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 enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
That said, we now continue.
"I wasn't snooping," I blurted defensively, before I'd even had a chance to think about what I was saying or why words were falling out of my mouth. I was just suddenly so nervous, suddenly surprised and wondering what was going to happen when Justin came down the stairs. Did we have ten minutes? Maybe only five?
Somewhere a clock was ticking, possibly toward disaster.
"I didn't think you were," JC said, standing with his hands on his hips. His voice had a low drawl of some sort to it, not like Justin's tiny bit of twang, but something more languid and rolling.
I was about to apologize to him for us still being there, and then remembered that I had nothing to be sorry for. I was with Justin in his own house, and I had permission to walk around if I wanted to. Besides, the only reason JC didn't want me here was so that he could play stupid games with Justin's head, and I wasn't about to stand for that. I remembered how much I had wanted to slap him before, how upset and angry I'd been in the car to know that he was deliberately hurting Justin and dangling his friendship like a carrot in front of a mule to make Justin do what he wanted, and I threw him a haughty glare, my chin out, ready to take whatever he had to throw and fling it right back at him.
Who the hell did he think he was, standing there in his jeans with his hands on his hips? Didn't he own any shirts with sleeves? His arms weren't really all that much to see, anyway. They were ok, but could use a little more toning, especially if he was going to show them off like that all the time. Really all he had going for him was that he was skinny. Well, that and his face, if you didn't count his eyes being all squinty, and that weird little stripe beard thing. And his hair, too. I mean, long hair could be kind of sexy, but it looked like he had about fifty different products in it at once. And yeah, maybe he could sing, but otherwise his voice was just a mushy kind of jumble, like he didn't really want to be heard.
And still there was something about him, despite all of that. There was still some way that everything came together that just seemed to exude a kind of understated sexy grace, and that bothered the hell out of me. I didn't want him anywhere near Justin, and I didn't give a shit about whether that made me seem petty and jealous.
"I used to collect those," he said, nodding toward the menus. "Wherever we went I picked one up. When we were starting out, it was kind of my way of keeping track, you know? Like I'd be able to look back someday and just flip through them. London, Paris, Toronto, D.C."
"That's nice," I said dismissively, crossing my arms. I didn't want to hear some story about the good old days. He was probably just bringing it up to remind me that he had known Justin longer, and had him first.
"I have one from Boston, too," he said, still keeping his hands on his hips. "I guess everybody who goes there picks up a souvenir."
Ouch. I guess I wasn't the only catty bitch in the room after all. Too bad I was the one with Justin.
"You're not supposed to be here," I said sharply, and he flinched a little, eyes narrowing.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice sounded sad, but it was probably an act. "I didn't think you'd still be here. Justin's usually very punctual, or at least he used to be, you know, before."
Oh, so now I was contributing to Justin's decline? I had a good mind to go upstairs and fuck him, hard, right now. I'd make damn sure JC heard it, and maybe we'd see what he had to say then. I was willing to bet he'd be all out of snotty comments then. I realized that my attitude wasn't going to lead to anything helpful, so I decided to just shelve it, and see if I could get Justin out of here any faster.
"I'll go see what I can do to move him along, then," I said neutrally, walking past him. He moved to the side when I went by, and I felt him watching me.
"Chris? You guys don't really have to hurry or anything," he said, and I turned back, standing with my hands on my hips now.
"I thought you didn't want to see us around together?" I asked. Was he trying to start something else now?
"I don't," he answered honestly. I had to give him points for that, at least. "But it's a big house. If Justin needs more time to get his stuff together, I could go out back or into my studio or something."
"Thanks," I said, not sure if I should be thanking him or not. Like I'd thought before, it's not as if we really needed permission to walk around. The house was half Justin's. "I'll let him know."
"OK," he said, still staring at me. His eyes ran up and down me, and I felt the same way I had the other day, like he was appraising me. Was he mentally comparing the two of us, me and him? Or did I just think he was because that's what I was doing?
