Ok, so Wax wanted me to write a back-of-the-car Justin gettin' it on to Ludacris... so, without further ado, I present a story that couldn't be further from that image if it got paid a boyband's salary. oops.

But hey. For the girl who has everything... here's 45k of sub!Justin, Calico-style. <g> Happy Birthday!

"Me and Justin have something to tell you," Chris said loudly, and the others glanced at him. Justin raced through the possibilities in his head, and came up bemused.

"What's that?" JC said, voice strained as he held in the smoke. They weren't supposed to have dope often because the next morning they all tended to sound like ravens, but they had a week of driving ahead and Management's blindeye-turning operatives figured it was better to get them started on a good note. Justin secretly thought they just liked their boybands pliable, but if it meant he could get high on someone else's dollar then he figured it was ok all round.

"Guess," Chris said, apparently satisfied he'd gotten their attention, and Justin took the joint off JC and sucked until his head span, then held it out to Joey. Chris' voice didn't affect him, he told himself. Of course not. Even the raked velvet edge to it that almost tickled, it sounded so dense in the air -- even that had no effect. He tilted his head, exhaling slowly, feeling his fingers tingle. Ok, so, maybe it did. But because it was different; that was all. Because it was nothing like Justin's voice, which he personally felt sometimes sounded like a verbal manicure.

"I went past guessing hours ago," JC said, lazily, and passed his hand in a slow wave that described the whole room. "Sailed past." He grinned, privately, and flicked his eyes at Lance. "On a golden scooter."

"Ha, yeah," Lance said, and that was more like a verbal pit of tar. But in a good way.

"You should try and guess," Chris said, drawing it out. Justin also personally felt that if anyone ever said again about how Chris sung like he didn't have any balls, they should just get him stoned. Then they'd know what a guy sounded like. God, yeah.

"I'm not gonna try," JC said patiently. Chris crawled over and slid his arm round Justin's shoulders, and Justin relaxed into him because damn but his head was spinning after that last toke, and then he realized the heat of Chris' throat was against his forehead and fuck, he smelt good, smelt amazingly good and dark and like embers from a woodland fire, and in fact pretty much how his voice sounded.

"Ok, well, me and Justin, we're having an affair," Chris said with blithe importance, and Justin could feel the buzz of his voice through his forehead and the words sank slowly into his brain and they were pretty colors and-- hey. Everyone was looking at him.

"Hey," Justin protested, sitting up dizzily and staring about, then casting an injured look at Chris; "Chris! Hey!"

Chris' eyes widened in comic concern. "Shit, Justin, didn't you-- did you not want me to tell them?"

"No," Justin said, and JC raised his eyebrows and Chris was smirking down at him and Joey was all blurred and Lance was just looking at him, and then Justin realized what he'd said and started shaking his head quickly. "No, I mean, yes, I did--" his head hurt from the shaking "--wait, uh, fuck. We're not having an affair. We're not."

Chris looked like he was about to speak, then tactfully closed his mouth and took his arm away. Justin almost fell over, then righted himself with great concentration. "Sorry guys -- Justin says we're not having an affair," Chris was saying, then shot him a glance full of contrition and lowered his voice; "sorry, sugar -- I thought you said it was ok... never mind. I won't say one more word," and flashed a bright grin at the other guys. "Anyway! What were we saying? Joe, gimme that -- wait, don't we have a bong?"

"We packed it," JC said slowly, and Justin looked up to realize they were all looking at him with varying levels of amusement. Chris was... fuck. A really, really good actor. Justin felt abruptly miserable -- had he pissed Chris off, somehow? Been too obvious?

"I'll go get it," he offered, wanting to get out the room, even though he wasn't sure his legs would work. Hell, maybe he hadn't been obvious enough. It was a pretty cruel joke, if Chris knew.

"Nah, man, don't bother," Joey said, and grinned wickedly; "it's at the bottom of my holdall, and you are way too innocent to see the stuff in there."

"He's not that innocent," Chris said, then clapped a hand to his mouth; "whoops, sorry, forget I spoke. Um. Innocent, man. He is. can't you see his wings?"

"Justin, you blushing?" JC said, slow delight in his voice.

"Fuck, not wings," Chris muttered, "umm, the glowy headwear thing... not the bedazzled bandanna... halo! His shiny shiny halo."

"No," Justin said, staring at the floor, and then slender white fingers appeared on the dark blue carpet, and they were Lance's -- he'd recognize Lance's fingers anywhere -- and he looked up, and saw Lance, padding over to him on his hands and knees. Not threatening, because how could Lance be threatening? but still, fuck, about half his muscles wanted to crawl away.

"You can tell us, man," he murmured, and the Southern iceberg emerged a little in the hot dark swerving chocolate of his voice (and fuck but Justin's brain was into weird shit right now); "I mean, me and JC? we sleep together sometimes, so you and Chris, that's cool, even if it's not a proper relationship, just sex and whatever--"

"I'm not sleeping with him," Justin blurted out, wondering if his ears were burning. Lance reared back on his heels, hands up, palms out.

