And I like cream in my coffee And nobody holds me JC is fully submerged in the huge walk-in closet when the noisy ruckus begins downstairs, so he isn’t aware of it at first. And when he does finally hear it, it’s muffled by racks and racks and shelves and shelves of clothesshoesclothesshoesclothesshoes. Side note on that last statement there that skims through JC’s thoughts: JustinTheSmartassOfTheWorld gets himself a great big kick out of referring to their shared closet as “the 17-room countryside estate” or something equally as witty such as “the northwest wing of their bedroom that dwarfs the servants’ quarters” (yeah, that’s real fucking witty all right — all because of the extensive, winding depth of it and its many and various alcoves and inset sections off to the sides of its corridor. “Damn, babes,” he’s fond of saying, oh so charmingly and smugly, with one of those arrogant, glib laughs of his. “Install a toilet in there, and we could rent that mutha out as a three-bedroom flat.” JC usually flashes him a dark smirk and a long, slender, well-manicured middle finger and replies, with cool aloofness, “Excuse me, but it’s YOUR house, YOUR closet, Thread Queen. At least HALF of that shit in there belongs to YOU. So don’t be ripping on ME for the size and capacity of the fucker.” To which Justin is always up to Justin form and casually comes back with a sleek, cock-sure smile and a deft wink and says, “Hey, now. Don’t be making those lewd hand gestures ‘less you mean ‘em, Jace. ‘Cause you know I will. I’ll jump all over you, baby, and lay you down and do exactly that. You know what I’m talking about.” Yeah, he thinks he’s just so damn cute. And he is. So JC can take his smug-ass comments. Any day. Because, see, there’s that thing about how Justin lovingly accepts and respects JC’s own cozy, exclusive, rounded corner of the joint closet space acreage — the revered Shades of Pink Haven. Justin has gabillions of shelves for his sneaker collection and questionably tasteful T-shirts. And JC has the Shades of Pink Haven. Compromising and comfortable, mutually pleasing. One more example of their love overflowing from the two of them and spreading throughout the environment around them, suffusing it, enhancing it, making it better. “I fucking wish,” JC whispers to himself, exiting the closet as well as his little detour into the side-note realm of thought. And, behind his eyes, he pictures that sweet, bratty Timberlake I’m-gonna-nail-you-to-the-damn-mattress-and-you’re-gonna-love-it-‘til-you-scream expression on his face. And he hears the phantom promises that pretty mouth feathers out. “Damn, I wish you were here doing something like that to me.” He saunters past the closet’s double doors and stands flat-footed and dead-still in the middle of the bedroom, listening for the strange sounds from downstairs again. He’s the only life form in the house besides the random plants here and there, and he’s pretty sure the damn plants aren’t up shimmying around, picking out a new CD to pop in the stereo, or baking soufflés and shit in the kitchen. So, on a logical level, he shouldn’t be hearing anything from down there. Right? So then WTF? There’s scuttling, shuffling, and shushing. And was that whimpering too? What. In. The. Fuck. Okay. There’s definitely someone in the house with him, he’s sure by the time he grabs the nearest shirt hanging just inside the closet, breezes down the back staircase, and lands in the small foyer right outside the kitchen. This is several kinds of scary, disturbing, and just plain wrong. But he has to venture in there. He must know. He’s got to check it out. Because this place is not, technically, his house. It’s………. “JUSTIN! Fuck! What are you doing home today? You’re supposed to be in London still!” Closing the laundry room door and spinning around coolly, Justin smiles with colorful, restless eyes. “Oh. Hey, babes. I’m a little early.” “Like a whole fucking DAY?” JC rattles, glancing at the digital clock on the microwave. “A whole fucking day and four hours?” Justin grins slyly. “You had a little T-minus countdown going for me to come home, C? Damn, that’s sweet.” “Yep. The Return of the Asshole King.” “Sorry, baby. Bass hopped a plane this morning to get back to Jackson. Said he was in the pet hospital, sounded serious. And I was kind of homesick after that. I cancelled the shindig I had planned for tonight and rolled on out, ahead of schedule. Prob’bly should’ve called ya to say so.” JC sneers. “Prob’bly. Shithead. Or