...basically just talking to myself

Arggh!  Am stuck in the middle of a fic. I have the structure, the ending, the smut,  the plot, etc...  This is the John/Gwen part II. 

I just can't believe she'd do it. The motivation is killing me. Even for a smutbiscuit, you've got to believe that somebody would.

I realize that ill-advised sexual decisionmaking is why alcohol alien sex gas was developed (by writers, not aliens. As far as we know) in the first place, but there will be no alien sex gas in this story.

Is "I was really turned on?" enough of a reason to mess around with someone who tried to kill you?  That only (barely) worked in Part I.   

Gwen knew this about herself: Love was love but sex was sex and something inside her got off on a little bit of danger and a lot of incompatibility.    

'Cause... Owen.  Smooching her in a morgue drawer?   Y/N?  Hard to say.  I hate doing mean stuff to Rhys.

ETA: sound file!