"Whoa, whoa, that's cool," he said quickly; "I'll just... over here," he added, and Justin looked up to see him edge back towards JC, darting nervous looks between Chris and Justin. JC hooked his arm casually round Lance's neck and drew him in close; Lance closed his eyes comfortably and rested his head on JC's shoulder.

Exactly how he'd been resting on Chris, earlier.

No wonder no one believed him.

"I'm not sleeping with Chris," he felt compelled to tell them, and Joey laughed.

"Dude, we got it. Nothing going on," he said, getting up and going to the door; "Just... friends. I'm gonna get more ice."

"Special friends," JC said helpfully, as Joey closed the door behind him, and Justin groaned because yeah, ok, that's what he'd said to the girl who wanted to know who'd hit it off best, but he hadn't meant boyfriends, ok? He should be so lucky.

"We're not special friends," Justin insisted, and JC's eyebrows shot up, gaze flicking to Chris in alarm.

"Fine," Chris said, and Justin looked round to see him totally closed off, examining the palm of his hand.

"Chris," he said, panic going through him, because shit, this was a huge practical joke and here he was overreacting and fucking hurting him; "Chris, hey," and he grabbed Chris' hand out his lap, tugged on it.

Chris looked at him with patience that seemed to crinkle at the edges, and not in a good way.

"Chris, don't be like that," Justin pleaded, and Chris shrugged kinda.

"What else'm I supposed to be?" His voice was still dark, but this time it was the abandoned color of something lying in stagnant water. "When you're saying..."

"I take it back," Justin promised, kneading Chris' fingers earnestly; "I didn't mean it," and he was this close to rubbing his cheek against Chris' hand if it'd help convince him.

"You don't know what you're saying," Chris said gently, twisting his hand free, and Justin almost growled at him;

"I do, ok? I know exactly what I'm doing--"

"I dunno, Justin -- I mean, you're still saying you don't wanna be having an affair with me, right?" and his eyes were steady and earnest, undercut with something smug.

Justin inhaled slowly as a quiet wonder unfolded in his chest. "No, I definitely do," he said, and then couldn't help but grin when Chris winked and said,

"I guessed as much," and wrapped his hand round the back of Justin's neck and kissed him softly; impossible not to grin, feeling Chris' mouth open agreeably and Chris' fingers stroking the back of his neck and Chris' tongue as it made small wet circles against his own and then pushed in deep and firm and fuck, he was gonna get hard, he could feel his cock swelling as he made a tiny noise in his throat and sucked on Chris' tongue. Jesus.

Chris' other hand slipped primly onto his knee, casual and innocent but with restless fingers, and suddenly this felt like it was the kind of erection that pushed solid objects out the way as it grew. He made a louder noise in his throat as Chris' hand started to slide upwards, feeling like the air was thickening.

"Hey! Chris is getting some!" JC squealed, delightedly, and Chris moved his grip on Justin's neck round to take his chin in one hand and pulled back a little. Lance laughed.

"You two morons screwed on the breakfast trolley and used all today's butter so it's not like you don't owe me," Chris said sharply, never looking away from Justin's face, then added, softer, "see, they've got no regard for others -- I might've wanted to use that butter myself," and Justin tilted his head up hopefully and took the soft warm tip of Chris' tongue into his mouth again, trying to keep his breathing quiet as Chris' hand moved up his thigh.

He failed, when Chris sucked on his tongue; his own breathy little whimper almost made him blush, and he felt Chris grin around his tongue, fingers clenching on his thigh. "Mm, guys, we're gonna go," JC said, sounding kinda odd.

"Much as we wanna join in," murmured Lance, wistfully.

"Yeah-- hey," JC interrupted himself sharply, and there was a shuffling noise; "c'mon, we're getting outa here," JC continued, in an entirely more commanding tone of voice, and Chris' hand moved up into his hair again and the kiss went altogether deeper and Justin's head was swimming, and when he opened his eyes again he was laid out on the hotel bedroom floor with Chris licking his throat and Lance and JC nowhere to be seen.

His hand found the back of Chris' neck, and it was warm and his hair was soft and his tongue was making him shiver like he was possessed or something and-- "Fuck," he said, when Chris' thigh slipped between his legs, the pressure making his pulse skip two, maybe three whole beats and then rain down fire all under his skin.

He felt Chris' hair skidding through his fingers, and then a series of deft tugs had his pants around his knees, cock shivering crazily in the warm air. Fucking touch him now, ok? He kicked free of his pants while Chris got rid of his own, getting his feet tangled and having to drag his heel against the floor, so Chris had time to unbutton his shirt as well before Justin had gotten rid of even one sock.

Chris pulled off the other sock with a sharp grin, and Justin grabbed the edges of his shirt and tugged him down again, feeling a button scratch sharply across his side, nudging his hips up urgently when Chris nipped at his belly button with hot sharp teeth.

