Part 8


[Sunday, July 20, 2003 – Miami, FL]

Slowly and reluctantly, Justin’s psyche creeps like soft butter melting over hot pancakes from a misty dream he’ll never recall later into the waking world he’d abandoned hours before. He keeps his eyelids lowered and shut tight, savoring the last lingering seconds of dark weightlessness before the soundtrack of consciousness begins to buzz and fill in around the edges of his mind.

He’s lying on his back, he gathers, with the same blood-bloated erection he’d fallen asleep with. No. Hold up. Correction on The Erection. This one’s a bit different — it’s much larger and throbs more insistently as it lays flat against his upper thigh. As if it’s been super-charged and electrified after feeding off the solid warmth named JC who’s been snuggly contoured into him all night. Or, more bluntly, his dick presently feels sort of like a hand grenade with the pin pulled.

Subtly and instinctively — and oh-so unmistakably — Justin’s entire body reacts to a mysterious sizzling rush that’s the blue-hot thought of “Chasez” roaring through him. Eyes still closed, he makes a tiny hushed sound that’s more of a gasping sigh than a wincing moan.

“Ah, the gorgeous young stud wakes. I see his pretty lips quiver……….and his pretty penis jerk……….How lucky am I, man, to be here beside such, um, enormous beautifulness?……….Cute bed-head and all?”

With the recognition of the cottony-sweet voice, lapping at his soul like a warm bath, Justin’s grin dawns and brightens across the horizon of his face, his eyelids flipping open and spilling out colors of pale blue and flecked silver. He’s rewarded with the sight he’d anticipated, hoped for, lives for: JC lying next to him and flanking him with a long and slender body, propped on his side atop a few pillows, gazing down with a bemused half-smile, and watching him slowly come back to life. Justin drinks in the image of the stubbly, lived-in face and the dangerously deep eyes.

*I don’t know the answer to the easy way you open every door in my mind.*

“Hey, baby. And word up. You can’t have bed-head when you don’t, like, have any hair.”

“Morning, sexy. And word up back at ya. I know. Just testing you.”

“Did I pass?”

“Oh, absolutely. You get Best In Show, cupcake.”

Justin smirks at the affectionate nickname, but smiles inwardly and secretly relishes it. “Well, now. Hell must hath surely iceth the fucketh over.”

“Hmm. And why do you say that?”

“You’re awake. Before I am. And in a seemingly charming mood. Whoa. Unheard of.”

Unhurriedly, JC trails the tip of his middle finger across the patch of bare skin of Justin’s abdomen, which his wadded T-shirt fails to cover. He grazes over the warm flesh and up and down the bristly path of light brown hairs with dizzying ease.

“Must be your amazing influence,” he whispers. “I’d almost forgotten how, um, what would you say?..........*dope*?……….I’d almost forgotten how dope it is waking up next to you.”

Justin squirms as that swollen ache, all too familiar to him now, burns in his cock again. The vision of rolling over on top of JC, pinning him to the bed, holding his writhing hips, and penetrating and pumping into his tight ass until they both couldn’t come anymore hadn’t left the forefront of his mind. Um, no. There it still sits, right in the front fucking row, obsessing anxiously. In fact, the very scent of JC so close to him now — mellow, citrusy aloe ointment blended with the musky aroma of sleep — is kicking Justin’s libidinous senses up to mach speeds, and he reaches forward to grab one of the toned and red-tinted biceps so temptingly near.

“Sweetness, please. Don’t say that. Don’t ever forget what it’s like.”

“I said ‘almost,’ babe. I couldn’t *really* forget. Not you. And ‘sides. If I go dumbass and *do* happen to forget, you can always remind me, ya know.”

Justin slides a slow caress over the arm’s firm definition and sighs. And the hunger washes over him in strong waves like high tide.

The hunger to commit the act of touch. Far more touch than this.

“So how’s your back? Still feel like you’ve been turning on a spit for days?”

JC smiles again, leaning closer. “Feeling piles better. Thanks to my sexy but virginal caregiver.”

“‘Piles.’ That’s rich. Haha, C. And ‘virginal.’ That’s a fucking hoot too, baby. You crack me up.”

“Yeah, well, PRUDE will look awesome on the back of your b-ball jersey today.”

