Set after Fuckette. About twenty minutes after, in fact.

"I can't believe you fucked him," Justin said.

Chris almost felt sorry for Joey, caught in the doorway, hand fresh from the prettiest cookiejar around. He didn't feel sorry, though, because Joey should've freakin' known better. JC had been sidling close to the rest of them just as bad - hell, Joey hadn't even been here yesterday, when JC had sat on Chris' lap and tipped his head back and said, distinctly, "I want you to fuck me twice. You can keep the TV on if you like" - and even then, even under strain like that, Chris hadn't taken him up on it.

JC'd moved on to Lance, then turned to both of them, suggesting things Chris wasn't sure the human body could cope with, however much JC'd seemed willing to try. They'd resisted, though, even the really really really tempting stuff, like JC saying he could just sit between their knees and suck them off, one after the other, without them even having to get up.

It'd been a close thing, when JC went to sleep face-down on the couch apparently forgetting he was naked, thighs casually apart, wriggling slightly whenever someone went near him - but no, even then, they'd managed to cover him with a blanket and go jerk off in their respective bathrooms instead, smiling ruefully when they regrouped for lunch.

No, it was just Joey who'd succumbed instead of doing the Decent Thing, who'd folded back the bedclothes and let all that trembling forceful heat inside.

Chris wished it was disapproval he felt, not envy.

"Well, he kinda didn't give me a chance not to," Joey was saying, folding his arms. His hair was wet, sticking up all over. Looked like he'd taken Lance's opportunity to shower after all. Good plan, really. Turning up stinking of their favourite rampant sexpot wasn't gonna improve Justin's mood at all.

"I found him," Lance had said, and Justin had brightened, and then Lance had added, "in Joey's room," and Justin's eyes had instantly gone narrow. Chris would suggest the kid should trust more, but, well, right now Justin was right to suspect the worst.

"In Joey's bed," Justin had guessed, grit-faced, and Lance had sighed.

"Well, yes."

"I'm gonna kill him," Justin had promised, and they'd sat in silence, Lance glancing at Chris miserably from time to time, Chris nodding wryly whenever Justin wasn't looking. Okay, so yeah, this was a shitty place to be, and they wouldn't swap with Joey for anything right now-- but jesus christ, at least he'd had JC. That was one - a very glorious one - better than the rest of them.

"I bet you resisted so hard," Justin was saying acidly, and Chris thought sharply that actually if he was so jealous then why the hell had he broken up with him, but there wasn't much point saying that if he wanted to stay alive right now. Justin was totally close enough to throttle him.

"I didn't - I didn't fucking know, okay?" Joey said, voice winding up into a growl. "I didn't know he hadn't just decided he wanted, I dunno, no-strings sex or something, or wanted to forget - and anyway," he added, louder, "I'd like to see you resist when he's already gotten ready, when all he needs is a vague nod as excuse to sit on your dick," and Justin hissed and lunged for him, and Chris grabbed him out mid-air and pinned him to the table, and Lance made a low noise in his throat and cracked his knuckles, sure sign of stress.

"Okay," Chris said, into Justin's hair, "calm down. Joey didn't know."

"I thought you guys were through," Joey said, and Justin muttered,

"We are through, but would you want me to go fuck Kelly?"

Chris laughed, releasing him. That was better. "As if she'd have you."

"She might," Justin said sulkily, scrubbing at his head with one hand. A grin was floating near his lips, kept lighting on them momentarily then flicking away, and Chris relaxed - and then Justin must've visualised it again or something, because his glare rose up like a backwards sunrise.

A sunset, Chris thought distractedly, but that still had the whole peaceful thing going on, and Justin's eyes weren't peaceful. Maybe the pissiest, pettiest sunset in the world, with little clenched sun-fists, and crickets stamping their melodically-challenged thighs.

"Jup," Lance said, cautiously, and Justin ignored him, too caught up in his own drama. "Are you--"

Joey coughed. "He can hit me, I guess, if he likes," he suggested, and he looked even more unhappy, "if that'd make him feel better," and Justin almost looked like he might, and something in Chris broke, and he snapped,

"No, he can't," and Justin looked up, furious.

"I could too--"

"You can't," Chris interrupted, sitting decisively down on the couch, "because Joey hasn't actually done anything wrong."

"He slept with my-- JC," Justin yelled, and Lance laughed, and Chris felt grateful someone else was picking up his thread.

"Your JC, huh?" Lance said, and Justin turned on him instead, enough anger in his shoulders that Chris wanted to grab him again.

"He might not be my JC but y'all could still have enough decency to not fucking take him to bed the same week we broke up!"

"What, so next week's okay?" Chris almost asked, but didn't, because he had a feeling Justin would actually slug him.

"Doesn't JC get a say in this?" Lance said, and Chris felt glad he hadn't spoken. Lance was much better at the dry pointed thing.

"JC doesn-- JC, actually," Justin said, ramming the words out and then pausing, enunciating carefully, "is apparently in no state to have a say in anything."

"Yeah, uh, what is that?" Joey said, pushing off the doorframe, coming round to sit next to Chris. "The heat thing."

"I'll send you off for a chat with Korea," Chris murmured, and Justin shot him a dark look. "Uh, nothing," Chris said, brightly. "Didn't say a word."

"We dunno, really," Lance said, and he wasn't blushing or making stupid jokes, which was another reason Chris felt it was right that Lance was taking charge of this conversation, "but we got a man on it, and we're gonna get results by this afternoon."

Joey raised his eyebrows. "He's got a medical problem?"

"No," Justin said loudly. Everyone ignored him.

"Not exactly. He's sorta, sorta, um," Lance said, "it might be psychological," and then, "or not. we don't know," and Chris butted in, because there was dry science talk and then there was staying-here-all-day.

"He's highly-sexed," he said. "At least, he's trying to be."

"He'll get over it," Justin said, loud and irritable, now. Everyone ignored him again.

"What results are we gonna get?" Joey said, and Justin slammed his hand down on the table and then stormed out, muttering as he went. "Wow," Joey said. "I really pissed him off."

"We pissed him off," Lance said soothingly, getting up and following Justin out the door, shutting it carefully on his way out.

"Man," Chris said. "This is fucked up."

Joey leaned back on the couch, laying his arm over his eyes. "You're telling me."

Chris bounced his knee around, wanting to up and follow the other two, but knowing he'd be upping his chances of getting beats by about eighty percent. Wait, wait, wait, til this afternoon; fucking hell. He hated waiting. The only thing he hated more than waiting was not knowing stuff that everyone else knew - and even if it wasn't strictly true, he still felt like he knew a big fat zero right now.

All he knew was that JC was suddenly more horny than any man Chris'd ever met, and not afraid to show it. And indiscriminate. And vocal. And went straight to sleep after, unwakable. And had great thighs, strong and welcoming. And wasn't averse to suggesting a little two-on-one.

He poked Joey. "Fucking JC," he said, conversationally, "was worth all this shit now, wasn't it."

Joey groaned. "Hell, yeah."

end part 2