Set while JC's having his cold shower, after Justin woke him up kissing his thighs. --> refresher course.
Cal: ... in fact. this isn't a useful scene at all.
Cal: this is just so I can destroy Justin.
The floor's pulsing under Justin's body, just a little, in time with his heart. Fuck. Too much adrenaline right now, making his brain ache. He shouldn't have tried that.
JC tastes really fucking good, he knows now.
The hair on JC's thighs makes his lips tingle.
Feeling the solid line of JC's cock beneath softsoft cotton is possibly the hottest thing Justin's ever experienced; who, exactly, can blame him for wanting to do it again?
Slowly, he lifts his hands to his face, very deliberately covering his cheeks with his palms, his eyes with his fingers, and groans. "Fuck." His hands are warm, firm, and his skin feels feverish. He doesn't dare touch his mouth. He hears the rush of the shower starting up, and his mind is seized with images of JC, sleek and wet, still trembling, still furiously hot. "Fuck, fuck, fuck--"
"That an invitation?"
Justin snatches his hands away, scrambling up before relaxing again; it's ok, it's Lance, no need to panic. Then the words sink into his brain, and he's shaking his head, and Lance is grinning at him and taking off his jacket.
Maybe panic's not such a bad idea. "Dude, not now, ok?" Justin says, drawing his knees up before wishing he'd just opted for getting the hell off the floor in the first place because now Lance is walking over and he looks tall, man, and that is so fucking inherently wrong.
"You look... tense. Want a back-rub?"
"Chris already tried that," Justin says sharply, and Lance grins.
"Yeah, but Chris' backrubs are useless," he says, and sits down on the divan, poking Justin with one foot. "My backrubs--"
"Are fantastic, right? are so good I might just explode from the first touch?"
"Nah, that's my handjobs," Lance says sweetly, and Justin draws his knees closer to his chest. Jesus. "The backrubs come in second place. Close, but not quite there."
"Well I don't want one," Justin says loudly, then lowers his voice. The shower's still going, thank god. It'd be pretty irritating for JC to walk out and find the power balance flipped round, that now Justin's sitting here hugging his knees and Lance is the only predator in the room.
Lance leans back against the cushions, watching him. "okay," he says, after a moment, crossing his ankle over his knee and aiming his finger at Justin, "what've you been doing?"
Justin closes his eyes. "Nothing."
"Uh huh. Where's JC?"
Damnit. "Shower," Justin says, tipping his forehead down to rest against his knees. Okay. The troubled heat thing is passing, and he figures he'll just need another minute and then he'll be able to get up and banter with Lance and not have to worry about relaxing for ten seconds and then discover he's accidentally started jerking off, or anything.
Lance laughs softly. "See, I knew it was a great idea to leave you two alone together."
"Your idea," Justin says flatly, and channels all his nervous energy into a tight glare. "I owe you a -- " he says, breaking off to think of something suitably threatening, then realises that he's playing Lance totally the wrong way, "-- really, really good orgasm."
"Is that why JC's in the shower," Lance asks, eyebrows going up, and then he shakes his head, "no, wait, but you're not... Okay, I give. what happened."
Deliberately, Justin leans back, propping himself up on his hands. More open, but that's okay, because JC's not here and Lance is only really dangerous when he's got a mission and right now Lance looks curious, nothing more, so Justin can afford a little exhibitionism. "Okay, so he's asleep, where you are now," he says, trying to keep the images in his head to a minimum. "And he looks. y'know."
Lance grins, lazily. "Oh, yeah. that," and Justin scowls and Lance reins in the grin and says, "no, go on, don't stop."
Justin clears his throat, as he remembers precisely how sexy JC looked, utterly relaxed except for the tensions running through him wherever Justin trailed his fingers. "And he was dreaming, or something," he says, and meets Lance's eye, "whatever: he was hard," and Lance glances at Justin's crotch and then back, and sighs happily.
"I love this bus."
"shut up," Justin warns. "anyway. I figured, what better way to wake him up than with an early-evening blowjob--"
"oh, with him too disorientated to protest?" Lance finishes for him, delighted. "Oh, baby. I approve."
Justin laughs, slightly hollow. "Didn't work, though, did it," he says, and Lance snorts.
