Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've enjoyed hearing from all of you.
So, on with Season 2 of the story.
I didn't sleep well, unable to get the thought of Justin and Lance together in Justin's apartment out of my mind. I wasn't really sure what I was afraid might be happening over there, but I just kept thinking of the way Justin had said that he wanted to take Lance down a couple of pegs, and the way his face had looked when he had said it.
Or the way I thought his face looked.
Maybe it really had been distorted by the light of the television. And Justin hadn't said that he intended to hurt Lance in any way. He just seemed to want to teach him a lesson, and, really what could be wrong with that? If anyone needed to be taught a lesson about being hurtful to others, it was Lance. He had been deliberately nasty, almost as if he was trying to be as hurtful as possible. If nothing else, he hadn't done anything in the past few days to make me suddenly feel any amount of concern for him, and yet I did anyway. On the other hand, he had helped look for Josh, and he'd muttered out that half-apology in an attempt to make peace, so he couldn't be all bad. He was just a little misguided. Maybe he really did need to be taken down a couple of pegs, whatever Justin meant by that.
And what did I think Justin was going to do to him, anyway? So Lance had run away in tears. Justin said Lance hadn't wanted to hear some of the things he had to say, but they couldn't have been all that terrible, because Lance had come back to hear the rest of it. If Justin was doing something deliberately hurtful to Lance, Lance wouldn't come back for more. It would be illogical. I was just worrying excessively, inventing problems where there were none. And it's not like Lance would worry this much about me, anyway.
The alarm woke me from my uneven sleep, and I quickly smacked it off. Josh stirred against me, snuggling in, throwing an arm across my chest to pull me in closer.
"Is time to get up?" he muttered, nuzzling his head under my chin, eyes closed.
"No, Mr. Sleepy," I answered, gently removing his hand. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, and I'll wake you when I get back from running."
His response was an unintelligible wordless mumble of syllables. I slid out of the bed, and then pulled the sheet back up over him as he already began drifting back into sleep. I quickly got dressed in suitable running clothes, brushed my teeth, and walked down the stairs to Chris's apartment. I knocked once, and a curly haired brunette, as tall as Vlada, opened the door.
"Good morning," she drawled in a twangy southern accent. "You must be Jack. Ah'm Chloe."
"Hi, Chloe," I said. Justin had been right when he said Chloe's day was after Vlada's. She was clearly also a model, and she looked familiar to me. "Where do I know you from?"
"Aren't you the sweetest thing?" she asked, taking my arm. "Ah was on the covuh of last month's Cosmo."
"And what a cover it was," Chris said from the doorway, following Chloe into the courtyard. "Be right with you, Jack."
Chris was already dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and pulled on his shoes as he walked Chloe out to the parking area. The scene from yesterday morning was repeated: hug, kiss, placement in cab, wave goodbye. As the cab pulled away, Chris walked back to me, and we began stretching. Joey stepped out of his apartment in Superman boxers and a Pac Man t-shirt, and walked over to the front archway to check his mail.
"So, Chris," I began. "How many models are there?"
"How many days of the week are there?" he asked, smirking. Oh, the life of an international pop star truly must be difficult. "We doing three miles, or five?"
"Let's go for three," I answered. "I haven't done this in a week. You know, I thought you said Nick Carter has slept with everything that moves."
Chris laughed.
"No, I said he's slept with everything," Chris said, standing. "That includes people who can't move to run away. Besides, it's not my fault if so many of the ladies want what Chris has got."
"The ladies want crabs?" Joey asked seriously. I cracked up, sitting on one of the lounges before I fell over, and Joey laughed along with me.
"Fuck you," Chris said, smiling. The he looked at me. "And you, for encouraging him. Let's go."
I was still giggling as we started our jog through the parking area and out onto the road, and Chris quickly increased the pace until I stopped. As we jogged along, I marveled at the way the city was slowly waking up around us. Things were so different out here. Where I lived, everything was more or less the same, but here we saw people of every age and race out jogging as well, or opening stores, or waiting in traffic to get on with their day. Chris had covered his hair with a bandanna, which he insisted on referring to as a dew-rag, and had on huge wraparound sunglasses, so we figured there was little chance of him being recognized. He had been running the same route for weeks and no one had noticed him yet. I guess there were some advantages to being one of the lesser known members of the band.
