Never jerk off when you're angry.

No matter how turned on you are by the person you're fighting with.

That was what Chris reminded himself of as he looked down at his reddened hand, his raw dick and the streams of come he'd shot across the toilet seat, that had even splashed up onto the tank.

Tucking himself back in, he washed his hands and flushed the toilet but, in a fit of contrariness, didn't bother cleaning up the mess. He stepped out of the bathroom and barely gave the still-occupied living room a glance before heading straight through to the empty kitchen. He felt sick and dirty and he was still mad at hell...but now figured it might have been more at himself than anyone.

###

Lance stared at his hands, picking at his nails again. He didn't know what was going on this time, but Chris had stomped past him and out of the room. He watched Joey cross the room towards him, his jaw twitching as he sat down heavily next to Lance.

"This is very fucked up," said Joey. "How long is this gonna go on?"

"If I knew what was going on," said Lance, giving him a weary sigh. "I would tell you. You know that."

"Remember in good ol' days when we actually *liked* each other?"

"It wasn't that long ago," said Lance wistfully, looking out at the balcony where he knew JC had gone after Chris had stormed out.

"Yeah. What *happened*?" Joey bit pensively at his bottom lip. "Fuck."

"I don't know," Lance admitted, looking down at his hands again, still picking at his nails.

"They never shoulda started fucking..." Joey shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"They aren't," said Lance. "That's part of the problem. Maybe. I don't know."

"I didn't mean Chris and JC, I meant ... " Joey glanced in the direction of the balcony, then the kitchen. He and Lance were sitting on a couch that was smack in between. "We're at ground zero, bro."

"Thank God Justin's not here," Lance mumbled, wishing that he, too, was somewhere else entirely.

"Yeah...kid nearly punked me into a wall before, trying to get out." Joey shook his head again, his leg bouncing on the carpet. "We all need to just sit down and talk about...things."

"Good luck." Lance looked at him for a moment before his eyes darted away.

Joey just grunted.

###

JC lit another cigarette with the remains of his first and frowned out over the balcony. He had to stop this fighting with Chris, with Justin, with all of them. Reaching into his pocket, he turned off his cell phone; he knew that, sooner or later, Justin would call...and he didn't have the patience to deal with his shit right then.

"Fuck me," he muttered, blowing smoke into the early evening air, hoping to God that the kid hadn't gone back to JC's house and, like, cooked his proverbial bunny.

###

Chris grasped the handle of the cupboard and opened and closed it repeatedly. Compulsively. Loudly. He knew eventually someone would come to him, and he liked it better that way than the other way 'round.

###

"Is it my turn to get him?" Lance asked, gesturing towards the kitchen, already knowing the answer.

Joey nodded, looking back over at the balcony. "I'll get JC again. But if he throws me over...I love you, man."

Lance just sighed and didn't return the endearment right away. He didn't really want to be the one to deal with Chris, but he did it the best. "Right back at you," he said finally as he stood up, looking at the kitchen. "I hate this."

"Me too," Joey agreed softly, then headed for the balcony.

Lance walked into the kitchen and put his hand on the cabinet, holding it shut.

"I was using that," said Chris flatly, letting his hand drop from the handle. He tried not to express any triumph at the fact that he'd managed to lure someone in. "You need something?"

"You were using that to make a lot of noise to call attention to yourself," said Lance coolly. "Well, I'm here paying attention to you."

"I'll choose something quieter next time," lied Chris. "Got a stress ball you can lend me?"

"Why don't we go do the usual instead?" Lance asked. At Chris's knowing smirk, he added, "I have the gloves in my room."

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes, definitely not in the mood for Lance's little games. "Not this time," he said after a moment, playing along. "I've already burned off most of the energy. Tempting, though."

###

JC jumped slightly at the racket coming from inside the house and smiled ruefully, realizing that Chris had just ruined any chance that JC would be left alone, too. And probably knew it.

True to his expection, Joey opened the sliding glass door and stuck his head out. "Jace. Hey."

Leaning over further, JC rested his weight on the railing and picked up his feet a little. "Joe. What's going on?" His voice was neutral.

"Chris is slamming things, Lance is being all...Lance, with him, and I'm out here with you." Joey stepped out and slid the glass door closed behind him. "How you doing?"

JC shrugged. "Okay." He wasn't gonna give anything away. Reaching into his coat for his pack of cigarettes, he held it out to Joey who took one and stuck it in his mouth, leaning in for JC to light it. The flame flashed heat briefly across his cheek and he leaned back, taking a long drag.

"So how much longer are you and Chris gonna do this, huh?"

JC sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said flatly, sticking his lighter back in his jeans and giving Joey an appraising look. "I was dealing with the other immature one." It was partly true, at least. Not the *whole* story, but what ever was?

"Mm." Joey flicked some ash over the side. "So this is a Justin anger thing? If that's true then why the hell is Chris slamming things in the kitchen? Why'd you two do the cold shoulder/eyes of death thing when you passed each other in the living room?"

"I wasn't even looking at Chris; you'll have to ask him about the eyes of death. If that's what he was doing." JC's voice was still very calm, and a little raspy from what was now three straight cigarettes.

"So what happened with Justin, then?" Joey asked, looking at JC closely.

JC started rubbing his forehead. "He tried to pull his typical, paranoid, primadonna bullshit, and I'm not in the mood for it. One of these days it's just not gonna be worth it at all."

"Paranoid?" Joey raised an eyebrow. "Paranoid about what?"

JC arched his eyebrow at Joey before climbing up to sit on the railing. "Me fucking Chris. Supposedly. Or the other way around; I always forget."

Joey looked at JC warily, taking a step back from the railing. He had a Pretty Woman flashback and gave himself a mental headshake. "Are you fucking Chris?"

JC laughed hollowly, swinging his legs. "Are you?"

"No, of course not. And shit, man, you're making me nervous, mind getting down?"

"Yes," JC replied petulantly, smirking, before he pulled his smokes out again. "I mind. You don't have to stay out here."

"Yeah, I kinda do," Joey nodded, looking a little away. "And you really didn't answer my question."

"No, I didn't," JC agreed, staring at Joey's profile as he tried to size up how nervous he really was. He didn't want to discuss this, but hurting Joey wasn't on his agenda etiher. "You can go inside, man. You got to be Mr. Sensitive for two minutes; you tried. Valiant attempt to help, and all that."

Joey looked back at JC, eyeing him carefully, his mouth twisted as he thought for a moment. "You know, this isn't just about you or Justin. Or Chris. This whole thing is fucking us *all* up. You think me and Lance *like* hearing the three of you bitch at each other, that we like playing marriage councellor? We're trying to help 'cause we give a shit, I don't need this fucking attitude from you. Fuck you."

"Hey." JC held up a hand soothingly. "Relax. I'm not giving you attitude, I'm being serious. You tried. I'm just telling you that you're wasting your time out here if you think I'm gonna say anything more."

###

"What happened this time?" Lance asked.

"A difference of opinion," said Chris vaguely, like he usually did. He bumped Lance's hand away from the cupboard and opened it, taking out a bottle of dark rum. It was all he could see. "Want one?" he asked as he poured himself a drink.

Lance nodded. "Do I get to play twenty questions again to try and find out what happened?"

"We always do," said Chris, pouring Lance a drink as well. He wondered if Lance would actually drink it, this time.

Lance hopped up on the counter, taking the drink from Chris. "Do I need to clean up anyone's blood?"

Chris smirked. "No, no blood," he acknowledged.

"Well that's good. Which one is the culprit this time? Justin or JC?"

"There's a difference?" asked Chris, drinking his drink in one, smooth swallow.

"I guess not," said Lance, dipping his pinky into the glass, lifting it to his mouth and sucking the rum off it. "Did it have to do with the fact that Justin thinks you're sleeping with JC?"

"Doesn't it always?" said Chris, rather enjoying the fact that a question always seemed the appropriate response to each of Lance's.

"Okay..." Lance trailed off. "Justin told me that he walked in on you and JC fighting the other evening except it seemed like the fighting was foreplay to the two of you. What do you have to say to that?"

Chris snorted. "I think Justin is projecting." He poured himself another drink and swallowed it immediately.

"Was Justin projecting?" asked Lance. "Or was what he saw some sort of twisted foreplay between you?"

"I think you know what I always say when you ask stuff like that," said Chris, reaching for the bottle again. He was just barely starting to feel it. "None of your business, Lance. It's none of your business." ###

"Who I'm fucking is none of your business."

"You used to be able to talk to me," said Joey.

"I do talk to you." JC shrugged. "About almost everything. But what do you think getting in the middle of this is gonna help? Why aren't you chasing after Justin?"

"'Cause Justin ain't here and I haven't known Justin for ten years and I want to talk to *you*. I want to know what the hell is going on between my friends." Joey sighed a little, looked down at his hand and realized he'd let his cigarette burn down to the filter. "And we're already in the middle of it."

"Hmm." JC nodded, slightly chastised, and jumped down off the railing. "Okay. How will me telling you whether or not Chris and I are screwing help resolve anything, then?"

Joey shrugged. "It won't. You know what? Fine...okay. None of my business. Don't tell me. But this fighting...? It's gonna break us up, just in case you haven't clued into that yet. It's gonna murder the group."

Frowning, JC threw his arms around Joey's waist and embraced him tightly. "Whatever this is," he mumbled into his shirt, "it won't come to that, Joe. Really."

Joey was taken a little off-guard by the sudden hug, but he brought his arms up to hug him, squeezing back. "JC, it's already happening. It's showing through on stage, in interviews, the hostility's everywhere, man, like... This isn't gonna get better if you don't *fix* it somehow, or talk, or something. And me and Lance can't play patch-up forever, running blindly back and forth between the three of you. I won't do that."

JC stiffened a little at the criticism, but didn't let go. "Look, if anything's 'showing through,' that's between Justin and Chris. Me and Justin have always been able to keep our shit together in public."

Joey pulled away a little. "Well, what if I said it makes me feel bad. Does that mean anything to you?"

"I can't help what Justin thinks," JC muttered, pushing Joey away completely once the other man pulled back. "None of this is my fault, and it sure as hell isn't something I'd want to upset you."

Joey leaned back against the wall and watched the other man for a while. "None of it's your fault? Really? So you're a totally innocent party in *all* of this?" Joey chewed his bottom lip. "What the fuck is going *on*?"

###

"Okay then," Lance hopped off the counter. "Since you aren't going to answer my questions and you don't want to go get your aggression out by hitting a punching bag with me, I'm not much help at the moment."

"Yes," said Chris, slamming his palm into the cupboard with an echoing bang. He smiled.

Lance growled a little. "I hate it when you do that. What are you, five?"

"I like making noise," said Chris, shrugging and backing away from the cupboards. "Makes me feel better."

"I didn't mean the noise, jackass," Lance sighed, putting his glass on the counter. "I meant the non-answers. You give answers a little kid would give. Hell, I'm used to the damn noise you make all the time."

"Maybe I don't want to answer," said Chris. "Maybe I don't know *how* to answer. Maybe I'm just being an ass."

"I think it's safe to say that you're being an ass. That's a given. As for the other two, I guess only you know that," Lance smiled sadly. "You know that I'm only trying to help, right?"

"You can't," said Chris. "This is too fucked up for even *your* help. You want another drink?"

Lance looked at his full glass and back at Chris. "No. You can have mine though."

Chris smiled knowingly and took it. "Thanks," he said, and downed it far too easily.

"How many was that?" Lance asks. "Have you had five yet?"

Chris held up four fingers.

"Okay, have one more and then lets move onto the next step in this little game," Lance said to him, motioning for him to pour another drink. Chris rolled his eyes at Lance, but didn't decline. Lance picked up the bottle and looked at it. "This isn't what you normally drink," he said, killing time until Chris was ready to move on.