"Okay, don't tell me JC doesn't like being sucked off, 'cause that's just wrong, man," and Justin's not sure if Lance means wrong like in the scheme of things or wrong because Lance has personal experience in that area, and wonders if that kissing Chris has bitched about had any sort of precedent, and then he realises how dangerous that train of thought could get, tracks running right beside so many hazardous outcrops, and says quickly,
"no, he liked it, definitely liked it," and then gestures ruefully around him, "but this is where we ended up." Then he remembers his initial plan, to make Lance think he's winning so Lance'll smell the fear on JC and go taunt him instead, and summons up a wicked smile. "That shower he's taking? cold."
"He come to his senses, huh?" Lance says, sympathetically. "Damn, boy. you missed out."
"You sucked JC?" Justin asks, before he can stop himself.
Lance shakes his head, then feigns horror. "Oh my god, you're ahead of me; you've gotten further with JC than I have," and claps his hand to his mouth, and Justin laughs and hears himself say,
"sadly, my friend, not entirely true," and then almost kicks himself, because Lance looks curious again.
"You didn't suck him?"
"Didn't get that far," Justin admits, then adds, a little defensively, "he was thrashing around before I even licked his stomach, man; he was gonna come if I got any further, we both knew it," and he can't seem to stop talking, "but he's got this, like, inner resolve or something, made him jerk back at the last moment, even though he was so worked up--"
"You ever sucked a guy, Justin?"
Not what he wants to be asked.
"actually," Lance says quickly, glancing at the bathroom door, "forget that," and he leans forwards conspiratorially, "I'm thinking, you know what'd get him even more worked up?" and Justin can feel the wariness on his own face, "if he came out, and you were doing for me what he wants you doing for him," and Justin almost chokes, braced momentarily all over in fire.
"like. blowing you?" he manages, feeling like his mouth might overheat at the very thought. Lance's knees have moved apart, he notices, trying not to stare between them. His own cock's forgotten everything Justin told it about settling down, is undeniably interested in what it'd taste like to go down on someone today after all.
"Not getting me off," Lance says quickly, like that would be all Justin could possibly object to, and then his eyes go slow and captivating and Justin wonders how Lance manages to do that, "just enough of a show to undo anything that shower's done for JC, that sorta thing."
"A show," Justin repeats, wondering what he'd do if positions were reversed and he was coming out the bathroom and found a scene like that, and finds his respect for Lance's brain rising all over again. Cunning fucker.
Watching him, Lance leans back against the cushions, then waves his hand dismissively and adds, "but, y'know, if you don't wanna -- I mean, my first blowjob sure wasn't for an audience," and Justin realises that Lance worked out the answer to that question after all.
"Why are you trying to help me?" he asks, trying to keep his mind clear and victory-focussed. It's the only way he can stop his mouth going too dry to form words.
"Fuck, the idea of your mouth on my cock?" Lance says sharply, then gives a low laugh, "you have to ask?"
"Oh," Justin says, and his blood seems to be pounding in time with some underlying pulse of the shower, dizzying and hypnotic and thick in his ears.
"Plus I got a bet on with Chris that you'll win."
"Oh," Justin says, and that casual little lift to Lance's voice is dangerously appealing, and Justin remembers a universal truth. Forget missions; Lance is dangerous all the time.
"So, you wanna?" Lance says, sliding his hand down his stomach and toying against the button with his thumb. His eyes flash. "Unless, like, you think it'll be all over the moment you feel my dick in your mouth."
That's a distinct possibility, Justin thinks, but he's already crawling forwards because fuck, Lance is good at strategy games, and it's something Justin would've thought of himself if his head had been clear, and if Lance is betting on Justin then this whole thing can't be too risky in game-terms, right? and then Lance is saying,
"mm, good boy," and cupping the back of Justin's head with one warm hand, and Justin's hand has found Lance's knee and is pressing down as he scoots close to his goal.
"You come and you're dead," he murmurs, to get the last word, and Lance's other hand is working on his pants and pulling them open and then Justin's facing his first ever honest-to-God blowjob-expecting dick and he thinks briefly of JC, to see if this is his second choice, and discovers he couldn't make himself move right now unless JC shoved the check under his nose and then shoved Lance out the way to take his place.
"You should probably be more worried about you coming," Lance is saying, as Justin ducks closer and opens his mouth, tilting his head to taste the warm dry skin tightening under his tongue, wicked thrills shooting through him at the double slam of knowing that he's moving into actual deliberate sexual acts with men as he hears Lance sigh and mutter his name. So much for getting the last word.
