by Chris J
t was a Thursday. I remember that, because I was waiting for ER to come on and reading Macbeth again to kill time. I was alone in my hotel room; the other guys were all off doing their own thing. At the beginning of every tour, we'd all be all over each other, in and out of each other's rooms, not respecting personal distance one bit. Then, towards the end of the tour, it was the opposite.

The moment we weren't trapped in a bus or a dressing room or an interview together, we spread out as far as possible.

So . . . a Thursday, then. Me lying diagonally across the bed with the TV on quietly in the background, relaxing as much as I was able and looking forward to a quiet night, for once. And then he knocked. And I knew it was him by that silly pattern that he always used. It was cute, once. Now it was just annoying.

"It's open," I called out a bit gruffly, putting my book aside and hiding my glasses in a drawer in the bedside table. My spidey senses were telling my that I wasn't going to be able to pick it up again any time soon. "What did you want, Justin?"

He opened and closed the door quickly, pressing his back up against it once he was inside. I would have guessed he was hiding from someone - or something - except that the guy had clearly just gotten laid. He just reeked of it, and had that mussed-hair, glassy-eyed, flushed-skin look about him.

"You busy?" he asked, too nonchalantly to really be that. His eyes darted around the room strangely.

I sighed, but only inwardly. I wasn't really in the mood for Justin - or anyone - tonight, but no, I wasn't busy, and he was one of my best friends, and I'd make time if I had to, anyway, if he needed me to. "I'm not busy," I said finally. "What's up?"

"I just had sex," he said, pushing himself away from the door and walking into the room, coming closer so I could be even more certain than yes, indeed, Justin had just had sex. Like that was a revelation.

"You just had sex," I repeated, propping myself up a bit higher. "And...?"

"With a guy," he finished.

Well, shit. If there was ever set of words I didn't expect to hear out of Justin Timberlake's mouth, that was it. I ran my tongue over my teeth and looked at him for a long time. "Okay," I said finally. "Okay. You just wanted to tell me that?"

Justin practically twitched as he hovered nearby, not sitting, not leaning, just standing there. "I needed to tell someone," he said. "You were the logical choice. The only damn choice, Joey."

I snorted and resisted the urge to hit. "Why? Because we fooled around, once, a long time ago? You didn't think that would make me, maybe, the worst person to tell about this particular event?"

"No," says Justin. "You're the only guy who'll understand--"

I cut him off there; I didn't want to hear it. "You told me you were straight, Justin. You told me you didn't want anything more to happen, and that you were sorry I fell in love with you because you couldn't give me what I wanted. Don't think those words don't still echo in my head sometimes. So now you walk in here and you tell me you have had sex with a guy, now, and I'm the guy who's supposed to understand?"

"Because you're the one who knows what it's like to realize you might be something you thought you weren't," he persisted, though he looked ready to back away if I lashed out at him again. Well, good. "Which is where I am. Right now. This very moment."

Dammit, I didn't want to be understanding about this. I wanted to be childish and wallow in self-pity over how he really was into guys, and it was me he didn't want all along, after all. But fuck, I wasn't allowed to do that. Not when he was right. Not when there wasn't anyone else for him to go to about this. Instead of saying anything, I just sighed and nodded.

"So does that mean I can stay?" he confirmed, taking a tentative seat on the bed. I could feel the damn heat coming off of him.

"Stay," I told him. "Talk. Tell me whatever you need to."

"I was actually hoping we could talk," he said. "You know ... I say things, then you say things, and we get a whole dialogue going."

"Maybe," I grunted. Shit, did he know what he was putting me through here? "I'm still not sure I want to hear this. So just talk already. I'm listening."

"It was good," said Justin. Oh yeah, like I wanted to hear that. "Like ... really good. When you and I ... it scared me then. I didn't know it would feel like this. If I'd known ... "

"Can we try and get through this conversation without bringing up the mistake you made with me?" I muttered, giving him a sidelong glare. "I'm willing to listen, but not to that."

"No," he said. "I can't do that. You're a part of this whole thing I'm talking about here, Joey."