"What?" I asked finally, annoyed.
"Nothing," he said, shrugging. "That's a nice watch."
"Thanks," I said carefully. "Justin bought it for me."
His expression wasn't quite a smirk, but it looked wry somehow, not quite a smile either. Is there a word to describe the combination of sad, amused, and resigned? Because that's what I thought I saw.
"I figured," he said, shrugging. "I have one just like it with my initials on the face."
"That's nice," I said, walking away. So Justin gave the same gift to me that he had to JC. So what? It didn't really mean anything, or have to mean anything. If anything, it showed that he cared about me just as much. Sure.
Justin was coming down the stairs, a bag slung over his shoulder and a small suitcase in one of his hands, when I started climbing them, and we smiled at each other.
"Hey," he said, staring down at me. "Did you look around?"
"JC is here," I said quickly, but not loudly. He could be anywhere nearby. I hadn't seen enough of the layout of the house to know which rooms connected to each other or what the acoustics here were like. Justin paled, his mouth pressing into a thin line.
"Did he say anything to you?" he asked, walking quickly down the stairs.
"No, nothing bad," I said, shaking my head. "He was a little surprised, I guess. He thought we'd be gone already."
Justin glanced at his watch, and I thought about mine. Behind me I heard JC start playing the piano, and Justin looked down the hallway.
"I guess I should stop and say hi on our way out," he said, swallowing.
"You don't have to," I said quickly, and immediately wanted to kick myself. I was acting stupid, and I knew I was, but I couldn't seem to stop. Justin looked at me neutrally, and I took his bag from him.
"No need to drag these all through the house," I said, shrugging. "You want me to go put them in the car?"
"No, we'll just leave them by the door," Justin said, taking my hand.
He laced his fingers through mine and we both walked down the hall to the music room, stopping along the way to drop the bags off. When we walked into the music room, JC had his back to us, playing the piano quickly. His fingers were flying over the keys, and he was swinging his head a little, as if keeping time. There was music open in front of him, but I didn't know the song, and we were too far away for me to read the title. Justin watched him, and I watched Justin.
"Hey," Justin said, not too sharply, but loud enough to be heard. JC stopped playing, and I saw his whole body tense. The keys didn't bang, and he didn't jump, but the overall effect was still jarring. I wondered if it might be an act. After all, he knew we were in the house. How surprising could it be that we would stop to talk to him, especially with him playing the piano and drawing attention to himself? "Thanks for letting me stop by."
JC turned, and his face looked expressively sad, but still somehow cute. I mentally willed myself not to tighten my grip on Justin's fingers.
"It's your house, too," JC said, not getting up from the piano bench. "Did you find everything you wanted? I didn't move anything."
"Yes you did," Justin said, swallowing again. "I noticed that you, um, all your stuff is gone."
"I moved into the blue guestroom," JC said. "I didn't really want to stay in our room, you know. And besides, it's not really ours anymore."
No, it's not. Damn it, why did Justin have to look sad when he said that?
"I'll give you whichever room you want," Justin said, his voice taking on a little bit of a whine. Could he not see that he was being played again? "You don't have to move out of the big one."
"Yeah, I do," JC said, turning back to the piano. "I'll see you tomorrow at the interview."
"I guess so," Justin said, looking like he wanted to cry. I don't know what he came here expecting, but I bet it wasn't to be dismissed like this. "Bye."
"Goodbye, Justin, Chris," JC said, not turning around. He started flipping through the sheet music again, maybe moving to a different song, or just a different part of the same one, and then he started playing again as Justin and I walked away. Good God. Did he have any sheet music besides "Songs for Tragic Martyrs"? And why did Justin have to make that face when he heard the music?
"Justin?" I asked, wanting to comfort him.
"Let's just get out of here, go back to Joey's," he said quickly, holding his chin up. He was practically dragging me down the hall. "Come on."