Justin snickers. “Yeah, you say. You just wait. You seriously feeling better, Jace? Back up to par? Then you are fair fucking game, I’m saying. Prepareth thyself.”

“Promises……….promises,” JC groans whisperingly and pinches at the silky tuff that disappears into the waistband of Justin’s boxers. “Always with the lame-oh promises.”

“WhatEVer, baby. I promise to get the ball rolling, um, so to speak, by laying a big wet-ass one on you when I cure myself of this A.M. breath of death……….And you can bet that perfectly rounded tush of yours that it WON’T be lame-oh.”

JC slips his hand up under Justin’s shirt and tenderly rubs over the hot smoothness of his side. Lowering his head, he drops a small, sweet kiss on Justin’s unsuspecting rose-pink lips.

“And how are *you* feeling, J? Sinuses stopped nagging you, babe?”

“I’m good……….And now I just wanna stay here……….with you, like this……….and never leave. Just us……….Nothing and nobody else……….Can we do that, baby? Please?”

*Loving you is easier than anything I’ll ever do again.*

Skimming the cushiony source of the feathered plea again, JC presses his mouth to Justin’s flushed cheek and hums softly as a strand of his hair falls and lightly strokes Justin’s eyelash. “And have each other for breakfast? ‘Cause I’m fucking starving.”

“Fuck, yesss……….and lunch and dinner too.” Justin moans and squirms again under the sweet, moist assault of JC’s hot breath and sliding lips on his neck.

“And all snacks in between too?”

“Anything……….anything you want, sweetness.”

JC fuses the length of his frame into Justin’s and moves against him with a slow, sliding slickness, making Justin achingly aware of the stiff bulge he too sports, rubbing it over Justin’s jutting hipbone tantalizingly close to Justin’s hard cock that twitches there. “Ah, I’ve got everything I want right here, cupcake. I just want *more* of it.”

It’s times like this one, Justin’s heart reminds him, that JC seems to transform from mere flesh and bone into the tangible essence of certain words, seems to take on their affectations, embody their definition, *become* their true meaning in living form. At the moment, he’s surrounding and enveloping Justin in the warm incarnation of an entire phrase……….”silken, smoldering, soft-strummed seduction”……….purring and twirling himself around Justin’s body like a toying, playful panther.

“Christ, Jace,” Justin slams his eye shut tight and hisses/moans/sighs. And he writhes with the growing hunger, the swelling need that currents through every hot blood cell in his body. “Baby……….I’ll give you more……….as much as you fucking want……….if you’re feeling……….up……….to it. And feels to me like you’re *way* up……….I want you more than……….fuck……….more than anything, sweetness.”

“Hmmm,” JC growls, his lips planted on the taut flesh just below Justin’s earlobe, tongue licking at the accumulated saltiness and teeth sinking in greedily. “I was thinking maybe……….the shower……….That should work perfectly……….No chance of hurting the ol’ backside……….You game?”

Still pushing his warm, hard groin into Justin’s pliant upper hip, JC swipes an open palm down the length of Justin’s erection, which jerks again in its splayed position under the cotton shorts, slowing at the stout base to rub and squeeze his loaded sac. It’s a quick and sudden move down the hard member and causes Justin’s whole body to jump and writhe spastically as if he’s been shocked with a live wire.

“Fuck, baby……….You’re an evil, teasing bitch……….And, yeah……….shower……….shower good, man……….you and me……….not paining you at all……….nekkid and wet……….warm and slippery……….shower good.” Justin whimpers, reduced to Teletubby-speak at the sultry power of being under JC’s mouth and hands.

JC snickers, vibrating them. “Race ya, sexy fuck.”

In the span of time it takes for Justin’s fast-beating heart to pump once, JC’s up and standing beside the bed. And Justin instantly misses the radiating warmth that’s just been pulled away from him. Almost helplessly, he lies there and lets his eyes sweep over the nearly-nude, dark, ripe, handsome form, down to the very prominent tent bulging in the middle of the black boxers.

*Promises, promises.*

“You’re so beautiful, sweetness,” he breathes out lightly.

JC smiles down at him, his blue-topaz eyes shimmering with the compliment from this special person who’s given it. “You too, J. Very beautiful……….So you coming or not?”

“Apparently not ‘til I’m in the shower,” Justin grins with stunning brilliance.