"Beggars can't be choosers," said Chris with a shrug, setting the empty glass down on the counter and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He nodded at Lance almost imperceptibly.

Lance reached for Chris's arm and led him out of the kitchen, into one of the bedrooms. He sat Chris down and shut the door. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if Joey ever actually volunteered to be the one to deal with you."

###

"Look," JC started, then turned away and changed what he was going to say. "Look. Joe. You *know* me, better than anyone else, and you know I'm no fucking angel. *Justin* knows I'm no fucking angel. But this shit with Chris...well. I didn't start it."

"You didn't start it? Start an affair, start an argument, start *what*? Stop the vagueness, just tell me, man." Joey reached out to tug on JC's elbow.

JC let Joey pull him against his body again. "I'm not being vague on purpose," he said seriously, looking up at Joey. "I wouldn't even know what to call it. And if I did, you wouldn't want to know."

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to know. I wouldn't be out here with you if I didn't want to know," Joey said, putting his hand on JC's back.

JC was silent for a minute. "What do you think of Justin and me, Joey? Really."

"Right now? Fucked up."

"Seriously, Joe." JC frowned, burying his head in the other man's shirt again, taking advantage of the affection with the one person who gave it selflessly. "Why do you think we're together?"

"Serious? I was serious, you two are kinda fucked up. You argue, then you have sex, and then you just hate each other. I don't remember the last time I actually saw you *smile* at each other, or something nice like that. As for why you're together..." Joey shrugged. "Love?" he tried, dully.

JC bit his lip. "Huh. Love." He pondered that for a minute. "No," he said finally. "We're not in love. When he pulls this jealous boyfriend shit, it might seem like he cares about me, but I really think it's just him pulling some alpha-male crap."

"Then why are you together?"

"Sex," JC admitted. "And it's easier than breaking up, usually. Or at least it was."

"You can get sex anywhere," Joey huffed, patting JC on the back a little awkwardly. "And breaking up? Band-aid, man. One smooth motion. Don't draw it out...'cause that's what this is, you know. You're picking at the stiches."

"Not everywhere," JC said, frowning. "And if we break up now, he'll blame Chris, and things'll just get worse."

"So you're gonna do it in a week? A month? It'll just make it worse, man. You'll hate each other more and more and Justin will hate *Chris* more and more and nothing will be better if you wait. And okay, not everywhere, but you know what I mean."

"We don't hate each other," JC retorted weakly, pulling away and leaning back against the railing again. He shivered and rubbed his arms briskly. "So, if you were me, you'd dump him? Just like that? *Justin*, you'd dump."

Joey walked over to JC and put a hand on either side of him, his hands gripping the railing, blocking him in. He loomed slightly over him. "You will, if you don't do something. Hate each other. And you know what, C? I don't know what I'd do...but I can see, right now, that if you don't do something, if you don't change *something*...it's just gonna end real, real badly."

###

Chris smirked at Lance. "Joey helping me out," he mused. "It would be a learning experience?"

"Yeah right," Lance shook his head. "He would freak out on you. Then I would have to deal with a Joey-freak-out as well."

"Joey doesn't freak out," argued Chris.

"I guess I'm the only one who deals with that, too," Lance said, reaching down to unbutton Chris's shirt.

"You and Joey are so damn *private*," complained Chris, dizziness overtaking him for a second. "We never know what the hell goes on behind closed doors with you two. You don't share."

"Do you tell anyone what you and I do behind closed doors?" Lance asked, pulling Chris's shirt off and kneeling down to take off his shoes.

"Nope," lied Chris. "They wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Why would they?" Lance laughed, pushing Chris so he was lying on the bed.

"I like it being our little secret," said Chris, his words slurring slightly.

Lance lifted Chris's hips and slid his pants off, tossing them on the floor as well. He rolled Chris onto his back, straddling his waist, and slowly started to massage his shoulders. "Do you have any other little secrets you want to tell me about?"

"I have no secrets," said Chris, moaning softly. "Don't you believe me?"

Lance moved his hands a little further down Chris's back, pressing firmly. "I know you're lying to me now but I also know that you won't tell me the truth yet. If you even do at all."

"You know why I like you, Lance?" said Chris. "Because you're a smart guy."

"Yeah." Lance laughed bitterly. "That's why you like me. Sure."

"It is," insisted Chris, burrowing into the bed. Lance knew he wasn't getting an answer, but when they got to this point it didn't matter so much anymore. And they usually got to this point.

"It has nothing to do with this," Lance leaned over and whispered in Chris's ear. "Does it? Not one bit."

"Not one bit," whispered Chris, a genuine grin finally on his face.

"Good," Lance said, sucking on Chris's earlobe. He'd gotten his answers for the moment; it was time to move on.

###

JC tried to press as far away from Joey as the railing would allow. "You wouldn't dump him either."

"Yeah? And why is that, C? Enlighten me. He that good a lay? So good that you're willing to go through all this hell for it?"

Shrinking back a little more, JC's voice got softer. "I don't...I'm not..." He closed his eyes. "You just said you didn't know what you'd do, if you were me. I'm just emphasizing the fact that it's not an easy decision to make."

"But I'm not you, fortunuately. And I'm *asking* you these things, hoping it gets through to you." Joey leaned in a little more. "Why are you with Justin? Really. Why are you putting yourself, everyone, through this?"

JC couldn't move back any more, and he didn't know how to react to Joey's intimidating movements. "It's not my fault," he repeated again, unnecessarily. "I'm not a cocktease, right? Right, Joe?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything? Is that what he said?" Joey asked, not looking away from JC's eyes, not letting JC look away either. "Is that what this is about, why you're brooding out here?"

"It's not what just one "he" said, no," JC replied, flatly.

Joey leaned back minutely and his elbows drew inward, brushing JC's arms. "Okay," he said slowly. "So two "he"s called you a cocktease. Is that what you're telling me?"

"You didn't answer my question," JC said instead, flinching away from Joey's arms.

"You're not a cocktease." Joey looked at JC evenly. "This is a royal mess, and it just keeps getting messier. Am I suppose to play Sherlock Holmes now? Piece together all these little clues and come up with the answer?"

"What clues?" JC said shrilly, trying to push his way out of Joey's embrace. "I told you, I'm not being vague on purpose. I don't know what's going on. Justin's picking fights with me, Chris is picking fights with me, then they bitch out each other. And insult me, in the process. It's so much fun, but not a damn mystery," he finished, wryly.

"Then *dump* his fucking ass!" Joey said, just as loudly. "I keep on thinking you're fucking keeping things from me 'cause you're this fucking *stranger* all of a sudden, and I have no idea what's wrong other than it has to do with Justin. And now you tell me you aren't even happy with him but you're staying with him anyway? What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Unbidden tears sprang to JC's eyes when Joey started yelling at him. "I'm not a stranger to you," he said. "And I'm not *not* happy with Justin, it's just ... Chris."

###

"Uh huh, good," mumbled Chris. He wondered if the tingling in his hands was normal, but shrugged it off. It was good rum.

Lance ran his hands down Chris's sides, still straddling his waist. He continued to lick and suck his ear and neck, waiting for a signal from Chris to move on. This was how it went.

Chris moaned. "Joey teach you that one?" he asked as Lance swirled his tongue on his skin.

Lance bit down on Chris's shoulder. "No." He kissed the bite. "You know you won't get anything out of me, Chris."

"I'm rather hoping I'll get *some*thing outta you," slurred Chris. "Otherwise, what's the point?"

"You'll get the usual out of me." Lance moved on to kiss down Chris's spine.

"Lucky me," said Chris, wiggling, remembering the last time this happened, the last time they'd fought like this. The last time Lance had stpeed in to make him all better. And the alcohol was numbing the soreness in his dick, which could only be a good thing.

Lance flipped Chris over and attached his lips to Chris's collarbone, sucking a little, his hands slipping into Chris's boxers. "Want me to stop?" he asked when he felt nothing down there.

"Hell no," said Chris, frowning. "Why?"

"You're not hard." Lance sat up, looking at him.

Chris reached down and felt his crotch. "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "Give him a minute. He's already had a workout today."

Lance sighed and started to massage Chris's chest slowly, his palms flat against the skin. "If you can't even tell that you're not hard what's the point? You won't feel anything anyway."

"I'm not giving up on this," growled Chris. "I want...well, *fuck*."

Lance looked down and then back up at Chris. "What was that for?"

Chris squeezed his dick and tried to get a rise out of it, pinching his own nipple to speed it along. Slowly it started to thicken.

"That's better," Lance said, taking Chris's nipple between his teeth and biting gently. He reached down and began to stroke Chris himself, finally feeling him respond. "Can you feel this now?"

"Yes," sighed Chris in relief.

Lance made his way down Chris's body, stripping his boxers all the way off. "I'm glad. I would hate to think you wouldn't feel one of *my* blowjobs."

"Not possible," insisted Chris, squirming again. "Not. Fucking. Possible."

Lance sucked on Chris's hipbone, swirling his tongue over it. He kept his hands firmly on Chris's hips, knowing his tendency to thrust up when Lance first took him in his mouth -- he'd learned how to prevent that by now. Quickly, he took the head into his mouth, sucking lightly.

Chris slammed both fists into the mattress, and let out a yelp.

Lance licked roughly over the head of Chris's cock, his tongue licking under the head before he moved down the underside of Chris's cock. He paused to suck on Chris's balls for a moment before moving back up again and latching his lips around the head, his tongue swirling as he sucked him.

"Fuck," Chris blurted out, his head spinning. "You should fucking *charge* for this."

Lance laughed at that with Chris still in his mouth. He just continued sucking and licking and nibbling on the flesh, his hands holding Chris down with as much strength as he had.

Chris struggled against him, feeling the need to just *fuck* something and damn the consequences.

Lance pulled away and glared at him. "You aren't just going to be happy with the blowjob are you?"

"Yes!" protested Chris. "Yes, I am! Get back down there, damn you!"

"Then. Don't. Thrust," Lance said evenly. "Understand me?"

Chris sighed, closed his eyes and nodded. "Fine. Okay. No thrusting. Got it."

"Thank you," Lance said before leaning over and taking him in his mouth again. He held Chris's hips down again anyway despite the promise. He knew Chris would still try.

Chris did try to keep himself still, but it just wasn't in his nature -- his whole sexual life, he'd gotten complaints about that -- and Lance was moving fast. He sucked hard on Chris, his tongue licking everywhere it could. His nails dug into Chris's hips as he held him down, feeling Chris try to thrust up. He'd let him. He always did. Just not yet.

Chris 's body began tightening and every instinct, every muscle, rebelled against what he was forcing them to do. Or not to do, as the case had been.

Lance prepared himself, opening his mouth wider and relaxing his throat. He moved his hands off Chris's hips, resting them on the bed, giving Chris the go-ahead to thrust until he came.

Chris 's hips shot of the bed the moment that they were able, thrusting into Lance's mouth, wanting to be deeper and deeper inside him, to feel more and more. Nothing was conscious at this point.

Lance felt tears spring to his eyes automatically as Chris thrust hard. He moaned, sucking weakly not able to do much at that point. He never could. He just had to wait it out 'til Chris came, then spend a few days sucking on cough drops and drinking a lot of water so he could still sing.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," Chris started muttering. It was a clear sign.

Lance reached up and pinched Chris's nipple with one hand, locking his lips a little tighter around his cock, hoping to get more suction that way. He breathed evenly through his nose as he waited patiently.

Chris came explosively and stopped moving all at once, falling against the bed. Fucking Lance's mouth while angry was a lot better than masturbating. No question.

Lance swallowed and sat back, wiping his mouth off. He reached down and pulled Chris's boxers back on him. "Feel better?" he asked, his voice hoarse now as he pulled the covers over Chris.

"Thanks," said Chris. "I owe you one." And he sounded like he meant it, too, but then again, he always said that.

