Here we have dead last in Rhys' list of favorite pairings. Thank you to Calico, who taught me the word "cock."
Turn You On
"Bone my shadow
dove my dream.
Milk my mind &
make me cream."~ Jack Kerouac, "pull my daisy"
He wanted to be an actor. Always, he did-- and if he'd said, "I want to be an actor, so I can't go off and do this singing thing" he wouldn't be where he is now, and where he is now allows him to be a singer and an actor. By this rationale, if he now says, "I want to be a singer, so I can't go off and ask the people in my group to touch my cock," then he's likely to miss out on both. It's a matter of obligation, really.
Justin is on the balcony of Joey's hotel room, telling himself this. It's a little less convincing for knowing that he chose Joey tonight, when the others went out to a movie and Joey stayed in to read over a script, because he knew that Joey was the most likely of anyone in the group to joke about it and not let it bother him and turn him down-- so obviously he doesn't really buy his own motivational speech. But he really, really wants Joey to fuck him. Wants somebody to fuck him. Wants Joey to fuck him. So, it all evens out.
He's been acting more drunk than he is all evening. Knocked on Joey's door with a bottle of Smirnoff's and a slight weave to his step, Joey grinned and let him in.
They watched some TV and Justin had thought about making his move then-- leaning over onto him like he's just too blitzed to hold his own weight, letting his mouth fall somewhere near skin, or near lap, and maybe whispering, "I'm bored," because Joey understands sex as a reprieve from that-- but he wants there to be more, wants to fuck them all the time. Wants to come into the quick change room minutes before a show with a robe on over his costume and not say anything and blow Chris on the couch while the other guys watch, and then go out and perform, and JC's maybe hard through the whole show. And if he launches himself at Joey without letting him know exactly what he wants-- then it'll happen once and never again, because those are Joey's rules of a one-night stand. It's hot, quick, without explanations, and you don't call in the morning.
So he pushed himself off of the couch and stumbled out to the balcony, where he could stand without seeing out of the corner of his eye Joey's stomach jumping beneath an old raggy t-shirt everytime he laughed. What he needs is a gameplan. A way of saying to Joey, this is really really convenient and really really hot.
He glances over his shoulder, into the room, and Joey has switched the TV off, gone back to reading his script. His eyes are down, his forehead is creased, slightly, he's tugging absently at his bottom lip.
Justin sighs. Whatever. He's Justin Timberlake. He can make anyone want anything. Rowr.
He leans his head in the door and says, "Joey. Come get some head."
Joey looks up from the script. "Are we outta drink?"
"what?"
Joey blinks. "What did you say?"
Justin is hanging in through the balcony sliding glass door, leaning, and swinging a little bit. He takes a deep breath and says, "I was gonna give you a blowjob."
Joey closes the script and sets it down. After a moment, he says, "are we outta drink?" Justin says no, walks over and hands him the bottle. Adds, "There's more. The bar's stocked, I checked."
Joey nods and takes a deep drag from the bottle. Swallows and says, "you said 'blowjob', right?"
Justin nods.
"Not, like, 'snowjob'."
"Isn't snowjob a sex thing, too?"
Joey grimaces. "christ, I hope not."
"--so do you?"
"Want a blowjob?"
Justin nods again. Joey shifts on the couch, looks around at the room. He shrugs uncomfortably. "Why?"
He sounds suspicious, almost, and Justin straightens in the balcony doorway. He shrugs his own shoulders and says, "I'm." He tries to say, 'I'm Justin Timberlake' but he only ever says that to himself, and it would be stupid to say outloud-- especially to Joey-- even if it's what his mind is screaming right now. He tries to think of something to replace it. I'm-- horny. I'm drunk. I'm serious. I'm pretty. I'm in the mood for love. "Sick."
Joey's frown narrows from confusion to concern. "You're sick."
Justin nods, again.
"What's wrong?"
Justin moves into the room, to the big overstuffed chair and slumps against the arm of it, letting his legs fall wide and his t-shirt pull close against his chest. Joey's frowning and he looks a little dumpy in his sweatpants, and Justin has seen him fuck women. When he says, "My stomach hurts. I want you to touch me," his voice is petulant; he feels impossibly sexy.
"You want me to touch you 'cause your stomach hurts?"
"My stomach hurts 'cause I want you to touch me.
"oh."
"Come _on_, Joey. There's nobody else in this room who just wants to get you off. C'mon."
Joey raises an eyebrow and looks at Justin for a long minute-- then he says, "Okay."
Justin pushes off of the chair arm and the quick motion makes Joey start. Justin says, "okay," and goes to sit on the opposite side of the couch.
Joey says, "um. You _have_ done this before, right? You know what it entails?"
Justin grins and says, yeah.
"So come over here."
Justin leans against the arm of the couch and brings one leg up. His hand dips into his pants and his eyes fix on Joey's eyes, and then on Joey's body. He says, "I wanna see if I can turn you on."