“Then what the hell are ya waiting for, babe? Get a move on your cute ass.”

Groaning with the slow-burn of his aching erection, Justin hoists himself off the bed to follow JC. He’s sure at that moment that he’d follow JC *anywhere*, including to the end of the world, if he had to. Not just so that he can finally come his brains out like he’s been wanting to do for days. No, for more than that.

For the everything JC is to him.

He’s watching JC in front of him, heading toward the bathroom with that same lust-heaviness he feels in his own awkward steps, and noticing that the deep-scarlet shade of his back seems a bit less intense today, more like overly-tanned sore skin than newly-slaughtered raw meat. Still need to be careful, Justin tells himself. Don’t fucking overdo anything just ‘cause you’re both horny as hell. Slow, easy. Try that tender-loving-care sexing up.

Breaking into Justin’s trying-to-form-rational-reasonable-thoughts-with-a-dick-this-damn-hard mental musings, JC stops and wheels around slowly, almost wickedly. Obviously amused by something he hasn’t shared yet with Justin, he glances around the room through thin slits in his eyelids.

“So. Where’s *her* little round, fur-lined bed? You keep it in the corner or something? Near the food and water bowl?”

“What the bloody hell are you saying?” Justin narrows his bright eyes, forced to switch gears suddenly.

“Cammers. Cam-baby. Cam-meister. Cammikins. Whatever the fuck you call her. Where do you, you know, put her down at night?”

“Oh. That.” Justin laughs. “She had her own room when she was here. Next door. I don’t want her funk all up in MY shit. Are you serious? The less I’m forced to rub elbows with her the better. Know what I’m saying?”

“Hmm. That’s good, I guess,” is the extent of JC’s reply, answered quietly.

Justin catches the passing vibe that his boyfriend wanted to say more, elaborate, but chose not to. And Justin’s perfectly agreeable to that scenario. He sidles up behind JC, grabs his share of the ass cheeks with two large hands, and digs into the firm, warm flesh. Breathing in the not-unpleasant smell of the medicine-greased dark hair, he puts his mouth to JC’s ear.

“Besides, baby, we don’t need to be fucking with the aura we got going around here by talking *her* up. Right?”

“Right, cupcake. And I wanna rub plenty more on that hot physique of yours than your elbows.”

“Hmm. Are we there yet?”

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

*I listen to my heart, wave after wave after wave, salty and red, continuing on, making time.*

Two tall, svelte male bodies, standing nude under the shower’s continuous warm downpour, not even inches apart in some places, adhered to each other in other places, in the cool and watery atmosphere, flesh heatedly anxious to be touching flesh. Glistening. Saturated. Lustrous.

There are no unnecessary spoken words, only murmured sighs, low-throated moans, breathy winces, gentle hisses, pleasured groans. There’s fragrant lather too, lots of the rich, soapy bubbles sliding over wet, firm skin.

And there’s contact as well, of the slick and physical variety. Lips on lips, pressing and licking. Tongues probing and dueling and slipping between those pairs of lips to gain entry into and dart against the juicy walls of the cavernous mouth. Hands splayed on chests that heave, soaking in the familiar rhythms of racing hearts. Other hands gripping waists for better leverage as lengthened and hardened crotches thrust into each other, slowly spiraling pelvises, with that electrifying intensity and throbbing anxiousness.

Gasping at the acute liquid-fire sensation in his dick, Justin’s sure he’s going to detonate and shoot his hot load at any second. He’s barely aware of the tepid rainfall from the nozzle pelting him. What’s overtaking all of his senses right now are the sweet flavor and texture of JC lips — like velvety petals of a new rose that still hides in its folds succulent dew drops — and the fact that his cock is filled with oozing lava that threatens to erupt and spew everywhere if JC keeps rolling his own hardness over it like he’s doing now. Fuck, yes. That is HOT.

They’d tried to start out slow and easy, honestly. Lathering each other up playfully and sensually, splashing the torrents of water as if they weren’t soaked enough already, washing each other’s hair. Justin had even insisted on tenderly bathing JC’s blistered back for him, using a soft cloth to sponge gentle caresses of lather over it and placing small kisses on the sensitive skin as he went along.