"Fine, get on with it," I said. If he compared the guy he fucked to me, though, so help me God I would not be responsible for what I did.

"I think I'm gay," he said. "Not even bi or anything ... cause sleeping with that guy, Wow! I've never felt anything like it. It weird, though, cause I was always straight before now, and now I know I don't want to be with girls anymore. You know? Well, of course you know. But now it's happening to me."

"You were never straight," I told him, rolling my eyes where he couldn't see. "That's your first lesson in gaydom. You don't change, you just discover things about yourself you never knew. You acted straight, but that doesn't mean you were."

"Fine, I thought I was straight," he said. "Jeez, you've got something up your ass tonight, don't you?"

No, I don't, thankyouverymuch, and that's part of the damn problem, you moron. "How would you feel, if you were me?" I asked him. "Great, you're gay, and you found someone to sleep with who's great in bed. Why aren't you talking to him about this?"

"He's gone," said Justin. "I paid him and he left."

"You slept with a whore?" I practically shouted at him, suddenly forgetting the whole woe-is-me schtick. "What were you thinking?"

He cringed and drew away from me. "I had my reasons."

"What possible reason could you have for doing that? Even I don't pay for sex."

"I just wanted to know what it was like," he said. "No strings attached. Uh ... no pun intended there. You know, you're not being very understanding about all this. What if I'd been, like, really traumatized about being gay?"

"You're not," I said flatly. "No one who's that excited about gay sex can be particularly traumatized by it. Shit, Justin ... you know, there are other options, if you're curious about being with a guy, than running out and buying one."

"It was more like renting," he corrected. "And ... the other options wouldn't have worked. The ones I considered, anyway."

Renting. Yeah, the guy was a laugh a minute. "Well, congrats, you're not only gay, you're also a John. Hope you feel good about that."

"You don't have to make me feel so dirty," he said. "And why aren't you asking any of the right questions?"

"The right questions?" I scoffed. "Enlighten me, Justin, what are the right questions? Because, honestly, the only question I can think of right now is ... why are you telling me all this, when you're already so damn well-adjusted? Are you trying to hurt me here? Cause you're doing just a first class job of it."

"Ask me what the other options I considered were, or something," he said. "You know, I was having such a great night, until--"

"Yeah, so was I," I interrupted him. "Nice quiet night ... good book ... no interruptions ... " I sighed, longing for that moment twenty minutes ago when I could have just not answered the door. "So what, exactly, did you consider before you decided you needed to pick up some cheap whore?"

"I considered asking you."

"Ah," I said. I'd been expecting that, strangely, but that still didn't make it any easier to hear. "Nice to know that you'd choose to pay for sex rather than come to me. Warms the heart."

"No!" he said. "I mean yes, yeah, okay, that's what I chose -- and he was not cheap, for the record -- but ... you don't understand."

Unfortunately, I thought I did. Once again I tried to put myself in that 'understanding' frame of mind that he claimed he needed from me, but the wounds of our past ran too deep. Fuck it all, anyway.

"I didn't, because I didn't want to hurt you again. Not like I did before. I wanted to be sure before I came to you."

"Came to me for what exactly?" I asked him. If it was advice ... well, who am I kidding. I'd give it to him. But I sure as hell didn't have to like it.

Justin swallowed nervously. "That day?" he began. "When I told you I didn't want to be with you, like that?" He paused. "I, uh, think I was wrong."

"You were ... what?"

"I was wrong," said Justin. His voice was sheepish, but he was grinning at me optimistically. "I do want to be with you. Like that. And everything else that I couldn't imagine at the time but know all about, now."

I am a weak, weak man, when it comes down to it. "Cocky shit," I said, grinning at him almost ferociously. "One night and you think you know everything? There are still a shitload of things I'm gonna have to teach you ... " And then I shut up and kissed him, because if I didn't I was going to say something to fuck it all up and I didn't want that, not at all.

Turns out, I wasn't gonna have to teach him so much after all. Not if that damn kiss was any indication. I wanted to be mad at him, just a little bit longer, make him realize how crappy he'd made me feel all this time ... but this was my chance and dammit I was still in love with him and I was not gonna blow it, not this time. This time he was gonna be mine, and stay mine.

