Frankly, the title of this story should be HUBRIS, because it will follow Lois' kick-ass "Alpha" and I really must be out of my mind.
Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing
Chris took it real well, when Joey broke up with him. No hissy-fits, no sarcastic reproaches. Just a stiff little head-nodding thing, and a "Sure that's what you wanna do, Joe?" and they went right back to being friends-only, so you really couldn't ask for a better break-up And the biggest relief of all, was that Chris hadn't asked the obvious question. There was no way Joey could tell him the truth, and Chris could smell a lie a mile away, so...that was really good, too.
Sometimes, Joey would look at him, of course, and remember how it WAS. Man. He'd get a hard-on just thinking about it. Sex with Chris was exhilarating--a little like sky-diving with a second-hand parachute. Maybe this would turn out Very Badly, but in the meantime--what a rush! Mmm. Yeah, they'd both liked it rough. Joey had never been into anything like that before, but he liked it with Chris, because Chris could take it. He could dish it out, and he could take it. He wouldn't break. Man, that had been some hot shit...
Yeah. It was just too bad that Chris had turned from a tiger into a pussy-cat Somehow, that must be Joey's fault. He'd domesticated Chris. And their love-making had settled down into something adorable and sweet. Which was fine. If you LIKED adorable and sweet. Kind of like having to eat Easter candy, chocolate and marshmallows, twenty-four seven. Problem was, Joey had developed a taste for the hot peppers and rare, bloody steak that they'd once had. Ehh. But what-cha gonna do?
It was sometime around the third or fourth or fifth award show that they'd had to attend before Joey connected Chris' grim countenance with the break-up. He'd just figured it was because they'd been extra busy lately. Even someone as energetic as Chris would begin to flag after too many events in a row, never a night off. But as he watched Chris more closely, he noticed Chris not only did NOT smile or joke, he seemed to wear a black mood like a film-noir fedora, pulled low and menacing. JC was afraid to ask him anything, Lance and Justin simply avoided him altogether.
So there they were. Sitting side by side, at yet another award show, and Chris was positively glowering. He looked nice in a pale green-gray suede number, but his eyes--looked anything but nice. Joey sat as far away as possible on his own seat, not even wanting to bump elbows with Chris, lest he earn a glare and a shove. Hoo boy. Gonna be a long night. Then some idiot host decided it would be fun to pick on Chris. After a commercial break, he was dancing in the aisle, and bumped into Chris, who was, naturally, sitting in an aisle seat, and being in a "boyband" making an irresistable target for a smart-mouth host.
"Hey!" Idiot-Boy said, in an oily DJ sort of voice, "It's Chris Kirkpatrick of Nsync! Hey Chris, why don't you get up and dance for us? Huh? Dance with me--give ME some of that!" And he shook his lame ass mock-seductively.
Chris shot him an unamused look. The host leaned in, and his hip touched Chris' shoulder. Chris pulled away, and put his hands up, as if to say--
"OH, I GET IT. No touching." the emcee smirked. "Well, that's okay. We'll get together *after* the show, right? Just you and me, mano-a-mano."
Joey slunk in his seat, and tried to keep an insincere smile plastered to his face, as long as he figured he was in camera range. As the smarmy host kept annoying Chris, Joey rubbed at his face, and wondered how much longer Chris was going to take it, before he at least cut loose verbally. He sneaked a look to the left, and saw one very pissed-off Kirkpatrick. His jaw was set, and his eyes--hoo boy. During the next commercial break, Chris got up, and left. Joey assumed he was going to the can, and didn't think anything of it, at first. But as the moments went by, and Chris did not return, Joey began to get a bad feeling, and he told Lance he would be back in a few. Down the hall, and backstage, and there were the men's rooms. Lonnie was standing outside one. "Oh? Chris in there?" Joey asked, in some relief. "Yeah. But he ain't alone." "Oh...?" Joey walked in briskly, only to freeze in his tracks, at what he saw, reflected in the wall of mirrors over the row of sinks. Chris had Idiot-Boy pressed up against the wall. For a dizzying moment, Joey thought it was something sexual, and he almost passed out. But then he could hear the menacing hiss, and threat in Chris' words.
"...think that's funny? Who's laughin' now, asshole? Huh?"
From where Joey stood, he could see the coil of Chris' body pressed ferociously up against the other man, his hands gripping the lapels, the back of Chris' head, tilted, as he dropped his acid-tipped phrases one by one into the taller's man's ears. "You got something else you want to say to me? I'm right here--tell me now. You don't want to wait till after the show, do ya?" And Chris jerked him, and the man's head banged into the ceramic tiles.
"...'m sorry, I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean it, what are you..."
"Because I can take a joke, anybody'll tell ya. I LOVE it when something's funny..." Chris jerked him again, and then Joey cleared his throat, and Chris turned around, with a cruel twist to his lips. "What the hell do you want? Get out."
"Chris. Let him go." Chris ignored that, and he turned back to the man with the trembling lips.
"Didn't catch that. You were saying...?"
"Nothin'. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He put his hands up, palms facing Chris, in surrender. "I got a little carried away there."
"Aww, did ya? Sometimes I get a little carried away too--" Joey sprang, and caught Chris' fisted arm just in time. He jerked him, hard, and barked, "Get the hell out of here!" to one very relieved emcee, who didn't need to be told twice.
