Lo. Li. Ta. / ask me how I bruised my wrist / How do you feel about virgins?
So, it was glendaglamazon's birthday on Monday. Glenda and I had a party on Saturday and a bunch of our friends came, which was cool because I like our friends. We put together N Sync puzzles and talked about porn. At some point I dirty danced with rossetti and hetrez, and that was hot fun. I was wearing my borderline-obscene lowriders, which only stay up because I got back, baby. Also, we drank a lot. Then liz_w and I went to the corner store to buy ice, and some guys called me "Snow Bunny". It was a good party, except now I need to buy more Pepsi.
Anyway, here is a story for Glenda. It's a little late, but I feel that's redeemed by the fact that this is actually the porniest story I've ever written, and that's saying something, y'all. That's, seriously. Like whoa. And stuff. I kept reading all these baby JuC fics that stopped before they got to the fucking (hello? people, I have needs), and I was getting annoyed, and I thought, man, I should just write a fic with every wrong thought I've ever had about Justin Timberlake. It would just be totally unrepentant porn with no redeeming social value (although I think turning my own crank is pretty, uh. socially valuable. well, to me).
I said as much to Glenda, adding that yeah, I'd feel kinda wrong if I just wrote this all for myself, especially since we'd just been bitching about this very thing, so! You know, what do you get for your very favorite roommate, right? Apparently when you're me the answer is PORN. (But okay, it's me. So there's like, plot. And structure and stuff. And other things that aren't just porn. But yes, it's really mostly that. Although I didn't manage to get in every wrong thought, because seriously that is not really possible for me. There's too damn many.)
Title: Acquiesce
Author: Sara
Rating: NC-17
Summary: JC's never been very good at resisting Justin.
Disclaimer: Lies, man.
Warning/Selling Point: Justin's underage.
Archive: Ask, and please let me know if you rec this.
Feedback: Please! Let us all repent together.
1. agree
He's just a kid, really. Twelve, and at that age JC remembers already feeling older than that, vaguely resentful when people would refer to him as a child because twelve was almost thirteen, and thirteen meant you were a teenager. Twelve was seventh grade, starting junior high and suddenly being less interested in Disney movies and the music your parents listened to. Twelve wasn't that long ago, really, not for JC. But it's right now for Justin.
Justin, not so much a kid, then. Except he is, especially when he looks at JC with those wide blue eyes and curls his fingers in the front of JC's shirt, biting his lower lip like he's nervous, or like he wants JC to think he is.
"Justin, come on," JC says, backing up a little, but Justin follows until JC's back is against the door, which Justin has already locked. Justin planned this, which is scary. He probably didn't even consider that JC might refuse, because he's Justin, and no one ever says no to Justin. Wait, scratch that. JC never says no to Justin. They've known each other for five months, maybe, and Justin latched onto JC as an easy mark from day one.
"Britney wants me to kiss her, she told Ryan and Ryan told me and now I have to, but I don't know how. You have to help me, JC." Justin looks up at him, blinking expectantly, and JC thinks maybe he should have said no to Justin before and set a precedent, at least. Just to prove he could.
"You want me to tell you how to kiss somebody?" JC asks, because he's a good actor. He can follow a script, even one written by a twelve-year-old. Maybe he'll get out of this with a quick chaste kiss, and then he'll be able to go home and not feel entirely morally bankrupt.
"I want you to show me," Justin says, low and already a little breathless, and like hell he's never kissed anybody before, because the press of his mouth against JC's feels incredibly fucking experienced. JC opens his mouth to take a breath and Justin slides his tongue inside, tentative and warm and this is nothing like JC's first kiss was. Justin's fairly small, skinny and strange where he's pressed up against JC. Not soft like Nikki, or aggressive like Tony, just sweet and undemanding, a slow give and take and JC wants this so badly he can feel it in his fingertips, inside his ribcage, up and down his spine. He's sixteen, and in a year he'll be seventeen and Justin will be thirteen, then eighteen and fourteen and it'll still be wrong.
"Justin," he gasps when Justin pulls away, although JC had been meaning to first, he was planning on it, working up to it. It was a gradual process.
"Thanks, JC," Justin says, grinning wide, and then he pulls away, and is out the door before JC can even catch his breath.
"Sure," JC says, but the room is empty, the door swinging shut. He sits in the empty dressing room and stares at the walls.
2. comply
It's a damned long drive from California to Tennessee, and the exhaustion's settled so deep into JC's bones he can't remember a time when he couldn't feel it. A few hours sleep isn't near enough to kill the ache, but that's all he gets before the door creaks open and shut and Justin's on him, pulling back the covers and climbing over JC, settling down with his knees around JC's hips, keeping him still.
"Knew I'd see you again," Justin murmurs, his voice a little lower than it was before. It hasn't even been that long; Justin's barely fourteen now, taller and slightly sharper-looking but still Justin, still the same boy JC left behind. "Missed you."
"Justin," JC chokes out, because Justin's settled back, a warm weight straddling him and suddenly all JC can think of is the series of lurid terrible fantasies he entertained back in L.A. when he was lonely and desperate. "You can't," he starts, and then Justin shifts his hips, a slow deliberate slide and JC's hard for it, hard for him, and this is. This is fucking wrong. Letting Justin kiss him, okay, fine, it's not like he could ever deny the kid anything (and that's right, he's a kid, just keep thinking of him that way and you won't-), but he can't let himself touch Justin like this. There are lines he can't cross. There are. Really.
"Can't what?" Justin murmurs. "Can't welcome you back?" He strokes a thumb over JC's cheekbone, down along the line of his jaw and then leans in and kisses JC softly, sweetly on the mouth. "Can't tell you how much I missed you? Can't-," and he rocks slowly back and forth, "show you?" he whispers against JC's lips, and JC realizes dimly that his hands are on Justin's hips, not pushing him away but holding him there so he can thrust up against him more easily. Justin kisses him again, licking at JC's bottom lip until JC opens his mouth, then it's wetter and dirtier, nasty and hot enough to match the feelings Justin's bringing up inside JC with every movement of his hips.
"You," JC says, but loses his train of thought when Justin shifts downward, pressing his body against JC's so JC can feel him hard through his pajama pants. Fourteen, he tries to say, and no, and can't, but nothing makes it past his lips but, "Oh god," and any sound after is swallowed by Justin's insistent mouth against his, lips and fingertips destroying him from the neck up as those hips wreak havoc farther south. And JC wants, he wants so fucking badly to touch Justin, get him naked and fuck into him hard and fast enough to relieve the ache he's carried around for far too long, longer even than he can admit to himself. Justin looks down at him, dark-eyed and panting, his hips moving slow, wicked and deliberate, and JC. Has to, has to slide his hands over Justin's ass and grip, matching rhythms for a furious beautiful second, and then-
Justin gasps, a sweet cut-off sound like a sob, shuddering a little as he comes. His lower lip trembles, betraying his inexperience, his nervousness. Something like fear is visible in his eyes now as he moves his fingers down JC's stomach, sliding inside his boxers and watching to see what JC will do. He's tentative, all surety gone as he bites his lip and wraps a hand around JC's cock, and that's all, that's all it fucking takes for JC to come right there. Justin draws back up and licks curiously at his hand, tasting JC's come like it's something new and exotic, and the pleased "hmm" sound he makes is possibly the hottest thing. Ever. JC's cock stirs against Justin's hip as Justin wriggles against him. Fuck.
"I'm glad you're here," Justin says, snuggling up and breathing hard against JC's neck, tongue flicking out to taste the skin there.
This isn't why JC came here. It isn't.
3. accept
"There's this group," Justin says. "I want you to come here and be in it with me."
JC thinks about it. He really does. He thinks about how he really should go to college, not stake his hopes on some vocal group with his ex-castmate. He thinks about what a pain in the ass it'll be to move back to Orlando, and how much he hates starting anew, especially after L.A. He thinks about Justin, who's fourteen years old, and there's really nothing he can say to make that less true.
"JC," Justin says. "I want you to come down here."
He thinks about Justin, skinny and golden and eager underneath him, and says, "Okay."
4. consent
The guys are great, Lou is nice, the house is cool, and Justin's still fourteen. They're working constantly, all the time, singing and dancing, and most days JC's so tired he falls asleep immediately. Some days he doesn't, good long days where they hit all the right notes and get the steps perfect, and afterward everyone is so thrilled that they're up for hours, killing each other on Playstation and eating far too much junk food. Some days Justin is just Justin, goofy and funny and sweet, and some nights, even, when he and Chris wrestle on the floor, or he and Lance sit propped up against each other to study and bitch about homework.
Then there are the other times.
"It isn't wrong if you're not touching," Justin says, which is false, but probably makes perfect sense in Justin Logic, and anyway JC knows how he is, that not touching is never enough for Justin. He likes to perform, sure, but he needs more than that before his jittering energy will quiet. Like tonight, when he came uninvited into JC's room and sat at the foot of his bed, pants around his knees as he slowly jerked himself off, his eyes on JC the whole time.
This is the limit, usually, just hands below the waist because Justin's never offered anything else and JC wouldn't presume, at least not out loud. Yet. It's an exercise in self-control, which JC tells himself is a good thing, something he needs.
"I'm pretty sure it's wrong no matter what," JC says.
"You really think so?"
Yes. Maybe. Sort of. Well, he knows he should think it's wrong, and that's something, isn't it?
"Answer me," Justin says, eyes heated as he crawls over JC and bends down to lick at his neck. "You think it's wrong that I want you? That you want me back?" He kisses JC then, not giving him any time to respond before he grazes his teeth along the edge of JC's jaw and whispers in his ear. "I don't care, C. Because you still keep doing it. You'll let me do anything I want with you, won't you? You'd let me suck you off right now, if I wanted to."
Fuck, yes, yes, yes. Anything.
"I want to," Justin whispers, and slides wraithlike down JC's body, pulling JC's boxers off and nuzzling at his stomach.
"Please," JC says.
