3 ficlets
JC narrowed his eyes, and before Justin could even register the shift in mood, JC pounced, fucking pounced, there was no other word for it, because one second, he was sitting on the floor by Justin's bunk, and the next second, Justin was dying, dying, fingers on his ribs, oh god, oh GOD.
JC was straddling him, the weight of JC's body pinning down his thighs as Justin struggled futilely beneath him - oh, he'd be thrashing if he could, because no, oh no, this was way, way too much, JC tickling and teasing him, JC knew he couldn't take it, he fucking knew it, and if Justin could fucking focus on anything, he knew he'd see that wicked glint in JC's eyes, but he couldn’t focus, couldn't breathe goddamnit, because this was torture, and JC fucking knew it.
"Let me - let me - C, C, let me goooo!"' Justin wailed, his hands batting at JC's chest, and through the tears that were blurring his vision, he could just make out the smirk on JC's face as JC kept attacking, relentless with his fingers, tickling up along the tender skin of Justin's torso, up under his arms and back down to his waist, and god, if JC's hands swept any lower, he'd be able to tell how hard Justin was, and god, oh god, no no, that'd be it, that'd be the end, JC had to get OFF him!
He bucked up hard, with all his strength, his back arching up off the matress so forcefully that JC had to fling a hand up to the underside of the bed above them, just to keep from hitting his head. "Christ, J," he panted, the other hand squirming its way across Justin's stomach, and Justin tried to kick his legs, but JC was just too heavy on top of him, "something buggin' you?"
Oh you BASTARD Justin wanted to howl, but air was eluding him, his chest was too tight and full of helpless giggles, and shit, if JC kept it up, he'd - oh god, he'd -
Justin twisted helplessly, urgently, frantically, and the motion slid JC forward, up over his thighs right over, oh FUCK, JC's ass right there on the aching bulge in his jeans, right over his cock, and Justin froze in terror, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyes scrinched almost closed. JC was a hazy blur above him, but Justin could see him raise an inquisitive eyebrow, his hand still resting lightly, tantalizingly, on the bared strip of Justin's stomach.
"Hmmm," he heard JC hum quietly, and then, oh oh, JC rocked forward, just a little, rocked his hips forward so his ass slid over Justin's cock, and Justin's body betrayed him, couldn't help it, it arched up into that sweet burning friction, just to get a little more, his erection fitting perfectly, so tight and perfect into the groove of JC's ass, and "Oh, J," he heard JC chuckle. "Something is bugging you."
Justin shook his head blindly, whimpering up at JC - he couldn't be this mean, he had to stop, he had to see - but JC pushed forward again, his legs taut and steadying himself on either side of Justin's body, and his fingers suddenly scrabbled viciously into Justin's side, the other hand whipping upwards to catch both Justin's wrists, holding them right above Justin's pillow, and Justin's eyes flew all the way open, his feet kicking and his legs straining, the laughter ripping out of him right along with the groans.
Water stung his eyes, but he could see, god he could see and he could feel it every time JC's stomach brushed his own, every time he dipped his head to lick at Justin's throat, to bite at Justin's chin. He could see, all he could see was this tight gorgeous line of muscle, arching over his line of sight, every gleaming inch of JC sweating and rippling as he worked his hips down and his fingers drove Justin wild, his fingers and that pressure, right there, oh shit.
-and he was rocking into Justin, tickling him and shoving his ass down, right there where Justin moaned for it, moaned and shrieked because it was too fucking much, he had to let him go, he had to go, or else, oh fuck, and then JC's head came down towards him, wet mouth, wet tongue, fingers digging mercilessly into Justin's tender skin, licking into Justin's mouth and sucking at his tongue, crazy swirling suction all wet and hot and his fingers, ah, too much, and Justin howled into JC's mouth, curving away and thrashing up, and he was coming, oh jesus fuck, coming under JC's weight, against his body, coming screaming into his mouth, the restraint of his wrists, coming like a fury, wailing and crying and laughing through it all, because JC was still fucking tickling him, even as Justin could feel the warm spread of JC coming against him too, and then it all went electric flashing white, electric sparks in Justin's head, and that was it, that was it, it was heaven and torture and nothing but lovehatelove for JC because god the release was worth everything.
