Colt has never wanted to simultaneously kill himself and jump for joy before. It's always been one or the other, or some grey area in between. But now, he isn't sure if he wants to jump off a cliff out of embarrassment, or sink into the feeling and let his brain turn into happy mush.

Because one seconds he's walking- with quite a pep in his step, because the last stunt he did hadn't hurt his back nearly as much as it usually did- and the next, he's stumbling over something... or someone. It's your fault, he wants to argue, but he knows deep down he hadn't been looking where he was going. He would have noticed you right away if he was.

He hears your sharp yelp before he feels himself bumping into you, and a moment later, he's toppling over you like some clumsy circus elephant- and he cam barely register anything else as he falls on top of you... other than- fuck... the way your ass feels against him. There's no pain from the fall, and he barely even realizes that he's crushing you because- God!- he can feel your ass and hips against his front.

The rest of the production set fades to grey as he regains his composure as you squirm and struggle under him, face down, his chest to your back. He pushes himself up quickly, his cheeks flushing a bright red and eyes wide and apologetic. "Jesus! Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I wasn't-..."

And then you turn around, pushing yourself up, and his brain goes blank. Your body is a fucking Roman statue. Your face isn't far off from something he'd see in a painting in a museum.... if he went to museums. A long, awkward pause. "You... are so fucking beautiful."