Justin's eyes slide shut at the first touch of his mouth to JC's cock, like this is bliss, like it's exactly what he's been wanting for years. And JC won't, he will not thrust up into that mouth, stretched wide and pink over him already, sliding down like this isn't the first time. It is, JC's sure. He's only imagined this before, seen it ten thousand times in his mind, and every time he was wrong. So fucking wrong, because he never imagined it would be this incredible.
"Oh god, Justin," JC says, his voice choked, and Justin looks up at him, pulls back a little and licks his lips, just breathing on him for a minute and this, no. This won't last very long. Especially when Justin rubs his cheek against JC's cock, biting his lip like he's not sure what he's doing, but doesn't want to say so. "Are you-"
"Shh," Justin says, like he means to comfort JC, to quiet him, and he licks up the underside of JC's cock. Anything JC meant to say is long gone, and all he can do is watch as Justin takes him in deeper, and it's all, quite frankly, that JC every really wants to see again. Just this, in endless loop, the image of Justin sucking his cock imprinted on the insides of his eyelids forever. That's all JC wants.
Justin looks up at him, sliding his lips up and down JC's cock and sucking lightly, just enough to leave JC trembling and desperate. Enough, it's enough, JC thinks, and then Justin runs a hand up JC's body and clasps JC's hand, tangling their fingers together and holding tight.
JC's not ready for this, he's not. Not ready to feel this close to somebody, like there's nothing left between them, nothing about him that Justin doesn't know. He's not ready to feel like he might be in love. He's only eighteen, and Justin- Justin isn't. This isn't. It can't be.
He comes, unable to resist thrusting up a little. He draws in a breath to warn Justin, to say something, but loses the words when Justin gasps, mouth still stretched over JC's cock, his throat working as he shudders through climax as well. Justin sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes focused on JC. He coughs a little, crawls up and settles against him. He doesn't say anything, just clutches at JC until JC wraps his arms around him and he settles in with a sigh.
Justin is only the third person JC's ever kissed.
5. give in
It doesn't take long. It never takes long; Justin is better at this, even, than he really needs to be. He pushes JC into the bathroom on their five minute break and they're both breathing hard already. The doorknob digs into JC's back, cold hard brass a counterpoint to Justin's soft wet mouth on him, teeth scraping at his hipbone before tugging JC's pants down just enough to get at his cock. The clock is ticking, four minutes until they have to be back on the floor, learning choreography until it's time to eat dinner, then time to collapse into bed.
Justin drinks all the time, fruit juice and bottles and bottles of water. He's always sucking on popsicles, too, for his throat and possibly, JC thinks, to keep him in a perpetual state of arousal. That must be why he can do this, why he takes JC down his throat so easily, a hot smooth glide that feels better than anything JC's ever felt. Why his voice never alters at all, never rasps or falters even when his mouth is red and looks so obviously used.
They have to be quiet, they can't be heard, and that's all that keeps JC from crying out when Justin deepthroats him, lips tight around the base of his cock as JC slides a hand into Justin's curls. His eyes flicker upwards, and he nuzzles into JC's hand until he grips. JC does this, asks permission every time even though he know Justin wants it. He wants it because JC wants it, an endless delirious cycle that replays itself in what seems like JC's every waking thought.
Time has no meaning anymore. Justin turns fifteen. JC works, he comes home, they practice, they sing, they dance. Days go by, blurred by exhaustion and routine, and it's only when Justin comes to him that everything snaps into focus. They've been doing this for months, and JC's forgotten how to say anything but yes.
"I can take it," Justin whispered into his ear last- week? month?- and dropped to his knees in front of JC, tilting his head back and gazing up at JC like he was waiting for him to take control, and JC had almost come right there when he realized that was exactly what Justin had been waiting for. He wanted it, wanted JC's fingers threaded through his curls, holding him in place as he- god, as he fucked Justin's mouth, slow and deep because he didn't think he could handle it any faster. It was too much already, thrusting steadily into that wet heat as Justin looked up at him through his eyelashes, because it was Justin doing this, doing exactly what he wanted.
Justin always came hardest after that, almost the minute JC pushed him against the counter and went down on him, if he hadn't already jerked himself off. He loved it, and JC knew he loved it and that, that was. Fuck. Terrifying. Brilliant. Hot on a level JC hardly knew existed.
"Three minutes," JC says, thrusting into Justin's mouth, and Justin sucks harder, like that's a challenge. His hands, already long-fingered and strong, rest on JC's ass, not discouraging or even trying to set the pace. More helping him along than anything, digging in a little when JC's cock bumps the back of his throat. His eyes flutter open and shut, and he's going to be gorgeous some day, even more than he is now. JC wonders if he'll still be doing this then.
Two minutes, and JC is close. He slides his thumbs over Justin's cheekbones, his hollowed cheeks, and Justin moans low in the back of his throat, greedy for it. JC comes, and Justin swallows it all with practiced ease and the same eagerness he always has.
JC looks at him, willing on his knees, and tries to think, slut, whore, but he's never the one begging for it. Not out loud, at least. He's just Justin, and JC wants him so badly it makes his chest ache, like he can't get enough breath, and it's only when he's near Justin that the ache quiets. He shouldn't need him like this, shouldn't want him, shouldn't- he just shouldn't.
Justin's grinning at him. He leans in and kisses JC on the cheek, then says, "Water," and scampers out of the bathroom, leaving JC to catch his breath. He never really will.
Time passes, or doesn't. They're signed to a label in Germany, and the night before they fly out Justin shows up in his room. JC is twenty, and has been for two weeks. He is old enough to know better.
"This isn't going to stop," Justin says. At some point Justin's wide-eyed pleas turned to statements, without even the comforting illusion that they might be orders, that JC's just doing what Justin wants. They're not going to stop just because they're on their way to being pop stars now, real and proper. It won't stop even though Lynn is coming with them, and it won't stop even though JC knows it should. Of course it won't stop. "It won't," Justin says, determined, and kisses JC hard, draping his body across JC's and holding him there as if JC might try and get away. As if he would ever.
"You're going to fuck me," Justin says, low and dark in his ear, and JC should say something because that's. That's a big step, isn't it, it is. JC hasn't- "Fuck me," Justin says, "I want you to." He's come ready for this, already opening the lube and slicking up his fingers, one hand disappearing behind him where he's straddling JC. He bites his lip as he slides the first finger in, and JC wills himself not to come right there, from the desperate, needy look that crosses Justin's face and the little moan that escapes his mouth. JC wants to see, wants to watch Justin fuck himself with his fingers, but he can't move, can't take his eyes off Justin's face, twisted sweetly as he adds another finger, then another, slowly. JC can tell by each gasp, read Justin like- like a lover. Oh god.
Justin wraps a hand around JC's cock, stroking him slowly up and down before rising up and taking JC in an inch at a time, trembling with the strain of it, and JC wants to cry, wants to be inside Justin, wants to wrap himself around Justin and never let go. Justin lowers himself, hands caging JC's chest, staring at him with wide, scared eyes when he can't go any lower, when JC's filling him completely. He stills, biting his lip and dropping his head like he doesn't want JC to see him like this.
JC lifts a hand and tilts Justin's chin up. Justin opens his eyes, and a tear slips down his face. He clasps JC's hand, kisses his fingers, his palm, his wrist. His mouth falls open a little when he leans back, rocking against JC with painstaking care. Justin is so tight that this can't be comfortable, even with how he prepared himself for it.
This is where JC should tell him to stop, or take it slower, or reconsider this whole situation, and this is where he doesn't. Every small movement sends thrills down nerve endings JC wasn't even aware he had. Each point of contact with Justin- his cock; his waist, gripped by Justin's thighs; the hand that Justin is guiding down his own stomach to his cock- feels like it's wired to the entire surface of his skin, every nerve awake and electrified.
JC thinks he actually might die. This might actually kill him.
"Yeah," Justin murmurs when JC takes hold of his cock, and starts moving faster, pulling almost all the way off before dropping back down with a little unsteady gasp. JC's seen those hips move a thousand times, seen them shift and roll and sway but never like this, never so perfectly, like every dance move was just a sorry, failed attempt to get Justin to move like this. A hot melting slide up and down JC's cock, the muscles in his stomach clenching beneath soft hot skin, and there's a trail of hair leading to Justin's cock, held firm in JC's grip. He strokes up, matching Justin's pace and getting distracted by Justin's hipbones standing out in sharp relief on every rise. Justin's riding him now, steadily and perfectly with his head thrown back. JC has wanted this so badly he thinks he must be dreaming. This can't be real.
"Justin," JC says, pleading. Justin looks down at him, runs a slow hand up JC's side and then palms his cheek, leaning down carefully and kissing JC on the mouth. JC strokes his cock harder, and Justin easily adjusts his rhythm to match. In the thin moonlight from the single small window, he looks otherworldly, like he doesn't belong here. "Justin," JC says again, and Justin kisses him harder.
Justin comes, gasping against JC's lips, and becomes even tighter, tight enough that JC groans, arching up into it. Justin leans back, biting his lower lip, and bounces up and down on JC's cock, practically forcing the climax out of him as JC grips his hips with force enough to bruise. Justin doesn't seem to mind, just fucks himself on JC until JC has enough breath to tell him to stop, that he can't take anymore. He's lying.
He's in love with Justin.
"This won't be the last time," Justin says, climbing off of him and getting dressed. Of course, the early flight tomorrow. Justin has to be in his room. Because he has to.
"No," JC says, which could be taken a number of ways, but Justin just gives him an oblique look and a quick kiss and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.
It feels like JC is shivering but he knows he isn't, he can't be. It's just the cold, now that Justin's left. That's all it is, cold in late August in Orlando.
The next day on the plane Justin shifts a lot in his seat, wincing a little and biting his lip, his breath hitching. JC watches, swallowing nervously because they must know somehow, it must be written all over him that he fucked Justin last night. Justin looks like he's been fucked, his dark eyes focused on JC as he strokes a thumb over his hipbone, pushing up his shirt a little to reveal the bruise JC's left there. His thumb presses against it, and they have to know, have to see the way that Justin is looking at him like he wants nothing more than for JC to do it again, like all he wants in this world is to spread his legs for JC and take it all.