"C'mon," he said, when Chris' chin bumped lightly against it, sending a warm wing of heat right up his body. He was far too young to die of heart failure, right? "C'mon, please," he bit off, when he couldn't stand the tongue against his abs for one second longer, then basically heard himself squeak when Chris' fingers -- drawing greedily over his cock until the touches flowed like cascading hot sugar -- gave him precisely not quite what he was looking for.

"Shut up a while, yeah?" Chris said pleasantly, and added his mouth to the mix; Justin started panting, reeling with it, the decisive, sly finger-painting, the giddy heat of his wicked mouth, wet mouth, wet tongue.

He tried to get a grip on Chris' head, failing because his fists went straight through the soft dark hair, because Chris hummed warningly when his palms tightened against his ears. Justin pushed his hips up insistently, needing, wanting, and Chris shifted to throw one arm across his stomach, wedging him against the floor.

The cotton was warm and fuzzy against his stomach, and Chris' mouth was endlessly wet and clever, and even with his new short hair he was gonna have problems after tossing his head from side to side on this cheap carpet. "Fuck," he gasped, when Chris' hand stroked his thigh right up to the top and then ducked his thumb under, pushing damply shallow inside, and he felt Chris grin against his cock, sucking rhythmically, and abruptly this was just... too. fucking... Good.

"Stop," he said, batting ineffectually at Chris' head.

There was a moment's tortuous pause, and then Chris drew off and wiped his mouth and smirked, and Justin's body let out a silent wail that injustice was being done. "You gonna come?"

"Mmhmm," Justin admitted, keeping his mouth closed because otherwise he was gonna say suck me suck me finish it oh God please, and Chris ducked down and kept eye contact and deliberately dragged the flat of his tongue up the underside of Justin's cock. Justin felt his eyes widen as he stared at the slow wet glisten of Chris' tongue, feeling it as the most sensational thing all year, and then Chris' pink mouth widened into a truly evil grin and swallowed him down and Justin came with a gasp, feeling his cock rear and thrust in Chris' mouth. He saw stars as his head cracked back against the floor.

"You fucker," he was breathing, as soon as he could speak again. Chris was sucking wetly, making him jerk with aftershock after aftershock; Justin tried to get purchase on the floor, push him off, and scored carpet-burn on his fingertips.

Chris-- ignored him.

"Please-- fuck, stop," Justin managed, scrabbling under him, and Chris let up, letting his mouth slide off him with killing slowness and lapping a path up his chest instead.

Justin shifted restlessly, kinda oversensitized and exhausted, and then the unmistakable silken solidity of Chris' cock brushed his hip and then pressed into his stomach, and it felt like a fucking limb, and the lethargy was abruptly no longer a problem.

"I just wanna make you feel good," Chris murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, and his cock slid against Justin's stomach, hot and stubborn and making his thoughts spiral involuntarily downwards once more.

Justin squirmed under him, opening his knees as wide as they'd go. Their legs were slightly tangled; he couldn't get his feet apart. It made an odd heat swirl in his gut. "And," he said to the slight scratchiness of Chris' cheek, as a warm wet tongue flickered along the line of his own frustratingly smooth jaw, "what do you want, like, in return?"

He felt Chris grin, and nudge his cock firmer against him. The sensation of moisture smearing his abs made Justin catch his breath. "Well," Chris breathed, reaching his ear and licking it thoughtfully, "I guess, first, you could help me out by getting on the bed."

Justin opened his mouth to say, sure, absolutely, right away, yeah, and then Chris' tongue pushed obscenely into his ear, thick and wet and making crackly white noise swipe through his head, and he settled for exhaling sharply and wrapping one arm tightly round Chris' neck. If his ankles hadn't been trapped beneath Chris' shins, he would've wrapped his legs round Chris' waist as well.

Chris swiveled his tongue wickedly, then drew back, reaching up to unpeel Justin's arm from its stranglehold. "You coming?" he asked politely, sitting back on his heels, and Justin tried to get some moisture into his cottony mouth so he could answer without sounding like Lance after too many cigars. Chris smirked, and offered his hand. "Y'know, carpet burn's a fucking bitch," he added pleasantly, and that did not help with the whole brain-to-mouth control endeavor.

"I bet," he managed, pulling himself to his feet using Chris' hand, swaying a little with his head in smoky clouds before finding his center of gravity again-- and it was weird, being taller, because he thought height was directly proportional to authority. And he was clearly wrong.

Chris tugged his head down and kissed him, harder than before, jerking Justin's shirt off and tossing it on the floor. Justin's wrists burned momentarily, and he shivered into the kiss, and then Chris was turning them until the backs of Justin's knees pressed into the bed, leaning on him guilelessly until Justin buckled and felt the firmness of the mattress strike up like the slap of a huge pliant hand.

Chris carried on kissing him, crawling on top, then getting on his hands and knees and spreading Justin's legs. The soles of Justin's feet skated the carpet as he complied. "Move up," Chris prompted, and patted Justin's balls with the back of his knuckles, and Justin thought that Chris wasn't so smart after all because who with any level of intelligence would do that to make the recipient to move away.

Gritting his teeth, he wriggled up the bed, until his ankles rested on the edge of the mattress and Chris-- and Chris was holding court between his knees.

