

Yet in the moment, you don’t care about what God thinks because you can see Posner standing on the other edge of the dance floor, waiting for you with dark blue eyes and a mouth like sin. The alcohol runs through your veins and into your brain. It fills you with confidence. You dance through the crowd towards him until you’re standing there, gazing at wine-stained lips and eyes that are far too wide for his own good.

You realise he’s had one of Timms' pills and your mind flickers back to what God would think, bloody God with all his rules and beliefs that you really couldn’t give a fuck about, could you, because you’re just using it as an excuse. You doubt Posner would care. Him and God haven’t had much of a relationship recently. He gazes at you with those bloody gorgeous eyes that stare right into your tortured soul and dredge out every secret you’ve ever had but you couldn’t care less. Because those eyes belong to Posner, beautiful Posner whose sapphire eyes you hate because they can read you like a book and yet you love them so much. Why wouldn’t you? It’s David, sweet, daft, damnable David who’s leaning in and shouting something that you can’t quite hear over the music. David with his pale skin, cheeks flushed with drink and his pink lips and his blue eyes that drag you further in each time.

And it’s God on your mind as Posner huffs out a laugh at your confused face. You hear a soft “Scrippsy dear” as his fingers dance up your cheek and rest there. You feel a hot blush creeping up your cheeks and Posner laughs again. Your ears strain to find his silvery sound that they crave to hear.

It's God on your mind as he pulls you in, as his lips chase yours down and you sink into the kiss that you’ve wanted for so long. What would God think when your hands are brushing against his sides, clutching him close? What would God think when his hands are snaking up your shirt? Then his tongue brushes against yours and every thought in your mind melts. Fuck God if Posner’s mouth is a sin because in this exact moment, ignoring the bouncing crowds and yelling voices, sin has never been so tempting. He pulls away, breathless and caresses your cheek while he smiles. You gaze at him and maybe it’s the drink on his lips but somewhere in your lust-fogged mind you think that sin has never tasted quite so sweet.