Itch


JC hated Justin. Hated him. He sat on the sofa, in the eerie dark of his house, watching "Like I Love You" on Mtv for what had to be the millionth fucking time.
Flickers of red, black and tan danced across JC's face as he glared at the TV.

OK, so it wasn't Justin's fault that Jive had practically fallen over themselves to make his album, but had condemned JC's. It also wasn't really Justin's fault that the boy actually had talent. JC grimaced; if he read one more review proclaiming Justin as the next Michael Jackson he was going to be physically sick. Justin was good, but come on, not that good.

Justin's smirking face appeared on screen, mumbling something about destiny, staring straight at JC, unashamedly, JC thought; taunting me. JC took another swig of vodka. He was probably reading far too much into this.

Actually, none of it was Justin's fault. To be fair, Justin had been very supportive of JC going solo. But that didn't make a blind bit of difference; JC was angry and bitter. Fucking bitter that Golden Boy Justin was doing so well while he was struggling to get any backing what so ever. Fucking Jive. Fucking Justin.
JC's upper lip curled up in derision. He flicked over to VH1 and barked out a caustic laugh when Justin's video came on. He turned the TV off and Justin's face imploded into the black screen.

JC wakes up with a hard-on and a hangover. He can't remember his dreams.

He slowly opens his eyes and lets them adjust to the golden light of morning. Absently his hand trails down his stomach and settles between his legs but he thinks the better of it and gets up to shower

Later on, JC writes a song and feels somewhat better. At about 3 o'clock in the afternoon he wanders downstairs and sees the red light on his answer machine flashing insistently. He ignores it and makes a sandwich. On the way back up to his bedroom, JC stops in the dark passage and presses the `message' button. The red light flicks off just as a familiar drawling voice seeps out into the narrow space,
"Yo Jayce it's Justin. I'm gunna be in town later this week. Thursday I think. Gimme a call. Haven't seen you in ages, man. How's the album going? Pharell says if you need a hand with some of the producti-"
JC's fist slams down on `delete'. Repeatedly. Justin's voice cuts out, leaving a ringing silence.

JC strips off his t-shirt and stuffs it into the washing machine. Three hours of working out and he's still angry at Justin. He forgets why.

It's dark. JC returns to his house happily drunk. His front door swings open and he stumbles blindly into the passage, cursing loudly.
The little red light blinks innocently on the answer machine. JC flips it off and staggers upstairs.

JC wakes up with a splitting headache, and, judging by the smell, still in last night's clothes. He winces and pads to the shower. A few minutes later and he feels slightly fresher.

JC throws last night's t-shirt in the bin; he can't be bothered to wash it and it's a bit ugly anyway. He thinks maybe Joey gave it to him. He laughs at his assumption. Poor Joey.

JC goes downstairs. On his way to the kitchen he hits the `message' button. There are three new messages. The first is from Lance, "C, it's Lance" JC hits delete. The second begins with noise; music and loud voices. Then a familiar
and unwelcome voice cuts in, "''Sup. Yo, Jayce what you been up to? I think we need to talk. Call me when you get this" JC hits delete. He deletes the third message too, just for good measure. He stalks over to the fridge and consumes half a tub of Ben and Jerry's. He feels sick but a little better. JC pours himself a glass of wine and orders a pizza.

JC is topless when the doorbell rings. He assumes it's that pizza he called earlier and answers without a second thought. It's not the pizza guy. It's Justin. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. It's Justin wearing extremely low-slung jeans and a tight t-shirt. JC deliberately doesn't look at Justin's hipbones. Or his muscled chest. No he doesn't. JC is tempted to close the door on Justin, but he knows he never will and lets him in.
"Lookin' good, C" Justin says, eyes roaming appreciatively over JC's body. Suddenly JC is aware he's not wearing a top. He's also aware that there's heat rising in his face, staining it. JC cringes; he's blushing. Unh. Mental head-slap, JC. His brow knots into a scowl,
"Justin why are you here?" he's in no mood for small talk and feels unexplainably defensive when he meets Justin's eye. He crosses his arms over his chest; JC hates being disturbed.