He wants to feel the whole length of it in his mouth, wants to blow Lance's mind and then veer off cruelly at the last moment, but he's oddly nervous, too, 'cause if he can't do this, damnit, Lance will know. He likes the image he thinks Lance has got of him, doesn't wanna spoil that. He settles for little licks all the way down, feeling Lance shift appreciatively against him, sucking tentatively until the musk of it feels familiar in his mouth, until he's feeling ready to try something a little more imaginative.
Been dying to feel this, jesus, he thinks helplessly, as his mouth skates up and finds it wet and strong at the head, and it's Lance, too, which makes something inside him swell proudly. Lance has an air about him that says all the sex he's ever had has deserved a place in a hotness record book or something; it's sort of classy and accomplished to share an orgasm with him, type thing.
Not that Lance is gonna get an orgasm out of this.
Justin smiles to himself, opening his mouth wider and sucking gently, wriggling his jaw slightly to get used to having his mouth so uncompromisingly full; looks like they'll have to regroup some other time. He exhales and lets Lance slide slowly between his lips, and it feels amazing, better than he ever imagined, especially with Lance sighing deeply and stroking blissful patterns across the nape of his neck.
"Ah, Justin," Lance murmurs, when Justin swallows with difficulty and sucks harder, pressing the base of his tongue up so he can breathe, suck and still breathe, and he remembers the heavenly yielding acceptance of Danny's throat and wonders how the fuck he managed it. Practise? Built differently?
If it was practise, he'll be fine -- he's always had a physical talent, always been able to swiftly pick up new skills -- and so he shouldn't choke and jerk back when Lance shifts his hips indolently and jabs deeper, shouldn't, totally shouldn't, but--
"fuck," he mutters, gasping a little and blinking his stinging eyes hard, holding Lance's dick against Lance's stomach because he can't. right. now, and then he swallows and looks up, and Lance is watching him with a slight smile, and presses up hot-thick-lazily against Justin's hand.
"sorry," Lance says, delicately licking his lips, and his smile widens. "Not as easy as you think, baby?" he adds, and his hand slides down to Justin's shoulder, thumb stroking patterns on Justin's throat. "Wanna just mime it?"
"fuck off," Justin says, and rubs his palm down Lance's cock, thrilled by the warm wetness, the steeliness of it, a demand made flesh. He stares, then ducks down quickly, taking it determinedly back into his mouth; he can totally do this, yeah, and not just like some beginner, either. He's gonna make Lance squirm and beg, then back off and flash his best diamond smile He's not one to back down, not for nothing Justin fucking Timber--
"Yeah, okay, I'll be right over here," Lance says, laughter in his voice, and Justin's confused and draws back enough to drag his tongue twice round the crown, and Lance exhales hard and adds, "mm-hm, God, good, just like that," and Justin smiles around the perfect salty weight in his mouth and thinks, yeah, the begging? just round the corner.
And once he's begged, Justin'll make sure he never lives it down.
"Yeah, mm," Lance adds, and reaches down, pulling Justin's hand up from his knee so his fingers can stroke the warm length of Lance's thigh.
Justin has a feeling that he shouldn't be enthralled by feeling the muscle in Lance's leg flexing in time with Justin's mouth, but he is. He catches himself wondering what it'd be like to have Lance's legs wrapped round his waist, and veers the hell away. Concentrating on being a brilliant cocksucker without risking his gag-reflex is making him horny enough, thanks. He doesn't need images of fucking the smug guy to make things worse.
"Water's stopped," Lance whispers, and Justin feels briefly annoyed that Lance can even think that clearly, and then he remembers what they're doing, that JC's gonna come out and see this and jesus, yeah, good plan, fantastic plan, and so he nods and lets Lance slide deeper again, and Lance laughs breathlessly and says, "he's probably gonna get dry first, but y'know, feel free not to stop."
Justin twists back, gives Lance a huge grin. "Having way too much fun to stop, man," he breathes, and goes for a deliberate arrogant lick right up the length of Lance's cock, and Lance bites his lip and says,
"uh-huh, good," more of a groan, but Justin doesn't have time to enjoy that because then Lance is pulling his head down with one hand and angling his cock firmly into Justin's mouth with the other, and gasping, "aw, christ, Justin," clear and loud enough that Justin knows JC must have appeared on the scene.
