Off the rack


Justin pushes him into the shop, against JC's better judgement. It's one of those clothing stores with racks and racks of trendy clothing, and loud music pounding . And no assistants in sight. JC thinks they're all probably cowering in the back of the store, with earplugs in. He likes shopping, but prefers smaller boutiques-ones with more ambience, and where you can actually hear yourself think.

'Kinda loud, isn't it?' he says to Justin, who rolls his eyes and holds his hand up to his ear. 'What's that, C? I can't hear you. It's too loud.' He smirks and JC laughs in exasperation.

'Just as well you're so cute, Timberlake. Because your attitude wears a little thin, you know?' But Justin isn't listening. He's off, looking through a rack of brightly coloured shirts.

'Hey, C... what about this one?' Justin picks up a red silk shirt and holds it against himself, turning slightly to look at his reflection in a nearby mirror. The colour emphasises his lips and JC finds himself transfixed by them. He stands staring, thinking about just what those lips can do-had done-earlier that morning.

'Hello? You listening to me, Chasez?' Justin's voice breaks into JC's reminiscing. He looks over at the red shirt and shakes his head. 'Um. No. Too....something. Not sure what. But whatever it is, it's definitely...uh...too much of it.'

"And so speaks JC Chasez, fashion guru,' chuckles Justin, putting the shirt back on the rack. 'Because we all know you always looks so co-ordinated.' He rolls his eyes again and turns away to look at a rack of pants. JC wanders off to another part of the store for a while, then returns to where Justin stands, and hands him a jacket. Justin looks at it, and then looks at JC, a bemused look on his face.

'Um...fur? A fur collar? That's kinda....well, I don't really know. Fur is murder and all that, dude. Do you want me to get attacked in the street or something--' His words are cut off by JC.

'Put it on.'

'I don't think--'

'Put it on.' JC's words are a command, and Justin hears the undercurrent of lust in his voice. He looks JC in the eye as he slips the jacket on, and shivers slightly as the fur collar brushes against his skin. JC doesn't break the eye contact as he hands Justin a hat, and Justin doesn't need to be told this time. He puts it on his head, and stands there, red lips parted slightly as his pulse quickens.

'Look at yourself in the mirror," breathes JC. Justin turns and looks, eyes wide. A single word falls from his lips.

'Oh.'

The reflection looking back at him is wild-eyed, wanton. Wicked.

'I look...I look like--'

'Like a whore,' finishes JC. 'A pretty little boy-whore.' He reaches up and touches Justin's face reverently, runs a finger along his still-parted red lips. 'And I think that we need to check out these clothes in a better light. Like in that changing room over there.'

Justin nods, as JC's hand presses gently against his lower back, guiding him across the store and into the mirrored booth. Once inside, JC's hands slide down from where they are resting on Justin's back, across his ass, up over his shoulders, and back down again. Justin's mouth is pressed against his, tongue swirling, and teeth nipping at his lips. JC's hands begain roaming again, up into Justin's hair, where he takes hold of a handful of tight curls and pulls downwards. The hat is knocked off his head and falls to the floor, suddenly forgotten. Justin's mouth is still locked against his, but JC can feel the slight gasp he makes as he tugs his head downwards again. 'On your knees, boy,' JC half-hisses, half-growls. Justin's eyes widen, then gleam with comprehension- oh!- and his teeth nip at JC's lower lip one last time before he sinks to his knees. He runs his hands over JC's thighs, and then he reaches up and feels the hardness there - I did that to him- his hand squeezes, rubs, strokes...and then he smiles lazily as JC lets out an involuntary moan.

'Oh, you like that?' asks Justin, tracing the outline of JC's erection with a lazy finger.

'Help me get them off,' says JC, pulling at the zipper of the soft leather pants. Hands fumble, fingers don't work as fast as they're supposed to, but finally the pants are loosened and Justin grabs the waistband and slides them over slim hips and then down JC's impossibly long legs. Boxer shorts follow next, pooling on the floor in a billow of silk, and are kicked aside. JC's hands are again gripping Justin's curls as his mouth -that mouth, so red, so soft, oh god!-engulfs his cock and slides up and down, tongue - his tongue, oh god, that feels so good...fuck- swirling, encircling, caressing the shaft and tip. His eyes are closed, but then he opens them and he can see endless reflections of himself, leaning back with his cock deep in Justin's mouth. Reflections of the two of them, hundreds of mirror images all around him. 'Fuck,' he whispers, 'that's so fucking hot.' Justin's mouth is wiping all coherent thoughts out of his head, and he can feel his hips start to tense, to buck and thrust as his body takes over from where his mind has left off. A guttural moan emerges from his throat. No coherent thoughts are in his head at all now, just a primal need to thrust forward into Justin's hot, wet and oh so soft! mouth. And so he does, each time more urgently than before. 'So fucking hot.' he hisses again, and feels the sparks starting at the base of his skull and spreading out along his arms, his shoulders, down the length of his spine, before rushing together downwards, downwards, down, down, down oh god! to where they collide in his groin and explode in a white-hot rush. He's coming, he's fucking coming he has to stay quiet, they're in a shop..a shop for fucks's sake but oh god sweet jesus how did Justin get so fucking good at this? JC has a fleeting thought that maybe his legs are going to give way as his orgasm rips through him, and his hands fist in Justin's hair as if that will give him some kind of support. For a moment, he can't do anything but stand there with his eyes closed, and try and get his breathing back to something resembling regular. Justin begins to rise from where he's kneeling, and rains soft kisses over JC's thighs and belly on his way up, over his chest and neck, and then finally onto his mouth, where JC can taste himself on Justin's lips.

'So,' whispers Justin, inbetween kisses, 'does this mean I should buy the jacket, then? And I think we've totally fucked up the hat, so I think I should buy that too. Any objections?'

'No,' replies JC, when he can speak again. 'No objections whatsoever.'



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