“We
were fucking robbed, Chasez,” a voice boomed in JC’s ear. “FUCKING ROBBED!”
JC looked over at the man next to him in the booth. Justin was drunk. Correction, he thought, observing the other man’s over bright eyes and
flushed face. Justin was very, very drunk.
“I know, J,” JC agreed, hoping that would calm Justin down a bit.
“Fucking, fucking ROBBED!” Justin continued to yell.
JC sighed. They were at a club in LA, at an after-Grammy party, and *Nsync had
just lost the Best Pop Recording of 2000 to Steely Dan. JC had nothing but
respect for the two musicians who made up the group, but did agree with his
younger band mate that they had indeed been robbed. In no way could “Cousin
Dupree” be considered a pop song.
But losing the award seemed a minor incident compared to the one Justin seemed
about to cause. JC looked around for security, catching Lonnie’s eyes, and
nodded his head in Justin’s direction. Lonnie, no one’s fool after being
with these guys for five years, picked up the signal and went outside in search
of a car to take Justin back to the hotel.
Justin, meanwhile, decided to announce to theft of the Grammy to the entire club
by standing on the table. “*Nsync was robbed,” he shouted, “and I have
proof!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “I have,”
JC watched as Justin’s fuzzy eyes focused on the money and his lips moved as
he counted, “283 dollars for anyone—ANYONE—who can sing one verse of
‘Cousin Dupree.’
Luckily, most of the patrons in the club were ignoring Justin’s outburst. This
enabled Lonnie, who had returned from outside and had approached the table, to
sling the younger man over his shoulder.
“HEY!” Justin shouted in protest, his fists balled with cash banging on the
bodyguards’ back. “Lonnie, put me down!”
JC shook his head ruefully as he waved goodbye to Joey, Lance and Chris. Outside,
he gulped the fresh air and walked over to the cab at the curb. Lonnie was
propping Justin against the fender with one hand, and opened the cab door with
is other one. He then none-too-gently shoved the boy into the back of the cab.
Lonnie turned to JC, a worried look in his eyes.
“Hey, JC…Tiny and Mike aren’t here yet, and I hate to leave the other
three alone” He jerked a thumb at the now snoring Justin. “Can you get
Junior back to the hotel okay?”
JC nodded. “Sure, Lonnie. I’ve done it before.”
“Thanks, dude,” Lonnie said. JC flinched at the bodyguard’s huge hand
smacked JC on the back. He entered the cab and told the driver what hotel to go
to, then settled back against the seat, looking over at Justin. Justin was his
best friend. His band mate. And the man he loved.
He was in love with Justin, he knew that. He’d been in love with Justin for
years, probably since they practically grew up together on the MMC. But he knew
he was in love with him during the “Tearing Up My Heart Video” shoot. The
director had decided the video needed some sex, so he dressed Justin in an
undershirt, and put him on a bed. JC had walked onto the set and felt his
stomach clench at the sight of Justin on that bed, singing, playing to the
camera. Between takes he looked over at JC and smiled his cocky,
fifteen-year-grin at the older man, and JC’s heart melted.
But it was hard loving your best friend and not being able to do anything about
it. Justin was straight, and he’d never even so much as hinted at being
interested in JC in any way. So he’d had affairs, needing, hoping for the
chance to break the hold Justin had on him. He’d slept with women. He’d
slept with men. But it was always just sex, never love, at least not the kind of
love he felt for this boy—no, man now. He loved Justin’s heart, his mind,
his soul. He loved his talent and his humor. He even loved his stubbornness and
childishness. Again JC looked at Justin. And yes, he loved his body. He reached
out a tentative hand and touched the newly shaved head. He loved the curls, but
had to admit this new style made him appear more grown-up. His hand brushed
across the soft hair, the fuzz tickling his sensitive fingers.
JC’s hand stilled as Justin sighed in his sleep, turning toward the source of
the touch and leaning against JC. Against his will, JC felt himself get hard. He
sighed and pushed the sleeping Justin away from him. He’d been so careful
these past years. Careful to keep himself under control when Justin was near.
Careful to keep his own touches casual and friendly and brotherly. Careful, so
careful, to never, ever, make Justin aware of his love.
He asked the driver to pull the cab into the service entrance. No need for the
screaming teenies to see their beloved Justin in this state. He paid off the
driver, rode the service elevator to their floor, and struggled with Justin down
the hall to his room.
JC frowned when he couldn’t locate Justin’s key card for his hotel room door.