"Better?" he asked, and Chris nodded.

"Better," he said, and he looked kinda feral, eyes gleaming, shirt on but open, mouth wet, and Justin's gaze stole down his body and then caught until he could feel the blood rolling across his cheeks, staring mesmerized by where Chris' cock tapped against his stomach, dark and glossily curved, flanked with sleek pale skin and tight black curls.

He wanted to-- taste it?

He flopped back onto the bed with a low groan, kindof amazed at himself, at his shyness-- he'd always thought, they'd get together, and he'd be in control. He was the biggest thing in pop since forever, after all.

Chris' hand was sliding up his thigh, and he could feel the cuff of his shirt brushing as well, and the music industry suddenly knew absolute shit about what made you an influential guy. Chris had slick fingers, Justin realized, a second later, and wondered where the hell that had come from.

The obvious answer made him catch his breath, and then he realized no, the stuff was kinda cold, like, a gel or something. Not of human origin. Ok.

And Chris didn't seem to be about to lean over and put his cock in Justin's mouth, either.

Justin shivered, opening his thighs a little more. That's ok, too. He didn't need to taste it yet. He could quite happily not taste it for a w-- ah, he thought, as Chris' finger started swiping slow, thoughtful circles around the entrance to his body, sudden, and yet like he'd been waiting years. It made his brain tingle, and he felt distinctly young and resilient, and wondered briefly if Chris was into witchcraft and all that shit.

He took a deep breath, trying to get used to it, trying not to let his hips jump and skitter because there's such a thing as being too responsive, yo. Like, when you look like you're fitting. It wasn't easy, though; the dope still swirled in his head, twitching shivers racing through him, finding an anchor in Chris' touch.

"Why did you..." he said, and realized his hips were hunching up, blindly following Chris' hand, and almost blushed all over again. "Why did you want to get me off already?"

"I like seeing if I can take someone up from zero," Chris said, and Justin licked his lips nervously.

"You gonna fuck me now?" he said, and then hissed, because the dance of Chris' finger ended abruptly with the smooth sharp pressure of it sliding into his body and fuck, Chris' fingers felt different from his own.

"That's the plan."

He wondered what hormones he'd have to take to get his fingers to feel like the one pushing inside him, then realized he wouldn't need to if Chris stuck around. Neat.

Neat, he thought, a moment later, and there was a word for that but he couldn't think what it was -- understate, underexaggerate; downplay? -- and then he gave up, because Chris was pushing another inside him, and it was like a ripple effect through his body, but with glitter floating on the water as well.

A third finger, and: make that, hot water.

"You like the plan?" Chris asked, innocently, rubbing his other hand over Justin's cock, and Justin laughed breathlessly, his back arching up, taking Chris' fingers deeper and realizing Chris could bring him up from zero pretty damn well.

"I like it," he managed. Chris eased his fingers out, and Justin bit his lip, wondering if it was sexy or irritating to whine about needing him now now now. He settled for shifting his ass against the sheets and saying, again, clearer, "I like the plan."

"You do?" Chris drawled, stripping off his shirt and moving to turn him over, and Justin went willingly, folding his arms round the pillow under his cheek. "Well, that's good to know," Chris added, lying down on top of him, the glorious solid heat of his chest covering Justin's back. Justin shifted again, to feel the resistance, and brushed against the unmistakable sensation of Chris' erection lined up ready to go inside him.

A couple of experimental nudges made him shiver.

"Oh, yeah," Chris said, like he'd just remembered something, and Justin tried to drag his attention up from the hot press at the entrance of his body; "that reminds me, just wanna check-- was JC fucking you when Lance gave him that black eye? because, like, Joey says yeah and JC won't tell me but I know he tends to like 'em, uh," he felt Chris grin against his neck, felt the jab of his cock until the head was pushing directly at his ass and almostalmostalmost forcing inside, "kinda looser than you," and there was a definite edge of laughter in the words.

"Uh, no," Justin said, feeling dirty and adult because he'd never had this kinda conversation before, and then heard himself add, "I'm, actually, uh. You'd be the first guy," and could've kicked himself when Chris pushed harder and then froze.

"First guy ever," he said, and Justin could feel a burning raw point of need just a fraction deeper inside than where the wet head of Chris' dick was pushing the guardian muscle half-open, and he wanted more than anything to dare to push back and get this building sensation over with, but he didn't, couldn't, and then felt like moaning with despair when Chris edged back and exhaled loudly against his shoulder.

Thrust, Justin was thinking loudly, muscles tingling hopefully because Chris' cock was still right there, even if it wasn't pushing any more; please, please, just lose patience and do it, but he had to nod, as well, because Chris had asked him basically if this was his first time and he wasn't in any state to lie.

"Hoookay, you definitely weren't with JC, then," Chris breathed, and Justin felt horribly young again, locked out, especially when Chris reached down and smoothly rearranged everything until his cock lay along the crease of Justin's ass instead, no longer in a position to fuck him, because this was his first time and apparently Chris, what, didn't do that?