Joey barks a laugh. "you can turn me on. We don't need to test that. C'mere." Justin doesn't seem to hear. His mouth is open, his hand is moving. Joey can see its outline through the loose slacks. He's looking.
"You know what turns me on?" Justin asks. Joey brings his own leg up, lets himself lean against the arm of the couch. Props his arms up, away from his body. He says, "what."
"Chris fucking JC."
Joey's eyes widen. His stomach jumps. "Chris doesn't fuck JC."
Justin grins, it looks feral. "Maybe he does. while you're on the bus with Lance, maybe Chris fucks JC on our bus, and I get to watch." Justin tugs his shirt up and splays the hand that isn't in his pants across his stomach.
He says, "I'm layin' in my bunk and I hear something out front, so I go check it out, and they're out there. They know I'm there, but they keep going. god, it's so hot. You should see Jayce take it, up against the stove. He makes sounds like he's fuckin' dying."
Joey's arms flex-- one against the back of the couch, the other dangling down to the floor, fingers curling under the upholstery. His eyes watch the movement of Justin's arms, and he's hard and his palms itch.
Joey and Chris used to do this, in Europe. well, not _this_. They would put in some strange porn with gratuitous flashing lights and foreign language and then try to hold off as long as they could, their wrists cementing to the chair arm with sweat, and breath coming tightly in the small, grimy hotel room. Chris always, always won those contests, because he would rub the back of his hand against his mouth and he could hold out forever. And now it seems like he could fuck JC forever.
Justin says, "--and in the sound booth, JC's sucking Chris off. He takes Chris all the way in and Chris has JC's arms pinned above him on the consol." and he's far gone fast, his arm is moving quicker, his fantasies are tripping over each other in their hurry out of his mouth. He hasn't forgotten about Joey-- his slitted eyes are fixed on Joey's jumping thighs, quickly moving chest-- but when he says, "and Joey's fucking Lance," it sure seems like he has.
Joey says, "I'm not fucking Lance," his voice is tight.
"He wants you to. He fucks himself on his own hand, in the shower, and he's thinking about you."
"jesus, Justin."
His shoulders start to rock, counterpart to his hips. He says, "he's thinking about how heavy you'd be on top of him, how your cock would feel." Joey brings his hand to his mouth, moves his mouth on it, breathes into the back of it.
"Lance wants it bad, all the time. at breakfast, and at press conferences, and on stage. fuck, and, at, unh. rehearsals. unnh."
Joey's head falls back, he's looking at the ceiling and Justin's voice scatters into little loud desparate breathy noises. Joey says, "Chris is fucking JC, and," his voice quakes, he clears his throat. "and Joey's fucking Lance. so who's fuckin' Justin?"
"mmm. mm. You are."
"Fuck," and Joey moves forward, his head whips up and he moves over Justin, canopying him. Justin's hand comes up, out of his pants, to wrap around Joey's shoulder, Joey smells the sex. Justin humps up, against Joey's leg, uncontrollably. He tosses his head and groans, "I want it bad, all the time."
Joey props himself over the younger man with one arm, the other hand pulls and jerks at his clothes, and his own clothes, he's not sure what he's going to do. He says, "I know, baby. Yeah, baby."
"baby--" Justin says, voice high. Justin is rocking against him. Joey says "yeah" one more time, and that's it, Justin comes in his pants, and Joey remembers how young he is. Then Justin's hand slides around to Joey's ass, slides down the seam and squeezes up, and brings him hard against Justin's own jumping cock, and Joey remembers that he's young, too. His mind fills with four simultaneous images-- of Justin doing what he's doing to Lance instead of Joey; of JC's brow creasing in concentration while he struggles to open his mouth wider than he ever has for any microphone ; of watching Chris jerk off in Germany through slitted eyes, while Joey panted his own release; of Justin's face beneath him, tight with pleasure. He buries his face in Justin's neck, growls deep in his throat, and comes and comes.
Afterwards, Justin rolls to the side so that Joey can settle his weight, and Justin half-drapes himself over him, and they both breathe. Their heartbeats slow to normal, and the hotel room becomes a hotel room again. Joey heaves a sigh. He says,
"wow. hot."
Justin says brightly, "and convenient."
"Yeah." Joey turns his head, to look at him. "This seems kinda weird."
Justin nuzzles into Joey's shoulder, his big sweaty Joey body, which still hasn't touched his cock yet, technically, and says, "nah. We owe it to the group." Joey chuckles. "Yeah, I guess so." Then he asks, "were you just making that stuff up about the others to turn yourself on?"
Justin mumbles sleepily, "turn you on."
"But is it true?"
"mmm." Justin's hand slips underneath Joey's shirt. "I can make it true."
Joey smiles, lets his head drop back down against the cushion. "oh, yeah? What makes you think that?" Justin grins into the crook of Joey's arm, and Joey laughs.
"Yeah, baby. You're Justin Timberlake."
me