"Right," he said, patting Chris's shoulder. He stood up and turned off the light. "See you in the morning," Lance shut the door behind him, immediately crumpling against it, feeling so dirty. He chewed on his lip then headed down to his room, his and *Joey's* room, to brush his teeth.

###

Joey sighed a little at JC's tears; he could never stay angry when JC cried. He reached up and brushed them aside with one hand. "C," he said softly, shaking his head. "Jesus, man...not *not* happy, 'it's just the sex', 'cocktease'... You can't just say that sorta thing and expect me to nod, accept, and move on."

"Yeah?" JC sniffled. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Joey put his hand flat on JC's back and pressed him close, his other hand going up to his hair, holding him gently. "I don't know," he said. "Be here for you? Let you yell, let you talk, let you kick and punch when you need to. Guess that's all I can do. But I will always be here, C. Alright?"

JC pushed against Joey weakly. "Making me dump Justin isn't 'being there' for me," he argued.

"I'm not making you do anything," Joey said firmly, not letting go, not letting JC push him away. "But that's how I feel, man."

"That's how you feel?" JC repeated. "That everyone would be better off if we break up?"

Joey set his jaw, reluctant to get too much into how he felt about it. "I don't know everything about what's going on between you, but from the way you say it ... " he shrugged. "How 'bout you at least try cooling it for a bit? Like a break-up trial run?"

"A break-up trial run," JC said flatly. "Right." He pushed Joey a little harder, now. "Look, it's not that bad, with Justin. It was easy when he was the only person that would even look at me. And then Chris..."

Joey let JC go. "And then Chris what?"

"And then Chris nothing." JC turned around, rubbing his arms at the sudden coldness there. "I'm not breaking up with Justin, Joey," he said finally, lighting another cigarette. "I may talk a big game, but I won't do it."

"Did Chris hit on you? Did he make some sorta move that made Justin think you were cheatin'?"

JC bowed his head and exhaled. "Look, Joe," he said softly, "Why don't you quit while you're ahead? You don't know everything that's going on; I don't know why you care so much -- and I don't buy that group harmony bullshit for a second. We're kinda even...why don't you just go do whatever you do, and leave me alone?"

Joey set his jaw, and his eyes grew a little cold. "Even? Do I even want to know what that means? Bullshit? You're accusing *me* of bullshitting now? Well...fine. Good fucking luck, JC. I'll go 'do whatever I do' now." He pushed open the sliding glass door.

"Fine," JC called out to his back. "At least I'm honest with myself when I have shit to hide."

Joey turned around. "Now what the *fuck* is that supposed to mean?"

###

Lance brushed his teeth again, trying to get all traces of Chris's come out of his mouth. He spit into the sink, reached for the water to rinse his mouth out again. He swirled it around wondering why he always did that, why he cheated on Joey that way. Spitting again, he wiped off his mouth and went into their bedroom.

"Where the fuck is it?" he mumbled, searching for the bottle of vodka in the bottom of his suitcase. His hand finally brushed against it and he pulled it out, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig. He never drank before he did that, but drank like a fish afterward. Idly, he wondered if Chris ever connected his hangovers with the blowjobs he'd given him.

He screwed the cap back on the bottle, feeling slightly sick now, and he kept sitting on the floor. He looked down at his hands and began picking at his nails again, trying to keep calm, trying not to cry. Then he stood up shakily and climbed into bed fully clothed. This was the part of the game where he knew Chris had won, and always would win. That was his last thought before he passed out.

###

Chris got out of bed almost as soon as Lance left the room, flipping on the bedside light and standing in front of the mirror, grinning at himself. At least *one* thing he'd done tonight had ended well. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to make himself look presentable before he headed back out. He didn't think he'd have to come face to face with Lance for at least the rest of the night, which was probably for the best. Damn, that guy could suck dick, though.

He shut off the light as he headed into the living room, leaving his bedroom door wide open. He was feeling a bit better about everything now, for real, but he usually did after an orgasm. A good one, though, not like the painful one he'd given himself earlier. Even if it had been satisfying in a masochistic sort of way.

Chris could hear the other conversation now, and figured it might be entertaining.

"You tell me." JC pushed himself off of the railing. "You think, after ten years, I can't tell when you've got other shit driving your actions than what you tell me? Why don't you fucking admit to just one of us why you care so much if Justin and I aren't fucking anymore. And remember -- I'm not buying the 'group' excuse."

"You'd think after ten years you'd know me better than to ask me something like that. I'm sorry if you don't 'buy' my excuse, but that's just fine 'cause I ain't selling you anything. Fuck you. I'm out here trying to help you and all I get is the cold shoulder and these accusations. I like our group, I like how we used to all be friends, it's not an excuse."

JC laughed bitterly. "Go away." He turned around. "Go back to Lance and your fucking weird-ass relationship, and leave me alone. You're not trying to help, you're not listening, just go away. And tell Chris to come out here." He faced the door and yelled out, *I know you're in there*."

"*I know you know I'm in here*," Chris called back, not moving. He was comfortable where he was and wanted to make JC work for it, just a little.

"Not *listening*?" Joey spat out. "Fuck you, what the hell do you think I'm doing? Not everyone has hidden agendas, JC. And where the fuck do *you* get off calling my relationships weird?"

"Ha." JC whirled back around and blew smoke in Joey's face. "Go ask your boyfriend. And then maybe I'll pretend to listen when you finally decide to tell me why you have so much invested in me and Justin breaking up."

Joey waved at the smoke and made a face. "All I got *invested* is wanting to see you fucking normal again, maybe even - God forbid -- *happy*. What the hell does that have to do with Lance?"

Chris yawned and wondered what Lance was doing right then. He wondered if he was jerking off. That would be interesting to watch, some time.

"Go ask him," JC said dismissively. "*I'm not going in there, Chris*," He called out. "*You can come out here. I'm smoking.*"

When he realized JC wasn't coming inside, Chris sighed and got up, wandering towards the balcony and trying to look nonchalant. He could use a smoke, anyway.

Joey stared at JC for a long time, and the anger faded away with a distant sadness. "Fuck, JC, you really are an asshole sometimes." He brushed by Chris as he walked back inside, calling Lance's name.

Chris watched Joey go with a bit of a smirk on his face before turning back to JC. "Bum a smoke?" he said, holding out his hand.

Tears welled up in JC's eyes again at Joey's harsh words -- he *knew* there was something else there, something Joey wouldn't admit to maybe even himself, but in the end he wasn't strong enough to get Joey to confront it. And now he had to deal with Chris. He grabbed his almost-empty pack of cigarettes and threw it at Chris's chest as hard as he could.

###

"Lance?" Joey walked into their shared room and saw Lance lying on the bed. He went over and sat on the edge, touched his back to shake him awake. "Lance?" he called softly, but there was no response. "Lance?" he tried again, leaning in to kiss Lance's cheek. "Come on, man, wake up, I...I gotta talk to ya."

Lance moaned softly, but he didn't wake up, rolling away from Joey.

Joey frowned a little and he squeezed Lance's shoulder. "Lance," he said, louder, more firmly. He could smell alcohol on the other man's breath and frowned. He put his arm under Lance's back and lifted him gently off the bed, pulling him into a sitting position against his chest, as he cradled Lance's chin with his free hand. "Come on, dude...let's see those eyes..."

"Leave me alone," Lance mumbled, trying to pull away.

Jesus, maybe I have bad breath or something, Joey thought, not relinquishing his hold. "Sorry, man, not doing that. Look at me."

Lance felt like he was swimming to the surface but not wanting to actually break it. He blinked slowly, opening one eye a little.

Joey smiled encouragingly. "Heya. That must have been some conversation, huh?"

Lance squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to pull away.

"Lance?" Joey asked in concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Lance muttered. "I'm drunk. Can I sleep please?"

"Why are you drunk?" Joey frowned.

"Drank with Chris." He tried to lie down again. "Only way he'll talk."

Joey lay Lance back on the bed and lay down with him, closing his eyes. "Can I lie here with you? Things didn't go so good with JC."

"Stay with me," Lance sighed softly, curling up in Joey's arms. "Love you."

Joey smiled and touched the side of Lance's face. "I love you, too, man." Fuck JC, what the hell did he know? Joey kicked off his shoes and wrapped anarm around Lance's waist. "I'll be here, just sleep."

Lance yawned and his eyes closed as he passed out again.

Joey touched Lance's hair, letting the soft strands slip through his fingers as he just thought about how nice it was to be lying here with him, surrounded by his warmth and comfort. His hand moved to Lance's back where it held him protectively close, maybe even a little possesive.

###

"Fuck!" said Chris. "Haven't we had enough time to get past this yet? For tonight, anyway?" He pulled out a cigarette and hung it from his lips, handing the pack back to JC. He pulled his own lighter out and watched the flame shoot out from it for a moment before lighting his smoke and inhaling deeply. JC still hadn't spoken by the time he blew the smoke out over the balcony railing.

"What?" JC repeated dumbly, his mind still on Joey. Chris had told him about Lance; he doubted Lance had told Joey about Chris.

"The fight," said Chris. "Though, if you've forgotten about it, it must not have been as bad as I thought, this time."

"Whose fight?" JC tried to clarify, exhaling his own breath of smoke over the railing.

"Yours. Mine. Justin's." Chris frowned at him, getting both angry and turned on again. The alcohol buzz was fading a little, already, and he almost wished it would return.

JC rested his head on his forearms. "Oh. *That* fight. Justin's probably torching my stuff right now, so it was pretty bad."

"Yeah, that fight," confirmed Chris. "He wouldn't do that. The kid's all talk. Not that *my* opinion matters much when it comes to you and...him."

"You sure as fuck like to pretend it does," JC sighed. "What *are* you doing, man? Really?"

Chris looked at JC, seriously. "I don't know. Screwing up? Trying to get what I want? Same as always?"

Narrowing his eyes, JC stared at Chris. "You don't know. What is it you want, exactly? You seem pretty fucking stoked about your little arrangement with Lance; why do you keep getting in Justin's face?"

"Lance is convenient," said Chris. "He's a pushover. And you *know* I only resort to him when shit goes down with you and Justin. Which it always does." He shook his head, took another drag. "You know you make me hot, C. And Justin gets in the way of that. What more do I need to say about it?"

JC tossed his cigarette over the railing. "Do you tell him? Lance?" He pursed his lips. "He thinks he's actually playing this game with you, Chris, and I wouldn't care...except for Joey."

"Lance isn't stupid," said Chris simply. "He knows the score. He doesn't tell me about Joey, you know. Doesn't say a word. Sometimes I wonder how good things could possibly be, between them, the way they both act apart..." He suddenly wondered why he was talking so much, and brought the cigarette back up to his lips to shut himself up.

JC knocked the cigarette out of Chris's hands roughly. "Shut the fuck up. The rest of us may be fucking whores, but Joey does *not* pull that shit behind Lance's back, and you fucking know it." He took a deep breath. "What're you gonna do about Justin, anyway?"

"I don't need to do anything about Justin," said Chris, balling his fists at his sides and resisting the urge to strike out. "If there's anything to be done about Justin, it's for you to do. He's yours, after all. And I wasn't talking shit about Joey. Christ. But fuck is that guy naive."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," JC hissed. "You'll be smart to stop talking about him, around me. As for Justin...what the hell am *I* supposed to do? I'm not breaking up with him, especially not for you. So this little agenda of yours is just pointless."

"Fine," said Chris. "This is me, stopping talking. I mean, who the fuck wants to hear what *I* have to say, anyway?" He wished he still had the goddamn cigarette. "I'm not asking you to break up with him for me, moron. When's the last time you fucking *smiled*, anyway?" He really wished he had the goddamn, fucking cigarette. "And I'm not going to stop wanting you. You ass."