While we jogged, Chris also pointed out important spots in the neighborhood to me, which was a big help. I'm not good with directions, being more of a visual person. If you tell me to take Main Street until it hits State, I'll get completely lost, but if you tell me to drive to the Mobil and then take a left, I'll know exactly where I'm going. I was thankful that Chris was taking the time to point out restaurants and stores that Josh liked, because I wanted to be able to move around the neighborhood with some level of confidence while I was here. As it was, I wasn't even entirely sure of how to find the studio.
I guess I had been too quiet for most of the run, because Chris spoke up finally.
"Jack, is everything ok?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah, why?" I answered.
"I don't know," he began. "You just seem kind of quiet. Are you still upset about yesterday?"
"Yesterday?" I asked, not sure of what he meant.
"You know, what I said at dinner," Chris said, frowning. "I didn't mean to hit a sore spot."
"It's ok," I said, shrugging as we ran. "You didn't know, and really nothing happened. Josh got drunk, and let some guys kiss him. No biggie. Shit happens."
"Are you ok with it?" Chris asked. "I mean, I get the impression that you and JC aren't really an open couple."
"We're not, and yes, I'm ok with it," I snapped. "I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to snap at you. Like Josh said, he was drunk and he was upset. He made a mistake. I'm just getting tired of talking about it, really."
"You guys have been talking about it a lot?" Chris asked. "That's good, though, right?"
"It's good to talk it out," I agreed. "But Josh and I talked about it. And then Justin and I talked about it. And Justin and Josh talked about it, too. I really just want us all to stop talking about it for a while."
"Yeah, it's nice that JC and Justin are getting close again," Chris said. "That's not a problem for you, is it?"
"No, I don't mind Josh having friends," I said, shaking my head. "We had a little friction when Justin stayed with us, but the three of us have worked it out. And Josh needs someone else to talk to, besides me."
"So do you, you know," Chris said.
"That's why I'm out running with you, isn't it?" I asked, smiling.
"I admit nothing," Chris said. "But if you need an ear, well, I respect both of you, and I don't mind being here if you need it."
"Actually, Chris, since you're offering to be my sympathetic ear, can I bounce something else off of you?" I asked.
"Sure," he answered, one eyebrow raised. "Fire away."
"What's going on with Justin and Lance?" I asked.
Chris looked thoughtful for a second.
"That's not really a pair that you see together too often," he said. "Do you think something's going on with them?"
"I don't know," I answered. I told Chris what I had seen last night, and then told him that I talked to Justin afterward without really telling him what Justin had said. I didn't want to betray Justin's confidence. "And then Lance came back up to talk to him again."
"Talking is good, though, right?" Chris asked. "I mean, what exactly are you worried about?"
"That's just it," I said. "I don't know. Chris, how do you think Justin feels about Lance?"
"Well, I can tell by your story that you left a whole bunch out," Chris began, and I nodded. "And I don't mind. I don't want to stick my nose into your friendship with Justin, but it's probably not going to surprise you to hear that Justin doesn't particularly care for Lance."
"I know, and that's why this baffles me," I said. "You don't think Justin would say anything really bad, just to get back at him, do you?"
Chris didn't answer.
"Chris?" I prompted.
"Look, Jack, Justin is my friend, and yours as well," he began. "And sometimes when someone is our friend we overlook certain qualities. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Justin has a very protective streak toward people he cares about, and he doesn't take it well when they're hurt."
"But he cares about Lance, too, right?" I asked. "I mean, they were friends once, right?"
"Yeah, they got along pretty well before Justin and Brit started hooking up, and Lance turned so bitchy all the time," Chris said. "And I get what you're saying. I'm sure Justin wouldn't do anything nasty to a friend, no matter what they'd done or how strained the friendship was. Maybe they're just talking things out, like Justin said. It won't be a painless process with all the shit that's gone on."
"I guess," I said. "I'm probably just overreacting."
"You know, if you're really worried about Lance, there is someone else you could talk to," Chris said. I stared at him blankly. "Lance."
"But Lance and I don't talk," I said, digesting the idea.