Lights, camera, action, Justin thinks, just holding his breath and trying not to yank away, even when Lance's hips curl up and his cock slides uncivilly deeper even than before -- although then it's more trying to look like he's not struggling than actually trying not to back off, because Lance has him immobilised with both fists flat against the back of his head, and the actual backing off thing? not gonna happen.
Justin's vision starts to white out, the brutal thickness of Lance's cock filling his throat, its pulse tapping against his tongue. Lance nudges deeper, and Justin swallows helplessly, and then he hears, "Shit," and that's JC, definitely, and when Justin pulls back he finds that Lance's hands have melted away.
He can feel his own cock, urgent in his pants, and tries to look like he's still in control. "Jayce, hey," he manages, and JC looks amazing, bare shoulders sprinkled with glossy flecks of water, face soft in stunned arousal.
Lance's thumb traces the side of Justin's throat, exquisitely soft. JC just stares.
"Nice shower?" Justin says, playing into his careless role, and tilts his fingers casually, forcing JC's attention first on his mouth and then on Lance's cock. "Uh," he explains, pleased he sounds confident, not hoarse, "I couldn't stop thinking about sucking you. And Lance said it'd be all right -- you know, I can suck him now and you later, whenever."
The expression on JC's face makes Justin think that yeah, he should listen to Lance more often.
"I don't mind," Lance is saying, deliberately magnanimous, so Justin winks wickedly at JC and resumes licking Lance's cock, making like he can't stand to stop for even the minute it'll take for a conversation. The earthen sighs that Lance awards them with make Justin's stomach flicker with dark, eager flames.
"I bet you don't," JC says shortly, and his voice is fainter, and then Lance calls,
"We're going out in, uh, fuck, in ten," and then pauses, because he's been coaxing Justin's mouth open with his fingers and now he's nudging his cock back inside, "yeah, ah," and his voice has taken on the qualities of an appreciative groan, "ah, ten minutes, okay?"
JC doesn't reply, and Justin's sucking again, feeling Lance's hands stroke reverently over his head, thumbs gliding across his cheeks, and Lance is breathing heavily now, for real, and Justin's hands are moving restlessly on both their thighs before he remembers, shit, supposed to be stopping, stopping now--
"don't stop," Lance says, clear and very quiet, when he starts to angle back, "okay, Justin?" and Justin makes like he was just gonna go suck on the head for a while, relentlessly squirming his tongue, and makes a little wave with one hand in the hope that Lance'll explain himself.
Lance's teeth click together, and his nails rake bluntly across the back of Justin's head, and Justin inhales sharply and looks up, and Lance is leant back on the cushions with closed eyes and a blissful frown.
No explaining happening here, no sir.
The pulse in Justin's cock thuds harder, and Justin decides to abandon it all and suck Lance off and then fuck him, or go and fuck JC, and then he realises that he'll never live it down, that giving a blowjob pushed him over the edge -- and he wonders what's so hot about this anyway, and then Lance groans and squirms and Justin opens his mouth wider, because he wants this, can't help it, wants this so much.
Lance pauses, trembling; it must look like an invitation. "You gonna... let me? lemme finish this?" he says, and Justin shakes his head, because no no no, if Lance is asking that then this is where it ends. They can cool down together, share gross-out stories until Justin can leave calmly and then Lance can jerk off if he wants, sure, just as long as he's way out of Justin's hearing. They got a deal.
"Ah," Lance gasps, and Justin realises that shaking his head did interesting things to Lance's dick, so he tries to pull away without causing any more gratuitous sensation. Lance's hand turns firm on his shoulder.
Justin makes a questioning noise in his throat, telling himself that he does want to stop now.
"C'mon, no, don't go," Lance is saying, sotto voce, "dude, we gotta keep up the soundtrack," and then he moans, rumbly and thrilling, and Justin sees what he means, the soundtrack, yeah.
Fair enough, really. Since it's a show for JC, it'd be pretty dumb for them to call a halt at this point -- what if JC comes out, finds Lance beating off furiously and Justin standing in front of the fridge? That would so not look right. Hoo, no. Would look wrong, so wrong; better that Justin stay down here, just until it's realistic for Lance to leave.
Yup. And kinda fun, too, to test just how far Lance's stamina goes, to prove to Lance that Justin's worth chasing.