A minute later, an hour later, Justin didn't really know which, but he became vaguely aware of JC lying warm and close right up against him. He supposed that made sense; it wasn't like JC was going to sleep kneeled over him, after all, but he didn't really remember JC moving or anything.
"Y'gonna stay here?" he muttered, the words coming out muffled against the damp, golden line of JC's shoulder. JC didn't respond, but the arm that was curved around Justin's waist tightened slightly. Justin decided fuzzily that that was answer enough for him, and he rolled just a little bit closer, letting JC's hand tuck itself naturally under his abdomen, gentle soothing pressure over the glowing-feeling skin on his side, before letting his eyes close all the way again and drifting off into a haze of satisfied sleep.
Justin frowned, rocking back on his heels as he rooted through the refrigerator. "I don't think you have any more!" he hollered.
"I do too! It's in the back! They're the green bottles!" Joey's voice floated in from the living room, and Justin scowled at the hundreds of thousands of brown bottles on the shelf in front of him. TENS of hundreds of thousands, Sam Adams and Pyramid Ale and fuckin' Coors Light, but if there was Heineken in Joey's fridge, it was sure as hell eluding him.
"The green bottles, Jesus," he muttered, reaching out to push a six-pack of Fat Tire out of the way. He thought he saw a glimpse of green behind the ripening cantaloupe, but it turned out to be a half-empty bottle of Perrier. "How big a refrigerator do you need anyway?"
"You getting lost in there?" JC sounded amused behind him, and without turning to look, Justin lifted an arm and flipped him the bird. "You need some help?"
"Joey's crazy," Justin declared flatly, rising from his crouching position and shutting the fridge door. He went up on his toes to check the shelf above the fridge. "There's absolutely no imported alcohol in this house." He swept an arm over the top of the fridge. "None."
JC chuckled. "You know what that means."
Justin groaned. There was no way he was making a beer run this early in the afternoon. If that's what Joey thought, Joey was crazier than-
Whoa, crazier than JC's hands on his hips, stepping up all close behind him? No, no way, JC couldn’t, not with all the guys right there in the living room. There wasn't even a door closing the rooms off from each other. JC was just playing, little bitch, just teasing him, and-
Whoa. WHOA. Justin's arms stiffened against the fridge door, bracing himself automatically as JC eased a hand around, sliding over the dip in his hipbone to brush casually down over his fly. "C," he whispered fiercely. "Not here, C."
"Oh, I think right here," JC whispered back, right into his ear, warm and tickling, and his hand brushed up and down again, up and down purposefully, fitting the length of Justin's hardening cock into the space between his fingers. Justin shuddered, feeling his body straining to respond, to tense and turn into JC's arms. But not here, dammit! The guys might hear!
"JC, no," he murmured, trying to pull away, to duck out from under JC's hands, but JC was quicker than he was, and all of a sudden, Justin found himself turned and backed up against the refrigerator, JC pressed against his side, an arm crooked over Justin's head and the other-
Ok, no, because sex in private? Good thing, very good thing, very good because JC was very good at pulling sounds from Justin that he never knew he could make, screams and howls and moans that didn't even seem like they came from his throat. But kitchens echoed and the guys were like a hundred feet away, and it was like JC didn't even care, he just kept squeezing hard and firm, his hand pressing and cupping and stroking Justin right through his jeans. "Fuck, fuck," Justin panted, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. JC smirked, leaned forward, and-
And bit his hand!
"OW!" Justin glared at JC, who simply smiled and kept right on with his hand. "What the fuck?" he whispered, and barely managed to not flinch away when JC leaned in again, this time to lick a blazingly hot, wet trail from Justin's jaw up to his ear.
"I want to hear you," JC said, all hot and low in Justin's ear, and Justin trembled. "You're so hot when you make noise."
"You ok, J?" Chris didn't really sound all that worried, but Justin didn't care, because he could still come in, still come in and SEE them.
"I'm fine, just, uh . . . shit, shit," JC was relentless, fucking relentless with his hand, and god, was he pulling Justin's zipper down? "Just, uh, hit my head."