JC snorted. "Do you *hear* yourself? Christ, but you're fucked up. You act like you give a shit if I'mhappy, and then in the next breath make it seem like it's purely physical. Which is it, Chris? You might get lucky if you answer right."

"Both," said Chris, staring out over the railing at the dark sky, and not at JC. "You should be happy. Justin doesn't make you happy. It would be so damn good with me you'd never want to go back."

"Is that so?" JC turned to him, genuinely curious. "What makes you think you can do *anything* better than Justin?"

"I took an informal survey of my previous lovers. I judged on volume. Apparently, I'm very good at any number of things." Except getting blowjobs, but that was a story JC had already heard.

"That's not what I asked," JC reminded him. "I want to know what makes you think you're *better* than *Justin*. Or even better, how in the hell you think a fucked-up man like yourself could make me happy."

"Maybe I couldn't," said Chris, "but you'll never know because you stay with that little, arrogant prick. You're never going to leave him, you know, no matter how often he yells at you or insults you or leaves you in the cold. Because you're too fucking scared that you'll never have anything else."

"*Fuck* you," JC spat. "He's not the only one who fucking calls me a cocktease every chance he gets. And you're right, I won't leave him, because it might be fucked up but it's the only way I know I can get affection. You, on the other hand, are so fucking petrified of that 'arrogant little prick' that you won't even make a move for what you want."

"And what would you do if I did?"

"Like it matters, you pussy," JC hissed. "You won't. You could, and you don't."

Chris grabbed JC and pulled him closer. "Justin could kick my ass. *Will* kick my ass. You know that, don't you? You're probably looking forward to it..."

"No." JC shoved him back a little. "I'm not some fucking cheerleader who wants to see the football team fight over her. If you try something, it's between us. Justin'll never know. And you still fucking wuss out."

"I want you," said Chris, pulling him closer again. "I want to lick you. And I *will* have you, and I'll only stop if *you* start kicking my ass." He leaned forward and licked JC's neck - one long, smooth stroke. "Still want to call me a pussy?"

JC shuddered, as much as he didn't want to, at the feel of Chris's tongue. This was where it had always stopped, before, and he was apprehensive about what Chris would do if he kept baiting him. But not so apprehensive that he wouldn't do it. "I'll call you a pussy as long as you keep kissing like a girl."

"We've never even kissed," said Chris. "So how the fuck would you know that, anyway?" He pinned JC to the railing and licked the other side of his neck.

As soon as his tongue reached his ear, JC grabbed Chris's hair in his fist and pulled his head away. "What do you call that?"

"Licking," said Chris, smirking in JC's face. "If you can't tell the difference, then no *wonder* Justin isn't satisfying you." He tried to stare him down. "If you want to test my kissing, just ask."

JC stared back, unblinking, a little taunting. "Justin wouldn't have to ask permission to kiss me if he had me pinned up against a railing."

"Justin already knows you're his."

"Justin *also* knows how to take what he wants."

"I'm not Justin," said Chris. "I can get a quick lay out of Lance, pretty much any time I turn my pretty pout on him. I want you to admit you want me."

"Good luck," JC scoffed, nevertheless quite sure Chris would find a way to make him do just that. "I'm not in the habit of saying stuff like that to guys that are afraid of me kicking their ass."

"Who sais anything about being afraid?" said Chris, licking the hollow of JC's throat. "I know you can, and I'll stop if you do...but I don't think you will. Because you don't want me to stop, do you, JC?"

JC leaned back, further away from Chris's mouth, the railing digging into his back. "I couldn't care less at this point. You can get a quick lay out of Lance without lifting a finger; I can get one out of Justin with half that effort."

"Not tonight," said Chris, sucking the lobe of JC's ear into his mouth, looming over him. "He's pissed at you. You'll be lucky if he lets you into the same room as him."

"He's pissed at *you*," JC corrected him, wincing a little as Chris's teeth closed over his sensitive flesh there. "And not unlike some other people I know, he's horny when he's pissed."

"Are you suggesting I go find Justin to get off?" said Chris, "because I'd rather fuck you. Right here. Right now. Just as soon as you tell me you want me to." He sucked on JC's throat, leaving a red mark in his wake. "And you will, sooner or later."

JC laughed and fisted his hand in the collar of Chris's shirt, pushing him away. "Right. You go find Justin, give that a shot. Then come back, and if you're still capable of moving, we can talk. But I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Any port in a storm, JC," said Chris, pushing back in again. "You don't think he'd take me up on it if I offered him my ass? I think you're overestimating your little boyfriend's self control." He sucked on the flesh just below JC's chin. "And your own..."

"Fuck," JC muttered, slapping Chris's hand away from his chest and holding it down at their sides. "You'd be surprised at Justin's self-control," he said, looking at Chris again.

"Maybe," said Chris, smirking. "But I doubt I'll be surprised by yours. How do you like it JC -- on your back? On your front? On your hands and knees? Or maybe you'd like it over the railing?" He trapped JC again, his face hovering close to his throat but not touching it. "You just have to tell me."

Biting his lip, JC used his hand on Chris's arm to keep him from pressing up against him too closely. "So far you haven't done anything to convince me that you'll be able to give it to me at all; let alone the way I like it."

"You're lying," said Chris. "But that's okay; we're all used to that. The truth is that you want me to kiss you right now. You want it so badly that your dick is starting to positively *ache*. You want to feel this tongue on you. In you. Making you beg." His fingered traced down the middle of JC's chest. "And you're just too damn stubborn to say so."

JC set his jaw and batted Chris's other hand away, determined not to give away how his words were affecting him. "I doubt seriously you'll get me to beg just by sticking your tongue down my throat. Not that I'd know, or anything, since you're *still* being a pussy about it..."

"I'm not the pussy," said Chris, suddenly taking a step back. "I'm the only one here who's already admitted what he wants. And JC?" He paused for effect. "You'll be begging *before* I get my tongue down your throat." He licked his own lips sensually and waits.

Folding his arms across his chest, JC couldn't help but stare at Chris's tongue darting out from his mouth -- a fact he was certain Chris was aware of. "You're making this harder than it has to be," JC finally admitted. "Harder, maybe, than it's worth?"

"Harder is better," growled Chris. "Just *say* it. Damn you."

"So then what happens?" JC looked down at the ground. "If I do tell you how fucking much I want you...then what? Do I have to tell you to do every little thing, after that?"

"Then we fuck," said Chris, his eyes getting darker as he watched JC. "That's all there is to it. You admit to me that you want me as much as I want you, and then I strip your clothes off and lick you and suck you and kiss you and then we fuck. Hard. For a long, long time."

"I think," JC murmured, arching his eyebrow as he unfolded his arms and draped them over the railing, "That all sounds like something we could do without me admitting anything."

"We could," admitted Chris, his eyes now smoldering. "But we won't."

JC avoided making eye contact with Chris, choosing instead to look past him into the living room. "Really. Well, it seems you've worn out Lance already, and despite what you think, Justin won't be interested...you're running out of options." He brought a hand up to his face and started biting the end of his thumb. "Forget about your fucking principles, or whatever this is, 'cause I'm not giving in."

Chris licked his lips again. "Do you know what I did, JC, when I stormed out earlier? Do you know where I went? Did you know that ever time, after we fight, I have to touch myself? Stroke myself? And I do it thinking about you, thinking about you being naked. Thinking about you being fucked by Justin. Thinking about you being fucked by *me*."

JC's hand fell back to his side when his jaw dropped at Chris's admission. "You...you didn't," His voice was a little shaky, and he couldn't stop picturing that in his head -- Chris's hand on his own cock, JC's name on his lips.

"I did," said Chris. "I did it rough and fast...not at all like I'm going to do you. I'm going to do you hard and slow. Is that how you like it? You haven't told me, JC..."

"That sounds...fine..." JC gritted out, holding on to the railing with his last bit of self-control. "C'mere, Chris. Stop fucking *talking* about it and do it..."

Chris grinned wickedly. "I do believe you just *finally* asked," he said, pressing his body against JC's. "Or...close enough. Bout damn time." He opened his mouth slightly and pressed it against JC's, sliding his tongue inside and licking the roof of JC's mouth.

*Oh, God,* JC thought, moaning as his tongue battled with Chris'. Justin never, never kissed him like this: where he could feel the heat and the raw *want* coming out of the other man. He reached up and grasped Chris's jaw, pulling him even closer against him, bending back slightly over the rail.

Chris brought his hands up as he kissed him thoroughly; one he used to grip JC at his waist, pulling their groins together, the other cupped the back of JC"s head, his thumb pressing against the skin just in front of JC's ear. In both places his fingers pressed firmly, insistently, into the skin.

"I take it back!" JC gasped as Chris's erection rubbed against his own desperately hard cock. He pulled his mouth away from Chris's, and turned his head slightly to suck on the inside of the other man's wrist. "God, I take it back. You could make a person beg, kissing like that."

Chris gave him a knowing smile. "I know," he said, then proceeded to kiss him again, thoroughly, not missing a single spot with his roaming, teasing, prying tongue.

Finding it hard to catch his breath, JC's knees buckled a little with the force of Chris's kisses. "Bastard," he mumbled in his mouth. "And don't pretend this won't give you jerk-off material for a year."

"I'm betting I won't be jerking off as often," said Chris, biting at JC's throat lightly, then reconsidered. "No...I still will," he confessed, "and if you're really good I might even let you watch."

"So fucking cocky," JC replied, sliding one of his legs between Chris's thighs. "You haven't come yet; you might have to resort to jerking off sooner than you think."

Chris ground himself against JC's leg. "I'm good," he said. "I tell you that all the time. And we're both horny as hell, so don't pretend like you're gonna leave either one of us hanging. Don't you want me to fuck you? Hmm?"

"I could leave," JC protested quietly even as he angled his hips to thrust deliciously against Chris in return. "You're good, but there's always a line. And don't forget I have someone ready and willing at home."

"You don't *want* to leave," said Chris, rubbing against him. "It's okay not to want to leave. And I'm not going to have a hissy fit and walk out on you, like a certain someone you claim is -- how did you put it? -- 'ready and willing at home'."

"I *might* want to leave," JC retorted. "So far this has only been a little tongue and a lot of trash-talking." He stood up straight, finally looking down at Chris, and shrugged his shoulders.

"You," said Chris, "are the worst liar I have ever met." He grabbed JC's shoulders and kissed him again, then pulled JC's shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor of the balcony. "Why do you keep trying?"

"I'm not lying," JC hissed as the cold railing dug into his bare back. "I'm not patient enough for this shit. You can go slow once you've got your dick in me, but right now it's just pissing me off."

"Then why," said Chris, "won't you answer when I ask you how you like it? Are you *trying* to make it bad? Are you trying to sabotage this so you can say, well, you tried it and it wasn't for you?"

"You're thinking too much," JC laughed at him. "I had hoped this would be the kind of sex where I wouldn't even be able to tell what position we're in, I'd be so focused on the way your cock feels. But now it just sounds like you're trying to talk yourself out of it. Worried you won't measure up?"

"Fuck that shit," said Chris and tore JC's pants open. "I was trying to be nice. Patient. Trying to make it *good* for you. Well fuck that, I'll just do what I always do. Make it good for *me*."

JC laughed again, a little wildly, and grabbed Chris's shirt with one hand as he yanked his own pants down over his hips with his other. "I don't think so," he told him. "Just because I'm not particular about whether you fuck my ass from behind, on top, or sideways, doesn't mean that you don't have to work for this. You're gonna suck me, first."

"You don't need to *tell* me to suck you, Chasez," he said with a smirk, dropping to his knees. "And don't think it's all for *you*, either." JC's cock was right in front of him now, hard and bobbing. No underwear. His tongue flicked out across the head, teasingly, then slid around the rim before engulfing it in his hot mouth.