"So ... is there where we talk about it or something?" asked Justin, suddenly uncertain. Ha. Who's the cocky shit, now?

"Like hell," I said, pinning him to the bed. "Now's when we fuck. Later's when we talk. Unless there's something really, really critical that you need to say to me right now that'll change where this is going ... ?"

"Um ... no ... " said Justin. "I'm okay with where this is going. Did I mention that I just had sex, though?"

"Yes," I said. Like I hadn't noticed that the moment he'd walked in the door. The guy was wearing it like a badge of honour, or a leopard G-string. "And now you're going to do it better. Any objections?"

"No," said Justin as I ripped his shirt off over his head and ran a hand down his chest to the waist of his pants. "Um ... yeah ... no." I smiled at him and hoped I'd put him off-balance. I wanted him to enjoy this more than he'd enjoyed anything before in his life, but I also wanted him to know that I wanted to be in control, if only for a little while.

"Good," I said, looming over him and stripping my own shirt off. "Because I'd really hate to stop now. And I think--" I stopped to kiss him, thoroughly, my body covering his. "--that you'd really hate me to stop now, too."

He whimpered a bit, but a broad smile was spreading across his face. Maybe he was finally realizing I was forgiving him, for everything, and taking him up on his offer. 'Bout damn time, too. Hard to do this all by myself. "So, who's gonna fuck who? Since you're the new kid, I'll let you decide. This time."

"Me inside you," said Justin. "I've dreamed about it. I've written about it. I've masturbated to the fantasy. Pleeeeeease Joey ... "

He was begging. We were in a very, very good place now. "Okay," I said agreeably. "Did I mention that's the only decision that you get to make tonight?" I had to soften a bit when he started to look scared. "Trust me, Justin," I said. "I've loved you for-fucking-ever. I'm gonna make this good, for both of us."

"I know," said Justin, and just like that he relaxed. It make me kinda tingly to know that he trusted me that much. Still leaning over him, I unbuckled his pants and slid them down his legs. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and smelled strongly of sex now. Blowjob, unless I missed my guess. Probably gave and received. Boy, was he in for a shock . . .

I stripped off my own clothes, getting that bit done with. People make that stuff out to be all romantic but, really ... clothes just get in the way. Period. I started touching Justin's body, everywhere, playing out a hundred fantasies that I'd entertained over the years. He was as firm and as soft and as warm and as cool as I'd always imagined.

"Oh God, I didn't know, I didn't know," whispered Justin as I stroked and touched and kissed and licked his body. I almost wanted him to shut up, didn't want to be reminded of all that time between then and now, when I was his and he wasn't mine and he was barely even aware that the fact was an issue. But if he shut up then I wouldn't hear his voice and that would be a damn shame.

"You can touch me," I said when I realized he was just lying there, soaking it all in, letting me do all the work. It's one thing to be in control; it's another entirely to be doing everything. "Actually, how about this, Please touch me. Any time now." He opened his eyes and grinned at me and reached up to touch my arms, my chest, my thighs.

"That's more like it," I said as he touched me with more enthusiasm, grabbing desperately at the muscles of my arms as I finally touched his erection, barely brushing against it, teasing him. I liked to be teased, and I liked to tease.

"You're worse than Brit," he moaned as I pulled away, touched the sensitive skin of his stomach, pinched his nipples just hard enough to be felt. "She was all bounce and slobber. She was--" He gasped as I sucked on his Adam's apple. "--all tease right 'til the bedroom door shut, then there was, like, no mystery anymore ... "

"I'm not a mystery," I warned him, mouthing his flesh until it reddened beneath my lips. "You're gonna see all of me tonight. Feel all of me. Touch all of me. And I'm tired of you being a mystery to me. I want to know you ... know your body and your turn-ons and what noises you make when you come."

"Do you--" He gasped again as I sucked hard on a nipple "--ever shut up while you're having sex?" I sucked the other nipple into my mouth, hoping to get another delightful gasp. I got a moan instead. Which wasn't a bad thing, not at all, because Justin's moans were even more of a turn-on that his gasps.

