Start the Fire Written by JM
-- Disclaimer: Uh, simple. Not 18, not interested in a relationship between two males, not open-minded, not a fan of the pop genre, not sure what fiction is, not a interested in anything written by JM, DO NOT READ! --
** This is a small piece of the BSB/*NSYNC saga. It's just a songfic. This is number four of eight. It is in no way a start to another series, so please do not think of it that way. Understood? Missundaztood? It's all the same now a days, right? **
Go on and baby get the lighter
We're gonna start the fire
He didn't forget. He rarely forgot things like this. It stayed heavy and thick in his mind like the honey JC put in his tea. It kept him up at night because he was dumb. He knew the rule: Never go to sleep angry. He hated rules. Always ignored them because it made him feel like he was in control.
And he was in control last night. He went to bed alone, felt his husband slip in an hour later. He stayed to his side, never rolling to touch, kiss or hold JC. He didn't want to. He was a stubborn shit he knew it. All his life, he knew it. JC? He knew it too, but never said it.
In the morning, when he decided it was earlier enough in the morning to get out of the bed, he arose alone. He didn't look for JC because he knew he was already gone. He wasn't sure what time JC decided to get up and shower because they were both on downtime. When JC and the guys were recording, they always got up before six in the morning. On JC's days off from tour, he didn't get up until eleven in the morning and slept again at five in the evening. Times like this? JC was unable to define.
He scratched his head and kept his feet on the bed, his knees tucked under his chin. He rubbed his feet and kept his eyes squinted. He could smell soap and JC's fancy cologne in the air, but all that was left of his husband was a damp towel and some hair care products his husband left on the bed. Fucking JC. He was probably pretending like everything was fine, like they hadn't spent three hours arguing the night before.
Nick never forgot what the arguments were about. It could be spending time together, JC talking to Justin for hours again, Nick leaving a mess in the bathroom, or whether to watch Friends or Survivor. When they argued, they argued hard and long. There was no escaping that. JC was a mellow man, never too excited about much. When it came to arguing, he was defensive and stiff. Nick was just stubborn, nothing other than that.
His yawn was long but his body was tense. He tried to stretch, but his body wouldn't bend in the right directions. He hated not having sex at night. They always ignored each other after they fought. They never fucked or did anything sexually related. Nick tried masturbating in the shower a few times after arguing, but he was too mad and always ended up yanking his dick too hard, leaving him angrier and horny.
The army of words in me
Silent the soldier weeps
Lying here, back to back
Waiting for you to react
And sometimes all I need is a good push
Roll over and whisper some goodness
Go on baby, you be the hero
Now can we go back to zero?
Sometimes, he wonders if it'll all be over soon. Maybe JC won't want him because they argue too much or they have too many problems. He never mentions it to JC because he doesn't want the idea in his husband's head, just his. It's easier that way. He doesn't really fear losing JC that way, just fears giving up.
When he walked into the kitchen, his eyes still a little lidded by sleep, he wanted to scream at JC for sitting so calmly at the table, a cup of tea brewing in one hand while the other held up the newspaper. His eyes were intent, focused on the funny printed words on the paper and Nick fucking hated it. They both had to be right, but JC was the only one who would be mature. He didn't bring up arguments the next day, always waited for Nick to do it. It was a strategy that Nick knew but never countered. He figures he's a fool for not taking the same road, but it wasn't a concept he truly understood. He wanted to finish arguments, wait until someone declared him the winner and then make-up. Funny how JC just didn't see things that way.
He let his footsteps echo loud in the kitchen, his toes tingling against the cool tile. He scrubbed his scalp with his small nails and bit his lower lip, raising an eyebrow when JC looked at him. There was a faint, mocking smile trying to form, but JC didn't release it. He stared at Nick and waited on words, words Nick knew he could not speak. "Morning," JC merely said, lifting the cup of tea and Nick grunted, no words forming.
He didn't really want to say anything to JC, but he wanted to kiss him. He hated how ironic he was at times. He wanted to be a stubborn, childish bitch, but he always wanted to be loved and cuddled by JC while he did it. And he really wanted to kiss JC. He stared at his lips, the way they were sucked in to wipe away dryness. He liked the way they almost parted for a smile, a smugness that JC owned and wore rightfully.
Nick scratched himself, yanked open the refrigerator and pretended he had something to find. His throat was a bit dry, but he could do without liquid for another hour. He moved a bottle of wine, then some Tupperware before finally clanking the small jar of pickles against the side. He wondered sometimes if his love for oral sex drove him to eat whole pickles instead of spears? He really didn't have time to think about it. He just continued to move things.
"We're out of orange juice sweetie, but there's bottled water on the side," JC gushed, and folding the paper so neatly that if Nick squinted his eyes anymore they'd be shut. Nick didn't really slam the door to the fridge, but he thinks that maybe he tried to. He adjusts his boxers before moving away, leaning against the stove. His fingers pressed down against the marble of the counter and he relished the coolness.
"I want a beer." Nick grumbled, dragging fingers through his hair. He didn't really want one, but he knew his husband didn't like him to have alcohol anytime before noon. And on Sundays? The house was like a convent.
Not a drop of alcohol existed in the house on Sundays. His husband was funny in that way, but he still didn't spare a smile.
JC eased by him and Nick grunted under his breath. He almost moved when JC went in for a kiss, but didn't. Fucking hormones. He couldn't fight them. "Oh, honey, you don't want a beer. Get some water and come join me in bed," JC insisted, patting his husband's side. Nick despised JC's mellowness. It got to him. He still wanted to argue and JC wanted to be cute and all cotton candy fluff. "Don't want no fucking water," he mumbled, pushing himself off the stove.