"On what, the refrigerator? Aren't you supposed to be the coordinated one?"
Justin gritted his teeth; JC's hand was insinuating itself down his shorts, fingertips gripping at the base of his cock, then sliding down in a rough burn, down all along the constricted length, and Justin had to press his lips together tightly when JC pulled him out, hard and bobbing in the air.
"God, C, come on," he pleaded. "Just, you know, we can go in the garage, and-"
JC raised an eyebrow and let go of Justin, bringing his hand up to his mouth. He slowly and deliberately licked his palm, and Justin heard himself moan. JC's eyes were hot and bright, and focused solely on him, and when he dragged his tongue over his fingers, Justin followed every dip and curve, hungrily envious and so fucking hard he was going to die.
"You want it, baby?" JC asked him, and Justin nodded dazedly, his hips jerking forward uncontrollably. "Ask for it."
Justin looked at JC imploringly, his fingers scrabbling against the cool white solid of the refrigerator, dying to touch himself but not daring. "Please," he begged quietly, "please, can't we just-"
"I can't hear you," JC said, and lightly tapped a wet fingertip right on the head of Justin's cock. Justin whimpered. "What did you want?"
"Oh fuck, C." Justin's vision was beginning to blur. If JC didn't touch him right the fuck now-
"I said," JC did it again, tapped Justin's cock, "what do you want?"
Justin hissed. "Fucking do it, fucking jack me, oh god you're going to kill me," and oh god, how loud was that, did they hear, did they hear him? Oh god, his face was burning, but JC was smiling, and he wrapped his hand tightly around Justin's cock and pumped quickly, once, twice, a firm silken slide from the base to the head and back down, before lifting off and lightly flicking just beneath Justin's balls. Justin groaned; it wasn't enough, and they were going to hear, but it wasn't enough, and he needed, he needed-
'Come on, baby, say it for me," JC urged him, a finger easing slick and clever back between Justin's legs, and he gave up, chest heaving and his lips bitten raw as he squirmed on JC's finger, nasty and wet and right right there.
"Please, pleaseplease, touch me, oh god, come on C, oh god, I need you, oh pleasepleaseplease." The words tumbled helplessly from Justin's lips; his hips were arching and his ass was tilting, straining for the angle, and his cock was on fire, and he couldn't hear the Playstation in the next room anymore, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears when JC took pity on him and began to jerk him off in earnest, his fist tight and perfect for Justin to fuck into, and that one teasing finger circling closer and closer, and Justin knew he was making sounds, knew he was being too loud, but he just couldn't stop.
When JC leaned in yet again and licked right at the pulse point at the base of Justin's throat, his finger inching and burning into Justin's body, his hand rhythmic and steady and fast on Justin's cock, fast and hard, god, yes, he thought, fucking yes, and god, and all the sensation surrounded Justin in a white rush of energy, and he let out a bone-deep moan that could probably be heard in China as he closed his eyes and came all over JC's hand.
JC murmured nonsense words into Justin's ear as he coaxed him through the shuddering aftershocks, his hand gentle and the other firm and steadying at the small of Justin's back. "Good, oh, my good boy, god, you're so hot," he said in a soft voice, and Justin managed a weak smile. JC tucked him back in, still sticky and moist but mostly clean, and left his side for a paper towel. Justin opened his eyes to watch him - then started forward.
"Fuck!" he whispered urgently. "Do you think they-?" and he cocked his head towards the living room, from which absolutely no sound could be heard. No laughing, no talking, no Playstation, nothing. JC shrugged gracefully, wiping his hands clean and tossing the paper towel into the garbage.
"Let's go find out." He slung an arm over Justin's shoulders. "You don’t really care if they know, do you?"
Justin blushed and ducked his head. "I dunno . . . I guess not." JC kissed him on the cheek, softly and secretly, and Justin couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his face. "But C, what about you?"
"Oh, we've got time for me," JC assured him, pulling him in the direction of the living room. "I promise. Tonight, you can see if you can make me scream."
"Deal," Justin said happily. When Joey asked about the Heineken, he wouldn't have a problem with making that beer run now. Not if JC came with him. Which he would. He totally would.