BUT when JC had leaned in and started to lap at the rivulets streaming across Justin’s nipples and down over his toned abs and then even lower to lick the extra moisture from the head of his erection, Justin couldn’t take it any longer. Playtime was over. Their respective, unruly dicks, which spring out between them begging for some relief, need to be dealt with.

Like NOW.

JC apparently senses Justin’s urgency in the tightening of his muscles and easily pushes him backward until his shoulders are flat against the tile wall. Pressing his wiry, strong thighs onto Justin’s, he continues to rock their hard-ons together in a slow, painfully delicious grind and wisps out a few wet words at the corner of Justin’s mouth.

“I love you, J……….and not ‘cause you’re so fucking hot……….but just ‘cause you’re you.”

In the shrouding streams of water, Justin inches his head forward to capture the full, red lips and slides his own over them with pulsating affection. “Me too, baby……….Love you.”

“Are you close, babe?”

“Fuck……….yessss,” Justin mutters. “Don’t torture me, Jace……….Please.”

“I wanna *feel* you come, babe,” JC whispers to him, against his mouth, and slips his hand around Justin’s length to feel the fire throb up and down inside it. “I wanna fucking feel that hot stuff rumble up through your pretty, fat cock and squirt out all over me……….like saying it’s *mine* ‘cause I *made* you do it. ‘Kay?”

“‘Kay,” Justin struggles out a moan, eyes clamped shut, his body completely at the mercy of his lover. “Baby, you know it’s all for you.”

JC’s throaty-whisper dirty talk combined with the slick grip-and-slide of his clenched fist up and down Justin’s dick are too much. Justin arches his hips into the hot, drenched touch and rolls his head from side to side against the wall behind him as JC bites into the small indention of flesh between his shoulder and neck and pumps with increasing velocity on the solid, stone-like shaft.

Somehow, Justin realizes vaguely, JC’s managed to maneuver more smooth liquid soap onto the palm and fingers of his other hand and now eases the sticky, lubed appendage down under the cock/fist action to squeeze and caress Justin’s severely full balls. The double-handed contact — the rough/gentle massaging of his tender sac and the steady-friction stroking up and down his super-hard cock are more than Justin can handle and still remain conscious.

*Prepare to lose your mind. That’s right. Open up the top of your head and let it just fly right the fuck out.*

“Aww, fuck, Jace……….milk it outta me……….yesssss……….It’s coming hard and fast, baby……….I can’t hold it any longer……….fuck……….God……….damn……….Oh, fuck……….yesssss”

JC does exactly as Justin pleads — milks the long, thick pole and creates more soapy lather, up and down, wet, smacking noises wafting around them, up and down over and over, pumping with just the right slide of pressure, with his thumb bearing down on the most sensitive spots, and with his slick grip and perfectly timed sleek rhythm and speed. His efforts are rewarded with Justin’s exploding shaft decorating both of them with hot, thick drops of his release — lots and lots of them, puddled quantities on their abdomens and thighs, as if the fluid had been stored up for a while and brimming to burst out like from a full-on fire hose.

Justin’s chest lifts and falls quickly as he pants, desperate for breath, and he grunts with last-minute trembling pleasure when JC turns him loose and bends down to catch a final oozing trickle from the still-red tip. He’s still shaking with the after-shock effects as JC slithers back up his body and kisses him again in the soft rain. Wetly. Deeply.

And Justin can taste, faintly, traces of his own sharp saline flavor along JC’s lips. “Jace……….baby……….that was……….awesome………I never had it so damn good……….fucking psychedelic……….I saw exploding stars and spinning kaleidoscopes and shit……….Damn.”

“Excellent,” JC whispers over the sound of the water around them, brushing Justin’s silky eyelashes with his mouth. “You were long overdue……….quite *long*……….and overdue……….That was fun.”

“Well worth the wait too, baby, I’m saying.”

“And if you’re saying, then it must be damn true.”

Justin giggles breathlessly and then opens his satiated gray-blue eyes to lively pools-of-Heaven matching ones. “You’re up next, sweetness. You ready?”

JC half-smiles, half-smirks, his defiantly erect cock swaying and bumping against both of their lower ab regions. “I might be. Whenever you can, you know, stand up by yourself again and all that bidness.”

