Part 7


The next afternoon, Monday, when Justin comes home from a round of golf with Matt, he’s got the blues. It’s not a severe case, not enough to get him way down. Maybe just the blues-lite. But something’s bugging him.

And he hates being a victim of the blues at all. So he does his best to shake it off, to shove it aside, far away from him, before he gets back to the house. But it’s not working too outlandishly well, and that sucks, he decides. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s got the damn blues. What in the crap does he have to feel blue about? But he does. To a certain degree.

He cruises along with the Beamer’s top down and with “If You Were My Girl” thumping through the sound system speakers (that forceful, orgasmic grunt at the beginning never fails to make him hard since, see, he knows so well how hot-authentic it is — JC makes it privately for him regularly), and the weather outside that afternoon is kind of overcast. “Kind of” meaning there are random patches of sunny blue here and there poking through the thick masses of gray clouds. At times, half the sky might be dark and gloomy while the other half, right next to it, glows brightly as if it were just this side of Heaven. A wide, expansive, natural contradiction. Sort of like Justin’s current mood.

Once home and in the kitchen, he pulls a bottle of beer from the six-pack he’s just brought in from the store and twists the cap before shoving the others inside the fridge. Just as he’s about to swing the door closed again, his glance falls on a half-full can of solid-white tuna that’s been carefully sealed up in a zip-lock plastic bag and placed on the top shelf.

Damn. He’s already feeding her like the princess that she is.

That gets a faint chuckle out of him, and he turns as the door shuts to take in a panoramic view of the rest of the kitchen. Yep. There they are — the bitty kitty’s spread of food, water, and milk bowls — in that out-of-the-way corner by the breakfast bar. And they’re not the plain, hard plastic ones that the vet at the pet shelter had sent home with him and JC yesterday. Um, no way, ma’am. They’re fine, painted porcelain ones from their cabinets. They dishes they use.

“It’s not like she’s going to fucking pick one up and drop it and break it, Justin. Jesus. What’s the big, fat whoop? There are, like, gobs more bowls up there for us to use,” JC had snapped last night when Justin had wanted to know simply why the standard-issue bowls weren’t good enough for Calli.

“Okay, okay! Just asking a question, man! Don’t go getting all defensive and chomping off my head. ‘Kay?” Justin had answered. “It’s cool.”

Calli. Their little midnight angel with her silvery-blue eyes she flashes up at you from two dime-sized holes in her dark, dark face. Their furry shadow baby with a soft peep-like meow which she, so far, doesn’t come out with hardly at all.

Sure, she’s been quiet, but she’s also been taking to the new digs exceptionally well since they’d brought her home with them the day before. She’s checked out the lay of the land, prancing around on her tiny padded feet, delicately and curiously sniffing everything, silently rubbing her feline scent onto door frames and furniture edges, marking the territory as her own. Still a little skittish and hesitant, however, she hasn’t roamed more than a few feet from their presence, wherever they’ve been in the large house.

Okay, wrong, Justin edits his own thoughts now as he sighs and takes a big gulp of the not-so-cold beer. It’s not OUR presence she clings to and seems to feel so safe around. It’s JACE’s company she can’t stand to be away from. She never lets him out of her super-charged kitty vision. If he’s not holding her already, she leaps up and prisses right the hell after him every time he leaves the damn room. Every fucking time.

Justin can’t keep a grin from stealing over his mouth when he recalls waking up around 10:00 earlier today, rolling over to begin his day the way he loves to begin it when he can — by touching some part of JC, of course — and finding Calli curled into an impossibly tight little round ball sound asleep in the warm hollow spot at the back of JC’s bent knees. Or how JC turns and smiles down at the eager, devoted little kitten when he feels her cottony fur brush his ankle, how he giggles at her when she spins her short body around in lazy circles at his feet and gazes upward at him worshipfully, waiting for him to sweep her up and rest her at his shoulder.

“Aww, look, J. She’s gotten big-time attached to me already, babe. In one damn day. Isn’t she a sweetheart?” he’d said that morning when he’d finished his blueberry waffle and coffee and had stood up to go to the den, Calli immediately following on his heels. Of course.

Justin had glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, swallowed his mouthful of jelly-smeared bagel, and half-smiled at the sight of her ebony shape squirming pleasantly against JC’s white robe. “Hmm. The way it looks from here, what she’s ‘gotten’ is YOU trained like a mofo, Jace. In one damn day. Nice job, Calli, babe. You’re a fast worker, girl. But, you know, he’s just a softie anyway.”