maybe you just enjoy scaring the crap out of me, playing ‘thug intruder’ down here when I’m not expecting you ‘til tomorrow night.” Justin smiles, and his hard-chiseled self-confidence softens. “My fault, Jace. I’m the prick. I shouldn’t have freaked you out like that. I’m sorry.” No, no, no. You’re goddamn gorgeous. And, Jesus, I wonder what you feel like right now……….What’s it been? Four days? Five?..........Way too long. “It’s cool,” JC shrugs. “Glad you’re back. You okay?” Justin takes a second to sigh fully and leans against the doorframe behind him. He smiles again and seems to be oblivious to the sudden scurrying noises on the other side of the shut door and the undeniable shadowy movements under the edge down along the floor. “Me too. I missed you like crazy.” And, because he wants to so vein-bursting desperately, JC thinks he might just cross the room in a sprint to plaster himself against Justin’s tall body, to let the warmth of that body crash over him like a rolling wave. He thinks he just might. Possibly. Except for one small, piercing detail that stops him. That tiny bark. Yes, a bark, for chrissakes. On the other side of the laundry room door. Side note on that last sound there that sears through JC’s thoughts: A bark — you’ve got to be fucking kidding me — is definitely not a positive sign. “J……….did it ever occur to you that you might already BE crazy?” “Maybe, baby. Why?” “Um, J……….What the fuck was that sound?” There’s yet another little yip and some scratching back there, and Justin tilts his head to the side and squints just like a curious, well, puppy. “You heard that?” JC rolls his eyes. “Justin. Quit.” ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ “All right. It’s made its debut. What the hell IS it, baby?” JC’s very unemotional and noncommittal but tries hard not to come across that way as he eyes the little dog that now prances proudly and excitedly around the kitchen, its small claws clicking on the expensive hardwoods after its release from the laundry room. “It’s a puppy, Jace.” “Okay. Duh. Thanks.” “A Scottish Terrier, to be exact. And he’s the sweetest-ass little pooch I’ve ever met. Only, like, eight weeks old or something. And this light color of his coat, they called it ‘wheaten.’ I picked him up from a top-notch breeder this morning before I left.” “Um, why?” “He’s really amazing, babes,” Justin croons on, not really addressing JC’s quiet question. He’s as breathless and exuberant as the pup is, eyes bright, as he bends down to scoop him up and laugh affectionately. The pup responds with vivacious energy and delighted licks to Justin’s chin and lots more of those body-shaking yaps. “Isn’t he just pressshusss, baby?” God. What a fucking ugly dog. “It kind of looks like an old man, J,” JC says hoarsely. “Interesting.” I lie. I lie. Not interesting at fucking all. “Aww, baby. He’s just a little puppy. Not an old man……….You’re not, like, totally smitten with him?” JC wrinkles his nose quickly, before Justin can glance over and see, and then determinedly smoothes the slope out again. “Sure, J. He’s all that, yeah, a real doll. Count me in the ‘totally smitten’ crowd.” I kid. I kid. God, don’t let him see my eyes rolling. They’re, like, on auto-pilot or something. Oh, man. Whose damn animal is this anyway? “Yeah, I knew you’d love him, Jace, when I first laid eyes on him. So I brought him home to meet you……….He’s my new baby……….to keep me company when I’m on the road and have to be away from you.” Justin laughs and smooches the hyper creature while it wriggles and writhes in his hands. “Okay,” JC sighs. “So where does it stay when you’re home, and not away from me?” The happy grin falters on Justin’s face as he turns a quick hurt-eyed look on JC. “He stays here, C. With us.” Um..........Oh, no, you didn't. “Oh.” “You’re not down with having a new puppy around, babes?” JC hates instantly that he’s disappointed Justin with such a weak response to the dog. He hates even more that he’s corrupted the electric-bright excitement in the sky-blue irises with shadowy clouds of apathy. His own misguided apathy for something Justin’s so wound up about. He steps closer, to those deep, magnetic, unforgettable eyes. “Sure, sweets. A new puppy’s great. I just wasn’t, you know, expecting……….I mean when you shipped the other dogs off to stay with your moms, I figured that would be it. No more pets and whatnot for a while. Since we’re not here much to take care of them.” Justin smiles sunshine at him once again, over the furry ears of the puppy. “That’s the thing, baby. This one’s going with me. My new road buddy when you’re not around. So no worries. See?” Internally, searching for patience, JC hunches his shoulders and sighs again. His only worry right now is getting that frigging animal away from Justin so that HE can get near Justin. “Well, okay. I’m sure it’ll work out fine. Here. Lemme hold it.” “HIM, Jace. He’s a boy. Not an ‘it.’ Here ya go.” JC rolls his eyes at partner, Anal Justin, and takes the small bundle of energy from him. “Sor-REEEY. Christ.” It’s just a fucking mutt. And it just got here, for heaven’s sake. A bit unsteadily, he holds the pup out in front of him with both hands. And it wriggles happily and lets out a tiny yelp, as if glad to greet the new human showing it attention. JC curls up one side of his mouth, hoping it passes for a smile. “Hey, big guy. Aren’t you just a fucking dandy?” Justin giggles at the scene. “Jace, damn. He’s not a fucking sack of flour. Cuddle him closer to you, baby. Show him some love.” “It — I mean HE — might snag my damn shirt, man. This baby cost 125 dollars. And I see from here those little doggy nails he’s got.” Justin cracks up again. Loudly. “Stop it, Jace! You’re so crazy! They’re claws, not nails. Jesus Christ. Give him back if you think he’s gonna infect you with cooties or shit like that. I swear I’d think you’d never seen a fucking dog before if I didn’t know about Jackson and how you took care of him.” JC finds another opportunity to rolls his eyes and huffs to go along with it this time. “Jackson’s like holding a dust mop or something — all soft and practically weightless and smoochy like a toy. This — HE — is like having a bagful of boiling water in your damn hands.” “Fine. Hand him back over.” Justin tries to pout/smirk, but his sparkling, laughing eyes give him away. And JC decides he really wants to do whatever the hell it takes to get this tiresome part of the conversation out of the way so that they can move on to the “Welcome home, baby” part. So he pulls the lively puppy nearer and presses it to his chest. It calms down a little in his arms as he slides one hand around its belly and strokes its head and neck with the other. He glances up and is pleased to see Justin is pleased too. “Aww, he likes you, babes. Y’all look adorable.” “Uh hmm.” If the little fuck rips this shirt, he’ll be liking the far corner of the damn garage a whole damn lot. So let’s just see about that, shall we? “So, um, did you name him yet?” “Scottie,” Justin beams. “Wow. That’s original, Justin. You thought of that all on your own?” “It’s not for the breed he is, Jace. It’s for you. A variation of your name.” A bastardization of it, if you want to get real. But whatever. “Oh. Okay. Shouldn’t be hard to remember, then,” JC says and prays that it sounds suitably positive. Then something happens. Something to shift-shape the entire tone of the atmosphere. Something out of the wild blue oblivion. Something JC considers just plain fucking rude and uncalled for. He’s still leaning against one end of the butcher-block island there in the kitchen and still holding the new little puppy to his chest, absently rubbing its vibrating body as he watches Justin’s every facial movement. Then, suddenly, Scottie writhes and squirms against him, spastically, as puppies tend to do, and somehow edges a paw inside the unbuttoned shirt JC had haphazardly thrown on upstairs and scrapes a sharp little front claw over his dark-pink right nipple. Amazingly, the claw doesn’t get caught on the tiny gold hoop JC has just recently put in the piercing there, but the fleshly bud is highly sensitive anyway, and JC lets out a wailing squeal as he jumps and shivers. He shoves the dog out in front of his body once more. “God fucking damnit! He ripped off my tit, Justin! The little fuck!” Justin leaps forward quickly and grabs Scottie out of JC’s annoyed squeezing grasp. The dog is quiet and still, shocked at being yelled at, shaking a little, and Justin snuggles him warmly and whispers lovingly that “everything’s cool, sweet boy, so don’t be afraid.” “Sure. Everything’s cool for you. He didn’t slash off any of your flesh,” JC mutters without looking up. Justin smoothes his hands over the dog and coos to him softly a bit more before turning to set him down gently in the laundry room. Then he closes the door and whirls around to JC once more, who is sulkily glaring down at and fingering his right nipple inside the