He decided not to follow JC right away. He was going to finish the argument; standing or arching his back with JC buried inside of him. He could talk and moan at the same time, right? It was possible. He didn't it once when explaining to his husband why he preferred riding JC instead of laying on his back. That was fun though.
"And wash out your mouth before getting in bed with me. I don't want you using those words so early in the day." JC insisted loudly, sashaying his hips femininely while carrying his cup of tea toward the stairs. As if he hadn't use any of those four-letter words last night. As if he hadn't told Nick to shut the fuck up before.
Go on and get the lighter, we're gonna need some fire
Let's get a little higher, the battlefield is tired
Nevermind all that
Go on and baby get the lighter, we're gonna start the fire
Nick stared at his ring for awhile. He twisted the cap off of his water and twisted it back on, all the while, keeping wild blue eyes on his ring. Not once during any of their arguments did JC ever say he didn't want to be married to Nick anymore. They could be damning each other to hell, but JC never downed their marriage. Nick wondered why sometimes. Maybe JC liked being married to Nick? There were worst things in the world, Nick was sure of it. Being married to Howie would probably be hell and having sex with AJ couldn't have been normal. Being married to him? It was the SAT of patience. It required things that Nick didn't know JC had, not until he took a step back and saw JC for all he was.
JC would sometimes curl up to him during the night, whisper sweet things about how happy he was with him. Nick would pretend to be sleep, but he listened. He listened with contentment and an inner smile. It felt like angels wrapping around him. He always thought he was difficult. He didn't think someone could be happy with him because Brian was only happy with him as a friend. Lance was only happy with him as a lover. JC was happy with him as a friend, lover, husband, and a little shit.
Nick never really understood why JC never talked about what happened when they got married. JC was silent about that topic. He could've easily called it off more than a dozen times. After all, it would be justified. Nick didn't exactly do things the traditional way. A drunken man marrying another slightly intoxicated man? Yeah, like that was a marriage destined for a fifty-year anniversary? But JC acted like it was. He never spited Nick for it. He just stayed content and loving like a scared fool.
Nick sighed and stopped looking at his ring. Maybe his husband wasn't so bad. There were things JC could say, but he never did. He never did.
Just come here and cuddle up
I feel a little rough
I missed you in my sleep
Are you still mad at me?
The moon must have mended my bad mood
Come kiss me the way you meant to
Last night I was just playing
Let's put it all away and...
His eyes were blue streaks of light moving in the shadows. He leaned his weight on the doorjamb; eyes open instead of squinting. He kept his arms crossed while he admired JC. His husband was so simple and so poetic. It probably made him sick most days, but the anger inside of him was starting to subside and the desire in him was bubbling somewhere between his stomach and his groin.
The skin on JC's back was quite kissable, not that Nick knew at the moment.
But he could still taste it on his lips when he flicked his tongue over them. The expanse between the curve of his ass and his shoulder blades was like newborn peaches. The skin was smooth and always tasted clean. He liked the way the curls from JC's hair would brushed against his forehead while he kissed his neck.
He was fixated on the small of his husband's back because it was just above pajama pants that barely covered that smooth ass that belonged to his husband. He wondered why his husband didn't really let him down there with his mouth that much? JC did it to him freely, almost always. But he was that fortunate. Not all the time. He'd get so close and JC would say it was enough or something like that.
He leaned off the door when JC placed his cup of tea on the bedside table, rolling to his side with eyes focused on him. "Do you want to come to bed or stay mad?" JC asked, lips licking out a summery smile. JC was good at avoiding heated discussions, especially with Nick. Sometimes he started them better than Nick and Nick liked that he had someone like him.
Nick snickered a smile. He wasn't supposed to but he was through with the bullshit. It wasn't in him anymore. He knew it. He wanted to hold onto it for awhile, let it rest in his spirit until it could be ignited again. But he just wasn't strong enough to do it this time. He just scratched his shoulder, peeled off his shirt and made a slow walk for the bed.
Climb in and love me
Climb in and love me
Had quite a heavy night
So delicate our love and pride
The most stubborn girl around
You really know how to bring me down
One more famous night to remember
Let's laugh at my silly temper
Now let's burn the morning sweetly
Get over here now and complete me
Nick drew back the sheets while JC slipped under them. "Can I lick your ass?" He asked, an intriguing grin crossing his red lips. JC giggled and wrapped his arms around Nick's neck, leaving Nick to kiss JC's neck. He pushed his husband back and then down, more than sure that JC could feel how hard he was then. He sucked on clean skin, rubbed his tongue along JC's defined jawline. He closed his eyes for a moment because he didn't think he could look at JC while he kissed his lips. Not with what he felt earlier.
"Let me lick it," he requested again, this time against JC's thick lips. He smoothed a hand over the curvy butt, fingertips easing down the cotton material covering it. JC didn't wear underwear on occasions and it just made Nick harder. How could he not want to be down there? "Maybe." JC whispered, struggling to position his body against Nick's larger frame.
Nick scooped up JC's left leg, lifted it until JC curled it around his hip.
He laid all of his weight against JC, made him feel the hardness against his belly, then his crotch and then his thigh. He kissed under JC's chin and pushed down JC's pants completely. He wanted to argue about how JC never let him down there but he knew where that led. He wanted to get laid first. He always did. He was just a stubborn shit and he was thankful that JC never felt the need to remind him.
Go on and baby get the lighter, we're gonna start the fire
Go on and baby get the lighter, we're gonna start the fire
Go on and baby get the lighter, we're gonna start the fire
The End.
-- Story inspired by: "Start The Fire" (G. Stefani/T. Kanal/T. Dumont) performed by No Doubt --
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