"It's ok," Justin said, not brazen enough to say it out loud, "you don't, I mean--"

"It's ok, I can just do this," Chris said firmly, sliding his cock slowly up and down, maddeningly close to where Justin wanted him, the soft thud of his balls against Justin's skin making little filmy bolts of sensation slither deep inside.

Justin pressed up, gritting his teeth and trying to get some friction from the sheets, and the pleasure was sweet and silvery and not. fucking. enough, and he took a deep breath, words on his tongue, except no way, he couldn't ask--

Chris' breath started hitching, and the damp glide of it was driving Justin crazy, and he wanted to feel that inside him, fucking now, please--

He screwed his eyes closed and swallowed thickly and -- oh, God -- tilted his ass. For one sharp slide Chris' dick ground immeasurably hard, and then Chris slowed, panting, and Justin practically felt him catch on; "Justin?"

"Please," Justin managed, nudging his ass up suggestively and feeling glad he had most of his face buried in the pillow. He didn't want to know what he looked like.

Chris' hand slid quickly down his side, like he was checking for flaws, then curved around his hip. Justin closed his eyes tighter, holding his breath, and wriggled his ass. Hungrily.

"Ha," Chris muttered, almost to himself, and then he'd swept his thumb against Justin's ass, and Justin thrust back at it hopefully, and Chris laughed softly out loud. "Oh, twist my arm," he breathed, and Justin smiled against the warm stuffy pillow and felt the heat of Chris on his back melt away.

His heart was beating light and fast, an unruly sparrow in his chest, scraping its beak up the inside of his ribs in hot thin streaks of anticipation. He felt good, and then gradually, as nothing else happened-- so damn exposed. First night nerves, that came close, but this? This was like the first night in Germany, even, muscles taut under a shirt from the fourteen year old section in Junge Kleidung.

There was a brush of heat, again, slick and lingering, and he wanted to push back into it and grind his cock down and quite possibly scream with frustration, all at the same time. "Please," he whispered, again, and the heat went away, and then he felt Chris shift on the bed again and then, fuck, Chris' fingers lining up, something hotter brushing intimately close and stalling and this was it--

It started, working insistently inside, the slow push, steady push, inch-by-inch push, making his toes curl and his stomach shake and it fucking hurt, ok? like, how would any virgin feel if someone rammed Chris' dick up his ass? but incandescent tendrils were writhing through the pain, the need to have it inside him, the sense of assuaging blind urgency as Chris pushed past that spot that'd been crying so loud before and went on to satisfy a whole lot of others, ones that hadn't even started articulating yet.

Justin started panting, trying not to squirm as Chris sank deeper ever deeper, and the base felt like it was wider or else Justin's brain had melted and he couldn't tell, but God, God, he'd never felt anything like this before.

It was-- in? all in? not quite, and then he felt Chris' pelvis settle against his ass, and one final nudge made him gasp because no, his fingers had never felt like this, and it was burning like fuck but the little breathy noises Chris was making went a long way to alleviate any desire to get away, and then Chris' slick hand tightened on his hip and the pressure built and Chris started... to... move.

Justin yelped, the world spinning dizzily behind his closed eyes, and distantly felt Chris' hands rearrange themselves on his hips, before his ass was dragged up so he took his weight half on his knees, and that, fuck, ok, until now? he hadn't known what going deep was.

His cock bumped against the sheets just enough to make the world go fizzy round the edges.

Chris' breathing calmed down as he got into it, slipping into a deep, assured rhythm that drove deep inside Justin and made Chris sigh deeply and make satisfied noises deep in his chest-- not even close to the juddering whipcord breaths that Justin was taking, feeling his own control evaporating with every deliberate stroke. He tried to keep calm, endless seconds dragging past as he stared at the yellow radio alarm on the side of the bed, the open drawer with a load of socks shoved on top of a Bible.

He tried to concentrate on that -- no whimpering as Chris fucks you, not in front of the Lord! -- but it wasn't like he could make his body behave, wasn't like he even had an illusion of dignity any more, and soon he was rocking back urgently and almost hissing with the feel of it while Chris' fingers tightened warningly, digging into his skin.

"Fuck, Justin," Chris said, when he started twisting back, "you're -- ah -- you're a natural," and Justin didn't know what there was to be natural about, but it sounded good, and he felt a rosy sensation in his chest along with the flaring heat in his ass and managed an only half-bleated;

"it's the teacher," and then, on the next breath, next stroke; "You're good."

"I'm good?" Chris mused, and Justin's stomach quaked at the lazy menace of it; "baby, we both know that doesn't even start to cover what I'm being to you."

"You're God?" Justin suggested, with a shaky laugh, then gasped as Chris laughed as well, cock shoving deeper as more of an afterthought than anything else.

"That's more original," Chris was saying approvingly, and slid his hands down to hold Justin's hips just so, speeding up with savage little thrusts that made Justin gasp and whimper and screw his hands tight into the pillowcase; "fuck, yeah, you just take it," he muttered, then slowed quickly down again, long destructive slides with forbidden twists waiting at the ends.