He soon realized there was nothing in his pockets and remembered the $283 dollar
bet over “Cousin Dupree.” Shit, JC thought. His key card must have slipped
out when Justin pulled the cash from his pocket. There were two options. JC
could take Justin thru the crowded lobby and get another key at the desk, or he
could bring the boy into his room for the night. JC figured that a drunken
Justin in the lobby was worse than one in his room. Thank God he’d gotten the
room with two beds this time, he thought. They shuffled down the hall and JC
mimicked Lonnie’s earlier pose, holding Justin with one hand and opening the
door with the other. Justin, who had been leaning against the door, toppled to
the floor. JC scooted him in, shut the door, and left him on the floor as he
headed for the bathroom.
After taking a shower to rinse off the smell of smoke and booze, JC left the
bathroom intent on putting Justin to bed, but stopped short. Justin had woken
up. He was sitting on the bed with a puzzled expression, but looked up when JC
entered the room and the confusion left his face.
“I knew there had to be an expiation why my room suddenly had two beds instead
of one, “ he said, the words still slurred. “It’s your room!”
This sudden clarity of the situation seemed to make it all right in Justin’s
world. He got off the bed and passed JC on his way to the bathroom, pausing when
he reached the older man.
“You always take such good care of me,” he slurred sloppily, reaching in to
give JC a hug. At the same time, JC was turning toward Justin and the two men
banged together awkwardly. Justin tumbled backwards and JC caught him. The
younger man clung to his band mate, looking at him and smiling his super wide
smile.
“See?” he said. “You’re always here to save me.” Then Justin,
seemingly without thinking, reached in and quickly kissed JC on the mouth.
JC pulled back as if burned by the touch. Justin looked puzzled, shrugged, then
went to the bathroom. JC finally let go of the breath he was holding and fought
to keep himself from falling to floor. He heard the shower running and realized
Justin was in there. In. There. Wet. Naked. Again, he felt himself grow hard,
but this time he didn’t fight it. His eyes burned thru the door, picturing
Justin in the shower, soapy and wet and hot and slick…
The absence of the sound of water finally pulled JC out of his trance. He
practically leapt onto the nearest bed, grabbed the remote, and pulled a pillow
over his lap to hide his engorged cock.
Justin came out in just a towel, then headed for JC’s luggage and snagged a
pair of his boxers. JC refused to turn his head and watch as Justin dropped the
towel and put the boxers on. JC was engrossed watching the fascinating
infomertial about the SpaceSaver Bag when Justin sat on the edge of his bed,
watching the television as well.
“What’s it like with a man?”
JC’s heart started beating so hard he was sure Justin could hear it. He turned
and faced him. “Excuse me?” he asked. “What’s what like with a man?”
Justin rose from the bed and went to the mini-bar, examining the assortment of
small bottles before returning to his previous place on the bed, but this time
facing JC. “You know,” he said, opening a bottle and downing the contents in
one swallow. “Sex.”
Nope, no mistake on what he meant, JC thought. He watched as Justin downed
another bottle of liquor. Good, he was still drunk, and Justin never remembered
anything that happened when he was drunk.
“It’s just sex, Justin,” he finally answered.
Justin screwed up his face as bottle three was consumed. “Yeah, but if it’s
just sex, then why with guys? Why not just with girls?”
A sudden fear hit JC. “Does it bother you?” he asked in a soft voice,
dreading the answer.
Justin snorted. “Nope, not at all.” Bottle number four was being difficult.
“It’s part of you and I love you and all that shit.” Success. Gulp. Toss.
“I just wondered, that’s all.”
It’s…different,” JC explained.
“Better?”
“No, just different.” And sometimes, if he’s young and blonde and I’m
lonely, I pretend it’s you, he thought.
“Okay.” This seemed to satisfy him. Justin gave up on bottle number five and
turned to face the television. Gilligan was once again messing up the castaways
chance to get rescued, and JC felt his eyes get heavy and start to close. They
shot back open with surprise when he felt a hand on his chest. Justin was
sitting on the bed right next to him. He’d come around the bed and sat right
fucking down next to him! Again his breathing stopped as his eyes locked with
Justin’s.
“Would you kiss me?”
JC closed his eyes and prayed for a fire, a flood, anything that would end this
before it started.
“Justin.” JC was cut off from what he was going to say by Justin’s hand on
his mouth.
“You said it was just sex, right? So…why won’t you kiss me?”
“Because you’re drunk,” JC explained.
“So?” Again Justin snorted. “Think I would ask if I were sober?”
“All the more reason…”
“Nope, not good enough,” he proclaimed. “It’s just a kiss, JC. Why is
that so hard?”
“Because it is.”
“Because why?”