Definitely fun to make Lance admit to the others that the first blowjob Justin ever gave rocked Lance's world and then some.
"Yeah," Lance growls, and it takes Justin a moment to figure that JC will've heard that, that that was probably more Lance's acting than Justin's skill, and he decides that that's his aim, to make Lance growl, to get a moan like that when Lance is least expecting it. He thinks again of JC's face, of the shockhorrorlust in his eyes and the soft heat of his mouth, and imagines how it must look now, with JC holed up in his bunk, probably with his hands clamped over his ears, inevitably unable to get Justin's mouth out his mind.
From the way Lance's hips are rocking up ever more vicious, Lance might be imagining it too. Justin tries to relax his throat, fails, catches his choke and turns it into an eye-wateringly slow retreat, then forges down again with his stomach twisting and his cock aching all inside.
"Jesus," Lance mutters, and Justin's pretty sure that's not for show, but he can't do that again for a while, not until he's got his equilibrium back, and from the way his cock's just feeling like thick solid liquid fire he suspects that won't be for some time.
Although, there's no chance he's gonna let up, end up letting Lance know he can't manage breath-control. He makes his lips wet and firm instead, letting Lance pump smoothly inside, letting it bump the back of his mouth before edging back warningly. Lance gets the message pretty quickly and contents himself with sleek, short nudges, until he's tipping his head back and making cut-off noises and Justin's mouth feels tingly-numb.
"Ah," Lance says, drawing it out into a sigh, when Justin's hand works its way down to the base of Lance's cock, feeling the hair prickle against his palm and wondering if he dares try something exotic, or if he's just gonna tease until Lance is out of his mind.
Tease, actually, he decides, a moment later. He doesn't know how Lance feels about being fucked, and even though it's hot as hell to imagine Lance coming at the invasion of Justin's fingers, it'd totally interrupt his whole not-get-Lance-off thing. More importantly, he's not sure he'll be able to resist, if he gets his fingers inside Lance and then receives the invitation to finish the job with his dick.
One of Lance's hands covers Justin's fingers, tries to move them down as his hips push up further than before, and Justin takes the extra bulk in his mouth and sucks agreeably, and lays his hand genially on Lance's thigh. No chance, baby. Not if that's what you want.
"Aw, c'mon now," Lance sighs, "just, your fingers, please," and Justin thinks, aha, gotcha, that was begging, and shakes his head minutely, just enough twist to it to make Lance gasp. It doesn't even break his rhythm; he's got it down to an artform, just like he knew he would.
Justin Timberlake: cocksucker extraordinaire. The JJB might manage to break the story, but Boyz Magazine gets the first photoshoot, guaranteed.
"okay, this, then," Lance whimpers, panting, and yes, there's no way JC could've heard that, congratulations. In fact, Lance hasn't made a loud for-JC moan in what feels like ages, and Justin thinks that ha, yeah, now who's master of distraction? and then Lance's hands are encroaching stone at the back of his head, and Lance has changed the angle and somehow managed to push the end of his cock past Justin's comfortable barrier, allowing the length of it to glide in unimaginably far.
Fuck, Justin thinks, stomach squelching on itself as he swallows convulsively, and it's unhealthy that the ruthless slide as Lance shudders his cock deeper actually brings Justin closer to coming than anything else so far.
"Shit," Lance mutters, one leg folding up around Justin's shoulders as his hips rise actually significantly off the divan -- and then Lance shoves hard, once, twice, and then pulls back a little, and Justin's swallowing a hot wet rush. This must be a record, he thinks numbly, for the number of times he's almost-choked but not-in-the-end, and shit, this is wrong, Lance, coming, but he is, and Justin's left swallowing over and over and trying not to come himself. The indignation's like a second pulse.
Like, he's not allowed to come; this is against the rules. Except, of course, there are no rules for Lance, and the only rule is that Justin doesn't get off, and no, he hasn't, so move along folks, because clearly everything's okay.
Fuck, Justin thinks, as Lance's leg slithers back to the floor, sitting back on his haunches and swallowing again, wiping at the bitterness of his mouth and trying to catch his breath. Fuck.
Of course Lance doesn't have legendary stamina: he was the first to sign the fucking check.
Lance is sprawled back against the cushions, hands lax on his thighs, chest rising and falling in great, refreshed-sounding drags of air.