Justin shrugs,
"I was in the area, thought I'd drop by. This a bad time?"
"No it's just...it's nothing. Come in"
Justin grins. That famous, luminous, cocky Timberlake grin. JC knows he's lost.

Justin brushes past JC, hand lingering on his hip as he leans in and gives JC a sloppy kiss on the cheek... except JC tilts his head away and Justin ends up kissing his neck. JC shivers; his neck is one of his soft spots. It's got nothing to do with Justin. Nothing at all. He reaches up to touch his neck, wonders idly if its blistered. 

Justin strolls into JC's kitchen. JC's lovely, neat, clean kitchen. He starts to make himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He gets a splat of peanut butter on the surface and wipes it off with his finger; licks it. JC wrinkles his nose a little and makes a mental note to disinfect later. Justin perches himself on the counter and eats. He starts talking to JC, mouth half full. JC can't quite meet his eyes.
"So, C, how's the album going? Got anything I could listen to yet? You know, if you ever need any help or someone to appear on a track-"
"No," JC snaps. Then adds, as an afterthought, "thank you".
Justin shrugs,
"Whatever. You know I'm always here...so anyway there's this thing I need to talk to you about" He stuffs the last mouthful in and chews thoughtfully. Then he licks his fingers one by one, tongue swirling up and down; round and round, pretty red lips sucking gently. JC is mesmerised; wonders if Justin's aware of how sluttish he looks. He thinks probably he is. Justin's like that. He's a Natural Born Slut. JC thinks perhaps there's a song in there somewhere.

 He's trying to figure out what to rhyme with "trashy" when he realises that Justin's talking to him. It's evidently something important because Justin's brow is furrowed while he speaks,
"...says he might be. I don't know though, C. Like, by those criterion,
I'd be gay too-"
"Hang on...what?!" JC splutters, caught completely off guard.
"Well I've kissed guys...given a blowjob or two...maybe had the odd fuck
but I don't consider myself gay, yo...I still enjoy screwing women." Justin looks at him, matter-of-fact. 
JC just gapes. But Justin's so...so...straight. The idea that he'd even consider kissing another guy is something that JC can't even comprehend. JC tries to keep his face carefully neutral but realises he must look kinda shocked when Justin says,
"Earth to C! Come on, don't look so surprised. It ain't like you've never touched another guy. It's no big deal"
JC just stares. No Big Deal.
"Right, yeah. It's just a bit of a shock"
Justin laughs,
"No shit Jayce. You look like someone died. So are you free today? Wanna come out tonight?" Justin realises what he's just said and laughs.
JC feels a bit slow,
"Who've you, um, had sex with then?"
"Not that it's really any of your business but, like Pharell, once when we were totally wasted," Justin smiles at this memory, then shakes his head a little and continues, "oh and Orlando, that British guy from the Lord of the Rings, a couple times and, like, this guy you wouldn't know..."
JC's still having trouble processing all the new information. How long...? Justin sighs and looks down at his feet,
"But that's not the point," suddenly he looks back up ,smiling, "Oh yeah you know those sneakers I've been wanting to buy that had, like, sold out? The Nikes? Well guess what! I bought `em!" and just like that everything goes back to normal. And it's so seamless that JC wonders if maybe he imagined the whole thing.

Justin leaves and JC goes back to hating him. He wanders into the sitting room and flops down on the couch. The afternoon light streams in across his face. He sees the spider plant Lance bought him last year. It looks a bit brown and crinkly. JC makes a mental note to water it. Or throw it out.

He thinks about what Justin said. So much for The Golden Boy. Justin's no better that him; Justin's just a little slut. A trashy little slut. Thinking this, JC feels a weird grin creeping onto his face. He imagines it looks like the grin of evil people in cartoons, sort of sly and...creepy. Worryingly, he also feels a bolt of whitehotlust shoot down, making his cock twitch. Justin's a fucking slut. Yup, there it goes again. This is interesting. JC decides to experiment. He sits up and flips on the TV to, by chance, Justin's video and tries calling Justin a whore to his face. JC feels his cock harden. He freezes and looks around surreptitiously; feeling deliciously dirty. JC closes his eyes and sneaks his hand down into his jeans. He starts to stroke slowly, opens his eyes and watches Justin dancing on the screen. He sneers at him,
"Cheap slut"
JC realises the absurdity of what he's doing and feels vaguely embarrassed. But it's not enough to stop him from pumping his hand harder and faster along the length of his cock as he stares indulgently at the pretty boy on the screen.