“Well, since you AM NOT my damn choreographer, baby, maybe you need to be staying outta ‘all that bidness.’ I’m SO 22 and got more stamina than that fucking Ever-Ready bunny, man. And, plus, I wasn’t planning on standing up much longer anyways……….Get the picture?”

“Paint it for me, J. Please,” JC begs.

Justin smiles with smoky confidence and pushes himself off the slick tiles of the stall. With his hands on JC’s narrow hips, he moves him backward a step or two until the cool flow of the water is cascading down on JC’s back, soothingly. Then, slowly, he lowers himself down JC’s body to a squatting position, dabbing wet kisses along the tight chest and flat stomach and lean thighs. He’s pretty sure this won’t take long enough for his legs to tire and buckle under him, but he goes to his knees on the shower floor anyway. Just as a precaution.

JC’s grabbing and clutching at his shoulders already, in hot anticipation, fingertips kneading into the skin, muscles, and bone there. He gurgles out a sigh as Justin licks, agonizingly slow, up the inside tender flank of each thigh, arching swipes of warm moisture in every firm lap, and carefully avoiding the boisterous, jutting erection that wants so badly to be noticed.

“Justin……….you bitch……….I didn’t tease you……….damnit……….Do you mind?”

Justin stops his tongue torture and looks up, still grasping and squeezing those lovely hips. He grins slyly as the shower pellets hit his face and bounce off. “Sorry, Jace. My fault. You’re so fucking……….sweet………I couldn’t help myself……….You wanna come hard, baby?”

“It crossed my mind,” JC hisses through gritted teeth.

“Say no more.”

Moist-velvet heat from Justin’s mouth envelopes the round, darkened head of JC’s cock, a tongue tip eagerly flickering at the pearled droplets that leak out of the small slit, and JC thinks he might be floating in surreal raining blackness because it feels so damn good. Then, when the soft, plump lips glide down over the thick length of him, taking all of him in like steamy cashmere wrapping around him tightly and possessively, swallowing him up completely, he cries out something nonsensical that echoes around them off the wet walls.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Justin……….You……….Shit……….You do that……….best, babe.”

And Justin doesn’t stop to answer. He knows better. He senses the heavy fullness, the involuntary twitching, the surge of hot blood through raised bluish veins along the shaft between his lips as his tongue laps over them repeatedly. He knows he only needs to bear down a little, suck up and down and up and down with vacuum-like intensity, stopping occasionally to lick long, sleek strokes up each side and over the head, applying a little extra pressure to certain secret spots.

Ah, but he knows something else too. Another delicious little secret……….

JC goes ape-shit over the sensation of warm, wet lapping at the underside of his balls, especially when they’re elevated and suspended as they are now. Perfect.

Expertly and seamlessly, Justin replaces his constricting mouth around JC’s heat with a tight, moist fist and trails his lips downward to the pair of rounded flesh bulging below. He can hear JC groan above him and feel him shudder all over as he takes each warm morsel between his lips and dances and swirls his hot tongue over and around the curves and crevices that hang there like sweet, beckoning fruit. When he simultaneously massages upward over JC’s dick with his palm and caresses the dome of the head with his thumb, it’s as if he’s pulled JC’s magic trigger to blast him off over the edge into blinding, numbing, out-of-this-world ecstasy.

“DAY-UM!” is the only real word JC utters in his expletive string of grunts and growls and then finally whimpers as he shoots off against the wall and sprinkles the lower part of Justin’s back with his juices.

Justin moves upward now and gently sucks the last couple of spit-fired globules out of the volatile head, savoring the touch and taste as he swallows it down. Then he stands again, wincing at his tensed thighs, and wraps his arms around the non-burned area of JC’s waist, pulling them together closely in the downpour.

“You okay, baby?” He kisses JC’s cheek.

“Never been better, my love.” JC leans against his chest, winded and trembling from his orgasmic cataclysm.

“Hungry?”

“Famished, my love.”

“So how ‘bout we rinse off, get the hell outta here, and order up some brunch grub.”

“Is there a menu in this joint for ‘brunch grub’?”

“There fucking better be.”

“Then I can live with that plan, my love.” JC nestles into Justin’s warmth and catches his breath with a heavy sigh.