JC had leaned his head downward, his neck melting into a smooth fluid curve, kissed the top of her small head, and then turned his eyes up to squint across the room. “Shut up, Justin. She has to feel like she belongs around here. Just like you always said the puppy did. Remember? I’m making her feel welcome, and she loves it.”

Justin had laughed, rolled his eyes, and reached for his orange juice. “Nothing wrong with that, baby. Nothing at all. I’m just looking forward to her growing up and learning to say, ‘Jump, Daddy JC,’ so’s I can hear you answer back, ‘No probs, sweetheart. Exactly how high?’ Haha.”

“Oh, fuck you, Justin. That’s exactly not funny.”

Justin had shrugged and raised his eyebrows as he’d nonchalantly gone back to his newspaper, smug smile still arching up half of his mouth. “Wrapped around her little kitty finger, Jace. Already. I’m just saying.”

JC had huffed and brought the kitten up to the warm crook of his neck and shoulder, rolling his own eyes and whirling around to waltz out of the kitchen with the hem of his robe splicing the air behind him theatrically. “C’mon, Calli, baby. He’s an arrogant prick sometimes. And your little ears don’t need to hear that trash-talk of his.”

“I didn’t say anything bad, Jace,” Justin had snickered and called out to his fleeing companion and pet. “Or untrue either.”

“You’re just jealous,” JC had whined in muffled tones from the den. “Jealous and cranky. Asshole.”

“I love you, baby,” Justin had feathered out, still grinning. “And Calli too. You’re too damn cute together.”

And he’d meant it. He really had.

He downs another swig of beer as he moves into the den now and looks around. The kitten’s nowhere to be found, so he assumes she’s with JC. Of course. And he knows JC is home because: 1) the silver Benz (top down on it as well) had been gleaming in the sunshine out in the driveway in front of the house when he’d arrived rather than in the garage as it had been when he’d left just before lunch time; and 2) he can hear the stereo in the theatre room blasting OutKast all over the house.

Come on, baby, dance on the top of me
You so fine (you so fine), you so fine
You drive me outta my mind (my mind, outta my mind!). Oooh baby!

And even though the kitten may not be merrily pouncing around in full view or sliding across the hardwood floors, mysteriously inching her little fuzzy head around the base of a sofa to peek at you, or greedily licking dripped milk off her bitty mouth with a quick pink tongue, or peacefully snoozing in the corner of the chair, there’s still lots of evidence of her existence scattered about the den as he glances around. Small, multicolored balls with bells inside (said bell discovered when he taps one with his sneaker and sends it rolling noisily), realistic-looking fake furry mice wearing bow ties and sunglasses (okay, that part, not very realistic-looking), a long plastic “fishing pole” with bright red and yellow feathers as “lures” on the string’s end, and even a tri-level carpet-covered kitty “funhouse” set up beside the entertainment center complete with lots of nooks and crannies for maximum kitty hiding-and-climbing sneakage enjoyment.

All kinds of shit which, by the by, had NOT been here earlier that day, Justin observes.

Hmm. JC went shopping for her. Well, well. Isn’t that nice?

Justin looks down at his watch as he heads back to the kitchen. It’s 5:45, and OutKast is still going strong at their crooning from somewhere deep in the house. Absently, he hums along with Big Boi and that Sleepy Brown cat, musing about something else. Something closer to home.

I like the waaay you move
I like the waaay you move (Whoo-o-o!)
I love the waaay you move
I love the way, I love the way

I should’ve picked up a little something for her too. She’s new and deserves presents, I guess. And it never even crossed my mind. Fuck. What a pig. Can’t blame her for picking HIM as her Fave Human Daddy-oh. She’s probably like, “And who are YOU, cowboy? You call yourself one of my parents? I don’t think so. You don’t bring me a DAMN thing, you chucklehead.

Only when one song ends and another one starts up does Justin realize it’s the radio churning out the music and not the CD player. He stops dead-still in his tracks and feels a bit of a tingle surge through him when the haunting melody and quiet lyrics of the next tune drift into his consciousness, sounds and words that have been playing around in nether regions of his head for what feels like centuries. And it’s almost as if he’s hearing it all over the airwaves for the very first time. It’s almost as if he’s that young and innocent again.

First, his own soft, high voice……….

