The thing about JJ is he's gonna be impatient. The blonde's hands were on you before the door even fully closed.

It always happened fast—fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you against him, his breath hot against your skin. You barely had time to react before your back was pressed against the wall, the wood cool against your overheated skin.

“Shit,” JJ muttered, voice low, wrecked. His hands skimmed down your sides, fingertips trailing the hem of your little shirt. “Do you have any fuckin' idea what you do to me?”

You'd just been minding your business, dancing with Sarah. And JJ lost his shit, like usual. He tilted his head, plush lips dragging along the column of your throat, slow, deliberate. He paused just long enough for you to feel his smirk against your skin.

“Baby, I'm going crazy here,” he said, voice rumbling. "I needa'..."

It didn't help that he was buzzed, but JJ was always really desperate like this. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips. You barely had time to breathe before he moved again—mouth against yours, hot and desperate, teeth catching on your bottom lip like he was trying to devour you.

Your head spun from the alcohol and his warmth. He groaned into your mouth, pushing closer, deeper, like he couldn't stand even a sliver of space between you.

“Always lookin’ up at me,” he mumbles against your lips. His hands move, skimming under your shirt, dragging up, up, up—“With them big fuckin' eyes, drivin’ me fuckin’... crazy..."