Jamie's name is James and he is filled with Hippy Joy. Chance is just a whore.
In which my writing isn't very good, but I manage to amuse myself anyway:
Chance leans forward, pressing his face into the crook of Jamie's neck, and he can feel himself shaking. His hands slide up Jamie's back to press against his spine, and he's not ok yet, but he will be. Chance likes to think of it as a sort of therapy, like sticking your hand into a bowl of spiders to conquer arachnophobia, except he gets to fuck his fear away.