“Just because.”
“Uh-huh. Because why?
JC stubbornly refused to answer. Justin started bouncing on the bed. “JC…tell
me…why…”
“Because I don’t kiss anyone I sleep with,” JC shouted.
Justin’s eyes blinked owlishly. “Really?”
“Justin,” he began, only to be stopped by Justin’s mouth as the younger
man reached in and covered JC’s lips with his own.
Justin was young and enthusiastic and oh my god! a really, really good
kisser. He kept a constant pressure on JC’s lips, his tongue sneaking out to
open, then sweep inside JC’s mouth. Swirl, dip, suck swirl. God, Justin’s
tongue was magic.
JC’s head was swimming with desire. His cock was hard and hurting. His hands
were slowly moving over Justin’s shoulders and slowly took a hold of
Justin’s head. And slowly, so slowly, separated the two men from the kiss.
“Justin, stop,” JC said, holding the younger man away from him.
Justin’s eyes were hooded and hard to read. JC almost groaned when his pink
tongue snaked out and licked his reddened lips. JC watched as Justin brought a
hand to his mouth and licked his fingers, then shuddered when he ran those damp
fingers against JC’s mouth. His eyes locked with JC’s. “Wow,” the
younger man said.
JC snagged Justin’s wrist intent on removing his hand from his lips. Instead,
Justin somehow gained control of JC’ hand and started pressing it down
Justin’s body.
“Jesus, C,” Justin said. “I’m hard.” To prove that, Justin clamped
JC’s hand onto his aroused cock. JC felt Justin’s heat and strength thru the
boxers and swallowed a groan of pleasure.
“Justin, you get hard all the time, especially when drunk,” JC reminded him.
Justin giggled. He actually giggled, and JC’s heart flipped. He didn’t
remove his hand from Justin’s cock.
“So, what’cha gonna do about it, Chasez?” Justin dared. “You gonna take
care of this for me?”
Take care.
The words were like a bucket of ice water being thrown on JC. He’s supposed to
take care of Justin. Not kiss him, not fuck him. He pulled his hand away and
rose from the bed, turning away.
“Go to bed, Justin,” JC ordered. He heard Justin sigh, and turned to watch
Justin stand up, only to again catch him when he stumbled. This time, Justin
didn’t let go. This time, he smiled mischievously. This time, he bent towards
JC and snagged the older man’s mouth with his own, tongue penetrating, arms
reaching around JC’s slim body as he tumbled them both onto the bed.
Hot, wet kisses were shared for minutes, hours, maybe days. Hands roamed over
taut, muscled skin and fuzzy, hairy chests.
“Justin, we can’t do this,” JC protested, still trying to do the right
thing.
Justin was using his knees to pry apart JC’s legs as he lay atop him, rubbing
his thigh against JC’s cock, causing JC to thrust against him.
“Come on, C,” the boy said. “It’s just sex, right?”
JC leaned up on his hands and looked down at Justin. That’s just it, he
thought. It’s not just sex. Not with you. I’m in love with you. I have
been for years…for forever. How can I do this?
How can I not?
JC watched again as Justin licked his lips. He felt again as Justin rubbed his
thigh against his cock. And he sighed again when he felt Justin’s hand on him.
Any man will crumble under extreme temptation. And as much as he’d like to
believe otherwise, JC was only a man. His dream was here, under him, wanting him.
And JC was only a man.
He leaned down and placed his lips on Justin’s, his tongue entering Justin’s
mouth, tasting his unique flavor. He left that talented mouth to rain kisses
across Justin’s neck, to nibble on his ear. His lips moved down Justin’s
neck and landed on his chest, licking and sucking Justin’s nipples. Justin
attempted to touch JC, but the older man moved out of his grasp, moving his
mouth down Justin’s body until he reached the waistband of his boxers. Slowly,
so slowly, JC peeled the underwear off Justin, exposing his cock to the air. The
sudden coolness caused Justin to stop his movements, his head rising from the
bed, his eyes locking with JC’s.
JC’s heart sank as he saw a sudden hint of clarity in the blue eyes, but then
sighed with relief and just a bit of guilt as they glazed over again, signaling
Justin was still in his drunken state. JC pulled off the boxers completely,
pushed Justin down to the edge of the bed and kneeled between the other man’s
legs. His hands touched warm, hard thighs, his hands practically burning from
the heat of Justin’s skin. JC leaned down to Justin’s cock, his head reeling
at the sight and smell of Justin in all his glory. Finally, JC bent his head to
Justin’s cock.