JC will give him whatever he wants. This isn't even a question.
Justin is the first person JC's ever had sex with.
6. submit
Justin takes to being fucked as well he's taken to everything else they've done. He's as eager as he's ever been, but something about JC inside him seems to hit him harder, make him that much needier, that much more desperate. He goes from coming to JC when he can to making time for him, skipping nights out, sneaking into JC's room in the mornings, taking any extra five minutes to drag him off, even if it's only for frantic making out in a random supply closet, or backstage at a show.
He's still confident, sure in the knowledge that JC will never refuse him, but this is what makes him falter, what makes him twist up and plead for it. JC thought there was nothing Justin could do that would make JC want him any more than he already does, but all Justin has to do is sidle up to him at any given hour of the day and whisper, "Want you in me, JC, want it so badly," and it keys up nerve endings JC barely knew he had. Makes him desperate for it, and rough as a consequence, thrusting in hard enough to make Justin whimper, later, when the first chance they get JC pushes him down onto the bed, or bends him over a table, or takes him up against a wall.
He's not doing growing yet, won't be for a few years probably, and he's still a few inches shorter than JC, which should make things awkward but instead just makes them hotter. He's light enough and JC's strong enough to lift him up, back against the wall and legs around JC's waist, all tensed up and his mouth falls open at the first thrust, as if he can't get enough air, and JC thrusts in hard and fast enough that maybe he can't. Justin never complains, just throws his head back and gasps aloud, biting his lip to keep himself quiet, to stop them being heard. There's nowhere they do this that they can't get caught, nowhere safe, and JC wonders if there ever will be.
It's better, even, when Justin goes up against the wall willingly, places his palms flat against it and pushes his ass out, legs spread as far as his jeans will allow where they're down around his knees. Better, yeah, because Justin goes up on his tiptoes each time JC pushes into him, has to stretch for it, and moans when JC digs his fingers into his hips to force him up higher.
Justin likes to be gripped, held down, his long limbs restrained. He's sensitive all over, tender skinny wrists and ankles and miles of hot skin between, skin JC can't help but map with his fingertips, his mouth. Justin loves it, writhes up so JC can hold him down, and JC wonders sometimes if he could get him pinned good and proper, gripping Justin's ankles as he fucks him, with one of the others- Chris, maybe- holding his wrists tight enough to bruise and fucking his mouth with the same hard, fast rhythm until Justin's sobbing for it, from it. Giving it to him like JC thinks he's asking for, sometimes.
He wouldn't, of course he wouldn't, not ever.
(Unless Justin asks for it. Unless Chris offers. Unless JC gives up one day, discards any lingering sense of right and wrong, and lays Justin out like an offering for JC and Chris to take, and fuck, and bruise. And Justin would love it, would beg for it on his knees, on his back, if he knew JC even thought-)
JC wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ever.
They're working all the time, nonstop it seems, photo shoots and TV appearances and concerts. JC gets nervous, sometimes, that someone will see something, but Justin never does anything out of the ordinary, at least not in front of anyone. Sure, he hangs all over JC sometimes, and there are days where it seems like Justin can't be more than two feet away from him at any given moment, but that's just the way Justin is. He teases Lance, and pals around with Joey, and his relationship with Chris seems based equally on idol worship and their mutual commitment to be kids together. He's sweet and friendly and clingy. He's Justin.
And they're friends, too; when they're not alone they can talk for hours, and JC loves that, loves knowing Justin as the complex guy that he is. They talk about everything in the world except for what they're doing with each other, even when they are alone. JC wants to, he does, he wants to talk about what it means to Justin, even tell Justin what it means to him, but he never does. Justin is sixteen, and they've been doing this for two years. This is the longest relationship JC's ever had.
They get their first gold record and everything goes crazy. JC can't even remember the last time he got eight consecutive hours of sleep, when he's always been the type to sleep ten hours straight through. Lynn lobbies to get them days off, and he tends to spend them sleeping, especially since the guys always insist on going out the night before.
When JC sleeps, he dreams of Justin, strange lucid dreams where Justin is always present, if only wandering through the background scenery. Justin doesn't say I love you there, either.
A week passes where they get no time alone, and by the end JC is tense and crabby and Chris actually snaps, "Jesus Christ you need to get laid," before JC sulks off to curl up in his bunk and write songs about sex.
They have a full schedule the next day, learning choreography, then a photo shoot, then a concert. JC fucks Justin thrice that day, three stupid risks in the span of twelve hours, which is probably a record. Well, if you discount the entirety of their relationship up to this point.
Their new choreographer's studio is being remodeled, so they end up practicing in a local school gymnasium, complete with bleachers and loud pennants hanging from the rafters. Justin learns the new steps in an hour and charms the choreographer into letting them take a break. This is a bad, bad idea; JC knows what's going to happen the minute Justin drags him off to wander around the school, because "It's not like I'll ever have a real high school experience, C," and pulls him into the first unlocked classroom they come across. There's construction paper taped over the window, and the door locks behind them, which JC is grateful for as Justin turns to him and starts undoing JC's pants.
"C'mon," Justin says, grinning, "let's get freaky," and JC would laugh at him except it's actually really fucking hot. Like, really seriously fucking hot as Justin goes to stroke him and finds JC already hard for it.
"Justin," JC starts, because they've actually been getting progressively stupider, here, practically begging for someone to find them and bust them. And then bad things will happen. He'll get kicked out of the band, and-
"Oh please, Mr. Chasez," Justin says, leaning in and sliding a lubed hand up JC's cock, "I'll do anything, just don't send me to the principal's office." He walks backward until his ass collides with the edge of the teacher's desk, and then he hops up on it, still stroking JC slowly. It smells vaguely like apples, which is a nice touch. That variety pack of single-use lube samples was the best idea ever. Except for this one.
"Bend over," JC says, and he hadn't actually known his voice could go that low. Justin scrambles to obey, bending over the cluttered desk and clutching at the edge. "You'll do anything?" JC asks, leaning down over Justin's back, hands busy unzipping Justin's pants and pushing them down.
"Anything, please." It's honestly fucking surprising that Justin is the kinky one here. The longer this goes on the more JC feels like a freak, a complete moral degenerate, but Justin apparently doesn't have that problem. Probably JC could learn a few things from him.
"Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you," JC says experimentally. It feels good to say, and Justin moans like the words themselves are getting him off. Maybe they are. "I said beg."
"Fuck me," Justin gasps. "Please, oh god, I want it. I need it. I'll do whatever you want," he says, and JC rewards him with two fingers thrust roughly inside him, sending Justin arching back, frantic. "Need your cock, please, need to be fucked."
JC doesn't come right there, in a miraculous turn of events. It's a struggle, though, an effort, with Justin pushing back on his fingers and talking like- well, not so much like a sixteen-year-old, especially not one that spends half his time running on sugar and adrenalin.
"Please, now," Justin says, almost whines. JC wants to make him beg even harder, until he's absolutely desperate for it, but JC has his limits, after all. There's only so much he can handle. He takes hold of Justin's hips, kicks his legs apart a little wider, and thrusts in, leaning over Justin's back and pinning his wrists to the desk.
It's too much, it's too fucking much at first, the way Justin sighs as if he's just gotten everything he's ever wanted in this world and it's all better than he'd hoped. "Stay still," JC whispers into his ear, and Justin instantly obeys, letting JC take him how he wants, slow and deep. Justin's tense and strained under him, whimpering each time JC presses in and biting his lower lip red. He can't help but shudder, though, his entire body practically vibrating against JC's. He's still dressed, pants just pushed down around his ankles. JC tugs the collar of Justin's shirt down so he can bite at the back of his neck, and Justin's whimpers grow louder.
"Please, harder," Justin says, voice muffled against the desk. His eyes are shut tight, knuckles white in JC's grip. He's beautiful. JC thrusts in more forcefully, and it's like this every time, like he's finally where he's meant to be. With Justin, in him, fucking him like this, loving him like this. Every time they do this he feels it, that constant low ache in his chest dissipating at the first touch, only to gather up again and burn him from the inside out until he comes inside Justin. He remembers the other people he's kissed, even just felt something for, those glorious delirious crushes that meant the world to him once and now just seem like nothing at all in the face of this.
JC's thrusting into him so hard that it's making him dizzy, making the desk shake. The world has narrowed to Justin under him, the slap of their skin loud in the otherwise quiet classroom, the echo of their breathing. This is all JC needs, ever. He slides a hand around Justin's hip and grasps his cock, and seconds later Justin is coming, moaning and tightening around him. JC follows, and they stay there for a minute, catching their breath until Justin wiggles underneath him and JC moves back to let him stand.
"God, JC," Justin pants, leaning against the desk with his hands clutching the edge like it's the only thing holding him up.
"Yeah," JC says, and kisses him, licking at the edges of that red mouth until Justin lets him in, kissing him back like he's starving for it. JC's hands slide over his arms, then to his back as he eases Justin down onto the desk again and Justin wraps his legs around JC's waist, bringing him closer. And oh fuck, they don't have time to start this again, they've been gone too long already and what if someone comes to find them? They can't, they have to- Justin's kissing him frantically now, his hands sliding into JC's hair as he bites at JC's lips, and he's hard again, already, fuck. "We can't-" JC says, and Justin sobs against him, thrusting up against JC, who will not, will not get hard again because they have to fucking go, they can't just-
"Please, oh god please," Justin says, eyes wild and needy as he pushes his hips up, tugging down his pants and this is really not very conducive to anything, no. JC runs his fingers down Justin's side, moving toward his ass and yeah, definitely not a good idea. Justin pushes back against him, his skin hot and he's slick inside when JC pushes three fingers into him, still wet with lube and JC's come. JC puts his other hand on the desk beside Justin's shoulder, anchoring himself there, and twists his fingers, setting a fast, hard rhythm that Justin matches, stroking himself in time. A minute passes, two, and JC watches Justin's face as he writhes on JC's fingers, savors each gasp and moan. He comes again.