"No," I said. "I don't. Except when my mouth is full. I like to talk during sex. I like to tell you everything I'm going to do. I like to tell you how I'm feeling when you do things to me. I like to mutter and talk and moan and yell and whisper lustful things in your ear as we fuck. I'm just like that."

"I could get used to that," he said. Which was good because I wasn't kidding--I do talk all the damn time during sex. So sue me, it's a personal quirk. Some people get off on it and some people run screaming. I had the feeling that Justin was gonna be staying -- a very good thing.

"I'm gonna suck your cock now," I told him, licking his chest, "because I think we've both waited long enough already. More than long enough. And because it looks so hard and so warm and I like sucking cock and I've been dreaming about yours for a long, long time now." And then I did, cause I'm not all talk.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he said and I had to stop damn quick before he came right then and there. That wasn't what he'd asked for, after all. I kissed his flat stomach again, traced his muscles with my tongue.

"You know, Justin," I said as his hands roamed higher on my back. "You're gonna have a hard time fucking me if you can't even touch my ass." I reached behind me and grabbed one of his hands, planting it firmly on my cheek. That was more like it. "Go ahead, have some fun . . . I'll tell you if something feels good." I kissed his lips again. "Trust me."

'I do," he said and grabbed me roughly, just roughly enough to be fun. Thank god he wasn't treating me like I was delicate or something. Thank god he wasn't treating me like he'd treat a girl. Because if there was one thing I wasn't ... I kissed him again, nibbling at his lips, and finally -- finally! -- he reached between my cheeks and touched my hole tentatively.

I pushed back against him so he wouldn't go away. "What?" I said. "You think, somehow, I'm not gonna want you to do that? That's the whole point, Justin. Touch me. Have fun. Notice how I'm not stopping you." I smiled and kissed him again and he touched me, a little more surely this time. A little more curiously. Guess I was right about the only-blow-jobs thing.

"You're so fucking hot," I told him as my body slid over his, sweat forming. His skin tasted salty under my lips. "Lube's in my bag. Why don't you try sliding a finger into me?" Well . . . couldn't get much blunter that that, could I? Somehow, I didn't think taking hints was his strong point. But that wasn't what I loved him for, so that was just fine with me.

"Um, you're on top of me," he pointed out.

"Good point," I said, sliding off him and lying on my stomach on the bed. No sense making this harder for him than I had to. Once he was comfortable with my body, then we could be more adventurous. Right now, what was already happening was good, so good, so dreamed-of good. "Go ahead."

He hesitated, then bounced off the bed and ripped open my bag. "Where?" he said, desperately, putting out my last pair of clean underwear and tossing them on the floor. "Where is it? What does it look like?"

I had to laugh. So sue me. I mean 'what does it look like?'! God, if his conquests could hear him now. "It's a tube. It's in the side. Don't panic, Justin ... I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," he said breathlessly. "I got it. Wow, this is messy." I felt him come back, felt him touch my back, then my ass. And I smiled. Another one of those 'dream' moments was approaching fast. If the last one had every really ended. It was gonna kill me if this was a one-time thing for him. But I was going for it anyway.

I pushed up against him and hoped he'd get the hint. When he didn't, I moaned softly. "Justin ... listen to me. Coat your finger with the stuff, then just slide it inside me, okay? Don't worry about a thing, just go slow and it's gonna feel great for me, okay? It'll get me ready for when you fuck me...which is going to be soon if I have anything to say about it ... "

I groaned when he finally did. The guy was born to have sex. I swear it. Took to it like a duck to water. "God, yes," I said. "That's just right. Damn, Justin. That good for you, too?"

"Uh huh," he mumbled, stroking in and out a little bit. I couldn't help but squirm. So much for control. "Okay ... I'm inside you," he said, sounding awed. "This is so amazing. I'm inside you, Joey."

"I noticed," I said, and squirmed some more. "You can try two, if you want." He hesitated. Never thought I'd say this about Justin, but dumbfuck. "Hmm ... let me put this another way. Try two. Don't forget the lube. Thanks."