open shirt. “Here, baby. Lemme see if he hurt you,” he breathes out, so near now, flanking the outer sides of JC’s long legs with his own. He slides the fabric aside and lightly caresses the hard little peak and its shiny gold jewelry. “No skin breakage. Looks like you’ll live.” “Fuck you, J.” JC slowly raises his eyes and smirks. But then he has to wince softly at the tingle of Justin’s fingertip melting over one of his most erogenous areas. As if Justin being home again and pressing against him isn’t arousing enough by itself. “I was hoping you’d say that, Jace. Really hoping,” Justin says quietly and winks. He places his other hand on JC’s hip to inch him backward, butt to the butcher-block island again. Then he leans down to take the allegedly-abused nipple between his wet lips and sweeps around it with his tongue tip. JC shudders and lets out a quiet breathy ohyesss noise. This is what he’s been waiting for — Justin’s touch. Just himself and Justin. “All better now, babes?” Justin whispers as he moves back up to JC’s face. He licks his lips and lowers his head to cover JC’s mouth with them before JC can answer. Before he can confirm that, fuck yes, the whole world is better now. JC slinks his arms over Justin’s broad shoulders as he allows Justin to lead him down, down, down into the delicious, drowning kiss, wave after sweet wave, rediscovering the hotness of each other’s flavor, sinking into the comfort of it’s-as-breathtaking-as-I-remembered-it……….and-it’s-all-mine. “Did I say I’m jazzed as fuck you’re back?” JC pants when they pull only their mouths apart, still warm against each other down the length of their bodies. Justin smiles. “Kind of. With that snog. And I’m glad to be home too. With you.” He slides one hand from around JC’s waist and then down the front of the bright, open clothing hanging loosely on JC’s frame. “This is niiiccceee. Silk……….Hey, at least Scottie boy didn’t fuck up the seven-bazillion-dollar shirt, baby. Not a snag in sight.” JC’s head twitches slightly, petulantly, and his eyes barely roll before he blinks them quickly. “Okay, ass. If you’re going to go all smart-mouth prick-with-ears on me again, then I’m not going to let you pin me here and stick your tongue down my throat again. Ever.” Justin giggles and gives JC’s crotch a gentle shove with his own pelvis. He glances down at the fine fabric between his fingers. “I dig this piece, babe. All wild and funkadelic shades of fuchsia and orange. Looks damn good on you too……….Hey, isn’t this the shirt you spun around in on ‘Ellen’ this morning?” “How’d you see it already? You were on a plane. Across the ocean.” JC squints at him. “I got the hookup on my laptop before I left the hotel. It’s, like, hours earlier over there, you know. And, Jace, you looked awesome. Whoa. Hot, hot, hot performance too.” “Thanks. But you don’t think this shirt’s too, um, prissy?” Justin contorts his face into an exaggerated frown. “Prissy? Fuck no! This is styling, man. Where’d you get ‘prissy’?” JC shrugs and lets his arms fall slowly off Justin’s shoulders and down onto his biceps. “Dunno. I’m pretty sure I overheard some fucking asshole backstage call it ‘prissy’ yesterday when I taped the show……….Those asses have to dress a butch lesbo every day and probably don’t know prime-choice clothes when they see ‘em.” “Baby, stop it. If the dude said that, he’s just jealous. This shirt rocks. You want me to hop over there and beat his ass for dissing you?” “Please. No.” “Jace, you moving your little ass up there on that stage looking like creamy-whipped sex in this shirt and those white pants got me off a coupla times. No kidding.” JC snickers and blushes. “You masturbated to me on ‘Ellen’? Are you serious?” “Yep. Couldn’t help it. You were so fucking hot.” “Freak.” Ignoring the loving insult, Justin’s pushing open the left side of JC’s garment now, investigating. “Yo, where’s the hoop for this nip, babe? You’re just doing one today?” JC wrinkles his face and winces again. “I, um, couldn’t get that bitch in. I got frustrated and gave the hell up.” “You got it with you? I’ll put it in for you, if you want.” “You?” JC nudges Justin’s chin upward with a single finger until their eyes meet and smirks at him. “You, the world’s most renown wardrobe malfunctioner, are gonna assist me with my piercing accessories? Hmm. I think not.” Justin laughs, featherlike, the blue of the heavens wafting in his eyes. His upper thighs and crotch rub harder against those corresponding areas of JC’s