"Damn," Justin manages, and fuck, now he can taste him. He feels like he needs to cough, needs to take a drink of water, but instead he's just sat here, staring at Lance, deeply tempted to crawl up there and make him return the favour.
It makes it worse, knowing that Lance would.
"You bastard," he says, and he's burning, acid all over the sensitive planes of his mouth and throat, and the feel of Lance grinding up inside him at that last moment, God, it just keeps replaying, over and over. He can't deny that the edge of panic makes his cock jump, that the thought of Lance turning selfish and reckless does something sharp to the sensations running through his chest.
"Aw, c'mon," Lance says, still with the closed eyes, the sated smile, "is it my fault if you're good?"
"This was so not the deal," Justin says, trying to sound threatening rather than overwhelmed. "You. that was low."
"We could have a new deal."
Justin laughs, a little raw. "I liked the old deal."
"the old deal fell through," Lance points out, like it just happened to go awry, like neither of them were responsible for Lance happening to get an orgasm, and Justin happening to not.
"I don't care."
"I'm just sayin', man. The offer's open."
"A favour's a favour."
"You could call it in whenever. I mean," Lance says, stretching, settling back deeper into the cushions, "right now, you've kinda worn me out. You'd have to do all the work."
"Great," Justin says loudly, then checks himself. JC, JC. "That's just. you know. Okay, shut up."
"You'd have to get up here, kinda crouch over me." Lance's voice has lulled, like he's telling himself a bedtime story.
Justin thinks that if he heard this shit at night, he'd might not sleep for a week. "not gonna."
"It's a pretty deep angle, actually," Lance continues, ignoring him. "But then, I probably enjoy sucking guys off even more than you do," and Justin has to admit that in that case Lance must enjoy it a whole lot, even though his throat's stinging and he can taste Lance every time he swallows, even though he still hasn't quite got his breath back, "so I wouldn't mind."
"By the way," Lance says, moving his hand up his own thigh, cupping his cock against his belly.
"Yeah?" Justin says, trying not to watch the comfortable slide of Lance's fingers.
"If you come up here, you'll find out I don't make any of those... mistakes. You pick a rhythm, and I'll ride it, no problem." His fingers are pretty intensely watchable. They move like they're sweeping in time with his memories. "I can keep going for hours, too. It's all good."
Justin swallows hard, thinking, no, no way. No way would he last hours, and. and just. fuck.
"And, like," Lance says, smoothing his cock back into his pants, and folds his arms behind his head, "I definitely still got the strength to deep-throat you, if that's what you want."
"Stop it, please," Justin says, not unaware that now he's the one begging -- and not exactly sincerely, either.
"You wouldn't like that?" Lance says, innocently.
"Nope," Justin manages, hoarsely. "not at all."
"You sure?" Lance says, and Justin almost groans because yes, he wants it and yes, it'd be easy, and no no no he's not gonna, he is not, no, oh god.
"no," Justin says, and it sounds like a question.
"I can't hear you," Lance says, sounding like he's holding back laughter, "why don't you come up here are say that?"
"Fuck you," Justin says.
"Not on offer," Lance murmurs, exactly like Justin was expecting him to, and then continues, "although you could just brace yourself against the wall behind me and fuck my mouth like that, if you want."
The thought of it, of dipping his cock into Lance's mouth and feeling the heat that was inside Danny repackaged and intensified, of setting his fists against the wall and shoving as deep and hard as he likes and knowing that it's Lance, that Lance is taking it -- it's debilitating. His pulse is racing through his dick, discomfort flirting with actual pain.
"I'd like it, too," Lance says, almost to himself, and Justin thinks, this isn't happening, as he climbs onto the divan and crawls, hands and knees, up Lance's body.
"You better be good," he whispers, as Lance's eyes flash open, and he permits himself a smile that he has a feeling looks more feral than anything else. "If you're all talk, I'm gonna fuck you instead."
"I'm not all talk," Lance promises, licking his lips, and Justin almost kisses him but doesn't, because he isn't in the mood for kisses right now.
"I might fuck you anyway," Justin says, experimenting. Hell, if he's gonna end the bet like this, he may as well make the most of it.
"Take longer, and my mouth's right here," Lance whispers, "but go ahead, if you like. There's stuff by the TV."