"Fuuuuck," JC groaned out, gripping the railing behind him and throwing his head back. "Fuck. Don't ease into it, or anything." He took a deep breath, and then started thrusting into Chris's mouth so slightly. "Is this what you make Lance do for you? Is this what you do to him?"

Chris didn't answer, using his tongue and lips all over JC's cock, his hand cupping his balls, rolling them, squeezing them slightly. His free hand clutched at JC's ass somewhat roughly, looking for the best way to grip it. JC's muscles flexed under Chris's palm, and he stumbled when he tried to kick his pants the rest of the way off his ankles.

"Fuck ... shit!" he muttered, pulling out of Chris's mouth and bending down to tug them off.

"Having trouble?" asked Chris, taking JC back into his mouth when he'd stopped kicking angrily at his pants. Still gripping JC's ass, he let his other hand fall to grab at himself through his jeans, to stroke himself with his palm through the two maddenng layers of fabric.

"Fuck you," JC mumbled, even as he gripped Chris's hair gently in his fist and strained to slide more of his length into his mouth. He shifted his weight onto one leg so he could kick Chris's arm away from his body. "And stop that. Pay attention."

Chris knew damn well he was paying enough attention; he slid his lips off JC's cock for a moment. "Tell me it's not good and I'll leave now," he said, quite seriously.

JC stepped forward, straddling Chris's torso with his legs so his groin was even closer to his face. "I'm just saying," he grunted as he gripped his shoulders, pressing the tip of his cock against Chris's closed mouth, "you could be doing other things with that hand."

"Maybe," said Chris with a smirk, victorious, letting his lips slide around JC's cock again. Both his hands gripped JC's ass now, pressing JC's groin into his face. He took him in as deep as he could and swallowed a couple times.

"Oh, God," JC moaned at that sensation and grabbed at Chris's forearms in an attempt to keep himself from shoving his cock down the other man's throat. "*God*, just ... please ... "

Chris knew he could make JC beg. He considered making him come, right then. He could still fuck him, after all, even if he'd already come. Might even make it easier. Better. He slid JC's cock halfway out of his mouth then slid him right back in, simulating a thrust. And did it again. And again. His tongue busy the whole time.

After the fourth time Chris's lips closed around the base of his cock, JC grit his teeth, pulled out and stumbled backwards, falling against the railing. "Okay," he panted. "Enough. Let's take this inside." He was clenching and unclenching his hands, trying to fend off the orgasm that threatened way sooner than he was used to.

"I guess that rules out 'over the railing' then," said Chris, standing up and licking his lips once again.

JC brushed past him and moved to open the sliding glass door. "It's too damn cold out here," he called over his shoulder. "Oh, and grab my shirt and pants before you come in."

Chris left the clothing behind, following him inside and closing the door. He smirked. "So, Chasez, your place or mine?"

Glaring at Chris, JC put his hands on his hips, seemingly unconcerned at being completely naked in front of a completely clothed man. "You better be prepared to go get them the second we're done. And you got something against the couch?"

"I have nothing against the couch," said Chris, reclining on it. "Whoever comes along can just join right in. The more the merrier. I'm sure there'll be a free hole for them to plug, somewhere."

JC shot him a withering look. "Who's gonna come in here? You wore Lance out, scared Joey away, and pissed Justin off. I think we're on our own." He walked over to stand in front of Chris, sliding between his legs. "And you're talking too much, again."

"I talk when my mouth isn't busy with something else," he said then fell silent, a smirk still etched on his face. He tugged at his own shirt, but didn't take it off.

"Well?" JC said impatiently, nudging Chris's thigh with his knee. "What the fuck are you waiting for? I'm rapidly falling out of the mood, here."

"You could help," suggested Chris, eyeing JC's still-rock-hard cock. "I don't think we're under any kind of time pressure here, really..."

"Fuck," JC spat out, leaning one knee on the sofa between Chris's legs, bending his head and reaching for the buttons on his shirt with fumbling fingers. "You're perfectly capable ... "

"Yes," admitted Chris, "I am. But this is much more of a turn-on." He leaned up to capture JC's lips in a long kiss.

JC let Chris's bottom lip slide slowly out from between his teeth and arched an eyebrow. "Cause you need help in that department? You seemed pretty damn eager to get your pants off when we were outside. If that's changed, you can just finish sucking me off and we can both go home."

"Don't think you're leaving this room until we both get off, C," said Chris, somewhat ominously, as he began unbuttoning his pants. "You know you want it, too. Don't fuck around about that."

"I *did*," JC agreed, staring at Chris's crotch, letting his hand drift around his own cock. "But you're taking...too...damn...long," he finished, punctuating each word with a jerk of his wrist.

Chris sighed and ripped his clothes off. "Get your ass over here," he said. "You never heard of foreplay, either? And you wonder why your sex life is so dull?"

Snorting even as he knelt again on the sofa, JC reached for Chris's hips. "I don't know where you're getting that idea. You're doing that projecting shit, again, aren't you?"

Chris snorted. "Right. You're just *so* satisfied with Justin." He shifted his hips. "You wanna be on top? Ride me? Because, really, I'm okay with that..."

JC shrugged and leaned over the shorter man, caressing Chris's shoulders lightly with his fingers. "Look. Let me let you in on a little secret. When I fuck someone, I *fuck* them. I do it the way I want it. When I *get* fucked, I expect to be treated the same way." He dug his nails into Chris's flesh suddenly. "And you'd do well to shut the hell up about Justin right about now."

"Justin's here right now, whether you like it or not," said Chris. "But whatever. You should suck me now, so I can fuck you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" JC scoffed, using his body weight to force Chris onto his back on the sofa.

"He's on your mind. And mine." He snorted at JC. "Or did you mean the blowjob? Because I'd hate to have to talk you through it."

"You definitely," JC started licking his way down Chris's torso, one hand on his hip, the other teasing at his goatee, "won't need to give me pointers. And for your information...Justin who?" He nipped gently at Chris's side. "I'm not confused about who I'm with right now."

"Didn't say you were." Chris struggled to stay in control, knew JC probably wouldn't put up with the shit that Lance did.

"Then what the fuck did that mean?" JC repeated, burying his nose in the thick hair at Chris's crotch, letting Chris's cock brush against his jaw. There was no doubt in his mind, now, that Chris had come at least once tonight already -- he could smell it, and that turned him on even more.

"That -- " Chris stifled a gasp. " -- you're not going to forget who started all this. And God *damn*." Chris squirmed, couldn't help himself.

"Stop squirming," JC muttered, putting more weight on the forearm he'd draped over Chris's abdomen to pin him down. "And what are you saying? That we wouldn't be here, practically drooling we want it so bad, if Justin hadn't picked a fight with you?"

"Would we?" asked Chris, not expecting an answer. "If it weren't for Justin, wouldn't we have fucked each other's brains out months ago?" He couldn't stop squirming. He just couldn't. But at least he kept from bucking up against him.

"That's another issue entirely," JC said. "Now stop talking before I shove something in your mouth to shut you the fuck up." He fell silent himself as he wrapped his lips around Chris's cock, tonguing him roughly, coating him liberally with saliva.

Chris tried, he really did, not to thrust. "Hurry," he said roughly. "I want to flip you over and fuck your tight little ass. Soon."

JC let Chris slide all the way into his mouth, down his throat, just once before pulling away completely. He smiled to himself at Chris's whimper, but he knew better than to do that more than once; he suspected that Chris would be less than gentle. "You sure you're up for this? You've already come at *least* once tonight, from what you said..."

"Twice," said Chris candidly. "Since we fought, anyway. But I think it's pretty clear that I'm...*up*... for it." He wiped his sweaty palms off on his thighs. "I want you on top. I want to grab your hips and buck you upwards and watch your face as I drive as far inside you as you can take."

JC slid his hands under Chris's ass and lifted him further up on the couch so he could stretch out completely, then straddled his thighs. "Sure," he said agreeably, letting his fingers tease at the head of his own cock.

Chris licked his lips as he reached between JC's legs to toy with his ass, to press at the hole without entering, tease it. He could feel his knuckles against his cock and it was making him hotter. And he wasn't even sure how much hotter he could get, right then.

"Fuck, that's..." JC hissed. He pulled Chris's hand out from his crotch and, staring at him, took two of the other man's fingers into his mouth.

Chris began breathing heavier and closed his eyes for a moment to keep himself from involuntarily thrusting, even though JC's lips were on his fingers now and not on his cock.

"Okay," JC said, nodding and letting his fingers drop with a final lick. "Now, try that again..." He arched his back a little so that the tilt of his hips would give Chris better access.

Chris reached back quickly and toyed with his hole again for just a moment before sliding the tip of one finger in. It was easier than he expected; JC was clearly not a stranger to this. Not that he hadn't been expecting that. He let his finger slide in, and followed on his third stroke with a second finger. JC just ate them up.

Chris's fingers didn't feel anything like Justin's, inside him, JC thought, and then squeezed his eyes shut as if that would force the thought out of his head. He rocked against Chris's hand, relishing the feel of his thumb against the base of his cock. "C'mon...c'mon," he bit out, not entirely sure what he was asking for.

Chris used his fingers to thrust inside JC for an agonizingly long time before holding him open and sliding his cock smoothly inside in one slow stroke. He sighed when he was inside, half in relief and half in anticipation.

"Holy...holy *shit*," JC gasped. He loved that, when guys would keep their fingers inside him for the split second it took to ease their cocks up and in, andhe was pleasantly surprised that Chris did it. He slid his knees up higher along either side of Chris's body, bringing his hips flush against Chris's, shifting his weight.

Chris wondered for a moment who was going to start moving first, whether JC was going to try and take control or whether he could hold JC still until *he* was ready to start thrusting. His body betrayed him, though, as it bucked upwards, driving just that little bit further into JC. So he went with it, roaming JC's chest with his hands, plucking at his nipples. He started rolling his hips, producing a series of smooth thrusts.

JC shuddered as Chris moved deeper within him, trying not to give way to the force of Chris's thrusts, savoring the impact against his ass every time Chris moved his hips. "Ah, Jesus...Chris..." he moaned, clutching at his own knees, trying to hold still.

Chris grabbed JC's cock, stroking it in a maddening counter-rhythm to his thrusts which were becoming harder, faster and still deeper, if that was even possible.

JC slapped Chris's hand away, replacing it with his own. "Don't," he mumbled. "I can...you just..." he breathed, trailing off as Chris gripped his hips again, then his ass. "Holy."

Chris bit his own lip so hard it almost bled as he thrust up into JC"s pliant body. He was at that point where he almost -- but not quite -- lost himself in the sensations. This was where he rammed Lance's throat raw, where he burned the flesh of his palm as he stroked, where the muscles in his back and ass began to ache from the motion.

JC felt Chris's thrusts become rougher, more haphazard, and was amazed and not a little insecure that he'd managed to stay so quiet while he was riding him. "C'mere," he whispered, finally, leaning forward slightly to wrap his arms beneath Chris's shoulders and pull the man halfway into a sitting position. He moaned loudly when his torso pressed against JC's cock, and squeezed the other man tightly against him before he started to move his hips for the first time since Chris entered him.

"Fuck," said Chris. "Just...fuck." He wasn't able to thrust in the same way from this position, and had to rely on JC to keep the motion going. He wasn't disappointed. "Holy hell," he breathed, and bit down on JC's lip as they kissed.

"Bastard," JC grinned against his mouth, rolling his hips even more slowly. "Is this what you wanted?"

"To be a bastard?" breathed Chris, mouthing JC's neck as they thrust together. "I hardly even have to try, anymore."

JC chuckled, letting one hand fall to Chris's ass, clutching him closer as he rammed himself down on Chris cock a little more roughly. "No. *This*."

"Yes," said Chris, thrusting back upwards into JC's ass just as hard. "Happy?"

