Catalyst

by Silvia


Lance was fairly talented in bed, and really sweet afterwards as he swept the beads of sweat off Justin's forehead with a soft palm, which didn't make Justin feel *guilty* per se... but just sometimes he wished he wasn't only fucking Lance because Chris was in love with him.

It hadn't been in-your-face blind adoration, but it had been there. Chris' fingers lingering on Lance's hips a moment too long. A lazy smile passed to the blonde over the breakfast table. Things. And well, there was the fact that Justin had always watched Chris like that. So he knew.

Lance, on the other hand, didn't really seem to mind who was holding him down against wrinkled blue sheets and sliding roughly in and out as his hips twitched as if in surprise. He was flexible like that. Justin had only had to knock once on a forgotten hotel's door and stand in the entrance with a liquid smile, and then he was invited in and privy to quick wet kisses. Lance didn't even mind that Justin stayed till morning, stumbling out of the room still smelling like sex when the rest of the group impatiently knocked.

Justin *did* find it a little difficult to meet Chris' eyes lately though, which was odd because it wasn't as if he hadn't planned this. He'd fucking *masterminded* it. Justin had spent whole nights lying back on his bed under a single thin sheet, stroking tight smooth pumps up and down his cock as he pictured how Chris would shove open the door without even the hint of a knock. He'd pause for a moment, breaths shaking his chest with their fury, and then he'd be upon Justin in a flurry of heat and fists. An avenging angel. Justin could see those eyes so clear in his mind, black as onyx, and he knew Chris' breath would hit his face like a tidal wave as he growled.

"Stay the fuck away from him, you hear me? He's *mine*."

But Justin wouldn't give in that easily-no, never. So then his cheek would smack the headboard as he was flipped over onto his stomach by small muscular hands, and Chris' teeth would nip his ears as his boxers were yanked down past his feet and to the floor. And he'd twist a little, just to piss Chris off even more so that the fingers would be just a little rough and he'd growl again. Something hard and biting that he didn't really mean but sounded right. Justin would buck against the hand, whimpering, and those tears he'd held deep inside for *so* fucking long would finally come out and stain the pillow case with wet puddles.

His voice would be soft and desperate. "Just... love me. Please. Love me. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

And Chris would shudder in surprise but not pause, just sliding his way in, and he would be giving Justin those long deep thrusts that Justin needed more than fame. More than anything. So he could just push back and moan, showing Chris how good it could be because Justin *wanted* Chris - just Chris - and he *wasn't* Lance, so he could give him anything and everything he ever asked for.

So Chris would stay afterwards, lying slack and warm in Justin's bed. And they could start trying to find out what happiness was, because it sounded fun and Justin heard it could be really really nice.

It would happen. Justin just had to give it time.


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