We didn't talk on the way back to Joey's, driving in silence with the bodyguard in the back seat. I wasn't really planning to talk in front of him anyway, but Justin made sure I wouldn't by putting the stereo on and cranking up the volume. Just in case that wasn't a clear enough message for me, he also blasted the air conditioning fan up to maximum, to the point that I kind of wanted a sweater or another shirt or something. When we got back to Joey's the bodyguard told us goodbye, and I tried to help Justin with the bags.
"I have them!" he said sharply, tugging the shoulder bag away from me. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't need any help."
"Fine," I said, holding up my hands. "Do what you want. I'm going to get a drink."
I walked away without glancing back to see if he was watching me. The house was quiet, and I could hear him walking toward our room. In the kitchen I found a note from Kelly and Joey on the refrigerator door, telling me that they went to visit Joey's parents, but would be back for dinner. I glanced at the clock, remembering that Justin and I were supposed to be in charge of getting pizza and wings, since we were having some kind of dinner and a movie night in Joey's rec room. We still had plenty of time, so I pulled a can of soda out of the refrigerator and paced the kitchen while I drank it, trying not to be pissed at Justin for pushing me away.
I started trying to reason out why Justin was mad at me, but then realized that it didn't matter. He was hurt, and he needed me. He could make the choice to push me away if I went down the hall, but at least I would have tried. He'd left the bedroom door open, and as I walked toward it I could hear him opening and closing drawers as he put things away. I also heard a sniffle, and when I looked around the edge of the doorframe I saw Justin dispiritedly unloading the bags, looking like he might cry any second. He looked up when I walked in, and rather than saying anything I just walked over and held out my arms. Justin folded into them, resting his head on my shoulder.
"We're not going to fight, ok?" I said quietly.
"Good," Justin sighed, rubbing my back. "Because I don't want to."
"I know you're upset," I whispered, realizing that the two of us were moving slowly in a circle, almost as if we were dancing. My face was resting on Justin's bare shoulder, because he'd stripped off his shirt and was just in pants and a beater. "Baby, do you want to talk about anything?"
"Can I talk to you about this?" Justin asked seriously, pulling back. His face was serious, his eyes searching mine. "It's really ok? You really don't care if I talk to you about, you know, about him?"
"No, I do care," I said, shaking my head. "I care enough that if something hurts you, I don't want you to feel like you have to hold it inside. If you need to talk about something, even if it's about the way that seeing JC today, or being in the house you two shared, makes you feel, then you can, and I'll listen."
Justin pulled me against him again, crushing me against his chest, rocking back and forth, sighing a lot, but not crying. When he held me, I felt like his lifeline. It was different from the way he held me after we made love, or while he was kissing me. When he held me like this, I knew it was because he needed someone to hold onto, needed someone to keep him grounded and to keep the way he felt from overrunning him. Without an anchor, Justin got completely caught up in his emotions. That's where the running away came from, and the paranoia, and everything else. I held onto him, knowing that it was what he needed, someone who wouldn't judge or question, and that I could give that to him because I knew him so well.
"Chris," Justin asked, his voice and words a soft sigh over my neck. "Is it ok if we don't talk about it?"
"Yes," I answered, surprised. "Do you want to do something else instead?"
Justin sat me down carefully on the bed, rubbing my shoulders. He began to work at the spot where my neck met them, massaging a little. I didn't realize I was tense until he started working on me, and then I just wanted to melt. His thumbs, usually so light and tender, were kneading right along my spine, but he wasn't hurting me, and I rolled my head back in contentment.
"Why don't we finish putting this stuff away," Justin began, nodding toward the bags. "Then we'll order dinner, and while we wait for Joey and Kelly to get back and dinner to come, maybe we can sit on a couch and make out. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good to me," I sighed, leaning back against him. Maybe we could cut everything out except the making out. Justin kissed my cheek, and then got up, shooting down that plan. Instead we had to follow the one he'd come up with.