"For you, or myself?" JC gritted out, panting with the added exertion of having to actually *do* something while he was being fucked. "God," he threw his head back as Chris clutched at his hips, preventing him from sliding back up his cock.

"Hardly any point in being happy for *me* when you're about to come on my face," breathed Chris. Droplets of sweat were trickling down his back and along his hairline. He kissed JC again hungrily. Desperately.

"You're right about that," grunted JC, licking at Chris's jaw before he clutched hungrily at the muscles in his back. "God, let go, so I can *move*."

Chris pushed himself in to the hilt one last time before lifting his hands off JC's hips and curling them around the backs of his knees. Whatever JC did now, it *would* make him come, and quickly. No question.

"Okay," JC closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Touch me. Let me come." He placed his hands gently on top of Chris', and pushed up slowly.

Chris closed a fist around JC's cock and kissed him again, not letting their lips part.

"Oh, please ... " JC moaned shakily against Chris lips, then quieted as he came -- seemingly for hours, all over Chris's knuckles, his stomach, his chest.

Chris bit into JC's lip again as he pulsed inside him and the world stilled, as though they were both trapped in that moment. JC's head dropped to Chris's shoulder for a minute, then he let go of the other man, letting him fall back on the cushions.

"Fuck." JC wiped a hand across his eyes.

"Yeah," said Chris. "Fuck." Then he shivered and squinted at JC. "You okay?" he asked awkwardly. He knew it was good, there *better* not be any kind of *problem* here.

JC winced as he lifted himself off of Chris and fell back heavily onto the sofa at his feet. "Hmm? Yeah. I'm just...yeah I'm fine." He shook his head then moved to stand up.

"God, JC, sit," said Chris. "I'm not kicking you out or anything."

JC laughed hollowly. "Considering this isn't your house." He sat back down, anyway.

"I meant off the couch." Chris stretched. "Geez...no foreplay...no pillow talk...do you guys just fuck and go your separate ways or what?"

JC leaned back into the cushions. "I thought we weren't talking about him. And don't pretend you want pillow talk; that's not you."

Chris snickered. "Okay, maybe not. But I don't fuck and run either."

"That's not what I'm doing." JC bit his lip so that he wouldn't pout. "You gonna get my clothes or what?"

"Soon," said Chris. "You aren't asking that *I* get up, are you?"

"God forbid." JC sniffled, a little, then leaned forward to pick Chris's shirt up off the floor. He hesitated, then pulled it on himself.

Chris grinned at him. "Justin won't be happy," he said. "I certainly don't object."

"Don't object? To what?" JC asked, glancing around before locating Chris's boxers, and pulling those on, too.

"You. Absconding with my underwear."

"I'll buy you more," JC muttered, not looking at him. "And I'll burn them before Justin sees, or something."

"You won't," said Chris, "but that's okay. He won't recognize them. Justin hasn't seen my underwear in years."

"I wouldn't count on that," JC replied, standing up anyway, cracking his back. "I have this ... ritual ... for all my random fucks. Burning's imperative. And if I forget to replace them, you can steal mine."

"I'm random?" said Chris, fanning himself with his hand. "I was thinking we should do this again some time. For kicks. It's not like I've stopping lusting for you now that I've had you, or anything."

"Stop saying that," JC bit out. "Just stop. Don't act like this was anything more to you than some fucked-up jockeying for position."

"Huh?" said Chris in genuine surprise and confusion. "God. I've only been telling you I want to fuck you for, like, months. Did you miss that entirely?"

"What, like the fact that you've been aching for this for months instead of hours, or minutes, changes your motives?" JC frowned. "Fuck you, we both got what we wanted, don't fucking stir anything else up 'cause you think you liked it enough to do it again."

Chris rolled his eyes. "If you don't want to fuck me again, then just say so," he said. "Otherwise, don't give me this shit because I tell you you turn me on. It's the truth. It's not me stirring any fucking stuff up, it's just me wanting to fuck you. A lot."

"You're right about one thing," JC said softly. "Justin's not gonna like this."

"Is he gonna know?"

"I don't know," JC replied honestly. "He surprises me, sometimes."

"He's not going to hear it from me," said Chris. "I like my dick right where it is, thank you very much."

"We can't, Chris," JC frowned, after a minute. "He might not find out this time, but if we do it again, he will. You know that." He shivered, and wrapped his arms around his body. "You'll be happy fucking Lance, or whoever, instead, I'm sure."

"Happy?" repeated Chris. "That's hardly the word for it." He stretched and stood up, finally. "I'm not gonna stop getting in Justin's face. And I'm not gonna stop wanting to do *this* with you. But I'm not going to force you, either. Whatever. Just don't tell me it wasn't good. Wasn't better than him."

"Why are you doing this?" JC asked him, seriously, reaching out to touch Chris's naked hip. "Honestly."

"You know why," said Chris. "I'm not hiding anything."

"The sex," JC said flatly. "You thought you couldn't have me. Forbidden fruit, or some shit?"

"You," said Chris. "On your back, on your front, on your knees, on your head, on *my* head, on a bed, on a balcony, on the floor, on TV, on stage, on me, on you, on the fucking *edge*, JC. Every day. Every night. Every moment. You make me hard. You make me *ache*. You make me whack off in airport bathrooms and behind clothing racks and underneath tables in dimly lit rooms. And it's not going to stop."

"What does that *mean*, Chris?" JC said, a little shrilly, feeling the difference in their ages. "What am I supposed to do, knowing that you want my body like that, without wanting me?"

"I don't know," said Chris. "Take it or leave it, I guess. Maybe someday I'll want something more than the sex with someone. With you, maybe. But that's not me, not right now."

"I don't need *you* to get off, Chris," JC retorted, stalking out toward the balcony to get his clothes. "But it seems like you need *me*. That's not easy, is it?"

"You fucking jerk..."

"What?" JC turned back around, staring at him. "That hurts more than what you just said?"

"I didn't say anything to hurt you," muttered Chris. He crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling his nakedness. "And I *don't* need you to get off. I don't *need* you. I don't need *you*."

JC winced again, and crossed back over the living room. "You didn't say anything to hurt me," he echoed. "Like standing there and telling me you *ache* for me, something no one has *ever* said, and then insist it's only sex? Fuck *you*. You know that hurts."

"I *do* ache for you," said Chris. "All the fucking time."

"Then fucking *do* something about out," JC yelled, not caring who heard him, who woke up. "Fuck, Chris. You won't touch me without fucking telegraphing your intentions to Justin, and then you make me ask you to kiss me? What the fuck is *wrong* with you?"

"I don't know!" he shouted back.

JC laughed again, humorlessly. "Of *course* you don't. Fuck. Spend half your life figuring out how to fuck the rest of us over -- make Justin insecure, make Lance into a slut, make Joey into the clueless lover, make me into...whatever -- there's no time left to devote to your own fucked-up psyche."

"I didn't do a thing to Joey," muttered Chris, falling back onto the couch. "You think you know my story, JC? You think you know what the fuck's up with me? Then why don't you share. May as well...it's not like I'm riding the sex high anymore."

JC didn't say anything, stalking out onto the balcony and grabbing his clothes, then moving to stand right in front of Chris. "*That* didn't take long," he sneered, pulling Chris's boxers back off and throwing them at his face. "You're so used, you don't know what's supposed to feel good, do you?"

"I know what feels good," said Chris. "I *know* that felt good. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"You *are* a fucking idiot," JC retorted, pulling on his jeans roughly over his bare ass. "Screwing Lance's mouth, thrusting away at my ass...that's so goddamned empty, and you don't know any better."

Chris leaned forward onto his knees, defeated. "No," he said. "I don't."

"And that's pathetic," JC said, finally. "To answer your question, I have no *idea* what's wrong with you. You can tell me, if it'll help. But I seriously want you to stop dicking Lance around. He doesn't deserve it, and it kills me to think of how Joey would feel if he knew. Come to me, next time, you need to get off. Leave him alone."

"He wouldn't do it if he didn't want it," said Chris. "If he didn't have his own reasons. But I'd rather have you, anyway. I think about you, when I do him."

JC stared, his mouth open slightly. "God, you're messed up. Lance is a fucking *kid*, he doesn't know what he's doing except getting attention from you. Except I guess he really isn't, is he?"

"Attention from me?" said Chris, incredulously. "He has Joey. *Joey*. Joey the saint. And trust me, he's not a kid, and he wasn't when I started with him."

"He doesn't know how good he has it," JC muttered. "And don't even *pretend* that you didn't teach him three quarters of what he knows, at this point. What the hell is it you find so irresistible about me, when I'm not the fucking deviant you're trying to turn everyone else into?"

"I didn't," argued Chris. "I didn't turn him into anything. He gives me blowjobs, when I'm upset. That's all it's ever been. And yeah, fuck, I use him, but it's not like he doesn't *know* that." Chris ran a hand through his hair, still feeling naked. Exposed. "Why you? Fucked if I know. If I knew, maybe I could make it stop. Maybe I could let you go back to that loveless relationship you have with Justin and never look back."

"It's not loveless, you fucker," JC protested weakly. "Why do you think he fucking wigged out like he did when you started fucking coming on to me in front of him?"

"Because he's possessive," said Chris. "And because he's scared of being alone. He doesn't love you, JC, and we all know it. And you don't love him either, so don't feed me bullshit about it. I'm *not* stupid."

"God, how many times can I say 'fuck you' in one night?" JC spat out. "I *do* love him, dickhead, and at least he doesn't mean it when he calls me a cocktease."

"If you love him so much, then why did you just have sex with me?"

"Christ," JC muttered, and then slapped Chris across the face with the back of his hand. "Leave me the fuck alone. This isn't a fucking *game*."

Chris brought his hand up to his cheek in shock. "What the *fuck*, Chasez? What the *fuck* is your problem?"

JC's voice was muffled as he tugged on his shirt. "You're an asshole, and that wasn't half of what you deserve. Stay the fuck away from Lance, and Justin, and you *better* leave Joey alone."

"I don't want them," Chris spat out, rubbing his cheek. "You know what I want."

JC leaned over and grabbed Chris's chin. "I *do*. *You* don't. You think you want me, when really, you just want some challenge, a game. And you know how I know that's all it is? 'Cause we just fucked each other's brains out, for the first time, and it could have been amazing...and it didn't change you a bit. You *don't* know what you want."

"I hate you," muttered Chris. "I hate the way you make me feel..."

"Get off it," JC snorted. "I don't do *anything* to you. Something about my eyes or my arms or my ass makes you all fucking hot, you gotta deal with it. Grow the fuck up."

"I *hate* you," he said again. "I hate that I want to fuck you, and hold you and do all *kinds* of unspeakable things with you. And the fact that you make me feel all sick in the pit of my stomach, and the fact that you scare me. And I Still. Fucking. *Want* you."

"You're as bad a liar as I am," JC scoffed. "I don't scare you, and you don't hate me. You said you're not into anything but the sex right now, and *that* I believe. Fear and hatred aren't a part of that."

"So what now, then?" said Chris bitterly. "Now that you've found me out." He snorted at that, the fact that one of the first really *true* things he'd said was so easily dismissed.

"I haven't found anything out," JC disagreed. "I knew you were a fucking horny, self-centered asshole before. You haven't said or done anything to change that perception. Even though I let you fuck me. So I have no idea what happens now. I stay with Justin; you keep doing...whatever you do."

"Fine," said Chris, not bothering to protest that he didn't want that. Suppressing the urge to scream for JC to *help* him, dammit. "We ever gonna fuck again?"

"What for?" JC stared incredulously. "What did you get out of it, that your fist couldn't do with a lot less baggage?"

"Everything," said Chris. "Believe me. Don't believe me. I don't care right now. But I want you. Still."