They return flushed and still breathing a little heavily, although Justin's more composed than JC is, somehow. They're the last ones back in the gym. Chris and Joey are still sprawled out on the floor where they were when JC and Justin left. He doesn't think they've actually moved.
"You know, the whole point of taking a break is that you actually stop running around and relax for a minute," Lance says. He's observant, which makes JC a bit nervous. Probably he wouldn't freak out like Chris or Joey would, but JC's seen the way Lance looks at them sometimes and it makes him wonder. Like maybe Lance wouldn't be mad at all, because he'd be too busy asking if he could join. JC likes Lance a lot, but that doesn't mean he doesn't acknowledge that Lance is also sort of an evil mastermind. He just hides it well, under the big green eyes and slow Southern drawl.
"I feel really relaxed now," Justin says, smiling winningly. Lance raises an eyebrow at JC. JC shrugs, and very casually flees.
That should make JC nervous enough to avoid Justin for the rest of the day, and it does, sort of, except that Justin seems intent on all but climbing into JC's back pocket. It's hard to ignore him, because he's persistent, and seems to take "no" as some sort of personal challenge. He spends half the photo shoot draped over JC, climbing onto his back and nuzzling playfully at his jawline until Chris inquires about the strange new curly blond growth that JC seems to have acquired.
JC shrugs, which is difficult with roughly a hundred and fifty pounds of Justin clinging to his shoulders, and says he thinks it's some sort of exotic mold. Justin bites his earlobe, which is probably meant as a reproach but actually just turns JC on. Great.
The photographer eventually lets them go grab some lunch, which Justin insists they eat around a table that has only four chairs. Justin sits on JC's lap. When JC pinches his side, Justin grinds down, giving JC a charming smile. JC is still hard, and Justin wiggles around, as if he's trying to get more comfortable. JC realizes he was totally wrong about Lance being the evil mastermind of the group. Clearly Justin is going for the title, and winning handily.
"You know," Joey leans in and whispers in JC's ear, quietly enough so that Justin can't hear, "if you and J are in love or something, you can tell us. Chris probably won't kill you too badly."
JC stiffens. "Um," he says. Great. Great. Fuck. "He's sixteen," he hisses at Joey.
"Dude, whatever," Joey says, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "Just saying."
"Get up," JC says to Justin, and nudges him off his lap. Justin slides off, giving him a curious look. "Bathroom," JC mutters, and walks away.
JC's washing his hands when Justin comes in and leans against the wall, staring at him. "What did Joey say to you?" he asks.
"Nothing," JC mutters. "He asked if we're in love."
"What'd you say?"
"What do you think?" JC fires back. Justin cocks his head to the side, assessing him quietly. JC closes his eyes, and when he turns around Justin is in front of him, pulling JC close and kissing him. Three hours ago they were fucking in an empty classroom, and tonight they have a show to put on. JC can't do this, he just can't. He is. He kisses Justin back.
"We can be quick," Justin says, and they'll goddamn well have to be.
"Come on," JC says, pushing him into the largest stall, because if they're fucking they're not talking, with the added bonus that they're fucking. "What do you want?"
"Just fuck me."
"Again?"
"Are you actually going to argue with me on this?"
JC isn't, so he just takes the lube from Justin and readies him quickly before sliding in. Justin winces, and JC stops. "You okay?"
"A little sore," Justin says, already squirming back against him. "S'fine. I like it."
"You gonna be okay to dance later?" JC says, trying to go slow even though they really, really do not have the time.
"Yes, god," Justin says. He rolls his eyes and JC snaps his hips forward, making that annoyed expression dissolve into slightly pained bliss. His breath hitches at each thrust, as though he's trying to hold back tears. Maybe he is. JC kisses his cheek, and Justin sniffles a little, then gasps when JC goes in deep. He reaches back for JC's hand and threads their fingers together, pulling JC forward and guiding his hand to his cock. They've been in here too long already. They're almost asking to get caught.
JC closes his eyes and leans his forehead into Justin's blond curls as he strokes him, the fast rhythm he knows Justin likes. He pushes forward as Justin pushes back, Justin fucking himself just as much as JC is fucking him, and it's amazing, thrilling, hot as hell.
"Don’t wanna fight with you," Justin says. JC imagines he can hear the beat of Justin's heart, his pulse thready and quick against JC's lips on the back of Justin's neck. "Just want this. Want this all the time, C."
"Me too," JC says, "I," he starts, but doesn't finish, just thrusts into Justin, twisting his hand like Justin likes, and comes. Justin does too, a few seconds later, and JC's already reaching to get him dressed again, to get them both presentable before they get back out and the makeup girl glares at them for fucking up her work.
"You what?" Justin asks quietly as they head for the door.
"Nothing," JC sighs.
Justin gives him a long look, then kisses him once, quickly. "Okay," he says, and races out of the bathroom and back to the table to finish his lunch. JC isn't even hungry anymore.
"You cool, C?" Chris asks when he gets back, fucking up JC's hair as JC tries irritably to smooth it back into place. "I wanted to go after you but Joey said we should just let Justin fix you."
"He's cool," Justin says, leaping on Chris's back. "I fixed him. I got skills, yo."
"We all know JC could never be cool," Chris scoffs, and JC would bother to defend his honor, but actually Chris is right. Chris and Justin are wrestling by now anyway, so it's not like either of them notice when JC wanders back to finish doing what they're actually supposed to be doing.
They show up late for sound check later, but they've been to the venue before, so it doesn't take as long. They're left with extra time, and JC wanders to the dressing room. It's not one of the ones they had last time, apparently; Justin had told him that they were switching them around. When he gets to the room, it's deserted. Actually, it doesn't look like it's been used in awhile. Like, years.
Justin comes in, and locks the door behind him.
"This is the wrong dressing room," JC says, blinking at him. The lights are dim, the room dusty from disuse.
Justin pushes him down onto the couch, straddles his lap. "I disagree," he says, and oh. Of course. This is exactly the right dressing room.
Justin kisses him, still as eager as the first time they did this, kissed in a dressing room because JC refused to say no. Bigger now, no longer the kid he was then, but he still tastes exactly the same. He's better at it, maybe, and he started out just fine. JC didn't love him back then, he didn't, but he loves him now and that makes everything they do that much sweeter, even if Justin never says it, even if JC never lets himself.
"Again?" JC asks as Justin tugs open his pants and kicks them off, then climbs back onto JC's lap and, "We could, something else," JC attempts, but Justin obviously does want to fuck again, and if Justin wants to fuck then they'll fuck. Justin may be the one taking it, but JC won't delude himself that he's the one in charge, even if Justin likes him to play like he is, sometimes.
"Just once more," Justin says, pushing JC's jeans down around his hips, leaving just enough room for JC to be, well, trapped actually. He's slouched down on the couch, shirt thrown aside and jeans open with Justin arching up against him, naked, and Justin's already got a hold of JC's fingers, slicking them up and urging them around. Justin leans forward, kissing him again, and JC's fingers slide into him easily, two and then three when Justin moans and moves back, fucking himself on them. It's an awkward angle, but JC can crane his neck just enough to watch, to see his fingers thrusting into Justin's body, see Justin stretched around him, wet and grasping.
Justin whimpers when he pulls them out, nuzzling and biting at JC's neck just hard enough to leave marks that won't last. "Ready?" JC asks, just to hear him answer, and Justin's "Yeah, yeah, please" is, yes, perfect. He drags Justin forward and settles him down onto his cock, a long slow slide that ends with Justin resting against him, shuddering and full. JC doesn't have leverage enough to thrust up, and he's not sure what Justin wants from him, so he stays still and waits, his breathing heavy.
Finally, Justin rolls his hips forward, barely rising an inch off of JC before going down again, and this is just fine. They hardly ever do it slow like this, and they shouldn't be now, but JC can't bring himself to care. It's too good, Justin gazing at him as he moves up and down, back and forth, open and hurting, still. His arms are wrapped around JC's neck, holding him close as JC runs his hands over Justin's back, feeling the smooth expanse of skin and muscles shifting beneath as Justin rides him, sweet as the first time except Justin's not scared anymore.
JC is terrified. Justin may seem like the vulnerable one here but he isn't, and if it weren't for his weight atop JC then JC would be trembling even harder than he already is. Something's different; they've never had each other this much in one day, there's never been time enough for this. JC can't feel this much with so few hours between, he doesn't have the capacity for it, can't handle it. Justin shivers, glimmering with sweat in the pale dusty light of the room, and JC buries his face in Justin's chest, clinging to him. Too much.
"You love me," Justin whispers, keeping to the rolling slow rhythm he's started. His words stir the air above JC's head, and JC nods.
"Yeah," JC says, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Say it," Justin murmurs, so quiet JC almost can't hear it, but he does.
"Love you." His heart is racing. Against his lips, JC can feel Justin's heart racing, too. "I love you."
Justin urges him up, thrusting against him and moving faster. He looks at JC, wide blue eyes and the set straight line of his lush mouth, and says nothing. His gaze turns downward, and JC follows, watching his cock move in and out of Justin, watching the gorgeous impossible stretch of it. JC has never felt so amazing and so awful all at once. It's overwhelming, like everything else about this situation, and JC has no idea what he's supposed to do, or say, or feel.
There's a sudden warm rush over JC's bare stomach; Justin's coming, panting in his ear, and JC thinks he's imagining it at first, the words tumbling over and running into each other as Justin murmurs, "I love you I love you I love you," to JC, breath hot and heavy against the side of his face. JC comes.
It isn't until after, when Justin moves off of him and slowly begins getting dressed, that things get weird. That lasts for about half a second before JC speaks, unable to stand it.
"You didn't have to-" he starts.
"Shut up," Justin says fiercely. "You can't take it back now."
"What?" JC says, honestly startled. "I just meant you didn't have to say it back, just because I-"
"It's true," Justin mutters. "It's true, it's been true. I didn't think you did, though."
"I did," JC says, his voice soft. "I do. I have."