The phone rings and JC practically falls off the sofa with shock. He snatches his hand out of his pants, feeling like a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He takes a few seconds to slow his breathing down and then the phone stops ringing.
He slumps over his knees and stares guiltily down at the floor. He looks up. Linkin Park are blaring across the screen. The spell is broken.

JC feels utterly wretched and goes to scrub himself raw in a long, cold shower.

He vows never to watch the music channels again.

JC avoids Justin determinedly for weeks, until he's sure Justin's left the area. He feels vaguely guilty as he deletes the 7th message from Justin in as many days, but then he reminds himself; he hates Justin. He's stopped listening to the radio or watching TV. His body has a hideously embarrassing reaction whenever he sees or hears Justin's song. Really, its getting ridiculous. 

A few months pass. Justin's album comes out and is number 1 on billboard for 9 weeks. JC's album peaks at number 2 then drops off to the obscurity of number 78 or something. JC's stopped counting.

He tears up any articles about Justin that he happens to come across. Justin, after congratulating him on his album, has stopped calling. JC is relieved. He was starting to get weird around Justin. It was awkward. JC doesn't like to think why. It's Justin's fault. Justin now stirs up this prickly mix of jealousy and lust inside JC. It makes him itch.

I hate Justin. JC tells himself this every day, like a mantra.

It's January. JC is attending a huge party at Jive. Everybody is there. Except Justin, who is meant to be out of the country at the moment. JC's enjoying talking to Chris again. Apart from being mainly annoying, he had forgotten that Chris could be quite funny.

JC goes to the bar to get another drink. Maybe a cosmopolitan. He glances absently down the bar. He thinks he sees Justin but it's just some Jive exec.

JC is fairly drunk when he hears a commotion near the entrance. There's applause and loud cheers. He sits up and squints fuzzily, trying to make out who it is. He can't see clearly. Oh to hell with it, JC thinks and slouches back down on the sofa. He sees that blonde guy earlier that he thought was Justin.

The guy introduces himself as "Joe". JC smiles and the guy sits down next to him. Soon they're kissing. His hand is sliding up Joe's thigh when he's distracted by a tap on the shoulder. He turns round, irritated.
Oh Shit.
"This a bad time, C?" Justin asks, amused, eyes flickering to Joe's face
JC glares at him
Justin laughs,
"Well I'm off to the bar. Thought I'd let you know I'm here. See ya later Jayce"
JC stares after him. Justin's wearing a black suit and shirt and damn he looks good. Liquid sex, JC thinksand hates it. Hates him.

Joe's trying to regain his attention now; he feels an eager mouth on his neck. JC looks at Joe and is suddenly repulsed; he looks nothing like Justin. His mouth is smaller and his nose is bigger...

He pushes Joe away and heads over to where he saw Justin go.
Halfway there he stops dead in his tracks.

Over in the corner, in one of the shadowed booths, practically making out, are Justin and Pharell. He must be gaping again because a woman turns to him and tells him about how it's a bit of a shock isn't it? But they've been going out for months now and God, how didn't you know?

JC feels really, really stupid. He marches over to them, suddenly furiously angry. They're sitting together, bodies entwined. Pharell's eyes are closed and his mouth is smiling softly; lips slightly parted. Justin is licking his jaw, a flash of white and pink against chocolate brown. Sugared almonds, JC thinks. Justins shirt is undone. He looks...trashed, JCs mind supplies; debauched. Trashed Candy. Weird.  

They aren't aware of his presence yet, and he sees Justin's hand slide up under Pharell's shirt as he straddles him and sucks at his neck. He sees Pharell shudder and gasp. Then Justin lowers his mouth to Pharell's and JC sees their tongues touch and lick.

Pharell slides a hand up Justin's thigh and slips it inside his pants. Justin jumps and arches into the touch. JC can hear him panting. They kiss again, wetly and Justin's hips start grinding slowly into Pharell's hand. He's moaning softly. Suddenly JC is painfully aware of his own erection and he lets out a frustrated groan.