JC looked at him, then, at the truly forlorn expression on his face, and softened enough to lean over and press his lips against Chris's. "I can't help you, and I can't want you back, unless you start telling me things I *can* believe."

"Like what?" said Chris. "What can I say that I haven't already? I don't understand why I want what I want. But I recognize it. I *acknowledge* it. And anything else...I don't know. Sex makes sense, JC. Don't you think?"

JC shrugged. "It can make sense. It can also camoflage other things. You think you want me? Really *want* me? If it's not just a sexual wanting, then why are you so bent out of shape about me staying with Justin?"

"He doesn't love you," said Chris. "You deserve better."

"And why do you *care*?"

"Because--" said Chris, groping for a reason. The faintly scary, sick feeling was back in his stomach. "*Because*. Because you're you and I *want* you. I don't know."

"You don't even know what you're saying," JC leaned back, disgusted. "You get this feeling in the pit of your stomach and you do everything you possibly can to convince yourself it's hormones and not affection. When I'm with Justin, I know what he wants. Giving that up to experiment with uncertainty with you isn't appealing. If that's even what you're looking for."

"All I know is lust and sex and naked, sweaty bodies," said Chris. "I know there's something else out there, but I don't know what it is and I doubt I'd know it if it shit on my head. Not that it would, because assholes like me don't get to have something more." He snorted, his bitterness bubbling to the surface. "So what *is* it that Justin wants, in your opinion?"

JC bit his lip, and sank further into the couch, his eyes unfocused. "Justin wants...someone to take care of him. That sounds so fucking cliche, but he does. Equal parts kissing his forehead, and kissing his ass. Two things I excel at. So."

"So," repeated Chris. "And you give him that. And that's enough for you, huh." He snorted again. "You love him. Right. Whatever."

"That *is* love," JC protested. "When have you given a shit about anyone else to do that?"

"No fucking way. Love is what Joey has. What he *gives*. Love has nothing to do with that arrogant, useless little prick. I'm sorry you think you love him, because you *should* love someone, the right way.

"I do," JC insisted. "I love him, and it's real, and it's not just sex, with him."

"Then what was this?" asked Chris. "Why didn't you just fucking say *no*? Why did you lead me *on*, you *fuck*?"

"What?" JC flinched. "L-lead you...*fuck* you. This was *your* idea, and how the fuck was I supposed to resist you, pressing up against me, with all your fucking talk about aching for me, and wanting your dick in my ass...me giving in to you is leading you on? The hell?"

"You could have said no," insisted Chris. "I *told* you I would stop if you said no. I fucking *told* you."

"I didn't *want* to say no, goddammit," JC practically shouted. "You kept telling me, whispering to me, promising me how good the sex would be, and I already told you I'm a whore. You made me want it. That's not leading *you* on."

"Yeah, exactly," said Chris. "You're a whore. I'm a whore. We're whores who just had mind-blowing sex. But you're a whore who doesn't love Justin cause when you *love* someone, you don't do all that shit. That's what it's all about."

"How the hell would you know?" JC bit back, and this time he was yelling. "You don't know. How I feel about Justin has absolutely nothing to do with you. Lance is the same: how he feels about Joey has nothing to do with you, either."

"Well fuck, I *know* that. He gets me off and then he goes right back into Joey's arms. Every *fucking* time. You think I think he goes in his bedroom and curls up and gets all weepy over me? Whatever. I know my place, C. But fuck...you made me think..."

"What," JC turned his back on Chris, not sure he wanted to know what he might have let slip out when he was caught up in Chris. "What did I make you think? That, for me, sex has to come with feelings attached?"

"Fuck feelings," said Chris. "I've heard enough BS about *feelings* tonight. You made me think that it would happen again, C. And you made me think that you wouldn't fucking tear me to *shreds* afterwards. Fuck this shit. I don't *need* you. I don't."

"Who are you trying to convince?" JC glared. "You don't make me feel like you need me, except in your fantasies -- don't worry about *that*. And despite that, I didn't *ever* say it wouldn't happen again, you ass. I told you that I'd *rather* you come to me, and leave Lance alone." He can't believe he's still willing -- even wanting -- for Chris to take him up on it.

"I don't need anyone," said Chris. He lay back down on the couch and rested his head on the arm. He wondered, for all of two seconds, what his life would be like if he had the last five, last 10, last 29 years to do over again, but it didn't matter. It couldn't happen. "How's tomorrow for you? Or later tonight, once you go home and get Justin off like you're just *dying* to do?"

JC swallowed awkwardly, unsure about how to proceed now that fucking Chris again has progressed past the realm of the theoretical. And as soon as Chris mentioned Justin *again* -- *he* kept bringing him up, not JC -- JC remembered that it would be beyond difficult to juggle the two of them. "I'm staying here," he said finally. "I'll call Justin, but I'm staying here."

"You're staying?" repeated Chris. His voice was difficult to read, a combination of confusion and mockery and maybe just a *tiny* bit of hope. "Won't that piss that little child you 'love' off?" He looked away as he said it, staring blankly across the room, his face now expressionless.

"You're really getting on my last nerve with that shit, Chris," JC replied, a bit calmer now. "Stop insulting him. And he'll get over it, if I don't come home." If he even noticed, he added silently, and then mentally chastized himself for falling back into *that* tired mindset.

"Insulting him?" said Chris. "Do you even listen to the shit he says about *me*, C? *To* me? I'm a fucking saint, in comparison."

"He has the balls to say it to your face, though," JC pointed out. "Not come crying to me about it. And you know you ask for it, I swear, if you stick your tongue in my ear one more time in front of him..."

"You let me," said Chris, waggling his tongue half-heartedly. "And anything I say to you, I've said to his face. Louder. You're *better* than that little, self-centered jerk."

"Apparently not," frowned JC. "What do you have against him, anyway? We owe him everything; even you can admit that."

Chris pressed his lips into a tight line for a moment. "Yeah, we do," he spat out a moment later. "And ain't *that* a bitch."

"Better than the alternative," JC shrugged, walking back to the balcony door and staring outside. "So? Is that your problem? Don't like feeling indebted to anyone?"

"*What* problem?" asked Chris. "And where are you going?" He pulled his feet up onto the couch and curled his body a little to fit. "Justin is that spoiled brat who has always gotten everything he every wanted without even *trying*. Don't tell me that doesn't piss you off, just a little. He even gets you, and he doesn't even *treat* you good. That's enough right there."

JC leaned his forehead on the glass. "I told you to stop talking about my relationship with Justin. It doesn't have anything to do with you, except on nights like tonight when you piss him off by trying to fuck it up. He'd probably 'treat' me better, if it weren't for you."

"You can blame me for fucking with Lance, and you can blame me for fucking with *you*, but Justin's problems are his *own*. He doesn't think about anybody but himself. Not even you, C. He just...aw, fuck it. You don't care, anyway."

"Hey, I'm just taking my cues from you, with the not caring," JC muttered, not wanting to look at Chris and have to admit he might actually know Justin better than JC did. "He does love me, though. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that to make you believe it. You think he gets *that* worked up, just because he's possessive? That's crap."

"You ever see how worked up he gets when someone takes his bandanna?" prodded Chris. "You're just ... a bigger bandanna."

"You're an idiot," JC scoffed. "God. Justin may be used to getting what he wants, but he doesn't *own* me." He banged his forehead on the door once before pulling away and moving towards the hall.

"You're only pissed because I'm *right*," Chris called after him.

"I'm not pissed!" JC yelled back, slamming the front door behind him and heading for his car. He didn't care that he was barefoot and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt -- *Chris'* T-shirt -- and it was 20 degrees outside. He knew he had another pack of cigarettes out here and he knew he needed them.

"Whatever," muttered Chris. He pushed himself back into a sitting position, then up off the couch entirely, wandering back into the kitchen. With JC gone, he was once again completely unselfconscious about his nakedness. He made a face at the bottle of rum he'd been drinking earlier and searched the cupboards for something else. A couple minutes later he had half a bottle of tequila and almost three quarters of vodka on the counter in front of him. He took both of them back into the living room and lay down on the couch again, uncapping the vodka and taking a swig straight from the bottle. That was more like it.

JC found a half-empty pack of Reds stuck between the seats in his Jeep, and another unopened one in the glove compartment. He shoved them into his pockets, making sure he still has his lighter, then locked the door and jogged back into the house. "Chris?" he called out, going straight into the kitchen instead of the living room. "You want some coffee, man, or are you goin' to bed?"

"I'm up," said Chris, then looked down and smirked. "More or less."

A cabinet banged shut. "Is that a yes or a no, asshole?"

"Sure, whatever," he called out. A cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him, getting cold as he ignored it, wouldn't hurt anything.

Rolling his eyes to himself, JC pulled the cream out of the fridge and added a little to the mug he'd poured for Chris -- his stayed black -- then shut the door with his hip before he made his way into the living room. "Oh," he said a little dully when he saw the tequila on the coffee table and the vodka cradled in Chris's hands. "Perhaps you just wanted the empty mug, instead?"

"I like coffee," said Chris, gesturing at the coffee table. "You want some of this in yours?" He waved the bottle idly in JC's direction.

"No," JC replied shortly, sitting down in an armchair and putting both cups on the end table beside him. He could use Chris's to ash in he figured as he pulled out the open pack and lit a cigarette. "I think there's plenty of vodka there, even for you." He exhaled. "So what's with the tequila?"

"It was better than the rum...some Jamaican molasses shit; I can't believe Lance let me drink it. So..." He eyed JC, who had his lips around the end of his cigarette, sucking on it like it was a dick. He felt himself getting aroused again, but the vodka would take care of that soon enough. "Why'd you stay, anyway?"

JC shrugged, letting the hand holding the cigarette hang over the arm of the chair, biting his thumb instead. "Didn't feel like driving," he evaded. "Why are *you* still here?"

Chris paused for a moment, suddenly realizing he could really have left at any time. Just like JC. "Lance is gonna expect me to be here in the morning," he said finally. "He put me to bed after I came. He thinks I was really upset."

"Lance," JC repeated flatly, narrowing his eyes at Chris. "Have you considered a better story to give Joey, when *he* wakes up? 'Cause that one might get your ass kicked."

"Joey will think I've passed out from all the booze Lance claims I drink when he 'calms me down'," said Chris shrugging. "He always does. He thinks I'm a lush."

"You *are* a lush," JC pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette at the bottles in Chris's lap. "And are you planning on getting dressed, ever?"

Chris used the vodka bottle to cover his crotch. "You make me feel naked."

Rolling his eyes, JC peeled off his shirt and tosses it at Chris. "Sorry, here: maybe that'll help." He leaned back in the chair, then, rubbing his hands over the goosebumps that appeared on his bare arms.

"It's warm in here," said Chris, inexplicably annoyed with the fact that JC looked cold. "And that's not what I meant ... "

"I'm fucking *freezing*," JC mumbled, sticking his cigarette back between his lips so he could rub more vigorously with both hands, over his shoulders and forearms and chest. "What did you mean? If you feel naked, it's cause you *are* naked. Put your shirt on; I got it all warm for you."

"Justin's definitely the smart one in *that* relationship," muttered Chris to himself. "Just put your goddam shirt back on, JC, before you get hypo-fuckin-thermia or something."

"Naw, I'm okay," JC gritted out, teeth chattering a bit. "I don't want your damn shirt, anyway. I'll warm up in a second." He sipped at his coffee, slowly, arching his eyebrow at Chris. "You're really just going to sit there, like that."

"I'm comfortable," said Chris, taking another gulp of the vodka. "I'm warm. And what the hell's wrong with my shirt anyway? It's a little late to be worried about cooties."

"Who's worried?" JC frowned. "I just don't want to be sitting over here, smelling like you. And are you going to tell me the *real* reason you're still here, or not?"