*The inexplicable joy of togetherness, being completely connected with someone else……….*

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

When the chirping ring of a phone cuts into the room’s relaxed atmosphere, JC is in the bathroom carefully blow-drying his hair at the vanity, and Justin’s still naked and stretched out on his back sideways across the bed, eyes closed, blindly enjoying the last few shivery-tingling memories from his *deity-invoking-good* orgasm. The pleasant whirr of the dryer is countered sharply by the metallic little shrill of the cell.

Groaning at the unwelcome and sudden intrusion into their serene, perfect seclusion and considering ignoring it altogether, Justin doesn’t recognize the ring at all and finally realizes it’s the sound of that tiny state-of-the-are little jobber he’d picked up for JC in Japan. Sure, he’d had to lay down some major coinage for it, but there was virtually zilch it couldn’t do as far as high-tech communication goes.

And besides, JC is worth it. Worth the outrageous price of a gadgety bitty phone 10 times over.

Ironically, the little fucker is having no trouble making its annoying presence heard now — after playing the role of petulant, silent troublemaker two evenings before. It won’t shut the hell up, and JC can’t hear it. So Justin gives in and rolls over to grab it off the nightstand. He glances at the Caller ID screen.

And groans again.

Trace.

Wonderful.

Buckets and buckets of fucking wonderful.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing calling MY boyfriend’s private cell phone? You want me to start ripping some Tenn Crew Trash ass?”

Trace snickers on the other end, smugly and wheezily. “Yo, J. Calm the fuck down, dawg! You ain’t gotta be tripping. I am NOT on about macking on your piece of ass, man. You keep ‘im. Chasez scares me he’s so purty. Hell, he’s so purty he prolly turns hisself on. Whoa with the creepy on that idea, man. Nah, not for me. I can’t hang with that, dude. Yeah, he’s all yours.”

Justin’s not amused nor appeased. “So why are you calling him, then?” he snaps back instantly.

“Whoa, dude. Bitchy much? What up? You didn’t get your garden plowed last night, J? Didn’t get your corncob grinded down?? Still a li’l tense and horny this morning? Man……….and I figured on you getting some last night, man. Whattee shame.”

Justin scowls and glares at the phone for a second before putting it back to his ear. “Shut the fuck up, Trace. And tell me what the hell you want with Jace, or I’ll be forced to come over there and pummel your stoned ass into the ground. You got the picture?”

“Right, creampuff. I’m scared. Woo,” Traces sighs from wherever he is. “Justin, dude. Listen up. I was ringing up Chasez ‘cause he’s first on tha Emergency Digits list I got for you, bro. I been trying to call YOUR cellie since last night and no go. You got the fucka turned off or what, man?”

Justin rolls over to his back and simmers. It’s not Trace, specifically, grating on every one of his revved-up nerves. It’s the pissy disturbance of Paradise in general.

“I’ve been otherwise occupied, shit-for-brains. With Jace. I told you that. Can’t you fucking respect my privacy like a normal Special-Ed adolescent? Huh?”

“Aww, man! ‘Scuse the fuck outta me, RO-mee-oh,” Trace mock-whines. “Why you gotta be so frigging hos-TILE, man?”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes, Trace. How ‘bout you get on with the reason for this call? I’m kinda busy over here, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Yo, did I interrupt some real, live butt-fucking?” Trace squeals and giggles. “Some boner-fied ass-tapping?”

Justin lets out a perturbed deep breath. “I’m growing old over here, man. What. Do. You. Want?”

Trace clears his throat as if he’s an important individual and making an important announcement. “Well, the thing is……….Your OTHER girlfriend —”

“Don’t even start that shit, Trace.”

“Okay. Charlie’s Ho. Better, dude?”

“Why can’t you be fucking civil for once?”

Trace pretends to gasp with disbelief. “Why the fuck should I? Bitch ain’t nice to ME!”

“So what about her? Tell me a motherfucking story already,” Justin snips, impatiently.

“Dude, she been trying ta connect up with YOUR ass, and you musta been icing her out ‘cuz Miss Starlet be calling MY fucking phone and giving me the willies with her squeaky, bitchy threats to find you or else. I’m like, ‘Babe, maybe he don’t WANNA be found, ya know. Let my boy have some room to air out his balls once in a while, yo. Back on up outta his spotlight for two fucking days, I’m saying.’”

“You said that?”