body, warm with friction. “C’mon, baby. Lemme help. Look, hell. I already got it all plumped and perked up. It’s ready to be poked.” Ah. Just like me skitters through JC’s mind teasingly, and he fights down a little giggle. The scent of Justin he craves is all over him now, filling him up. And Justin’s firm body on him, moving slowly against him, is sure as fuck plumping and perking up other parts of his anatomy as well. He knows Justin feels this. Because, hell, there’s that sneery/cocky half-curl of a smile he’s perfected. Fucker. “You hurt me, and I’ll make you die slowly and painfully, man,” JC hisses through a smile and pulls the tiny golden hoop from a front pocket of his pearl-colored jeans. “Well, I can think of worse ways to go,” Justin says and brushes his mouth across JC’s lips again. “Now be still a sec. You know I won’t hurt you.” JC nods, but he knows he can’t be still. Please. Get real. Not with Justin’s warm, semi-rough finger pads circling and touching his ultra-sensitive nipple area. Not with Justin’s damp red lips so close, as if hovering wickedly before they devour him. Not with Justin’s hard crotch grinding into his and driving shudders on shudders over him. He twists his butt against the solid edge behind him and groans as Justin gently attaches the ring to the swollen bud on his chest. “There,” Justin murmurs when he’s finished. And he doesn’t scold JC for writhing sensuously or call him a “squirmy ass.” No. Instead, he lowers those warm lips to the newly-adorned flesh and tenderly moistens it and its hoop with the wet tip of his tongue. “Piece of cake, baby. You’re all fixed up and lovely now,” he pronounces, rising up to JC’s face again. “Thanks, sweets. See how undone and helpless I am without you around?” JC whispers, his breath playing that hitching trick way down in his throat as he watches Justin’s eyes scan over his features with a twinkling stark hunger. “You don’t look helpless and undone at all to me.” “Hmm. Well, doesn’t matter. I still need you around.” “Ah, and, I’m home now to take care of you, my love. Have no fear.” Justin’s voice is deeper and thicker than the pop universe he reigns over ever gets to hear. And his fingers are trailing shivers down the staircase of JC’s ribs inside the silk shirt until they come to the snug waistband of denim. Those eyes hold JC hostage where he stands, like a captive wild animal. And then one hand floats upward again to finger the soft, loose curls of hair that spill down the back of JC’s neck and onto the collar of his shirt. JC’s backed up as far as he can go to the surface behind him. His breath shoots out in short gusts from between his parted lips. And he squeezes Justin’s tensed biceps and thrusts into the thick mound of his groin. “Damn, Jace,” Justin hisses softly, still gazing at him. “How is it I always forget just how gorgeous you really are? Why’s it a heart-shocker of a surprise each and every time after we’ve been separated?” “Because you’re stoned?” “Because you are……….beautiful evil……….and because I love you.” “Oh, that. Okay. I love you back……….But the thing is, in about an hour, Lonnie’s going to pull up outside to fetch my ‘beautiful evil’ ass and haul it over to tape the Kilborn show for tonight, babe.” Justin inches closer, and their mouths are mere millimeters apart. “Not if I have it pinned down to this table here, driving into it.” “Fuck,” JC gasps. “I thought you’d never ask.” Justin’s upper lip curls upward to the right, and the steam of his breath caresses JC’s chin. “You’re not going to bitch about my facial scruff?” “Facial scruff. Hell. That shit is full-blown brown-bear-pubes. On your fucking neck, for chrissakes. Somebody needs to track you down and skin your ass.” “C’mon, Jace. Drama Royal Highness,” Justin laughs, sliding hard lump against hard lump “Okay. I don’t mind it, J, as long as you don’t give me any damn rug burns.” “I won’t, baby. Not anywhere anybody can see anyway.” From the laundry room, Scottie barks his two cents’ worth at the closed door, but neither of them seem to notice. Their heated attentions are focused on each other, on all the things their bodies want fiercely to do to each other’s body, on how desperately the need to have each other adjust their valves and knobs and release some of that hot, hot built-up pressure. Clothes are hastily peeled off and tossed to the kitchen floor out of the way. Justin takes extra care not to harm JC’s sexy-pretty “Ellen” shirt, but he can’t help growling in anticipation