Justin bucked at the feel of JC’s wet mouth and JC’s hands moved higher,
holding him at this jutting hip bones. His tongue traced each ridge and vein of
Justin’s cock; His teeth nibbled the large head.
It was, JC realized, everything he’d dreamed of for the past five years.
Justin tasted salty and sweet and felt good in his mouth. JC sucked harder,
Justin’s cock sliding farther down JC’s throat. His own hips were pushing
against the bed, mimicking the same rhythm of his mouth.
JC felt a hand in his hair and felt Justin begin to tighten in his mouth and
knew the other man’s orgasm was close. He ran a hand around Justin’s balls
and grasped the base of his cock, increasing the pressure already in place from
JC’s mouth. That was it for Justin. He came in a rush and JC swallowed every
drop, the taste and feel of Justin’s orgasm enough to trigger his own as he
came against the bed.
JC laid his head against Justin’s thigh as the last of his climax poured out
of him. His hand played in the soft hair on Justin’s thigh as he silently
thanked God for Justin, thanked God for his love for Justin, and thanked God for
Justin’s inability to handle alcohol.
JC grimaced as he rose to his feet, his boxers sticking to him. He looked down
at Justin, sound asleep, sprawled out on the bed like some naked smorgasbord. JC
found Justin’s boxers and pulled them on the younger man, then moved him under
the covers of the bed. JC pulled the sheet higher and leaned down to gently kiss
him on the lips. Justin sighed in his sleep, turned over, and whispered,
“’night, JC,” before starting to snore loudly.
JC was asleep when he heard Chris banging on the door. He left his bead and
opened the door.
“’bout time,” Chris complained.
‘Good morning to you, too,” JC retorted.
Chris ignored the sarcasm, instead holding up a key card. “Found this on the
floor of the club, and since there’s no answer from his room, I’m assuming
the infant is here, right?’
JC tried to grab the key card, but Chris kept it out of reach. “Yes, he’s
here.” JC heard as the bathroom door opened and Justin entered the room. Chris
tossed him the key.
“We’re downstairs in 20,” Chris said, leaving the room and closing the
door behind him.
JC turned to face Justin. Nothing. No accusing eyes, no memory of the night
before. JC slowly released the breath he was holding and smiled. “How’s the
head?”
Justin tried to smile back, but the action looked to be painful. “It’s
letting me know it didn’t appreciate all the liquor I consumed,” he said.
“That’s always the way,” JC agreed, going to his suitcase and getting
clean clothes before going in to shower. When he exited the bathroom, JC was
startled to see Justin sitting on the bed. He looked up at JC, his head cocked
like a quizzical puppy.
“Did I do anything stupid last night?” Justin asked.
JC’s heart skipped a beat. “Define stupid.”
Justin shrugged. “I don’t know…I just have this weird feeling I’m
forgetting something. What did I do?”
“Let’s see,” JC said, determined to keep Justin from remembering. “You
argued with Bono over which was better, soccer or basketball.”
Justin shook his head. “Nope, don’t remember that.”
“You arm wrestled Fred Durst.”
Justin’s eyes brightened. “Did I win?” JC nodded. “Nope, can’t
remember that either.”
“Then you bet the entire party that no one would know the words to ‘Cousin
Dupree.’”
“Did anyone?”
JC chuckled. “Yes, and you owe me $283 dollars.” Justin rolled his eyes at
that news. “Then I brought you back here and you went to sleep.”
Justin shook his head. “Something’s missing, something I feel I should
remember.” He got up from the bed and headed to the door. “You’re sure
there’s nothing else?’
JC just wanted this conversation to end. “I’m sure.” He was looking for
his flip-flops. One was under the desk and he slipped it on. The other was
peeking out from under the bed. “Go get cleaned up, J,” he said, kneeling
down to retrieve the errant shoe.
Justin had reached the door. “Thanks for taking care of me, C. I really…”
JC’s fingers pulled out the shoe and turned to face Justin as he stood, one
hand on the door. The younger man’s blue eyes were wide, his mouth gaped open
as he looked at the bed next to JC, then to JC, then back to the bed, then back
to JC. JC followed his gaze.
There it was. For all the world to see. He’d stained the bed spread when he
came last night, and that, plus the sight of JC on his knees next to the bed
must have triggered something in Justin’s memory.
JC closed his eyes in agony and leaned back on his heels, dropping his head
against the bed in resignation. Slowly he turned to face Justin, ready for the
accusations, the recriminations, and the hatred he knew he see in Justin’s
eyes.
Later, much later, JC admitted that the last thing he expected was the look of
wonder and awe on Justin’s face.
But what he really wasn’t prepared for was the love.