Kneeling up carefully, Justin unzips with one hand, finding the wall with the other. "Your mouth," he says, staring at it as he takes out his cock, and Lance shifts up, until his parted lips brush the underside of Justin's erection.
"Good choice," he says, and Justin inhales sharply and edges back a little, changing the angle of his hips, so he can press the head directly against Lance's soft, warm mouth and feel it open graciously and take him expertly inside. Lance licks his lips again, then slants his gaze up at Justin. "Wait a sec," he says. "Don't you need to give the check to JC, first?"
Justin glares down. "you don't think we could put that on hold, just one minute?"
"One minute, huh?" Lance breathes, and the air washes over Justin's cock, makes it twitch. "You don't think you could last more than that?"
"let's see, shall we?" Justin says pointedly, and Lance grins and opens his mouth, wet tongue flicking out-- and then veering away.
"I gotta be certain: you're giving up the bet."
"Yes," Justin says, exasperated, gritting his teeth. It sounds more like a growl.
"All fifty thousand of it?"
"I can't exactly do this by halves," Justin grinds out, and, infuriatingly, Lance appears to think about that for a few seconds, his breath just happening to feel hot and moist on over-stimulated skin.
"That's true," Lance says, eventually, and Justin almost smacks him, but then Lance leans that fraction closer and his tongue slides against the crown of Justin's cock.
"Jesus," Justin gasps. By this point, he'd forgotten what he was gonna get.
"Mmm," Lance says, licking again, right over, sensational slippery heat -- and then Lance is twisting away and clapping his hand over his mouth and saying, "god, no, I can't do this," and Justin coughs and falls sideways because, what, what--
"...the fuck?" Justin splutters, and Lance is just shaking his head, curling back from Justin and almost shuddering with laughter, and, fuck, he's laughing? and Justin almost shoves him off the divan.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Lance gasps, batting his hands up and catching Justin's wrists, "I'm sorry -- shit, your face," and steering him back until they were both sitting on their heels, Lance getting control of himself, taking a few deep breaths.
"You better have such a good explanation," Justin says darkly, and his hand snakes down to stuff his cock back in his pants, and jesus, he can still feel that molten swipe of Lance's mouth, that moment of pure sensation almost instantly fading away. It's like a nightmare.
"It's... counter productive," Lance manages, only the slightest quaver of humour in his voice, folding his hands firmer over Justin's shoulders, holding Justin in his eyeline.
"Counter productive." A really, really fucking awful nightmare.
Lance flashes him a grin. "Dude, I'm betting on you. It'd totally be helping Chris, to get you off at this point."
"How much?" His voice sounds like well-packed mud.
"Ten dollars," Lance tells him, and doesn't even have the grace to blink, and Justin feels his mouth and eyes open indignantly wide.
"Ten-- Scuse me, I'm willing-- I'm willing to lose ten thousand, fifty thousand, and you won't even give up ten dollars? ten fucking dollars, Lance, and--"
"It's not my fault," Lance interrupts, seriously, "if you're not frugal."
"Nothing's your fault, is it?" Justin demands, and Lance purses his lips and glances around the room, then shrugs.
Justin stares for a second, then grumbles, "I just sucked you off, man," and Lance's smile turns saccharine sweet.
"reward enough already, then," he says softly, and adds, "and you got JC all hot and bothered into the bargain. I'd say you did pretty well."
"I'm gonna jerk off right now," Justin says spitefully, "and you're gonna watch and I'm not gonna let you touch me, and you're gonna know you could've had me, so easily," and Lance is already shaking his head, "and now you're gonna lose your ten dollars anyway, and what? what, okay?"
"You're not gonna throw away the JC thing like that," Lance says, and Justin hates that he's right.
"I'm gonna go. do. I'm just gonna go," he says, irritated, and then he feels the bus pull away, and almost growls. "What the fuck is this?"
Lance affects innocence. "Didn't you hear what I said to JC? We're gonna go play basketball."
"I think your hands were over my ears when you were talkin' to JC," Justin snaps, and Lance shifts and slithers closer to Justin and tilts his head and presses a soft kiss on Justin's open mouth, and then pats his cheek, almost fatherly.
"You go cool off, baby," he whispers, and nods at his watch. "You got a game to win."
"You're not exactly helping," Justin retorts, and then realises that Lance is probably talking about basketball -- although, hell, Lance ain't exactly helping with that either.