as the white jeans come slithering off those angular hips and down the slim, firm thighs. It’s skin, skin, skin. And Justin wants, wants, wants. The sight of the thick, swollen cock that’s just been sprung and juts forward uncontrolled is maddening, and he hears rivers of blood roaring in his ears. “Hop up here, baby. That should feel okay,” Justin whispers, spreading onto the countertop the sweatshirt he’d just pulled off himself. But JC’s anxious and ahead of him. He jumps up and backward with fluid ease before Justin finishes asking. The Justin smell on the shirt (that had been worn all the way from London) triples JC’s arousal, and he chokes as Justin’s stomach brushes the head of his erection. “Hey. I think there’s a lubed skin in my jeans, J. Grab it.” Justin giggles as he reaches for the pants again and gurgles something like how he wouldn’t ever ride his boy bareback unless he begged him to, probably not even then. “You know I’m not about hurting you, Jace.” “Well, fuck that,” JC groans and lies back. “Put some pain up in here, why don’t ya? I’m so ready for you to.” The height of the butcher-block is amazingly perfect for this, and Justin takes a second to ponder, as he curls his fingers around JC’s hip joints, why they’ve never fucked in here like this before. Okay, well, not in this kitchen. But then, moments-measured-in-voltage later, he looses track of almost every coherent thought within 50 light years of him. JC’s as hot and tight as he’s ever been, sucking him into a velvet inferno with those breathy, grunting sounds effects that are — have always been — deadly erotic for Justin. He’s as hard as a steel-toed point on some red alligator boots, and JC’s wrapped around him, clasping onto him, rocking with him in burning ripple after ripple of sensation, swallowing his cock into that snug ass like the fucking sun has come down and kissed the earth. “Fuck……….Jace, you feel so damn good……….Fuck, yesssss………..Ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby.” JC growls in a low tone and whimpers with each forceful shove against every sensitive trigger spot inside him. “You too, J……….Lay it on me, babe……….You know I fucking love what you’ve got to give.” Justin thrusts the way it feels good, for him and for JC, slow and easy, then wild and raw. And JC writhes and moans under him, gasping his own wordless melodies. JC, so ungodly beautiful, all aglow with his eyes squeezed shut, his face squinched and his back arched in the throes of hell fire. “Come, Jace. Do it……….You ready?……….I can’t wait a lot longer……….Come with me, baby.” “Fuck……….I’ve been ready, J.” Afterward, fallout time, Justin leans over JC’s sleek upper body, not ready to disconnect yet. He craves the feel of JC’s heartbeat pumping wildly just below his flesh, wants the taste of the sweat on JC’s upper lip. “Jace. You’re. My. Wonderful.” “You’re mine too, sweets.” “Now that I’ve got you all fresh and fucked for Craig’s little show.” “I’ll give him your regards, love.” “Lemme go with you, baby. Completely incognito. I’ll wait for you in the car. Then we can get some dinner afterward. ‘Kay?” “Ah, a date.” JC smiles, his chest heaving against Justin’s. “Yessss. I miss those. With you.” JC raises his head a little to kiss Justin’s lips. “What about, um, Scottie?” Justin’s instant, bright smile is moist and stunning. “What about him, babe?” JC had completely blocked out the persistent scuffling/scratching sounds and a bark or two from the laundry room while he and Justin had made love. Now, however, he’s feeling softer, slightly more vulnerable to twinges of something like guilt at his earlier sentiments toward the little dog. “Does it — Fuck. HE — have, um, food and water in there?” Justin brushes the corners of JC’s mouth with a warm grin. “So you DO have a little soft spot for the baby, don’t you? Fess up.” “It’s possible. He’s kind of cute. Like you.” “Excellent. We can take him with us then. Cool?” “Cool. Sure. But you’re ‘splaining to Lonnie, man. And cleaning pooch shit out of his ride.” “Whatever.” Justin rolls his eyes and grins. “If I get to go with you, I can deal with the puppy do-do in Lonnie’s ride.” JC sighs. Satisfied. Because Justin’s enough. “Hey, J. Did you bring your new trophies home? From the Brit Awards?” “Are you kidding me? ‘Course I did. And I want you to be the first over here to see ‘em.” “You’re the best, J. The best for me.” ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ So goes the first round between JC, the boyfriend, and Scottie, the terrier pup. “And it went over swimmingly,” Justin decides later, in the shower. “They’ll be best mates in no time flat.” JC, of course, has thoughts of his own on the matter. Yeah. About as well as you can expect when you bring home a yapping, scratching mutt to fucking spring on me as a surprise. Oh, and did I forget to say “thank you very fucking much”? Man. Why me? ~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~ “Look, pretty boy! There’s Jace! Check him out! Watch him doing all those sexy-ass moves up there on the wide-screen, Scottster! Is he something fine, or am I fucking lying?” Safe and secure in the warmth of Justin’s lap, covers bunched around him comfortably, the small blond dog barks quietly toward the swift images on the television at the foot of the huge bed. And Justin giggles as he reaches over to pinch a random section of the elongated lump lying next to him. “Did you hear that, baby? He recognizes you on the tube! Look at his little eyes shine! And, dude, I think he’s grooving on ‘Some Girls’ too. He digs it! Well, except maybe for those skank, transvestite-wannabe hoochies rubbing all up on you. Ugh. Just plain nasty.” There’s a muffled groan from under the layer of sheet and blanket as JC pulls the edge of it further up over his messy bedhead. “Come to bed, Justin. Christ, it’s one in the damn morning. Past the dog’s bedtime, don’t ya think? And I’m tired as crap.” “Craig’s show is almost over, babe. You know I’m not going to miss one your gigs……….you hot little media ho.” Justin laughs again and slides his big hand over the lump to squeeze what should be, by the indentions and curves of the long mound, JC’s butt. “You are totally mental.” “Yeah, maybe. But I don’t mind.” Justin snickers. “And you’re certainly one to be calling me a ‘media ho,’ J.” “Kiss Jace night-night, Scottie. He’s right. You’re up way too late. And you’ve had a fucker of a busy day.” Even when JC feels the tremoring sensation of the little dog as it’s held nearer to him, he still isn’t prepared for the tiny, sandpapery tongue to dart out and lap excited smooches at the crown of his forehead and down a little lower at the corner of his eye. He flinches and squirms deeper into his pillow. “Oh fucking brother! No licking! Goodnight, puppy. J, please, for the love of God, turn out the bloody light and come to bed.” “Night, little boy baby. You snooze over here on this side of me, angel, and don’t be falling off. I’m right here……….See, you got to kiss JC goodnight. Now it’s my turn,” Justin coos softly just before he shuts off the TV and the lamp. Just as he snuggles down into the bed under the covers to nestle horizontally beside his warm companion. “And I’m pretty damn sure I ain’t gonna settle for just one kiss……….C’mere, Jace.” JC smiles and sighs in the darkness that shrouds their room now as the heated, lean wonderfulness of Justin folds around him. He doesn’t even mind the quiet whimpers from the far side of the bed. Not too much. Man, he’s just a baby. Probably scared shitless being so far away from his mom and little brothers and sisters in a whole different place and all. I know how that feels……….But J will take care of him. He knows how. He’s brilliant at that. Absolutely brilliant. In those final hazy, rambling thoughts before he lets the wings of unconsciousness bear him up and away, JC only vaguely makes the connection as to why Justin’s so adept at taking care of young, lonesome souls put down in a strange place, a whole different continent, so far away from all they know. Five seconds before sleep overtakes him, he sees dimly where Justin learned this tender, responsible care-giving quality so many years ago and honed it finely into his own disposition. He understands how Justin has, deep down inside, emulated and echoed — whether consciously aware of doing so or not — the person who taught him this maturity, this compassion. Out of respect for that person. And because he loved that person. Loves. JC smiles against the bare, tight chest his cheek is pressed into and holds Justin’s body closer in the shadows. And he whispers, like cashmere falling on satin. “I love you too, babe..........And I'll try to love that scruffy little thing you've fallen for and brought home..........I'll try.”
And I like to sleep late on Sunday
And nobody knows me like my baby
And I like eggs over easy
With flour tortillas
And nobody knows me like my baby
And nobody knows me
Nobody knows me like my baby
— Lyle Lovett