"Oh, God," I said, as he slid a second finger inside me. He didn't know how to find the prostate, but the guy got lucky. Or I did. Either way, I felt damn good. He finally got a little more confidence, too, touching me a bunch of other places that just made it ... yeah. "Do that again. And again. And, actually, as many times as you want."

"Yeah, okay," said Justin, stroking me harder and faster. His other hand left his body; I think he was stroking himself. I thrust back against him.

"Okay ... if you want to fuck me now, you can," I said. "I'd like it if you did. Condom's are where you found the lube. And use lots of lube. And -- " I sighed as he continued to finger fuck me. " -- damn, I'm having a good time. You're wonderful."

"This is so amazing," said Justin, still sounding awed. "I, um, already grabbed a condom. I hope that wasn't too forward." I heard him rip the package open and tucked my knees up underneath me, so I was completely open to him.

"Too forward? You're kidding me, right? We already agreed we were going to have sex ... kinda hard to be too forward after that, Justin." I wiggled a little bit, feeling the loss of his fingers acutely. "Go slow. I'll stop you if it hurts. And . . . I love you. If I haven't said that already." I'd wanted this forever. For-fucking-ever. And it was finally happening.

He was nervous as he slowly pushed his cock into me. I could tell by the way his hand was trembling on my back. But that was okay because he was finally having sex with me, and we were both loving it, and it almost -- almost -- made all that torture before this worthwhile. Fuck, who am I kidding, In my heart, it was all okay. All okay. I wanted him, period, and I was having him.

"Oh my God," he said aloud. "This is so fantastic. Do you know what his feels like?"

"Yes," I said, pushing back to make him go faster. He went inside easily, smoothly, and right now I just wanted sex, sex, sex. "Do you know what this feels like? No, you don't. But you will, if you want. And I'm betting you'll want, Justin, because I feel so full and so tingly and so ... just fuck me already before I degrade myself and beg."

"What if I want you to beg?" said Justin but he didn't push his luck. I would have, though. Begged. If that's what it would have taken. Like I said -- I'm a weak, weak man. He finally started stroking in and out of me and he wasn't meek, he didn't start out at a painfully slow, he just started driving in and out at a steady pace, and hitting my prostate on nearly every stroke. Beginner's luck. Gotta love it.

"Just keep doing that," I said, rocking against him with every stroke. "That's all I will ever, ever ask you for." Okay, that was a lie, but everyone lies during sex. I was also going to ask him for a blowjob, but not until later.

"You think I can stop?" said Justin and he laughed, not like it was funny or like he was being mean but like he was so damn happy he couldn't do anything but laugh. Which was just, like, the perfect thing to do. If he kept this up he was gonna come soon but, hell, so was I. No problem. Mission accomplished -- best sex of his young life -- and we were both young and healthy. We could do it again.

"Oh, shit," exclaimed Justin, and then it happened. He yelled and he came. Whaddaya know, Justin's a screamer. And ... remember that thing I had about talking and sex? Works both ways. I heard Justin shout through his orgasm and BAM, I was staining the sheets.

He fell against me and people may look light when they're prancing around on stage but when they're slumping against you in bed in post-orgasmic bliss, they're damn heavy. He slipped out of me and I rolled him to the side, curling an arm around him and holding him close. It was too hot to be particularly comfortable but who gave a fuck because it was Justin and he just fucked me and the world could end and I wouldn't care. Well, I would, but not nearly as much as I would have if I'd never had my chance with Justin Timberlake.

"That was too short," mumbled Justin, grabbing onto my hand and holding me there. "Not that I'm complaining."

"What, you think it's over?" I nudged him with my knee and squeezed his chest. No way was it ending now. No. Over my dead body.

"I hope not," he said. "I hope it's never over."

Well, me too, but I wasn't gonna say that. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. "Good," I said instead, and started touching him.

And so we did it all over again.

And when I looked at the clock much, much later I realized that I'd forgotten about ER. Entirely. But that was okay, really, because ER or no ER, it had definitely been a Thursday for the books.

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