"Maybe you should start," Chris said.
I pondered this for a while, before our conversation moved on to other topics. By the end of our run, I decided that maybe Chris was right, and I should talk to Lance. He may not want to talk to me, but on the other hand we had agreed to try to get along. If we were going to, then we'd have to talk to each other someday. But what was I going to do? Show up at his door and tell him I saw him crying, and ask if he needed to talk about it? I'm sure that would open him right up.
I dropped Chris off at his door, and walked up to the apartment, still trying to decide what to do. I wasn't sure if I should talk to Josh about it, since he and Lance hadn't talked yet, and he and Justin were working on strengthening their friendship again. Sighing, but being careful not to make excessive noise, since I didn't want to wake Josh, I peeled off my clothes as I walked to the bathroom, laving a trail of them across the living room. I turned on the shower and hopped inside, closing my eyes and just standing under the spray for a minute or two, letting the hot water roll over me, pushing all of these confusing and conflicting thoughts out of my head.
I heard the curtain slide open and closed, and then Josh's hands were on my neck, kneading.
"You're tense," he said, working at the spot where my neck met my shoulders.
"And you're awake," I answered, not really responding to what he said.
"Yeah," he answered. "I figured I owed you a massage for last night. Sorry I fell asleep."
"Don't be sorry for needing rest, Josh," I said, rolling my head back. His hands were firm, but skilled, and I felt the knots beginning to work themselves out of my shoulders. "Just keep doing that with your hands."
"I love touching you," Josh said, pressing on my shoulders as I braced my hands on the wall of the shower. "You're so beautiful."
"Me?" I asked. "You're the pretty one, Josh. You're so beautiful it should be illegal."
"No, no I'm not," Josh said sheepishly.
He meant it, too. Part of Josh's charm for me was that he never seemed to realize exactly how attractive he was. Don't get me wrong, he knew he was good looking. He'd have to be blind not to, but for Josh the way he looked was almost an afterthought, like, "Oh, yeah, and I'm kind of cute, too." It was an unassuming quality that made him seem that much more beautiful, because he didn't play on the way he looked, or try to use it to manipulate people, like Justin did.
Wait, where had that thought come from? Why was I thinking about Justin while I was naked in the shower with Josh?
"God, Jack, I want you so bad right now," Josh sighed in my ear.
Somewhere along the way his motions had changed from massage to caress, his hands now tracing lightly over me. I sighed, leaning back against him, pressing my body into his. I felt his hard cock pressing between my ass cheeks, and his hands played lazily over the front of me, twisting my nipples, tugging at my balls, sliding over my hard, wet cock. Josh was nibbling at my ear as the shower cascaded down over both of us.
"If you want me, then take me," I sighed, feeling the way his chest moved against my back as his arms drifted back and forth over me.
I heard him reaching for the shower gel, and felt him slide his hand up to get me ready. The smell of apples, absurdly enough, filled the shower as I felt his hard cock sliding up into me. He squirted more gel into his hand, and wrapped it around my cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. I still had one hand on the wall of the shower, holding myself up, but I draped my body back against him, impaling myself fully, feeling him push urgently into me.
He was making little "unh" grunts in time to his thrusts, and his hand on me was almost brutally tight, sliding over the shaft and the head, and then skinning back down. His other hand continued to rub my abs, or squeeze my pecs, before he grabbed one of my nipples and twisted it, hard. I twisted my head to the side and his tongue jabbed into my mouth, his hand sliding up to hold my head there as his arm held my body against his, feeling him flex as he pushed into me.
"Harder, Josh," I whispered, and he began to slam into me, his pelvis banging against mine.
I clamped down on him, hard, trying to hold his cock in place, feeling its curve, and the rounded ridge of his head pushing into and out of me, and he groaned again. His abs crunched against my back, and his chest flexed, pushing me just the slightest bit forward with every movement of his arm. His mouth crawled over my neck, kissing the nape, running up and down the sides, covering whatever parts of me he could reach with kisses and little nipping bites. His hand continued working on me, faster, harder, still matching his thrusts, carrying me to the same point of urgency where he was.