We ordered dinner from a place Justin seemed to know, and I wondered how often the guys ate together. When I asked Justin about it, he explained that even when they weren't in rehearsals or on tour they tried to do something as a whole group at least every couple of weeks, even if they got together in smaller combinations in between.
"It helps keep us in touch," Justin said, counting out money. "I mean, I talked to each of them on the phone at least once a week, even Lance and Chris, but we also like to see each other. It kind of reminds us of all the times when we were first starting out, and we were practicing in warehouses and all living together and touring and stuff."
"So it's always at Joey's house?" I asked. Kelly must be really understanding to let these guys show up whenever, especially with the kind of drama and chaos that seemed to follow in their wake.
"No, sometimes we hang out at Chris's," Justin said, leading me toward the rec room. "Sometimes at Lance's. They come to our house, too, but not very often. It's just easier that way."
I felt that little twinge of irritation again that Justin's friends could claim to be accepting, and still expect him to compartmentalize that piece of himself. Half the reason he and JC probably had so much trouble being with each other probably came from having to worry constantly about who they were upsetting and who could see them and everything else. I doubted that they'd ever actually had any time to focus on just themselves, and wondered if Justin and I would have the same problem. There didn't seem to be any way to avoid it, but we had to find one, or else our relationship was in serious jeopardy, and every day that went by convinced me even more that this relationship wasn't something that I wanted to lose.
"Is there anything you feel like watching?" Justin asked, squatting down to open a cabinet. The television, huge and looming, sat in a large wooden wall unit, and as Justin pulled the little doors open I saw that it was full of DVD's and videotapes.
"Your ass?" I answered, almost drooling as his cargo pants stretched over his strong legs and firm, curving butt. Justin glanced back over his shoulder, eyes sparkling, and I saw a smirk curving across his face. In a smooth roll he lunged toward me and tackled me, laughing.
The air puffed out of my lungs a little as his chest thumped onto mine. I tried to struggle, pressing my hands to his curved pecs to push him off of me, but we were both laughing, and his giggles were soft airy caresses over my face as he grabbed my hands and pinned them to my sides.
"You've been like this all day!" he giggled. "What's gotten into you?"
"Let go of me," I squealed, squirming under him. Our legs were all tangled together, and the feeling of him pressing me into Joey's deep pile carpet was a definite turn on. While Justin had been the aggressor before, he had never really done anything like this, holding me down and having his way with me. My mind raced with possibilities even though he hadn't done anything yet, and he seemed to sense it as he tugged my arms over my head, holding them in place with one hand as he ran the tip of one finger up and down my chest.
"Why should I?" he asked, licking his lips. "I could do anything to you right now, you know."
He smiled wickedly, his finger sliding across my chest. I shivered under my t-shirt, especially when he started drawing circles around my nipple. I put up the pretense of a struggle, feeling as if I should.
"I mean it," I hissed through my smile, still squirming against him, our bodies pressed to each other. One of his thighs was between my legs, not crushing anything, but I could feel myself getting hard against it, and he must have felt it, too. "Let go of me."
"What are you afraid of?" Justin whispered, still grinning. His tone carried a little hint of a giggle, and suddenly his hand was scrabbling over my side as I squealed with laughter. "Afraid I might tickle you? Is that it? Big bad Chris Vanderhall is ticklish?"
"Stop it!" I squealed, trying to wriggle away from him. He just tickled me more. "Stop! Justin!"
"OK," he said, leaning down suddenly to kiss me. He looked so comfortable and relaxed, but I also saw something else in his eyes, a mix of lust and something playful. I closed my eyes as he kissed me again, his lips pressed against mine. He drank an endless stream of bottled water, so the inside of his mouth was never dry, and my tongue seemed to slide through it as it danced with his, languid and slow. He pulled back and smiled down at me. "I could kiss you all day."
"I could let you," I said, sighing. We both laughed. "You know, I never claimed to be big bad Chris Vanderhall."
