Blackmail Bachata

When Jean spoke next, Cici's melodious accent came full force with his words, giving them a sing-song, flirtacious challenge.

Want to start a fire with me? Jean's mind squirmed, while Cici squished him down, her anticipation overpowering. Jean settled back, defeated, resting to admire Kieran's gentility, and the soft, reassuring way he spoke of the terrible game. It's nothing that would get anyone killed over. Just an idea I had I wanted to try out. And, well, I've always wanted to team up with you.

Suddenly, Cici dropped low in his mind. You do cute better. 

Jean came back into his body like he were balanced on a ledge, feeling all the immense uncertainty of his current situation. His hands suddenly began to quiver, which he hid by bringing them clasped behind his back. But he could do nothing to hide the great, fat, natural blush that rose to his cheeks. Too fast and on point to be from the wine. It was Kieran's doing, all for Kieran, and Cici putting him beside the other boy he had always taken small glances at when he could. 

And, it was true Jean wanted to team up with Kieran. If he couldn't quit the game entirely, the idea of playing it with Kieran made him feel safer than he ever could with Cici or his sister. (They were on his side, but when things got too inconvenient or messy, he was their favorite scapegoat too. Blame it on Jean.)

That wine's really hitting me... Jean said, blushing harder, staring vulnerably at Kieran's cup when he felt too timid to check his face, with an awkward, yet endearing, smile at the thrill of finally asking. Cici, also, smiling like a tiger in the long grass.