I felt myself near the edge, and then just let go. I came hard, blasting cum over his hand, looking down to see my own chest flex, my own abs crunch. He sucked in a breath, and began to pump even harder, fighting to keep going even as I involuntarily spasmed around him, squeezing even harder. My arm slipped, and we fell against the curtain. There was a loud series of pops as we ripped it down on our way to the floor, and I thought detachedly of the shower scene in "Psycho". It wasn't blood swirling down our drain, though.
Josh didn't miss a beat, driving himself into me as I reared up from the bathmat. The curtain was wrapped around us, clinging to us, as the shower continued, spraying everywhere. Josh held me up with his arms, pressing me against him as he reared up again and again, his hips pushing straight up from the floor, and finally he bent me painfully backward as he stabbed into me and held himself there, jerking against my ass as he unloaded.
"Yeah, Jack," he panted, catching my earlobe again in his teeth. "Yeah."
We sat like that for a second, kneeling on the bathroom floor, before I felt him start to slide out of me. Wordlessly, still trying to catch our breath, we climbed back into the shower stall, and cleaned ourselves up before finally turning off the water. I turned, running my hands over his chest, before catching his face in them and pulling him toward me. I kissed him, and he kissed back, crushing me against him again.
"Damn," he said, looking around as we stood in the tub. "We flooded the bathroom again."
"Maybe we should stop having so much sex in the shower," I said. "We could be overdoing it."
"I don't think I could ever have enough of you," Josh said. "No matter where we're doing it."
"You say the sweetest things," I said, stepping out of the tub. I winced a little.
"You ok?" he asked, a hand on my back.
"Yeah," I said, handing him a towel. "You just leave me feeling a little bowlegged sometimes."
"Oh," he said, grinning, looking down, and blushing, all at once. "I felt kind of like that last night."
"I bet," I said, smiling. "I've never had any complaints. How are you today?"
"OK," he answered, following me into the bedroom. I handed him the cream for the powder burns on his arms. "Everything just felt kind of loose for a while there, you know?"
"Um, yeah, I know," I giggled. What is it about guys that makes us unable to discuss sex, ever, without giggling like grade schoolers?
"Can I ask you about that?" Josh began, pulling on a pair of boxer briefs.
"Sure," I said, stepping into a pair of boxers.
"I don't know if I really liked that," Josh began. Immediately he went on the defensive. "I mean, you were really good, and I know you tried to go slow, and it did start to feel good after a while. But, you know, it just felt, kind of, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not used to it."
"Come here," I said, patting the bed next to me. He sat, gazing earnestly at me. "Josh, I can tell you're being really careful not to offend me, but don't worry about it. Your first time, and even the first couple, aren't always fun. One of my friends used to say it was like getting reamed out with a hoe handle."
"It wasn't really that bad," he said, smiling.
"I didn't think so," I said, squeezing his hand. "Since you seemed to enjoy it, but still, I hear what you're saying, Josh. I realize we never really had a talk about this, so I'll say it now, and hopefully you'll feel better. You and I have fooled around quite a bit, but you're still kind of new at this, and you're still trying to figure out what you like. You don't have to like everything, Josh."
"You don't?" he asked.
"What kind of wanton whore do you think you're dating?" I asked, smiling. "Seriously, no, I don't like everything. You'll never catch me giving you a rimjob, for example. What I'm trying to say, Josh, is that you can take your time, and I'll be patient. If you're ever curious about something, we can try it. I don't want you to do something because you feel like you have to. I want you to be comfortable."
"You mean it?" he asked. "I mean, it's not always going to be, you know, me on top, but you don't mind if it is a lot?"
"Have I minded so far?" I asked, smiling. "You may not have noticed, Josh, but your boyfriend is a definite bottom."
"I like hearing that," he said, touching the side of my face.
"That I'm a bottom?" I asked.
"No," he answered. "That you're my boyfriend."
We both sighed, and I suddenly felt really schmaltzy. Then again, the discussion of who got to be on top wasn't really one of those Hallmark moments.
"OK, let's get you dressed for that interview," I said. "I'll mop up the bathroom while you're gone. And I think Justin wants to do something this afternoon, so I'll hold off on lunch until you guys are back."
"OK," he said. I was glad he didn't question when I might have spoken to Justin, because I still didn't feel like getting into that with him.