When visions around you
Bring tears to your eyes
And all that surround you
Are secrets and lies
I’ll be your strength
I’ll give you hope
Keeping your faith when it’s gone
The one you should call
Is standing here all alone...

followed by a chorus and then the achingly passionate, tone-perfect strains of JC’s……….

I’ve loved you forever
In lifetimes before
And I promise you never...
Will you hurt anymore
I give you my word
I give you my heart (give you my heart)
This is a battle we’ve won
And with this vow
Forever has now begun...

almost as if they’re the only two people in the world and vocalizing so emotionally to each other.

What the hell? Ugh.

He swears to himself he’ll smile inwardly and keep that mushy-gushy thought all to himself and never, ever, ever, ever speak it aloud. For fear of JC taunting him with names such as, among other things, “sentimental, drippy drama fucking queen” or “pansified twinkie.” Haha.

He finishes off his beer as the tune plays out and then grabs two more from the fridge before taking the back staircase, bounding up two at a time, to the top floor. Where he’s sure he’ll find his partner in song. His partner in life.

Shit. Don’t fucking say THAT out loud either, cream puff.

The final lines of the music and lyrics resonate quietly up and down the hallway as he comes to stand in the doorway of their bedroom: JC’s beautiful, velvet-like ranging sound echoed by Justin’s feathery, shivery, lilting voice……….

Every word I say is true
This I promise you...

Every word I say is true
This I promise you...

“Hey, baby,” Justin says in that same soft voice.

Standing by the bed, completely unaware he’s been joined by another warm body, JC winces and jumps at the sudden whispery sound. But the slight surprise doesn’t dissolve the pretty smile sunshining all over his face — yes, all the way up into his eyes. He holds it as he turns toward the door and presents the radiance of it to Justin.

“Oh. Hi, J. I didn’t notice you there, you sneaky little fuck. Did you hear? Just now? They played us.”

“Yeah, I heard. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Especially for THAT fucker! Man. Old-eee.”

“Still sounded aces,” JC whispers. “Don’t you think?”

“It gave me chills. I’m serious.”

JC’s grinning now, obviously in a grand mood, obviously not concerned with anyone’s “sappy sissy” quotient, as he turns back to his task colorfully spread over the bed. “How was your game, babe? Did you win? Or, wait. Can you win at golf?”

Justin laughs. “You can. And I did. Of course.”

“Cocky bastard. Who’d you go with? Ayala?”

“No. Matt came along today. And dude has got NO game. I whipped his ass, I’m saying.”

JC snickers. He’s focusing intently on which of the dark designer suits laid out on the bed would look best with the red silk dress shirt in his hand. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. Sawed-off Trace isn’t tall enough to even caddy the clubs, man, much less hit a little white ball with one. What a tool.”

“Baby, that’s not nice. Ripping on my boy, Trace,” Justin says, but he’s chuckling too. “What are you doing?”

“Choosing some duds. Duh. Come over here and help me.” JC pivots his head sideways just enough to shoot Justin a blue glimmer from his eyes. “Please?”

“You got a fancy date tonight or something?” Justin asks breezily, still leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Sort of. Now check this out. Pinstripes or no? And is this red too fucking flamboyant?”

Justin’s barely listening. He’s suddenly distracted by the fluid sway of JC’s hips in those baggy jogging pants, the glossy shine of his hair as sunlight from the huge window dances off of it, the rippling flex of his bicep muscle as he tosses the shirt onto one of the suits, and the way the whole package makes Justin’s package swell and tighten in his khakis.

Fuck. He makes me want to jump on him every time I fucking see him. Damn him.

Meanwhile, also to distract him, Calli decides to make herself known and join the party. She dislodges her relaxed butt from JC’s pillow at the head of the bed and tip-toes over to gingerly step across the garments, as if letting Justin know she’s there, helping JC as well, and also letting him know that she can step across the garments like she’s doing.

Her long tail curls and swishes at the air as she slinks elegantly back and forth like she thinks she’s a famous runway model, and Justin can almost hear her purr when JC reaches down absently and caresses the side of her head. She nuzzles his hand affectionately and then turns again to watch Justin.

“J? Hello? Has she hypnotized you, man?” JC calls over to him because he’s just standing there, staring.

Justin collects himself, shrugs up off the doorway arch, and saunters toward the bed. “No. But you have. Who’s your hot date with, baby? ‘Cause I’m ona hafta kill ‘im. Or her.”