"Really?" Justin mused, sliding his hand under my shirt. He still had my hands caught above my head, and now he was tracing around my nipple again with his finger. It stiffened as he toyed with it, and I felt my heart pounding under his hand. He trailed down over my stomach, his touch light, and then his fingers were running back and forth along my waistband. "I don't know about bad, but I think you definitely qualify as big."
I blushed a little, and now his fingertips were running along the inside of my waistband rather than the outside.
"Justin, we don't really have time for this," I whispered, really hoping he wouldn't listen.
"What did I tell you before?" he asked, still smirking at me. He slid his hand out of my pants and began to undo my belt. "I can do anything I want right now."
My belt was open, and now the button of my pants as well. His fingers pressed against my hard cock as they fumbled around for my zipper tab. Justin kissed me, hard, his face grinding into mine, as he pulled open my fly and reached in. His hand slid inside my boxers, urgently seeking, and I groaned into his mouth as his fingers finally found my shaft. My head was slick with precum, and his thumb glided across it as he ran it along my slit. My hips rolled up toward him, my legs falling open, as he pulled my cock through the fly of my boxers. The two of us stared down at it, watching his hand softly stroke it as my head throbbed. Each time he neared the top he squeezed, and another fat clear drop of slick precum oozed out of my slit.
"Justin," I sighed, wincing. His touch was light, but forceful, and he started to stroke me a little faster, his fingers slippery with precum now. "Oh, Justin."
"Shhhh," he whispered, kissing me, as he let go of my hands. He was still on top of me, and he began to slide down my chest, kissing it dryly through my shirt, little pecs, as he got closer and closer to my cock. He was kissing my stomach now, just above my cock, below the bottom of my shirt, and he hadn't slowed down jerking me off, either. "You're so hard, baby."
"Don't stop, please," I whimpered as he let go of my cock. I looked down, wanting to beg him not to tease me. My eyes met his as his face hung just above my cock. I could feel his breath on me, my skin hypersensitive where it was wet and slick, and his bright blue eyes sparkled at me, glassy and warm. My hips pushed up toward him as he leaned down to kiss just my head, his lips pressing right against my slit, and when he opened his eyes to look up at me again I saw a clear thin string of precum connecting his mouth to me.
I almost came right then.
"I'm not going to stop," he whispered, the words skittering over my nerves, carried on his breath. "I just need to get your pants down."
"What about dinner?" I whimpered, wondering at the same time where such a logical thought had come from. The sight of Justin kneeling above my hard prick, his mouth sticky and wet, pink lips glossy, looking so very hot and needy and wanting all at the same time was burning everything else out of my mind. I lifted my ass as he tugged my pants and boxers down, pushing them past my knees, down to my ankles. My shoes were in the way, so he stopped there, and began to kiss his way back up my thighs.
"I don't care about dinner," he whispered, kissing the inside of my thighs as I pushed them as far apart as I could with my pants still holding my feet together. Justin kissed my sack, letting his lips caress my balls lightly. "I have everything I need right here."
"Justin," I sighed. My hands were still thrown out behind my head and I closed my eyes, gasping, as he kissed my cock again, working his way from the base up my shaft. I winced, sucking in great gasping lungfulls of air, and brought my hands to the back of his head, resting them in his short hair as my back arched and my hips pushed up toward him. My shaft slid through his wet pink lips as they clung tightly to every ridge and vein, and his eyes closed as I pumped in and out of his mouth. When I could find air again, my head spinning, I managed to sigh his name, and he hummed in response, not pausing. "Justin. Oh. Justin."
For several minutes the only sounds in the room were my soft gasps and breathy sighing of Justin's name mixed in with wet kissing, slurping sounds and soft humming. My hands caressed the sides and back of Justin's head, stroking his hair, brushing over his forehead and cheeks, and his hands rested on my hips loosely, his thumbs lightly stroking my skin. He nursed at my cock with an intensity that seemed completely out of proportion to the languid soft togetherness of just laying on the carpet, and waves of pleasure radiated up through me as I felt myself sliding in and out of the hot tunnel of his mouth. His head bobbed smoothly as the tight circle of his lips rode up and down my shaft, his tongue smoothing the way and then swirling over the top each time my head was the only thing left in his mouth, and then he would slide down again, sucking me rapidly into his throat.