"That's good." Justin smiles at him, suspiciously watery, and JC thinks maybe things will be better from now on. They will be. Justin loves him. The whole fucking world has suddenly become a better place. Well, not like their situation will get any easier, but. Justin loves him.
"Yeah," JC says, unable to stop grinning. Justin's smile brightens even more, and they walk out of the room together.
Justin is the first person who's ever loved JC back.
Anyway, here is a story for Glenda. It's a little late, but I feel that's redeemed by the fact that this is actually the porniest story I've ever written, and that's saying something, y'all. That's, seriously. Like whoa. And stuff. I kept reading all these baby JuC fics that stopped before they got to the fucking (hello? people, I have needs), and I was getting annoyed, and I thought, man, I should just write a fic with every wrong thought I've ever had about Justin Timberlake. It would just be totally unrepentant porn with no redeeming social value (although I think turning my own crank is pretty, uh. socially valuable. well, to me).
I said as much to Glenda, adding that yeah, I'd feel kinda wrong if I just wrote this all for myself, especially since we'd just been bitching about this very thing, so! You know, what do you get for your very favorite roommate, right? Apparently when you're me the answer is PORN. (But okay, it's me. So there's like, plot. And structure and stuff. And other things that aren't just porn. But yes, it's really mostly that. Although I didn't manage to get in every wrong thought, because seriously that is not really possible for me. There's too damn many.)
Title: Acquiesce
Author: Sara
Rating: NC-17
Summary: JC's never been very good at resisting Justin.
Disclaimer: Lies, man.
Warning/Selling Point: Justin's underage.
Archive: Ask, and please let me know if you rec this.
Feedback: Please! Let us all repent together.
1. agree
He's just a kid, really. Twelve, and at that age JC remembers already feeling older than that, vaguely resentful when people would refer to him as a child because twelve was almost thirteen, and thirteen meant you were a teenager. Twelve was seventh grade, starting junior high and suddenly being less interested in Disney movies and the music your parents listened to. Twelve wasn't that long ago, really, not for JC. But it's right now for Justin.
Justin, not so much a kid, then. Except he is, especially when he looks at JC with those wide blue eyes and curls his fingers in the front of JC's shirt, biting his lower lip like he's nervous, or like he wants JC to think he is.
"Justin, come on," JC says, backing up a little, but Justin follows until JC's back is against the door, which Justin has already locked. Justin planned this, which is scary. He probably didn't even consider that JC might refuse, because he's Justin, and no one ever says no to Justin. Wait, scratch that. JC never says no to Justin. They've known each other for five months, maybe, and Justin latched onto JC as an easy mark from day one.
"Britney wants me to kiss her, she told Ryan and Ryan told me and now I have to, but I don't know how. You have to help me, JC." Justin looks up at him, blinking expectantly, and JC thinks maybe he should have said no to Justin before and set a precedent, at least. Just to prove he could.
"You want me to tell you how to kiss somebody?" JC asks, because he's a good actor. He can follow a script, even one written by a twelve-year-old. Maybe he'll get out of this with a quick chaste kiss, and then he'll be able to go home and not feel entirely morally bankrupt.
"I want you to show me," Justin says, low and already a little breathless, and like hell he's never kissed anybody before, because the press of his mouth against JC's feels incredibly fucking experienced. JC opens his mouth to take a breath and Justin slides his tongue inside, tentative and warm and this is nothing like JC's first kiss was. Justin's fairly small, skinny and strange where he's pressed up against JC. Not soft like Nikki, or aggressive like Tony, just sweet and undemanding, a slow give and take and JC wants this so badly he can feel it in his fingertips, inside his ribcage, up and down his spine. He's sixteen, and in a year he'll be seventeen and Justin will be thirteen, then eighteen and fourteen and it'll still be wrong.
"Justin," he gasps when Justin pulls away, although JC had been meaning to first, he was planning on it, working up to it. It was a gradual process.
"Thanks, JC," Justin says, grinning wide, and then he pulls away, and is out the door before JC can even catch his breath.
"Sure," JC says, but the room is empty, the door swinging shut. He sits in the empty dressing room and stares at the walls.
2. comply
It's a damned long drive from California to Tennessee, and the exhaustion's settled so deep into JC's bones he can't remember a time when he couldn't feel it. A few hours sleep isn't near enough to kill the ache, but that's all he gets before the door creaks open and shut and Justin's on him, pulling back the covers and climbing over JC, settling down with his knees around JC's hips, keeping him still.
"Knew I'd see you again," Justin murmurs, his voice a little lower than it was before. It hasn't even been that long; Justin's barely fourteen now, taller and slightly sharper-looking but still Justin, still the same boy JC left behind. "Missed you."
"Justin," JC chokes out, because Justin's settled back, a warm weight straddling him and suddenly all JC can think of is the series of lurid terrible fantasies he entertained back in L.A. when he was lonely and desperate. "You can't," he starts, and then Justin shifts his hips, a slow deliberate slide and JC's hard for it, hard for him, and this is. This is fucking wrong. Letting Justin kiss him, okay, fine, it's not like he could ever deny the kid anything (and that's right, he's a kid, just keep thinking of him that way and you won't-), but he can't let himself touch Justin like this. There are lines he can't cross. There are. Really.
"Can't what?" Justin murmurs. "Can't welcome you back?" He strokes a thumb over JC's cheekbone, down along the line of his jaw and then leans in and kisses JC softly, sweetly on the mouth. "Can't tell you how much I missed you? Can't-," and he rocks slowly back and forth, "show you?" he whispers against JC's lips, and JC realizes dimly that his hands are on Justin's hips, not pushing him away but holding him there so he can thrust up against him more easily. Justin kisses him again, licking at JC's bottom lip until JC opens his mouth, then it's wetter and dirtier, nasty and hot enough to match the feelings Justin's bringing up inside JC with every movement of his hips.
"You," JC says, but loses his train of thought when Justin shifts downward, pressing his body against JC's so JC can feel him hard through his pajama pants. Fourteen, he tries to say, and no, and can't, but nothing makes it past his lips but, "Oh god," and any sound after is swallowed by Justin's insistent mouth against his, lips and fingertips destroying him from the neck up as those hips wreak havoc farther south. And JC wants, he wants so fucking badly to touch Justin, get him naked and fuck into him hard and fast enough to relieve the ache he's carried around for far too long, longer even than he can admit to himself. Justin looks down at him, dark-eyed and panting, his hips moving slow, wicked and deliberate, and JC. Has to, has to slide his hands over Justin's ass and grip, matching rhythms for a furious beautiful second, and then-
Justin gasps, a sweet cut-off sound like a sob, shuddering a little as he comes. His lower lip trembles, betraying his inexperience, his nervousness. Something like fear is visible in his eyes now as he moves his fingers down JC's stomach, sliding inside his boxers and watching to see what JC will do. He's tentative, all surety gone as he bites his lip and wraps a hand around JC's cock, and that's all, that's all it fucking takes for JC to come right there. Justin draws back up and licks curiously at his hand, tasting JC's come like it's something new and exotic, and the pleased "hmm" sound he makes is possibly the hottest thing. Ever. JC's cock stirs against Justin's hip as Justin wriggles against him. Fuck.
"I'm glad you're here," Justin says, snuggling up and breathing hard against JC's neck, tongue flicking out to taste the skin there.
This isn't why JC came here. It isn't.
3. accept
"There's this group," Justin says. "I want you to come here and be in it with me."
JC thinks about it. He really does. He thinks about how he really should go to college, not stake his hopes on some vocal group with his ex-castmate. He thinks about what a pain in the ass it'll be to move back to Orlando, and how much he hates starting anew, especially after L.A. He thinks about Justin, who's fourteen years old, and there's really nothing he can say to make that less true.
"JC," Justin says. "I want you to come down here."
He thinks about Justin, skinny and golden and eager underneath him, and says, "Okay."
4. consent
The guys are great, Lou is nice, the house is cool, and Justin's still fourteen. They're working constantly, all the time, singing and dancing, and most days JC's so tired he falls asleep immediately. Some days he doesn't, good long days where they hit all the right notes and get the steps perfect, and afterward everyone is so thrilled that they're up for hours, killing each other on Playstation and eating far too much junk food. Some days Justin is just Justin, goofy and funny and sweet, and some nights, even, when he and Chris wrestle on the floor, or he and Lance sit propped up against each other to study and bitch about homework.
Then there are the other times.
"It isn't wrong if you're not touching," Justin says, which is false, but probably makes perfect sense in Justin Logic, and anyway JC knows how he is, that not touching is never enough for Justin. He likes to perform, sure, but he needs more than that before his jittering energy will quiet. Like tonight, when he came uninvited into JC's room and sat at the foot of his bed, pants around his knees as he slowly jerked himself off, his eyes on JC the whole time.
This is the limit, usually, just hands below the waist because Justin's never offered anything else and JC wouldn't presume, at least not out loud. Yet. It's an exercise in self-control, which JC tells himself is a good thing, something he needs.
"I'm pretty sure it's wrong no matter what," JC says.
"You really think so?"
Yes. Maybe. Sort of. Well, he knows he should think it's wrong, and that's something, isn't it?
"Answer me," Justin says, eyes heated as he crawls over JC and bends down to lick at his neck. "You think it's wrong that I want you? That you want me back?" He kisses JC then, not giving him any time to respond before he grazes his teeth along the edge of JC's jaw and whispers in his ear. "I don't care, C. Because you still keep doing it. You'll let me do anything I want with you, won't you? You'd let me suck you off right now, if I wanted to."
Fuck, yes, yes, yes. Anything.
"I want to," Justin whispers, and slides wraithlike down JC's body, pulling JC's boxers off and nuzzling at his stomach.
"Please," JC says.
Justin's eyes slide shut at the first touch of his mouth to JC's cock, like this is bliss, like it's exactly what he's been wanting for years. And JC won't, he will not thrust up into that mouth, stretched wide and pink over him already, sliding down like this isn't the first time. It is, JC's sure. He's only imagined this before, seen it ten thousand times in his mind, and every time he was wrong. So fucking wrong, because he never imagined it would be this incredible.