JC snickers again. “It’s not a ‘date,’ dumbass. It’s that AIDS benefit shindig thingy your buddy Elton John’s putting on. Pre-Oscar shit.”

Justin scowls up his face, nagged by that depressive blues bitch sneaking up on him again unexpectedly. “Aww, man! That’s tonight?”

“Yep. Now look. The wardrobe chick sent these over, but I gotta make some decisions on my own. Red shirt or not, babe?”

“Not,” Justin whispers, glancing over and surveying the choices spread out below him. “Here. I brought you a beer. Let’s see……….Um, the day-glow red’s WAY too flamey. Yeah. So no.”

JC frowns. “Hmphf. It’s not ‘day-glow,’ Justin. It’s festive. And I’m going to a festive fucking outing.”

“Whatever, baby. ‘Outing,’ Yeah, you fucking WISH. Haha. But it’s too damn much……….It screeches ‘fag.’ Now look. You wanted my opinion. Stop mouthing. Go with the grayish-blue one. And maybe a red tie.”

“Fine,” JC mumbles.

“Or just don’t go at all. That would rock harder. Yeah,” Justin whispers, suggestively, seductively.

JC accepts the bottle of beer from him, takes a sip, and scrunches up his features dramatically, totally skipping over Justin’s last ‘suggestion.’ “Man! It’s warm!”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Justin giggles. “Sorry. It’s warm ‘cause I was holding it. And I’m hot, ya know.”

JC swallows back more, eyeing Justin calmly. Then he steps closer, brushing their hipbones and abdomens against each other, electrically. “Lemme see about that.”

Quickly, before Justin can even blink, JC leans in and melds their mouths together with soft, wet fire. And the sharp flavor of beer exchanged between their pressed-together lips gets even warmer, tips of tongues teasing each other with darting touches, releasing sparked shivers of sensation into their circuitry to current over them. It’s feverish and contagious and keeps building, sweet and intense, and they kiss forever in a sweltering darkness all their own.

“Umm. You’re right. You are hot,” JC whispers, breathless, as he pulls away slowly, licking their combined taste now from the corners of his mouth. “And so damn smooth.”

“Stay home with me tonight, and I’ll burn you up with hot and smooth. As many times as you want,” Justin begs in satiny waves and slides the pad of his index finger down the middle of JC’s naked, thumping chest.

“Man, that does sounds inviting……….But I can’t, babe. I already committed myself. I won’t stay long. ‘Kay?”

“I promise to make you say, ‘Wheeehaaa,’” Justin breathes and brushes JC’s mouth again with his own.

“That’s not funny, ass. And it’s not helping your case either, by the way. Do I make fun of YOUR double-cheddar Cheese Whiz lyrics?”

“Then you won’t change your mind? And stay? Here?”

“I can’t, Justin! The Jive promotions asswipes will come over here and skin me fucking alive!”

Justin hunches his shoulders, looks down, pouts, and snorts. He’s used to getting his way. He doesn’t like being denied what he wants. And what he wants most is JC. “So I get to baby-sit the princess then, hmm?”

“The princess?”

Justin cuts his eyes to his left for a second and then gives them back to JC. “Her. Bitty kitty.”

JC glances down at Calli, who stands again now and pads over closer to the edge of the bed to brush the sleek side of her body against his thigh, and then he turns again and smiles easily for Justin, pulling him in. “She’s not any trouble. It won’t, like, put you out or anything, babe. And when did she get to be ‘the princess’?”

“Maybe when you started buying out the entire stock of PetSmart and feeding her real tuna and letting her sleep on your scared damn pillow and walk all over these clothes you’re going to wear, for crap’s sake,” Justin spills out with a mocking laugh and shifts his feet uncomfortably.

But JC purses his lips and squints at him. “Is somebody having issues with the kitten, J?”

Justin laughs more, shrugging it off. He doesn’t want to ‘have issues.’ Certainly not with the kitten. “Nah, baby. I’m just saying. You’re spoiling her. And that’s cool. It’s groovy.”

“Wait. Like you spoiled Scottie?”

“Yeah, I guess so. And it’s no big thing. Let’s drop it.”

JC uses his free hand to slip two fingers up under the hem of Justin’s golf shirt and raises it enough to reveal a patch of smooth, flat abs with a thin trail of dark blond wispy hairs slicing down the middle. With his other hand, he brushes the cool beer bottle, damp with condensation, across the toned flesh, causing it to quiver, causing Justin to hiss.