It's dark in the club, dim red lights reflecting warmly off the cherrywood walls, and Chris squints and looks around for a good five minutes before he finally spots the discreet arrow pointing down the hall to the bathroom. The blonde he's talking to pouts prettily when he excuses himself - very prettily, actually, and as he works his way across the room, he makes a mental note to get her another of whatever she's drinking.
He's almost to the hallway when he passes by a secluded little alcove and pauses. The alcove is curtained off from the rest of the room by heavy drapes of rich, red velvet, and while it's a dramatic effect, it doesn't strike Chris as terribly practical - someone's trying hard to be quiet in there, but velvet really isn't soundproof. The muffled moans and the sounds of clothing being rearranged filter through, and Chris grins and leans casually against the wall. JC can tell all the interviewers in the world that they don't do the sex, drugs, rock and roll thing, and only JC can say it so earnestly that people actually buy it.
He's curious as to who's getting the semi-clandestine action, and impressed by the balls of whoever it is, so he takes a quick peek behind the curtain.
At least, it was meant to be a quick peek. But Chris' fingers freeze to the folds of fabric and he can actually feel his eyes going wide, his mouth dropping open, his breath catching in his chest.
He's seen JC making out before, sure. He's seen JC all rumpled and flushed and unbuttoned before. He's seen JC in all sorts of compromising positions.
He's just never seen Justin doing the compromising.
A part of his mind scrambles frantically over the last few years, trying to remember a moment, any moment, that could have alerted him to the possibility of JC and Justin together. But the rest of his mind tells him to do the play-by-play later, because the image of Justin straddling JC's thighs and pinning him to the couch with the ravenous ferocity of his hard and eager mouth - that's an image that definitely deserves all of Chris' attention.
Chris' dick seems to agree; it twitches and stiffens at the low noises Justin is pulling from JC. Chris reminds himself to breathe and continues to watch through the crack in the curtains, vaguely aware that maybe he actually shouldn't be watching his friends grope each other, but he's really not able to look away. It's the fucking hottest train wreck he's ever stumbled across.
Justin has both of JC's wrists trapped in one hand, holding them up over his head against the wall. Justin's other hand strokes over the exposed skin of JC's side, tucking underneath his shirt and lifting it clear to his chest. JC strains forward as much as he can, trying to touch, to devour Justin's mouth, but Justin's got him pretty much immobile - the kid's heavier than he looks, Chris knows.
JC's hips are trying to move under Justin's weight, but it doesn't seem to be working, because suddenly JC growls in frustration, a really needy growl that sends shivers up Chris' spine, and wrenches his hands free. He grabs Justin's ass, hitching him closer almost violently. Justin gasps quietly and wraps his arms around JC, holding him tightly, and they're moving together, thrusting together, their bodies working in frenzied abandon, and fuck, Chris thinks hazily, he really wants to see what they look like when they come.
They look gorgeous is how they look.
JC's eyes are closed, but his mouth is open and licking at the sweat sheen on Justin's neck. Justin is breathless, and Chris can see that every single muscle in his body is tensed, from his straining shoulders to the flexing ripples of his calves. There's this moment where they're moving so steadily against each other, so inexorably, that Chris can almost count time by their hips, before he realizes that his fist is clenching and unclenching right in sync with Justin's moans.
JC's leg twitches up, and Justin slides closer with a grinding twist, and freezes with JC's hands still gripping his ass. His back arches wildly, painfully, and Chris shudders with him. JC pumps upwards once or twice more, his cheeks a flushed scarlet, and then he's sighing, the fullest, most satisfied sigh Chris has ever heard from him.
Chris lets the fold of the curtain drop from his hand before either of them can recover and notice that their public freaking sex had an engaged audience. He's hard, and he's kind of breathless himself, and shit, he's really hard. It takes him a minute to reorient towards the bathroom - which, if it's a one-person bathroom, is really a very appealing location to him right now. And then there's that blonde to attend to. Although, as he starts to walk again, careful to keep his pants from brushing his hard-on too much, he has to admit - there's a real good possibility his return trip to the bar may be slightly delayed. Because really now. What's a train wreck without a good spectator?