"Oh god, Justin," JC says, his voice choked, and Justin looks up at him, pulls back a little and licks his lips, just breathing on him for a minute and this, no. This won't last very long. Especially when Justin rubs his cheek against JC's cock, biting his lip like he's not sure what he's doing, but doesn't want to say so. "Are you-"
"Shh," Justin says, like he means to comfort JC, to quiet him, and he licks up the underside of JC's cock. Anything JC meant to say is long gone, and all he can do is watch as Justin takes him in deeper, and it's all, quite frankly, that JC every really wants to see again. Just this, in endless loop, the image of Justin sucking his cock imprinted on the insides of his eyelids forever. That's all JC wants.
Justin looks up at him, sliding his lips up and down JC's cock and sucking lightly, just enough to leave JC trembling and desperate. Enough, it's enough, JC thinks, and then Justin runs a hand up JC's body and clasps JC's hand, tangling their fingers together and holding tight.
JC's not ready for this, he's not. Not ready to feel this close to somebody, like there's nothing left between them, nothing about him that Justin doesn't know. He's not ready to feel like he might be in love. He's only eighteen, and Justin- Justin isn't. This isn't. It can't be.
He comes, unable to resist thrusting up a little. He draws in a breath to warn Justin, to say something, but loses the words when Justin gasps, mouth still stretched over JC's cock, his throat working as he shudders through climax as well. Justin sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes focused on JC. He coughs a little, crawls up and settles against him. He doesn't say anything, just clutches at JC until JC wraps his arms around him and he settles in with a sigh.
Justin is only the third person JC's ever kissed.
5. give in
It doesn't take long. It never takes long; Justin is better at this, even, than he really needs to be. He pushes JC into the bathroom on their five minute break and they're both breathing hard already. The doorknob digs into JC's back, cold hard brass a counterpoint to Justin's soft wet mouth on him, teeth scraping at his hipbone before tugging JC's pants down just enough to get at his cock. The clock is ticking, four minutes until they have to be back on the floor, learning choreography until it's time to eat dinner, then time to collapse into bed.
Justin drinks all the time, fruit juice and bottles and bottles of water. He's always sucking on popsicles, too, for his throat and possibly, JC thinks, to keep him in a perpetual state of arousal. That must be why he can do this, why he takes JC down his throat so easily, a hot smooth glide that feels better than anything JC's ever felt. Why his voice never alters at all, never rasps or falters even when his mouth is red and looks so obviously used.
They have to be quiet, they can't be heard, and that's all that keeps JC from crying out when Justin deepthroats him, lips tight around the base of his cock as JC slides a hand into Justin's curls. His eyes flicker upwards, and he nuzzles into JC's hand until he grips. JC does this, asks permission every time even though he know Justin wants it. He wants it because JC wants it, an endless delirious cycle that replays itself in what seems like JC's every waking thought.
Time has no meaning anymore. Justin turns fifteen. JC works, he comes home, they practice, they sing, they dance. Days go by, blurred by exhaustion and routine, and it's only when Justin comes to him that everything snaps into focus. They've been doing this for months, and JC's forgotten how to say anything but yes.
"I can take it," Justin whispered into his ear last- week? month?- and dropped to his knees in front of JC, tilting his head back and gazing up at JC like he was waiting for him to take control, and JC had almost come right there when he realized that was exactly what Justin had been waiting for. He wanted it, wanted JC's fingers threaded through his curls, holding him in place as he- god, as he fucked Justin's mouth, slow and deep because he didn't think he could handle it any faster. It was too much already, thrusting steadily into that wet heat as Justin looked up at him through his eyelashes, because it was Justin doing this, doing exactly what he wanted.
Justin always came hardest after that, almost the minute JC pushed him against the counter and went down on him, if he hadn't already jerked himself off. He loved it, and JC knew he loved it and that, that was. Fuck. Terrifying. Brilliant. Hot on a level JC hardly knew existed.
"Three minutes," JC says, thrusting into Justin's mouth, and Justin sucks harder, like that's a challenge. His hands, already long-fingered and strong, rest on JC's ass, not discouraging or even trying to set the pace. More helping him along than anything, digging in a little when JC's cock bumps the back of his throat. His eyes flutter open and shut, and he's going to be gorgeous some day, even more than he is now. JC wonders if he'll still be doing this then.
Two minutes, and JC is close. He slides his thumbs over Justin's cheekbones, his hollowed cheeks, and Justin moans low in the back of his throat, greedy for it. JC comes, and Justin swallows it all with practiced ease and the same eagerness he always has.
JC looks at him, willing on his knees, and tries to think, slut, whore, but he's never the one begging for it. Not out loud, at least. He's just Justin, and JC wants him so badly it makes his chest ache, like he can't get enough breath, and it's only when he's near Justin that the ache quiets. He shouldn't need him like this, shouldn't want him, shouldn't- he just shouldn't.
Justin's grinning at him. He leans in and kisses JC on the cheek, then says, "Water," and scampers out of the bathroom, leaving JC to catch his breath. He never really will.
Time passes, or doesn't. They're signed to a label in Germany, and the night before they fly out Justin shows up in his room. JC is twenty, and has been for two weeks. He is old enough to know better.
"This isn't going to stop," Justin says. At some point Justin's wide-eyed pleas turned to statements, without even the comforting illusion that they might be orders, that JC's just doing what Justin wants. They're not going to stop just because they're on their way to being pop stars now, real and proper. It won't stop even though Lynn is coming with them, and it won't stop even though JC knows it should. Of course it won't stop. "It won't," Justin says, determined, and kisses JC hard, draping his body across JC's and holding him there as if JC might try and get away. As if he would ever.
"You're going to fuck me," Justin says, low and dark in his ear, and JC should say something because that's. That's a big step, isn't it, it is. JC hasn't- "Fuck me," Justin says, "I want you to." He's come ready for this, already opening the lube and slicking up his fingers, one hand disappearing behind him where he's straddling JC. He bites his lip as he slides the first finger in, and JC wills himself not to come right there, from the desperate, needy look that crosses Justin's face and the little moan that escapes his mouth. JC wants to see, wants to watch Justin fuck himself with his fingers, but he can't move, can't take his eyes off Justin's face, twisted sweetly as he adds another finger, then another, slowly. JC can tell by each gasp, read Justin like- like a lover. Oh god.
Justin wraps a hand around JC's cock, stroking him slowly up and down before rising up and taking JC in an inch at a time, trembling with the strain of it, and JC wants to cry, wants to be inside Justin, wants to wrap himself around Justin and never let go. Justin lowers himself, hands caging JC's chest, staring at him with wide, scared eyes when he can't go any lower, when JC's filling him completely. He stills, biting his lip and dropping his head like he doesn't want JC to see him like this.
JC lifts a hand and tilts Justin's chin up. Justin opens his eyes, and a tear slips down his face. He clasps JC's hand, kisses his fingers, his palm, his wrist. His mouth falls open a little when he leans back, rocking against JC with painstaking care. Justin is so tight that this can't be comfortable, even with how he prepared himself for it.
This is where JC should tell him to stop, or take it slower, or reconsider this whole situation, and this is where he doesn't. Every small movement sends thrills down nerve endings JC wasn't even aware he had. Each point of contact with Justin- his cock; his waist, gripped by Justin's thighs; the hand that Justin is guiding down his own stomach to his cock- feels like it's wired to the entire surface of his skin, every nerve awake and electrified.
JC thinks he actually might die. This might actually kill him.
"Yeah," Justin murmurs when JC takes hold of his cock, and starts moving faster, pulling almost all the way off before dropping back down with a little unsteady gasp. JC's seen those hips move a thousand times, seen them shift and roll and sway but never like this, never so perfectly, like every dance move was just a sorry, failed attempt to get Justin to move like this. A hot melting slide up and down JC's cock, the muscles in his stomach clenching beneath soft hot skin, and there's a trail of hair leading to Justin's cock, held firm in JC's grip. He strokes up, matching Justin's pace and getting distracted by Justin's hipbones standing out in sharp relief on every rise. Justin's riding him now, steadily and perfectly with his head thrown back. JC has wanted this so badly he thinks he must be dreaming. This can't be real.
"Justin," JC says, pleading. Justin looks down at him, runs a slow hand up JC's side and then palms his cheek, leaning down carefully and kissing JC on the mouth. JC strokes his cock harder, and Justin easily adjusts his rhythm to match. In the thin moonlight from the single small window, he looks otherworldly, like he doesn't belong here. "Justin," JC says again, and Justin kisses him harder.
Justin comes, gasping against JC's lips, and becomes even tighter, tight enough that JC groans, arching up into it. Justin leans back, biting his lower lip, and bounces up and down on JC's cock, practically forcing the climax out of him as JC grips his hips with force enough to bruise. Justin doesn't seem to mind, just fucks himself on JC until JC has enough breath to tell him to stop, that he can't take anymore. He's lying.
He's in love with Justin.
"This won't be the last time," Justin says, climbing off of him and getting dressed. Of course, the early flight tomorrow. Justin has to be in his room. Because he has to.
"No," JC says, which could be taken a number of ways, but Justin just gives him an oblique look and a quick kiss and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.
It feels like JC is shivering but he knows he isn't, he can't be. It's just the cold, now that Justin's left. That's all it is, cold in late August in Orlando.
The next day on the plane Justin shifts a lot in his seat, wincing a little and biting his lip, his breath hitching. JC watches, swallowing nervously because they must know somehow, it must be written all over him that he fucked Justin last night. Justin looks like he's been fucked, his dark eyes focused on JC as he strokes a thumb over his hipbone, pushing up his shirt a little to reveal the bruise JC's left there. His thumb presses against it, and they have to know, have to see the way that Justin is looking at him like he wants nothing more than for JC to do it again, like all he wants in this world is to spread his legs for JC and take it all.
JC will give him whatever he wants. This isn't even a question.
Justin is the first person JC's ever had sex with.