They both freeze. Justin turns, looking flushed and angry,
"C? What the fuck? How long have you been there?" he growls. JC notes the slight rasp in his voice.
JC clears his throat but can't think of a reply.
Pharell glares at him. He turns and whispers something to Justin, who grins, and they get up, adjust their clothes and head towards the men's washroom. As they go, JC hears Pharell say something like, "Fucking pervert" but it might have been something else.
JC heads back over to the bar.

JC is sitting alone at a table in the corner, trying to pass out. This really is the worst night ever. He stares morosely down into his beer, resisting the urge to throw up. He feels someone sit down next to him. He can tell without looking who it is; Chris has put on weight recently, JC thinks. Chris slings an arm round JC's shoulders and JC feels slightly better.

Back at his house, JC sits in his kitchen drinking a glass of water, staring into space. It's dark and he hasn't bothered to turn any lights on. He looks at the clock on the cooker. It's 3:49 am. He doesn't feel like sleeping.

There's a knock at the door. JC doesn't answer it. He hears the door opening. A jolt of fear goes through him-is it burglars? Then JC laughs, yeah it's fucking polite burglars who knock first before entering.

He knows who it is.

Sure enough Justin's outline can soon be seen hovering in the doorway.
"C? You in here? What's with no lights? This is a new low in money saving plans, C, even for you" JC hears a switch click and he squints as light floods the room. Justin looks at him fondly, glowing with a slight drunken flush
"Fuckin' vampire"
JC flips him off.
"We need to talk...me an' Pharell...I was gunna tell you but you were like, ignoring me and being a total dick. What was up with that?"
JC waves his arms around vaguely. He can't think if anything to say. "I hate you" or "I want to fuck you" both seem equally extreme replies. JC just stares at the floor.

There's a long silence.
Something in Justin snaps,
"You're a fucking jerk, C, you know that? What the fuck did I ever do to you? You ignore my calls, avoid me and when you do ever see me you act so fuckin' weird that I don't wanna spend time with you anyway. I swear to God there better be a reasonable excuse behind this, `cause I have fucking had enough of your bullshit!" Justin glares at him levelly, arms crossed, challenging him, sneering. Go ahead, make my day.
Something in JC snaps, too,
"You have no fucking idea do you J?" he yells, gesticulating wildly, "You have no idea how hard it's been for me living in your fucking shadow. No one gave a shit about me or my work it was all about YOU. Justin Fucking Timberlake. And then you drop a fucking bombshell, something about being gay or whatever the fuck you are this week. And you just swan in here like everything's the same! I fucking hate you!"

Justin's jaw twitches and then before JC realises what's happening, Justin hits him right square in the mouth, shouting,
"You self-obsessed ASSHOLE!"

JC staggers back with the impact and stares at Justin in shock as he feels his mouth fill with the metallic tang he knows is blood. Justin steps towards JC cautiously and reaches a hand out to his face, almost in awe of the damage that he's done. JC punches him in the stomach and Justin doubles over onto the ground, grabbing at JC and pulling him down too.

They end up on the floor and Justin is kicking and punching JC, not hard enough to bleed but hard enough to hurt like a motherfucker. JC fights back, scratching and slapping at Justin. He feels like such a girl.

Suddenly Justin pauses. JC realises that he's being straddled by Justin on his kitchen floor. His cock twitches and he hates it. He knows Justin can feel it because he becomes rigid and suddenly there's this thick tension in the room. JC can taste it, feel it. Justin looks down at JC, looking right into his eyes,
"I knew it," he mutters, "I fucking knew it. I should have listened to Pharell"
"What?" JC snaps. He's so not in a good mood and right now is not the time to be talking in code.
"You want me" Justin says, simply and his lips curl into a predatory grin.
JC swallows and knows his cheeks are flushing. He thinks of saying, "No!" but it sounds weak, even in his mind.

Justin licks his lips. JC feels his breath hitch. Justin rolls his hips slowly, deliberately, as he looks down and meets JC's gaze. JC moans. Justin's grin widens, and his hips roll again with nasty slowness. JC arches off the floor.
Justin leans down and whispers in JC's ear,
"I knew it"
Then he licks lewdly up JC's neck and one of his large hands trails down JC's chest to between his thighs and begins to palm JC's cock through his clothes. JC arches up into Justin's hand and lets out a long, low moan.