Justin moaned, and deep in the back of his mind he knew no men were supposed to have this much stamina.

"Mmm, yeah -- you were made for this," Chris breathed, satisfaction melting along the words, and Justin sucked in his breath hard and tried not to come. Not twice, before Chris had even gotten off once; please.

"I... fuck, fuck," Justin chanted, wanting to reach for his cock but pretty sure he couldn't support himself on one hand.

Chris chuckled, and Justin could almost picture him shaking his head in fond disbelief, except his voice didn't sound fond -- "You love this, don't you" -- sounded, in fact, like a cross between wonder and cruelty, making Justin nod because he did and rock back for more.

"I can't believe you've never done this before," Chris added, then pushed his palm up Justin's back, a long possessive stroke and put on the pressure, until Justin buckled and collapsed totally flat on the bed, Chris deep inside, ducking to lick his shoulderblade.

"Yeah," Justin said, as Chris changed the pace again, grinding deep and moving his hips in demanding circles, jabbing at the bright spot over and over again. "Yeah, like that, yeah--"

"I thought you'd like that," Chris said, and he sounded more breathless; "I practically wanted to marry the guy that fucked me the first time," and then licked the back of Justin's neck, warm wet stripes.


"And the first guy that did that to me, fuck, I'd have followed him off a cliff," Chris added; "So, whatcha think, Justin? You love me?" and Justin gritted his teeth because he fucking did, ok? who wouldn't love his best friend when he made lightning bolts judder up his body; he nodded blindly, and Chris made a pleased noise in his throat and bit his shoulder, making Justin shudder again, almost coming, almostalmost, a unified body of electricity swarming under his skin.

Chris took a slow breath, pulling mostly out and then pausing, instant shock going through Justin as the stimulation stopped; "Say it," Chris murmured, lazily, working his hips in shallow little thrusts that pushed the head of his cock just in and out, in and out, and Justin bucked back helplessly and then groaned out loud when Chris' hand pressed the base of his spine, holding him into the sheets. "Say it?"

Say what, Justin thought wildly, needing it back inside him, please, please, realizing through a treacled brain and barely managing to get the words in order, "love you," and then Chris gave him what he wanted, a long, hard push that made him gasp it out again, nerves rasping gloriously as he was stretched around what'd probably later feel like far too much of a very good thing.

"I guessed as much," Chris said, breathless again, speeding up until Justin clamped down on him and shuddered hard, and it was buildingbuilding and then Chris' hand worked underneath him, appearing magically around his cock and jerking blessedly in sync until he couldn't -- God-- actually -- fuck -- see--

-- and then he was coming, blind and howling, the sensation soaring over him like a whole tumbling sky of molten white gold.

He swore loudly, for a long time, and Chris didn't even pause, working his aftershock sorcery from the inside this time, until Justin worried distantly the pillow would burst with his abuse of it and then he'd choke to death from gasping in feathers-- and then he was getting tighter, or Chris' dick was bigger, or they needed more lube or something because the edges of pain were back, boiled peppermint streaks as Chris picked up the pace, and it was frosty and nasty and made his fight-flight instinct prickle up, touching something even deeper inside.

"I... fuck," he said, face heating up, and Chris was really into it, gripping his hips exactly so and pounding inside and he started struggling and pushing his torso up off the bed because it was really fucking starting to burn-- "Chris, please, Chris, fuck, oh God--"

"Oh you bitch," Chris muttered, frantic, twisting him deftly off his balance and crushing him down into the blankets again; "you bitch, you fucking god," and with one last grinding thrust he started a flurry of shudders, and then it was over, slowness soaring down to cloak Justin's brittle pulse, awareness of things like the wet spot gradually beginning to return.

Chris pulled out and flopped onto his back, taking deep breaths and swearing softly, appreciatively. Justin waited a couple of seconds and then burrowed blindly into him, almost making noises of relief when Chris turned on his side towards him, arms coming up around him like always, like ever, like there was nothing different. For a moment, there, it had felt a lot like there was.

"Mmm," Justin said, nuzzling deeper, tucking his nose against Chris' throat. They were damp, lots of damp soft corners shared out between them, and it was weird to be curled up so intimately with another guy, but it was a good weird. His ass hurt, but it was a good hurt. A lot of things were kinda bad, he realized, about this situation -- but in a good way.

"Mmm," Chris agreed, and it sounded like he was smiling as well. His hand stroked up and down Justin's back, then froze. "Oh, shit, yeah; Justin," he said, and Justin thought, who else would I be? and hoped this wouldn't be serious. He wasn't sure he could take seriousness, right now. "What you said. earlier."

Justin frowned. "What?"

Chris drew back so Justin had to look at him. Justin swallowed. Looked like he was gonna have to take seriousness after all. "What you said earlier," Chris repeated, then glanced at Justin's mouth, then back at his eyes. "About... beinginlovewithme."

Oh, fuck. "No, no, I'm not," Justin said, so quick he almost didn't feel the words on his tongue.