6. submit
Justin takes to being fucked as well he's taken to everything else they've done. He's as eager as he's ever been, but something about JC inside him seems to hit him harder, make him that much needier, that much more desperate. He goes from coming to JC when he can to making time for him, skipping nights out, sneaking into JC's room in the mornings, taking any extra five minutes to drag him off, even if it's only for frantic making out in a random supply closet, or backstage at a show.
He's still confident, sure in the knowledge that JC will never refuse him, but this is what makes him falter, what makes him twist up and plead for it. JC thought there was nothing Justin could do that would make JC want him any more than he already does, but all Justin has to do is sidle up to him at any given hour of the day and whisper, "Want you in me, JC, want it so badly," and it keys up nerve endings JC barely knew he had. Makes him desperate for it, and rough as a consequence, thrusting in hard enough to make Justin whimper, later, when the first chance they get JC pushes him down onto the bed, or bends him over a table, or takes him up against a wall.
He's not doing growing yet, won't be for a few years probably, and he's still a few inches shorter than JC, which should make things awkward but instead just makes them hotter. He's light enough and JC's strong enough to lift him up, back against the wall and legs around JC's waist, all tensed up and his mouth falls open at the first thrust, as if he can't get enough air, and JC thrusts in hard and fast enough that maybe he can't. Justin never complains, just throws his head back and gasps aloud, biting his lip to keep himself quiet, to stop them being heard. There's nowhere they do this that they can't get caught, nowhere safe, and JC wonders if there ever will be.
It's better, even, when Justin goes up against the wall willingly, places his palms flat against it and pushes his ass out, legs spread as far as his jeans will allow where they're down around his knees. Better, yeah, because Justin goes up on his tiptoes each time JC pushes into him, has to stretch for it, and moans when JC digs his fingers into his hips to force him up higher.
Justin likes to be gripped, held down, his long limbs restrained. He's sensitive all over, tender skinny wrists and ankles and miles of hot skin between, skin JC can't help but map with his fingertips, his mouth. Justin loves it, writhes up so JC can hold him down, and JC wonders sometimes if he could get him pinned good and proper, gripping Justin's ankles as he fucks him, with one of the others- Chris, maybe- holding his wrists tight enough to bruise and fucking his mouth with the same hard, fast rhythm until Justin's sobbing for it, from it. Giving it to him like JC thinks he's asking for, sometimes.
He wouldn't, of course he wouldn't, not ever.
(Unless Justin asks for it. Unless Chris offers. Unless JC gives up one day, discards any lingering sense of right and wrong, and lays Justin out like an offering for JC and Chris to take, and fuck, and bruise. And Justin would love it, would beg for it on his knees, on his back, if he knew JC even thought-)
JC wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ever.
They're working all the time, nonstop it seems, photo shoots and TV appearances and concerts. JC gets nervous, sometimes, that someone will see something, but Justin never does anything out of the ordinary, at least not in front of anyone. Sure, he hangs all over JC sometimes, and there are days where it seems like Justin can't be more than two feet away from him at any given moment, but that's just the way Justin is. He teases Lance, and pals around with Joey, and his relationship with Chris seems based equally on idol worship and their mutual commitment to be kids together. He's sweet and friendly and clingy. He's Justin.
And they're friends, too; when they're not alone they can talk for hours, and JC loves that, loves knowing Justin as the complex guy that he is. They talk about everything in the world except for what they're doing with each other, even when they are alone. JC wants to, he does, he wants to talk about what it means to Justin, even tell Justin what it means to him, but he never does. Justin is sixteen, and they've been doing this for two years. This is the longest relationship JC's ever had.
They get their first gold record and everything goes crazy. JC can't even remember the last time he got eight consecutive hours of sleep, when he's always been the type to sleep ten hours straight through. Lynn lobbies to get them days off, and he tends to spend them sleeping, especially since the guys always insist on going out the night before.
When JC sleeps, he dreams of Justin, strange lucid dreams where Justin is always present, if only wandering through the background scenery. Justin doesn't say I love you there, either.
A week passes where they get no time alone, and by the end JC is tense and crabby and Chris actually snaps, "Jesus Christ you need to get laid," before JC sulks off to curl up in his bunk and write songs about sex.
They have a full schedule the next day, learning choreography, then a photo shoot, then a concert. JC fucks Justin thrice that day, three stupid risks in the span of twelve hours, which is probably a record. Well, if you discount the entirety of their relationship up to this point.
Their new choreographer's studio is being remodeled, so they end up practicing in a local school gymnasium, complete with bleachers and loud pennants hanging from the rafters. Justin learns the new steps in an hour and charms the choreographer into letting them take a break. This is a bad, bad idea; JC knows what's going to happen the minute Justin drags him off to wander around the school, because "It's not like I'll ever have a real high school experience, C," and pulls him into the first unlocked classroom they come across. There's construction paper taped over the window, and the door locks behind them, which JC is grateful for as Justin turns to him and starts undoing JC's pants.
"C'mon," Justin says, grinning, "let's get freaky," and JC would laugh at him except it's actually really fucking hot. Like, really seriously fucking hot as Justin goes to stroke him and finds JC already hard for it.
"Justin," JC starts, because they've actually been getting progressively stupider, here, practically begging for someone to find them and bust them. And then bad things will happen. He'll get kicked out of the band, and-
"Oh please, Mr. Chasez," Justin says, leaning in and sliding a lubed hand up JC's cock, "I'll do anything, just don't send me to the principal's office." He walks backward until his ass collides with the edge of the teacher's desk, and then he hops up on it, still stroking JC slowly. It smells vaguely like apples, which is a nice touch. That variety pack of single-use lube samples was the best idea ever. Except for this one.
"Bend over," JC says, and he hadn't actually known his voice could go that low. Justin scrambles to obey, bending over the cluttered desk and clutching at the edge. "You'll do anything?" JC asks, leaning down over Justin's back, hands busy unzipping Justin's pants and pushing them down.
"Anything, please." It's honestly fucking surprising that Justin is the kinky one here. The longer this goes on the more JC feels like a freak, a complete moral degenerate, but Justin apparently doesn't have that problem. Probably JC could learn a few things from him.
"Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck you," JC says experimentally. It feels good to say, and Justin moans like the words themselves are getting him off. Maybe they are. "I said beg."
"Fuck me," Justin gasps. "Please, oh god, I want it. I need it. I'll do whatever you want," he says, and JC rewards him with two fingers thrust roughly inside him, sending Justin arching back, frantic. "Need your cock, please, need to be fucked."
JC doesn't come right there, in a miraculous turn of events. It's a struggle, though, an effort, with Justin pushing back on his fingers and talking like- well, not so much like a sixteen-year-old, especially not one that spends half his time running on sugar and adrenalin.
"Please, now," Justin says, almost whines. JC wants to make him beg even harder, until he's absolutely desperate for it, but JC has his limits, after all. There's only so much he can handle. He takes hold of Justin's hips, kicks his legs apart a little wider, and thrusts in, leaning over Justin's back and pinning his wrists to the desk.
It's too much, it's too fucking much at first, the way Justin sighs as if he's just gotten everything he's ever wanted in this world and it's all better than he'd hoped. "Stay still," JC whispers into his ear, and Justin instantly obeys, letting JC take him how he wants, slow and deep. Justin's tense and strained under him, whimpering each time JC presses in and biting his lower lip red. He can't help but shudder, though, his entire body practically vibrating against JC's. He's still dressed, pants just pushed down around his ankles. JC tugs the collar of Justin's shirt down so he can bite at the back of his neck, and Justin's whimpers grow louder.
"Please, harder," Justin says, voice muffled against the desk. His eyes are shut tight, knuckles white in JC's grip. He's beautiful. JC thrusts in more forcefully, and it's like this every time, like he's finally where he's meant to be. With Justin, in him, fucking him like this, loving him like this. Every time they do this he feels it, that constant low ache in his chest dissipating at the first touch, only to gather up again and burn him from the inside out until he comes inside Justin. He remembers the other people he's kissed, even just felt something for, those glorious delirious crushes that meant the world to him once and now just seem like nothing at all in the face of this.
JC's thrusting into him so hard that it's making him dizzy, making the desk shake. The world has narrowed to Justin under him, the slap of their skin loud in the otherwise quiet classroom, the echo of their breathing. This is all JC needs, ever. He slides a hand around Justin's hip and grasps his cock, and seconds later Justin is coming, moaning and tightening around him. JC follows, and they stay there for a minute, catching their breath until Justin wiggles underneath him and JC moves back to let him stand.
"God, JC," Justin pants, leaning against the desk with his hands clutching the edge like it's the only thing holding him up.
"Yeah," JC says, and kisses him, licking at the edges of that red mouth until Justin lets him in, kissing him back like he's starving for it. JC's hands slide over his arms, then to his back as he eases Justin down onto the desk again and Justin wraps his legs around JC's waist, bringing him closer. And oh fuck, they don't have time to start this again, they've been gone too long already and what if someone comes to find them? They can't, they have to- Justin's kissing him frantically now, his hands sliding into JC's hair as he bites at JC's lips, and he's hard again, already, fuck. "We can't-" JC says, and Justin sobs against him, thrusting up against JC, who will not, will not get hard again because they have to fucking go, they can't just-
"Please, oh god please," Justin says, eyes wild and needy as he pushes his hips up, tugging down his pants and this is really not very conducive to anything, no. JC runs his fingers down Justin's side, moving toward his ass and yeah, definitely not a good idea. Justin pushes back against him, his skin hot and he's slick inside when JC pushes three fingers into him, still wet with lube and JC's come. JC puts his other hand on the desk beside Justin's shoulder, anchoring himself there, and twists his fingers, setting a fast, hard rhythm that Justin matches, stroking himself in time. A minute passes, two, and JC watches Justin's face as he writhes on JC's fingers, savors each gasp and moan. He comes again.
They return flushed and still breathing a little heavily, although Justin's more composed than JC is, somehow. They're the last ones back in the gym. Chris and Joey are still sprawled out on the floor where they were when JC and Justin left. He doesn't think they've actually moved.