Justin snaps open JC's fly and pushes his pants and boxers down and off then does the same with his own. He shifts his weight and rocks against JC so that their hard cocks touch and JC feels sparks crackle up his spine as Justin hisses "shit" and rocks against him again.

JC looks up and sees Justin's eyes have gone dark and soft, molten and he wonders what he looks like, half naked and bloody, splayed wantonly on the kitchen floor.

Justin's fingers trail over JC's broken lip and he swirls his thumb in JC's blood and paints a red streak down his face, fascinated.

Then all at once, JC's back on his feet and backed against the wall and Justin's arms are braced on either side of him and he feels his legs hook up naturally around his waist. Justin grins at him again,
"Ready?" he asks
JC says,
"Yes" though he's not sure what to, and then he screams when he's impaled by Justin's thick cock because fuck that burns like a bitch and damn, he wishes he'd said no to this. But then Justin moves and alters the angle and thrusts hard and JC groans as he hits his prostate. Justin thrusts up again until he's buried fully inside and JC meets his eyes and shudders. His train of thought is soon lost when Justin pumps into him over and over; hard and fast and deep and they're both moaning now.

JC imagined it would be like this with Justin; raw and dirty, maybe in the kitchen. And OK, yeah, so he's thought about this before. Admitting you have a problem is the first step ...

Justin slams into him and JCs back grates against the wall. There's a brief moment when JC thinks, god he's strong, before not really giving a shit anymore so long as Justin continues to fuck him.

JC feels Justin's strokes get increasingly erratic and he's close to his own climax but not quite there. Then he starts to rock against Justin, creating a delicious friction between his cock and Justin's hard stomach. Just a few more thrusts and JC can feel it building up inside him, tingling throughout his entire body, Justin Timberlake is fucking me up against a wall, and it's enough to push him over the edge; he shouts Justin's name and comes hard, sparks of light prickling behind his eyes.

Justin, feeling JC tense around him, moans and pumps in one last time and comes too, shivering and gasping. They sink to the floor together, entwined, with Justin still inside.
Justin slides out, almost as an afterthought. He meets JC's gaze and grins,
"You should have told me, C"
JC looks at him in bewilderment and wonders how is his brain functioning so soon after sex?
Justin laughs,
"About you wanting me, you dick."
"Oh," is all JC can come up with, then, "what about Pharell?"
Justin raises an eyebrow,
"What about him?"
"Well aren't you two...you know"
"Going out? Yeah, but it's pretty casual. I know he's also fucking Beyonce and probably about half of LA. So are we cool now?"
JC touches his swollen lip and says,
"Yeah," then something occurs to him, "since when were you so strong?"
Justin laughs and pulls them both to their feet. He doesn't answer the question. Instead, he runs his shirt under the tap and uses it to clean up JC's face. Then he leads them up to JC's bed and curls up behind JC and falls asleep.

JC wakes up to find the bed empty. He wanders downstairs to find that Justin has cooked breakfast. Hey, JC thinks, you learn something new every day. They sit down to eat. Well, Justin sits down. JC is a little sore so he stands against the counter. They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes then Justin looks up at him from his plate and says, slowly,
"So we cool now, honestly?"
JC smiles and trails his finger over the scab on his lip,
"Yeah" he says simply.
Justin grins,
"Hey C, sorry about hitting you,"
JC goes over and finds he has this urge to stroke Justin's hair.
"No, it's OK. I was acting like a complete jerk"
"Yeah"
JC laughs, and Justin gets out of his chair and kisses him softly, fingers brushing gently at the back of his neck. He licks the swollen cut on JC's mouth, licking it raw again, a reminder. All the little scratches and bruises over JC begin to itch in anticipation. JC feels a prickling sliver of pain when Justin's tongue scratches over his lip again, and JC shivers and absently hopes it scars so he'll never forget. Then Justin's hand brushes over his hip, and his skin flares a delicious hot gold. JC knows he will never forget. And suddenly he doesn't have to fight the itch any more.


End



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