"You're... not."

"Heat of the moment," Justin assured him, and that was true, right?

"Uh huh," Chris said, doubtfully; "and you weren't before, either."

"No," Justin insisted.

"Ok, good, well, I've gotta... powernap," Chris said, rolling onto his back. Justin rolled with him, then realized what it looked like and shifted back again, even though the bed wasn't big enough for two men to lie shoulder to shoulder without touching.

It was uncomfortable, in fact, he told himself clearly, a moment later, and stupid, because hello? they'd just had sex, ok? there was allowed to be touching, and he rolled over again, sliding his arm across Chris' chest, holding his breath to lift his whole body over Chris' arm and nestle in the other side.

"Justin," Chris said, patiently.

"I'm not in love with you," Justin said firmly, listening to the sleepy thud of Chris' heart.

Chris' arm came tentatively around him, stroking his waist for a couple of seconds, then stretched out across the bed. "Maybe this isn't such a great--"

"I'm not," Justin insisted, again, turning his head to bite irritably at Chris' chest, and Chris yelped and jerked under him, then laughed. It sounded great.

"Ok, ok," he said, stroking Justin's head with his other hand, then clapping him lightly on the jaw. "You're not, I get it; this is a one-night thing."

Justin went still. "Uh, a one-night thing that might happen again, right?" he said, and Chris took a deep breath, chest swelling to apparent hugeness beneath Justin's cheek. "Not in a relationship way," Justin amended quickly, realizing what he must sound like to a commitment-phobic guy like the one thrumming with tension beneath him. "Just sex. No strings." He smirked. "NSA, man. NSA."

"That's what you want, baby?" Chris said, doubtful again, and Justin shivered because it felt weirdly good being called that, and nodded.

"That's it." He let a tinge of exasperation into his voice; "I'm not in--"

"Ok, quit it, I need my powernap," Chris said quickly, but it wasn't harsh, and Justin kinda smiled. Just sex. That was cool enough.

He lay there, listening to Chris sleep, for what felt like about three hours before Chris woke up again. He wasn't tired, himself. He just felt-- amazed. And happy. And drowzed. And vaguely acheful. But not in a sleepable way.

He was pretty good at making up new words, though.

"Check the time, could you?" Chris mumbled, eventually, and Justin rolled over and saw that yeah, ok, there was something wrong with his brain, because it was just twenty-five minutes later.

"Almost eleven o'clock," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Powernap," Chris said happily, stretching, then squinted at him. "Wow. You need a shower."

Justin went, and then Chris joined him after a few minutes, kissing the back of his neck and washing his stomach from behind, then washing his back from in front and kissing his mouth instead. Justin, bracing himself against the plastic walls of the cubicle, felt it was a fair tradeoff. When Chris let him return the favor, it felt more than fair.

"We better get back to the others," Chris said, later, rubbing at his hair with a towel while Justin felt happy he didn't have to use half a bottle of conditioner any more. He felt much more awake, skin prickling with post-shower joy, although he wasn't sure how long it would last.

"Sure," he said, rooting around for some clean clothes, wrinkling his nose when Chris picked his shirt off the floor. "That's rank, man."

Chris laughed. "You're even more like Lance than I... already worked out," he teased, and Justin pulled on a loose tee and some soft pants and shot him a mock glare.

"Let's go, then," he said, and Chris gestured for him to lead the way.

The catcalls, when they pushed into the door of 343B, were like the smack of heat when you open an oven that's been all evening; Justin wished Chris'd gone first, but it wasn't like he could change things now.

"Finished already, boys?" Joey called, in a bad British accent, ostentatiously checking his watch; "Why! It's only been three hours! Did you think you had to hurry back, or something?"

Chris laughed, waving him away. "I got some," he told JC, proudly, "and how," slapping Justin's ass sharply and flopping down on the floor next to Joey to thwap him across the head. "Shut your mouth, Fatone."

"We heard you," Lance said, grinning at Justin with a mouth that looked kinda used, and Justin flipped him off and knelt down next to Chris, gingerly resting his ass on his heels and trying not to look like anything was amiss. JC, sitting with one arm slung round Lance's shoulders, laughed loudly.

"Justin, baby," he drawled, and Justin blinked, because he was fair game to be called baby, now? and he didn't quite like it, "you look like you had an uncomfortable ride..."

"Ridden hard and put away wet," Joey mused, winking at Justin, holding a joint out to JC.

"Bareback," Chris supplied helpfully. "Hey, C, gimme that next, ok?"

JC laughed; "Boy's used to a saddle and a gentle trot, huh?" he said, grinning, and Chris leaned in and kissed soundly Justin on the cheek.

"Boy's never been riding before," he said, and JC paused in exhaling a smooth stream of smoke, raising his eyebrows as Chris reached for the joint and added, "oh yeah, Joey -- you owe me ten bucks."

"I'll work it out in trade," Joey said flippantly, and Justin could still feel the wet mark on his cheek from Chris' mouth. This was... weird.

"Hey," Lance protested, as JC leaned forward to pass the joint to Chris, and JC looked down at him. "I wanted that next."