The guys all met in the courtyard, dressed in their many varying styles. I winced inwardly at what Josh had chosen, wondering where one could even buy a pair of red leather pants with green splotches on them, but hey, if they made him happy, I was ok with it.
"You get dressed in the dark?" Chris asked, giggling.
"Dip your hair in crayola again?" Josh countered, staring at Chris's new bright blue highlights.
"Play nice, kids," Joey said. "You both look like crap."
I waved them all away as they piled into Joey's car, the five of them squeezing in. Justin put himself between Josh and Lance in the backseat, which I thought was a good idea, and then they pulled away, and I was all alone in the apartment complex. Actually, I might not have been alone, since Jackie could be there, but I had yet to physically lay eyes on the woman, so I didn't count her.
I went back up to the apartment and mopped up the bathroom floor. The shower curtain couldn't be salvaged this time, as several of the hanging holes had ripped, so I folded it up and stuffed it into the trash can. I tidied up the apartment, washing up the dishes and tossing laundry into the basket, cleaning up the trail of clothing I'd left earlier. While I was straightening up, I realized that we hadn't checked the mail in a few days, so I went down to get it.
Josh had several things that I didn't really look through, although I paged through several sales flyers for "Occupant" and "Current Box Holder". There was a large, bulky envelope addressed to me, from Carla, and I sat down at the table to go through it. I had talked to her the other day, and asked her to send me my mail, since I had bills and stuff that needed to be attended to. I found all of my bills, along with a note from her to call more, because she was dying to know how things were going, and then I found a white greeting card envelope addressed to me.
There was no return address, but the postmark was a town about an hour from where Carla and I lived. I ran through all of my friends and acquaintances in my head, and wasn't sure I knew anyone from there. Curious, I tore it open, and pulled out a card. It was rather plain, the kind of quick card you might grab at a drugstore or a gas station, but it was the papers that fluttered out when I opened it that really caught my attention.
There were four clippings inside the card, two from newspapers and two from magazines. I recognized them immediately, as I had the same clippings in the little scrapbook I had started keeping. The first was a picture of Josh, Justin, Britney, Chris, and I in front of Planet Hollywood, smiling for the crowd. One of the newspaper clippings was also from our Planet Hollywood dinner, although it wasn't the same picture. The other two clippings were from the night we had gone clubbing. In one of them I was climbing out of the limo while Chris and Josh stood on either side, and in the other we were all in front of the club, posing for the crowd.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized that these weren't quite the same as the ones I had. In the originals, I had been identified as "an unknown friend" or just "and a companion", but someone had altered these, carefully painting over that with White Out and printing my name in a blocky script. Stunned, I looked at the card again. The front had a rather innocuous picture of a puppy looking out a window, and inside was printed, "Thinking of you." Beneath that, someone had scrawled, "Having a good time, Jack? Which one of them is yours?"
As I was staring at the message, unable to think or even to move, I heard the guys outside, walking back into the courtyard. Dashing for the guest room, I pulled my empty suitcase out of the closet and stuffed the card and clippings inside. I didn't know why I was hiding them from Josh, but I didn't stop to think about it. Considering how he'd reacted when Chris figured out what was going on between us, I worried that this would throw Josh into a full-out panic attack, and after his last two days I didn't want him upset any more. We could talk about it in a day or two, when things had settled down.
Josh walked in just as I was walking back into the living room, and smiled as he pulled me into a hug, giving me a quick peck on the lips.
"Miss me?" he asked. "Because I missed you."
I was still too panicked to come up with an answer, suddenly thinking that he'd be able to see right through me, no matter what I said. Luckily I was saved by knocking at the door. Josh turned and pulled it open, and we saw Lance, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
"What?" Josh snapped, starting to swing the door closed again when he saw who it was. I put a hand on his arm.
"Josh," I said softly.
"What do you want?" he practically spat at Lance.
"Can I talk to you?" Lance asked, not looking up at either of us.
"Why? Haven't you said enough yet?" Josh asked.
"Josh," I said again, more firmly.
Lance looked up finally. The expression on his face was unreadable.
"Please?" he asked.
"Fine," Josh said, pulling open the door. "Come on in."
More to come soon, I promise.