“Yes, it is, babe. A big thing. Something is. What’s bothering you?” JC whispers.

“Hmm,” Justin glances at Calli again. “Nothing. I just, well, what if she sheds fur on your suits? You hate that, Jace.”

“They’re black. She’s black. It won’t show if she does. But if it makes you feel any better, J, I’ll fix it for you.”

JC has intentions of leaning down to the kitten and gently moving her off the laid-out clothes. But, as if she senses Justin’s agitation and JC’s plan to relocate her, she jumps down off the bed and begins twining herself around and between JC’s legs, gracefully and silently. Justin watches her.

“Aww. She heard you, baby. Y’all are doing that telepathicky communicating thing with each other already. Ain’t that some shit? She’s such a smitten kitten.” Justin grins.

But JC thinks he sounds a little sad, wistful, pensive……….and reluctant to share why. He lets his two fingers that are holding up Justin’s shirt fall down into the snug waistband of his khaki pants and tugs Justin closer to him. Calli’s silky hair caresses Justin’s ankles, but she continues to wind and curl around JC’s shins only.

“Did I act a fool and go overboard on the kitten playthings, babe?”

“Nah, man. She needed something to knock around and play with. I should’ve gotten her a little pressy too. I’m a dorkass.”

“No, you’re not. Well, not most of the time,” JC laughs gently, soothingly. “She’s got plenty of shit now. Don’t sweat it. ‘Kay?”

“Okay but now on the person-food tuna matter? That might be a little fucking much, Jace. What happened to the ‘delicate stomach’ preaching you gave ME over the pup and pepperoni?” Justin snickers and winks. Then, taking another swig of his second beer, he reaches up to run his long fingers through JC’s soft loose curls.

JC wrinkles his nose and follows that bristly trail of hair further down inside Justin’s slacks with his fingertips, down inside where the skin against the back of his fingers feels warmer and warmer as he progresses. “I’ll give that Doc North a ring and ask her professional animal-guru opinion. Will that settle your mind, love?”

“Oh, yeah. Your cute little girlfriend at the clinic. Be sure to bend over and let her ogle your bum some more while you’re there too, baby,” Justin hisses, with a surly half-grin that could be taken as bitingly sarcastic or not. “I think she got herself a girl stiffy yesterday when you were showing that fine thing off.”

JC frowns and blushes at the same time. The boy’s possessiveness of him is both arousing and annoying. “Justin, damnit! Will you shut the fuck up with that crap? Whose pants do I have my hand down inside right this minute? Huh?”

“Ah,” Justin sways his pelvis against JC’s probing touch and whispers. “Not far enough inside.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” JC murmurs and steps so near that their thighs rub together. His fingers inch downward into the heat of Justin’s crotch until they fold around a bulge of swelling and hardening flesh. “You’re such a demanding little brat, aren’t you?”

Justin half-shuts his eyes and groans through moist, pink, parted lips. “Jaccccce. I’m all gross and stinky. I’ve been sweating.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve had you funky before,” JC coos. And caresses his handful.

“I mind, baby……….You smell so sexy and clean……….Damn………. Let’s………”

JC drags slow, burning strokes up the thick erection and then pumps them back down again. His mouth brushes Justin’s with hot breath, and his own rigid crotch rubs against Justin’s firm hip. “Let’s what, sweets?”

JC’s warm, slick grip on his cock is just right, squeezing and sliding, so tight and slow, exactly perfect, making his heart race and his balls ache. And Justin might drop the beer bottle in his grasp if he weren’t clutching it so fiercely. “Ahhhh……….Fuck.”

“Okay. We can do that, babe……….I’d like to do that.” And JC rocks into Justin’s waist rhythmically and grinds throbbing hardness onto his thigh, still smoothing hot friction up and down his dick, still whispering steam over his neck.

“No……..I mean……….yesssss………Let’s fuck……….in the……….shower.”

“‘Kay. Let’s go.”

“Don’t……….Goddamn fuck, baby……….That feels fucking……….good.”

“Don’t what, J?” JC purrs at his earlobe.

“Don’t……….hot damn……….Don’t let me step on the cat.”

“The kitten, babe. She’s a kitten.”

“Fuck, Jace, baby. The damn kitten.”

“I gotcha, babe. Don’t worry about a thing……….Let’s get rid of these brewskis. And these clothes. We’ve got a shower stall screaming out our names……….And I know I’d fucking rather hear you screaming out my name.”



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