Justin's cheeks were a little red under his tan, and his chin, pushing against my balls, was a little shiny with leaking spit. When I looked down he seemed to sense my eyes, and his popped open, locking with mine. I felt like I was falling into them, and I gasped again as I saw them widen in surprise when we heard a door close somewhere else in the house.
"Hello?" Joey called, sounding far away.
My hands tensed on Justin's head, not hurting him, but trying to slow him down. He grabbed them, pulling them off of his head and holding them on either side of me, as he began to bob and swallow faster, sucking harder. I tried to stop him, but could barely speak.
"Justin, uh, Justin, stop," I gasped, trying to whisper, feeling the tension build. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but Justin seemed to smile around my cock, and I heard him hum an answer.
"Mmmm mmm."
Joey and Kelly and Bri were home, and they were somewhere in the house, and I was in the middle of one of the most intense blowjobs of my life. Justin quickened his pace even more, his tongue lashing at me now, his lips tightly massaging me as he held my hands down. I writhed beneath him, my shoulders pressing into carpet, ass tensing as my hips drove up to him, spearing his face as that tingling started in my groin. I couldn't even gasp his name again as he inhaled deeply and then swallowed hard. I felt the head of my cock sucked in, and realized he was deep throating me, his nose pressed all the way into my pubes, my cock all the way down his throat. He pulled back almost immediately, lashing me with his tongue again before he inhaled, nose flaring, and sucked me all the way in a second time.
That was all it took. I felt my body lock up, felt waves of pleasure wash over me as I fell into him, all of my being narrowing down to the sharp jerking of my cock, the surging shots into his greedily swallowing mouth, and I felt his hand clamp down over my lips. My chest was heaving, his mouth was still working, and my cock was firing what felt like a gallon of cum into him. I realized that I was screaming with pleasure against Justin's hand, and then it was finally over. Justin kept me in his mouth, swallowing, gently sucking the cum out of me, as I stared at his eyes and tried to catch my breath. His palm was soft against me, strong but smooth, and I kissed it, pursing my lips.
"Justin?" Joey called, a little closer than before. "Chris?"
"Maybe they're out back," Kelly suggested as my cock slid from Justin's mouth with a soft popping sound. He kissed the head as I began to deflate, and kissed his way up my chest as he caressed the side of my face and smoothed my hair back.
"We'll be right there," Justin called, right before he turned and kissed me. My tongue danced all through his mouth, seeking out my salty cum mixed in with the taste of him, and he sealed his lips over mine, opening again for me. His hand lazily toyed with my balls as he propped himself up with the other arm.
"Kelly says the gatehouse just called and the food's on its way," Joey said, even closer. I started to squirm, wanting to reach for my pants so he wouldn't find us like this. There was a difference between Joey knowing Justin and I had sex and Joey walking into his rec room to find us with my pants down and Justin's chin sticky. Justin put a hand on my chest.
"I left some money on the counter by the fridge," Justin said, redirecting Joey. "I'll come help you get the boxes."
"OK," Joey called, heading away toward the kitchen. Justin smiled down at me, leaning in for tight, quick little pecks.
"Chris?" he asked quietly, smiling contentedly. I smiled at him. "I just want to lay my head down on your chest right now and cuddle. I want you to hold onto me, and play with my hair like you always do, and I want you to show me how much you care about me, but we don't really have time. Let's get your pants up and go get dinner."
"We could always got to bed early," I suggested, still dazed, reaching for my pants. Justin smiled, kissing me again as he helped pull my pants up.
"Oh, believe me, we will," he promised.
To be continued.