The door slowly wafted shut, and still Joey and Chris stared at each other, motionless. Joey broke the silence. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"
"Okay. You don't have to."
"Good. I'm so relieved that's okay with you." and Chris shoved him, as he moved to pass Joey on his way out. Once again, Joey grabbed his arm, this time to spin him around. "Not so fast. Piss-ant. Think you're gonna take on the world?"
"Nah. Just you." Chris' fist shot out so fast, Joey didn't have time to duck, and he took it full on the jaw. "SHIT!" he roared, and stumbled back. "What--what was--"
"Figure it out, genius." The lips were twisted, and the eyebrows were drawn in streaks of contempt. He kept his glare on Joey, and began to back up, and sidle toward the door. Joey felt his own sneer climbing up his face, and without knowing he was gonna do it, he made a grab for the smaller man.
And then they were on the cold cold floor, rolling around, and trying to punch each other without the benefit of sufficient pulling-back space, so that their blows fell frequently, but to not-much effect. Suddenly, Chris was sitting on top of Joey, and he HAD all the room in the world to pull back, and let one fly.
Joey caught his fist, and jerked it desperately, awkwardly, deflecting most of the force, and he bucked Chris off, just enough to be rolled up against a wild-cat intent on re-arranging his face. Something dispassionate in the back of his mind idly wondered if his own face was as twisted in fury as Chris'. Joey began to struggle for breath, and he half-considered yelling for Lonnie to come in and help him, but quickly dismissed the thought as both lame and nuts. If he couldn't subdue a much smaller man, no matter how mad---
"Stop!" he hissed, and flipped Chris over onto his back. Brutally, Joey scooted up, and put all his weight on his knees, pinning Chris down by the forearms. Chris yelled in outrage and pain, and bucked and kicked like a crazy thing. "Stop!" Joey bent over, and shouted it in his face. "Get a hold of yerself! Ya freak..." And he slapped Chris across the face.
Suddenly, Chris went limp. He closed his eyes, and Joey actually laughed. "You must think I'm so stupid--" But Joey had relaxed just enough, in that one involuntary chuckle, for Chris to buck one last time, and scramble away. Once more Joey made a grab for him, and this time, Chris punched Joey in the face so hard, Joey actually thought he saw stars. Like an enraged bull, he grabbed Chris, and half-marched, half-carried Chris to the other side of the room.
"Oh look, Chris, there's a *sink-counter*! You know what a counter's good for?" Joey hissed. "It's good for bending little piss-ants over, and fucking them blind."
Suiting the action to the word, he pushed Chris over it, and held him there with his own body. It was ugly and hard-scrabble, but Joey managed to undo Chris' suede pants, and yank them down. Like a cop, he kicked Chris' legs apart, and held them that way with his own. Meanwhile, Chris had been pushing up, and cussing viciously, and in general, giving every sign of imminent escape. Using his left arm to pin Chris' back, Joey managed to tug away his own clothes, thereby freeing an impressively engorged cock. Panting, Joey met Chris' eyes in the mirror, and he thrilled at the thwarted fury he saw there. A lion-tamer, he thought irrelevantly, that's what I am. Then he spotted the basket of men's toiletries by the sink, and he snatched up a small bottle of lotion. Clumsily, he twisted the lid off with his teeth, and poured the whole bottle onto the counter. Smearing his hand into it, like a child finger painting, he then coated his cock as well as he could.
A deep trembling chuckle rose up, as he grabbed Chris by the hips. He licked his lips, and made eye contact one more time with the smaller man. Chris seemed frozen, staring back at Joey in the mirror. His lips were parted, and all the time staring at Chris' hot little mouth, Joey positioned himself by feel alone, and then he-- plunged in.
Chris jerked, and cried out. His back arched, and he whimpered. "Joey..?" Joey pushed him back down, roughly.
"Too late to be nice," was all Joey said, and he felt the chilling thrill of pleasing himself alone, as he began thrusting roughly, vigorously, to suit himself, and it was marvelous. After awhile, Joey's hearing seemed to sharpen, because all he was aware of was the sound of their hard breathing, and Chris' intermittent whimperings, and little uh's and oh's, and Joey's grunts.
"Ya like that, ya want some more.." and other such slaps/mumbles spilled out of Joey's tightly pressed lips. Chris put his head down, and gripped the counter as tightly as he could, for support, and to push back against Joey, who was pounding into him ferociously, and Chris let out a long, soft grunt of pleasure and pain.
"Joe-ey..." dragged out of him.
Joey growled, from somewhere deep in his throat.
Joey's thrustings sped up, and became harder, and Chris' cries more pitiful, until finally Joey shouted, and Chris screamed, and they both were limp. Limp with relief, relief. Joey put his hand in, and jerked Chris up by the hair of his head, and smeared a wet kiss on the side of his face. "Mine?" he murmured.
"Uh-huh," fell out of Chris' slack lips.
"Good. Missed you."
"Uh-huh." Dazed, Chris turned, and kissed Joey back, his kiss just as sloppy.
The bathroom door opened just enough for Lonnie to stick his head in, big hand conspicuously over his eyes. "I ain't gettin in your business, but-- y'all got an award to present in something like five minutes. Y'all gonna be up for it?"
After a slight pause,.Joey said, "We're up for anything, Lonnie. You ought to know that by now."
"Anything," Chris agreed, shakily, as he locked eyes with Joey. "Anything."