"ChrisChrisChris," JC said, and Chris rolled his eyes and gave it back; JC sucked on it for a couple of seconds, then handed it over again. Justin watched JC tilt his head down to Lance, mouths fitting against each other, then the soft rushing sound of breath being exchanged. It was kinda hot, he had to admit.

"It'll take a lot of trade to work out all the debts you owe me," Chris was saying, and Justin watched him smoke, thinking that that was definitely hot, especially when Chris grinned like a wolf and slumped back against Joey's shoulder and blew Justin a lazy kiss. "One helluva lay, kid," he said, pointing at him, and Justin grinned and held out his hand, thinking that there weren't nearly enough chemicals in his system just now.

The smoke made things clearer, and then slower, and then clearer still. The next time it came round, he waved it on; his fingertips were fizzing again, as was the front of his chest, and any more of this and he'd pass out or something. He decided he might just lie down anyway, and he couldn't keep his eyes open either, and then he grinned as Joey voiced booming protest at the length of his legs. Too fucking long to exist.

"Oh, no, he's very flexible; I like the legs," Chris said, and Justin felt his grin grow wider.

"Do they wrap right round?" JC asked, and then he heard Chris' laughter, affectionate and proud.

"They fold right up, too," he said, and there was a pause that he decided was fond, and then Chris added, warmly, "although I dunno about that, man."

Justin waited, confused; "You didn't get him to suck you?" JC said, like that was something amazing. Justin smirked, slightly. Yeah, JC. I know. You've got a thing for my mouth.

"Hey, I only had three hours, it's not like I wasn't busy doing other stuff," Chris drawled.

"Yeah, Chris makes three hours count, C," Lance said, and Justin felt a glimmer of jealousy before he realized obviously, Lance was just winding JC up. He listened to the noise of them kissing, soft and slick and somewhere in the sky, and drifted back to Chris' mouth on his chest, on his stomach, on his throat. On his mouth. On his shoulder. On his mouth again.

"Yeah," Lance was agreeing, readily, when Justin snapped back to the present; "yeah, that's true."

"And three hours under me," Chris prompted, and Lance laughed.

"After last time? I wouldn't say no."

"You never say no," JC said, and there was another long kiss, in which Justin thought solely about Chris going down on him, until he would've been hard if he hadn't been so thoroughly exhausted.

"He won't say no," Chris said helpfully.

Justin felt a slim hand on his jaw, thumb stroking thoughtfully. JC, definitely.

"...Though, he won't be good for anything right now," Chris added, teasingly.

The thumb ran lightly across his mouth, tickling, so he licked it playfully and JC said, "mmm, I dunno about that, he looks pretty active, in a stoned-out-his-brain sorta way..."

"Mmm," Chris said, indistinctly, and then Justin tasted JC's tongue in his mouth, and it was forceful and made him shiver, but it wasn't Chris. He kissed back, though, breathing deeply because he'd always loved JC's cologne. The hand on his stomach wasn't Chris, either-- he'd stake a bet that that was Lance's, because it was incredibly soft and he knew Lance had a tube of handcream in his holdall, and Lance'd joked ages ago that the only thing Justin'd use handcream for would be to jerk off, and actually, he was right.

"Hold him down -- he likes that," Chris' voice came, and JC chuckled into his mouth and then there was a hand across the base of his throat, and excitement rallied through Justin at the sensation, because JC was just as deliberate as Chris, even if it wasn't quite right.

Lance's hands -- he was pretty sure -- were working on his waistband, soft hot mouth nuzzling his stomach, making him shiver. Chris'd use teeth, but Justin was beginning to realize Lance wasn't the tooth-using type, and that was ok too.

"You won't get anything good outa him, though," Chris said, and Justin felt Lance laugh hot feathers against his stomach, and turn away.

"You drained him?" he said, voice low and rich, and Justin thought about protesting that he wasn't drained, not at all, but then Chris said,

"Twice, and hard enough to leave the rest of y'all thirsty for weeks," so Justin sucked on JC's tongue and realized dutifully that yeah, no, he wasn't gonna get it up again any time soon.

JC lifted off of him, pressing his hand down firmly when Justin tried to follow. "You weren't supposed to ruin him for the rest of us," he said, sounding more amused than angry, then laughed softly and called, "Hey, Chris," and then, louder, "get off him; listen to me," and Justin heard some lewd wet noises that weren't coming from him or Lance or JC, and realized that it was a good thing he wasn't pining after Chris or anything, since Chris was wasting no time in pining after him.

affair: Something that concerns or involves one personally
affair: A large or important social gathering
affair: Something to be done, considered, or dealt with

ownership: this is wax's. for birthday. and endlessly delightful Jujuworship. which I clearly share.

duel-ownership: but! It's dedicated to julad's genius.

urges: I think this assuaged the burning need to put sub!Lance and sub!Justin in the same story. of course, now I've got all these JC/Chris bunnies nipping at my heels. mean looking bunnies. with teeth. not really fluffy at all...