"You know, the whole point of taking a break is that you actually stop running around and relax for a minute," Lance says. He's observant, which makes JC a bit nervous. Probably he wouldn't freak out like Chris or Joey would, but JC's seen the way Lance looks at them sometimes and it makes him wonder. Like maybe Lance wouldn't be mad at all, because he'd be too busy asking if he could join. JC likes Lance a lot, but that doesn't mean he doesn't acknowledge that Lance is also sort of an evil mastermind. He just hides it well, under the big green eyes and slow Southern drawl.
"I feel really relaxed now," Justin says, smiling winningly. Lance raises an eyebrow at JC. JC shrugs, and very casually flees.
That should make JC nervous enough to avoid Justin for the rest of the day, and it does, sort of, except that Justin seems intent on all but climbing into JC's back pocket. It's hard to ignore him, because he's persistent, and seems to take "no" as some sort of personal challenge. He spends half the photo shoot draped over JC, climbing onto his back and nuzzling playfully at his jawline until Chris inquires about the strange new curly blond growth that JC seems to have acquired.
JC shrugs, which is difficult with roughly a hundred and fifty pounds of Justin clinging to his shoulders, and says he thinks it's some sort of exotic mold. Justin bites his earlobe, which is probably meant as a reproach but actually just turns JC on. Great.
The photographer eventually lets them go grab some lunch, which Justin insists they eat around a table that has only four chairs. Justin sits on JC's lap. When JC pinches his side, Justin grinds down, giving JC a charming smile. JC is still hard, and Justin wiggles around, as if he's trying to get more comfortable. JC realizes he was totally wrong about Lance being the evil mastermind of the group. Clearly Justin is going for the title, and winning handily.
"You know," Joey leans in and whispers in JC's ear, quietly enough so that Justin can't hear, "if you and J are in love or something, you can tell us. Chris probably won't kill you too badly."
JC stiffens. "Um," he says. Great. Great. Fuck. "He's sixteen," he hisses at Joey.
"Dude, whatever," Joey says, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "Just saying."
"Get up," JC says to Justin, and nudges him off his lap. Justin slides off, giving him a curious look. "Bathroom," JC mutters, and walks away.
JC's washing his hands when Justin comes in and leans against the wall, staring at him. "What did Joey say to you?" he asks.
"Nothing," JC mutters. "He asked if we're in love."
"What'd you say?"
"What do you think?" JC fires back. Justin cocks his head to the side, assessing him quietly. JC closes his eyes, and when he turns around Justin is in front of him, pulling JC close and kissing him. Three hours ago they were fucking in an empty classroom, and tonight they have a show to put on. JC can't do this, he just can't. He is. He kisses Justin back.
"We can be quick," Justin says, and they'll goddamn well have to be.
"Come on," JC says, pushing him into the largest stall, because if they're fucking they're not talking, with the added bonus that they're fucking. "What do you want?"
"Just fuck me."
"Again?"
"Are you actually going to argue with me on this?"
JC isn't, so he just takes the lube from Justin and readies him quickly before sliding in. Justin winces, and JC stops. "You okay?"
"A little sore," Justin says, already squirming back against him. "S'fine. I like it."
"You gonna be okay to dance later?" JC says, trying to go slow even though they really, really do not have the time.
"Yes, god," Justin says. He rolls his eyes and JC snaps his hips forward, making that annoyed expression dissolve into slightly pained bliss. His breath hitches at each thrust, as though he's trying to hold back tears. Maybe he is. JC kisses his cheek, and Justin sniffles a little, then gasps when JC goes in deep. He reaches back for JC's hand and threads their fingers together, pulling JC forward and guiding his hand to his cock. They've been in here too long already. They're almost asking to get caught.
JC closes his eyes and leans his forehead into Justin's blond curls as he strokes him, the fast rhythm he knows Justin likes. He pushes forward as Justin pushes back, Justin fucking himself just as much as JC is fucking him, and it's amazing, thrilling, hot as hell.
"Don’t wanna fight with you," Justin says. JC imagines he can hear the beat of Justin's heart, his pulse thready and quick against JC's lips on the back of Justin's neck. "Just want this. Want this all the time, C."
"Me too," JC says, "I," he starts, but doesn't finish, just thrusts into Justin, twisting his hand like Justin likes, and comes. Justin does too, a few seconds later, and JC's already reaching to get him dressed again, to get them both presentable before they get back out and the makeup girl glares at them for fucking up her work.
"You what?" Justin asks quietly as they head for the door.
"Nothing," JC sighs.
Justin gives him a long look, then kisses him once, quickly. "Okay," he says, and races out of the bathroom and back to the table to finish his lunch. JC isn't even hungry anymore.
"You cool, C?" Chris asks when he gets back, fucking up JC's hair as JC tries irritably to smooth it back into place. "I wanted to go after you but Joey said we should just let Justin fix you."
"He's cool," Justin says, leaping on Chris's back. "I fixed him. I got skills, yo."
"We all know JC could never be cool," Chris scoffs, and JC would bother to defend his honor, but actually Chris is right. Chris and Justin are wrestling by now anyway, so it's not like either of them notice when JC wanders back to finish doing what they're actually supposed to be doing.
They show up late for sound check later, but they've been to the venue before, so it doesn't take as long. They're left with extra time, and JC wanders to the dressing room. It's not one of the ones they had last time, apparently; Justin had told him that they were switching them around. When he gets to the room, it's deserted. Actually, it doesn't look like it's been used in awhile. Like, years.
Justin comes in, and locks the door behind him.
"This is the wrong dressing room," JC says, blinking at him. The lights are dim, the room dusty from disuse.
Justin pushes him down onto the couch, straddles his lap. "I disagree," he says, and oh. Of course. This is exactly the right dressing room.
Justin kisses him, still as eager as the first time they did this, kissed in a dressing room because JC refused to say no. Bigger now, no longer the kid he was then, but he still tastes exactly the same. He's better at it, maybe, and he started out just fine. JC didn't love him back then, he didn't, but he loves him now and that makes everything they do that much sweeter, even if Justin never says it, even if JC never lets himself.
"Again?" JC asks as Justin tugs open his pants and kicks them off, then climbs back onto JC's lap and, "We could, something else," JC attempts, but Justin obviously does want to fuck again, and if Justin wants to fuck then they'll fuck. Justin may be the one taking it, but JC won't delude himself that he's the one in charge, even if Justin likes him to play like he is, sometimes.
"Just once more," Justin says, pushing JC's jeans down around his hips, leaving just enough room for JC to be, well, trapped actually. He's slouched down on the couch, shirt thrown aside and jeans open with Justin arching up against him, naked, and Justin's already got a hold of JC's fingers, slicking them up and urging them around. Justin leans forward, kissing him again, and JC's fingers slide into him easily, two and then three when Justin moans and moves back, fucking himself on them. It's an awkward angle, but JC can crane his neck just enough to watch, to see his fingers thrusting into Justin's body, see Justin stretched around him, wet and grasping.
Justin whimpers when he pulls them out, nuzzling and biting at JC's neck just hard enough to leave marks that won't last. "Ready?" JC asks, just to hear him answer, and Justin's "Yeah, yeah, please" is, yes, perfect. He drags Justin forward and settles him down onto his cock, a long slow slide that ends with Justin resting against him, shuddering and full. JC doesn't have leverage enough to thrust up, and he's not sure what Justin wants from him, so he stays still and waits, his breathing heavy.
Finally, Justin rolls his hips forward, barely rising an inch off of JC before going down again, and this is just fine. They hardly ever do it slow like this, and they shouldn't be now, but JC can't bring himself to care. It's too good, Justin gazing at him as he moves up and down, back and forth, open and hurting, still. His arms are wrapped around JC's neck, holding him close as JC runs his hands over Justin's back, feeling the smooth expanse of skin and muscles shifting beneath as Justin rides him, sweet as the first time except Justin's not scared anymore.
JC is terrified. Justin may seem like the vulnerable one here but he isn't, and if it weren't for his weight atop JC then JC would be trembling even harder than he already is. Something's different; they've never had each other this much in one day, there's never been time enough for this. JC can't feel this much with so few hours between, he doesn't have the capacity for it, can't handle it. Justin shivers, glimmering with sweat in the pale dusty light of the room, and JC buries his face in Justin's chest, clinging to him. Too much.
"You love me," Justin whispers, keeping to the rolling slow rhythm he's started. His words stir the air above JC's head, and JC nods.
"Yeah," JC says, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Say it," Justin murmurs, so quiet JC almost can't hear it, but he does.
"Love you." His heart is racing. Against his lips, JC can feel Justin's heart racing, too. "I love you."
Justin urges him up, thrusting against him and moving faster. He looks at JC, wide blue eyes and the set straight line of his lush mouth, and says nothing. His gaze turns downward, and JC follows, watching his cock move in and out of Justin, watching the gorgeous impossible stretch of it. JC has never felt so amazing and so awful all at once. It's overwhelming, like everything else about this situation, and JC has no idea what he's supposed to do, or say, or feel.
There's a sudden warm rush over JC's bare stomach; Justin's coming, panting in his ear, and JC thinks he's imagining it at first, the words tumbling over and running into each other as Justin murmurs, "I love you I love you I love you," to JC, breath hot and heavy against the side of his face. JC comes.
It isn't until after, when Justin moves off of him and slowly begins getting dressed, that things get weird. That lasts for about half a second before JC speaks, unable to stand it.
"You didn't have to-" he starts.
"Shut up," Justin says fiercely. "You can't take it back now."
"What?" JC says, honestly startled. "I just meant you didn't have to say it back, just because I-"
"It's true," Justin mutters. "It's true, it's been true. I didn't think you did, though."
"I did," JC says, his voice soft. "I do. I have."
"That's good." Justin smiles at him, suspiciously watery, and JC thinks maybe things will be better from now on. They will be. Justin loves him. The whole fucking world has suddenly become a better place. Well, not like their situation will get any easier, but. Justin loves him.
"Yeah," JC says, unable to stop grinning. Justin's smile brightens even more, and they walk out of the room together.
Justin is the first person who's ever loved JC back.