“Or something like it. I dunno. Can’t remember. Prolly.”

Justin rolls his eyes but can’t seem to conjure up any sympathy. For either Trace or Cameron. Behind him, JC has shut off the hair dryer and is now probably listening.

“Fucking great. You got any MORE upbeat news for me, man?”

“So what up, J? What the fuck do ya want me ta tell her, man? Bitch thinks all she gotta do is bat those fake Walmart lashes over her creepy-ass eyes and tha fucking Earth moves for her.”

“What does she want, Trace?” As soon as he asks, Justin wishes he hadn’t. Because he really doesn’t want to find out.

“Who the fuck cares? Oh. And. You think I care?” Trace snarls, sullenly.

Justin sighs and wishes he’d just let the tiny phone ring forever. He’s even more disgruntled at the unwanted insertion of Cameron into his and JC’s little reunion. Well, make that RE-insertion, since he’d fucked up and committed that deadly sin the first time. And he knows that she would get in touch with either his mother or Johnny — and certainly not Trace — if a *real* issue arose that needed his attention.

“Trace, man.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sweat it today, dude. She’ll be okay. You gave me the message. You’re in the clear. Just chill and have a rocking time at the hoops game today while we’re still here. ‘Kay?”

Trace snorts, and Justin figures he probably wouldn’t have given it all another worried thought anyway. “You and C booking to Chicago tonight with the rest of us, dawg?”

Justin smiles, silently and for himself. “No, babe……….Trace, man, I told you we’re staying here ‘til Tuesday. Chicago doesn’t need me before then. So I’m spending my day or so off with my boy………..‘cause he’s what *I* need.”

“Fuck. I don’t blame ya, bro. Live it up. I know ya missed his ass.”

“I missed *all* of him.”

*And hell, yes. That fine ass too. Oh, hell, yes.*

“Get yourself some refueling on the lovin’ stuff, man.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan. And you’ll remind Cameron where I am if you run into her up there, man? Tell her to hit Allstate Arena Tuesday night with moms?”

“Sure, dawg. That’d make my goddamn fucking day if Hollywood Skankorama got up in my face, man……….man, thanking she’s all THAT and some chips and dip……….Yeah, fucking right.”

“Trace, buddy.”

“What?”

Justin giggles. At the possibility. “Not in view of anyone, okay?”

“Whatever you say, J. You da boss.”

“‘Cause, see, it won’t exactly make HER fucking day if you go off on her.”

“Um, and? I care? Hell, nah. Fuck her.”

“Trace.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Try to be civil. Or at least de-screet. Whatever. Go on back to your baby boy C.”

“I will. Thanks, man.”

“See ya at the court.”

“Yo.”

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

“I won’t even ask,” JC says, sauntering in from the bathroom, his shiny-clean hair spilling everywhere, all over his head, perfectly.

“Yeah, don’t. Not worth the bother,” Justin grumbles.

“Then why’s it bothering you?”

Justin turns, glances up at him, and can’t help but smile. Sweatpants and shirtless and bare feet. Beautiful JC. “It’s not. Not with THAT in my room.”

“Did you order food?”

“I did. A little of everything. I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.”

JC smiles at him like *that*. “Ah, I think you know precisely what I’m in the mood for, babe.”

Justin blushes. Just a little. “Well, after the game and dinner with my folks, we’re on borrowed time, sweetness. Just you and me. ‘Til Tuesday night.”

“Fuck. Now I’m even MORE hungry.”

There are blueberry waffles for brunch, with maple syrup and whipped butter. There’s also crispy bacon, with cheese toast and scrambled eggs. There’s even hash browns, with turkey sausage and honey-wheat bagels. This is the feast Justin dives into and devours when the room service attendant sets it up on the small dining table in his suit. Most of it is gulped down heartily with orange juice and creamed coffee.

For JC, there are strawberries dipped in powdered sugar, dragged across his mouth until the sticky-sweet residue on his lips starts to drive Justin wild again from the other side of the table. There’s also luscious emerald kiwi which he likes to suck on and savor, and when one drop of the syrupy juice escapes his mouth and drips out the corner, the quick swipe of his tongue to rescue it makes Justin’s cock jump to attention inside his jeans.

*Oh, fucking hell. This going to be one mother of a looonnnggg-ass day.*



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