"If we did it right," said Chris, "you *already* smell like me. And maybe I just don't want to leave right now. I'm feeling...sated."

JC *could* smell Chris on him -- his cologne, a little deodorant, that fucking rum -- but lounging around in his clothes was a little more intimate than that and JC didn't want to be reminded of what they'd done, just now. "Sated?" he echoed. "This from the guy that wanted to fuck again?"

Chris grabbed his crotch and squeezed his dick. "I do. Later. With you."

JC snorted. "You're crude. And if you keep boozing like you are, I'd love to see you try to use that dick you're so fond of groping." JC had to shift in his seat a little, nevertheless. "What did you mean, 'sated,' then?"

"My boy never gets tired," said Chris, grabbing it again and winking at JC. "I, however, do. I'm feeling laaaaaaazy, JC. I don't want to get up and leave. I'd rather stay here, even if it means resuming my shouting match with you."

"I'm not going to fight with you any more," JC replied, forcing back a blush -- Chris wasn't going to unsettle him with a wink, not when they had been at each other's throats all evening. "Just don't talk about Justin, and we're fine. I can smoke in peace, you can drink in peace, and then later I can laugh at you."

"We can't talk if we can't talk about Justin," said Chris, enjoying the vodka again. "Do you want to talk? Or do you just want to sit there and stare at me?"

"I'm not staring." JC averted his eyes. "And is that, like, your policy? You're gonna refuse to talk to me unless we talk about Justin?"

"I'm *saying*," says Chris impatiently, "that no matter what we try and talk about, it's gonna come back to Justin. Unless you want to talk about the weather...in which case, it's cold out. End of conversation."

"I don't think that's true," JC disagreed. "We can talk about...Lance? If you want." He shifted again in his chair; he wasn't warming up very quickly, and his hands shook as he lit another cigarette.

"We can try," said Chris, "but mark my words, it's gonna come back to Justin." He watched JC shiver for a moment, his eyes dark. "And *shit*, C, just put the shirt on. It can't be *that* bad."

"Just throw me mine, okay?" JC said, tiring of that game. "And what is it you need to say about Justin so badly, that you're so certain it's gonna come up?"

Chris reached for JC's T-shirt, but couldn't quite reach. "Come on, C, don't be a pussy about it. It's not like I'm dying to talk about Justin, but he's so *there* in between us right now we can almost *see* him. Are you blind or something?"

"I'm not blind; I know he factors into...whatever this is. But I don't really see how there's much of an 'us' to talk about anyway." He tucked his legs up to his chest in the chair. "And if you're too fucking lazy to get me my shirt, then fine. Throw me yours."

Chris threw JC his shirt. "Fine. There is no us. I didn't just have the best sex of my life, with the only person I *want* to have sex with. So sorry."

JC let the shirt land in his lap, but didn't make a move to put it on. "Are you gonna start sniping at me, again? I thought we established that you don't know what you want. And I *know* you know that good sex doesn't constitute a relationship -- I've heard you use that excuse, before."

"I'm not sniping. And there are all kinds of relationships. And I'm almost out of fucking vodka."

"You have a quarter of that bottle left." JC looked at him in confusion. "And if you're not sniping, then you're...baiting me, or something. What is it you want me to say, Chris?"

"Are we gonna have to go through this *every* time we screw? Because I'm not sure I can deal with the ego-bashing and paranoia on a daily basis." He took another swig of the vodka, reducing the level in the bottle alarmingly.

"I don't know who you think is paranoid, or who's bashing whose ego, but I'd love to remind you that *you* started this. I was all set to leave when we were done when you started whining about pillow talk." JC paused, frowning. "And I changed my mind, I do want some of that vodka, now." He didn't, really, but he didn't know how else he'd get it out of Chris's hands, and the other man was drinking too fast.

Chris sighed, looking at the bottle in his hand, then held it out towards JC. "Don't drink it all," he said, his words slurring only slightly. "Is a little cuddling too much to ask, though? After months of dancing around each other?"

The T-shirt fell to the ground, forgotten, as JC leaned out of his chair to grab the vodka. He picked up the tequila, too, and put it beside his chair. "Are you kidding?" JC asked, honestly surprised, as he sits back down. "I figured I was just beating you to the punch."

"Shit, are you *laughing* at me?" He frowned at that, as well as the fact that there was no longer any alcohol within reach. "That's so not cool."

JC stared at the vodka for a minute before taking a swig himself, wincing. "I'm not -- " he coughed, "*laughing*. I'm totally fucking serious. How was I supposed to know you wanted to...hold me, or whatever, after? You barely even talked to me *during*."

"I talked," he argued. "I talked more than I normally do." Somehow, this was coming back to his fucking *feelings* again, and he barely wanted to acknowledge he had those, most days, let alone try and do something constructive with them.

"You talked," JC repeated dryly. "I basically remember you telling me you'd let me ride you, and then saying 'fuck' when it was over. Not even a 'damn, that's good, baby.' Somehow you laying there, and coming in virtual silence, is supposed to tell me you want to cuddle?"

"Yes," said Chris. "And you'd know that if we'd been sleeping together all along, which we should have been." He propped himself up on his elbow and squinted to look JC in the eye. "It was the best, JC. It was seriously, honestly, the best *fucking* sex I can remember. Ever."

JC truly didn't know how to react to that. He was surprised -- *amazed*, really -- that Chris would admit that to him. And he could tell he meant it, too, because there was nothing but naked honesty in his eyes. "Why didn't you say something?" he asked, finally. "Was it easier to let me get pissed?"

"I said," said Chris, frowing again. "I said, JC. I *told* you it's all about you, but you think it's all bullshit when I say that..."

"Cause you don't *act* like it!" JC spat out, hating that he felt guilty for something he didn't even understand, wasn't aware of. "You hit on me, like it's all a joke, and only when Justin's around, which makes me think it's some *game*...and then there's Lance, and...and then all of a sudden, tonight, out of nowhere, you insist it really *is* just me? You're right, I guess -- I don't believe you."

"You should. It's the truth," said Chris. He tried to sit up, but his head was spinning and he suddenly realized he was starting to run off at the mouth. "Lance is just...Lance. I don't ask him to do it, JC. That you're missing. He *offers*. I'm not responsible for Lance's carnality here. And I always told you it was you, from the first time I said."

"You could say no, to Lance," JC insisted, choosing not to dwell on the fact that that sounded remarkably similar to what Chris told him earlier that evening. "And somehow, grinding up against me and humming 'God, I want your ass' in my ear is rarely enough to make me realize any deeper meaning."

"I *can't* say no to Lance," said Chris. "I'm weak." His head flopped back down on the armrest, a little too heavily. "How am I supposed to say it then? I said it the way I know how, C."

"What are you trying to *say*, exactly?" JC took a different approach, wondering if Chris was talking in circles on purpose. "And what am I doing that makes you think I don't get what you're trying to say? 'Cause I'm not surprised if I don't."

"I don't know," said Chris. "I'm talking outta my butt here. Just tell me to shut up or something. I'm the asshole after all; I'm not allowed to have anything more than the sex. Not even allowed to want it. Whatever *it* is. I don't know."

"God, Chris," JC said, staring at him. "What the hell happened to you, to make you say shit like that? You can have something more than sex -- I think you'd be amazing at it -- but you need to *admit* it. God, as much as it would kill Joey, I bet Lance would practically come in his pants if you told him you wanted him for more than that 'comfort' shit he does."

"I *don't* want Lance for more than that. I'm not even sure I want Lance for *that*, except he's gotten so fucking good at it. You *know* who I want, C. How many times do I have to say it? And if I can have you for sex, then that's all I'm ever gonna ask for because I don't know how to do more. Even if I could."

JC frowned, and started to shiver again. "That sounds like another fucking line, to me, Chris. Like, pretending you don't know how to love is gonna get you out of even having to try? I don't work like that, I won't work like that, even if it means telling you 'no'."

"I didn't say love," muttered Chris, knowing damn well that's what he meant. "I said *any*thing more. I'm not even sure I know how to be friends with people anymore." He sighed, showing actual unhappiness for the first time.

"What happened?" JC asked again, more softly. "Cause you're right, you're pushing us away, pushing *me* away, when you reduce everything to getting off."

"Nothing *happened*," said Chris. "I'm just a jerk, who doesn't deserve *any*thing he's gotten on this ride. But as long as I have it, at least I can take advantage of it before it all goes away."

JC took another big swallow from the vodka bottle, before putting it down beside the tequila. "Look, Chris: maybe I should tell you that you're right, the sex we had was...unbelievable. You made me want it, you made me *ask* for it, and I don't do that. I can tell you *that*, but I can't sit here and stroke your ego about anything else, or reassure you that you deserve everything that's happened to us. That's something *I* wouldn't know how to do."

"I want you," muttered Chris. "Can I make it plainer than that?" He grabbed his crotch again, but not because he was horny, and a moment later he let go. "There's some other stuff inside me that's not about the sex, but I don't fucking know what it is or where it came from or why it's there. You deserve better than Justin, though, JC. You don't love him. I know you don't."

"Christ, Chris," JC breathed, passing a hand over his eyes, feeling overwhelmed with trying to maintain his distance from Chris. "I keep telling you that I *do*, I *do* love him. I love Justin. Why don't you believe *me*?"

"Because if you love Justin, then you can't love me," said Chris. "And if what you two have is love, then why do I want love in the first place? Love sucks."

Focusing on the wall behind Chris's head, JC considered that. He felt a little responsible for helping Chris understand that he should be able to let himself love, but also realized that Chris was too perceptive to not call him on it if he exaggerated about how good things were with Justin. "It can suck," he finally admitted. "It can hurt. But at least it's something, it's not empty -- even fighting has soul, has heart."

"That doesn't make it love," said Chris. "At least...not a love of a different sort than all of us have for each other. Or maybe had. I don't know anymore." He felt drunken tears coming to his eyes and fought them off before JC could see them. "Are you happy?"

"With Justin?" JC started biting his thumb again. "I am. He makes me feel needed, and I...need that, I guess." JC smiled a little ruefully. "Maybe that's what makes it different from the love I feel for the rest of you: Lance needs Joey, but Joey doesn't need anyone. You, you don't need anyone, either, but it's different."

"How's it different?" asked Chris, sniffing discreetly. "Can I have my bottles back?"

"No," JC told him, peering a little closer at him. "You don't need them. And I can't really explain why it's different, it just is. Joey's maybe more like me, in that he gets his strength from having someone else depend on him? Whereas you..." JC trailed off. "You just don't seem to need much," he finished lamely.

"I don't need anything," agreed Chris unconvincingly. "Except my vodka."

"And I just told you that you don't need that, either," JC said. "Now let me ask you: are *you* happy?"

"Nope," said Chris with naked honesty. "You needed to ask?"

"Not really," JC replied, a little helplessly. "Do you even know what would make you happy?"

"Nope," repeated Chris. "Or I'd be doing it. I thought maybe it would be you."

"'Thought'?" JC echoed, flinching a little. "Meaning, you don't any more? Guess the sex wasn't that good, after all," he joked lamely, terribly fazed by how easily Chris could disarm him.

"Thought...until you started treating me like the asshole I clearly am," he corrected him. "The sex, as I said, was the best. Just the best."

JC's face fell. If there was one thing he vowed every day, it was that he would never, ever make anyone feel *used* after sleeping with him. And it seemed that he'd done just that, or something just as bad. "C-Chris," he stuttered, when he could swallow back the lump in his throat, "I didn't mean...you just, you started saying all that shit about Justin, and I just...*reacted*..."

"Justin brings it on himself," said Chris, "but...okay, I won't lay into him anymore. Will that make things okay with you?" He avoided anything else that confession implied; the 'feelings' inside him were getting stronger, and he didn't know how long it would be before they made themselves known, with or without his conscious understanding or consent.

"It'll help," JC acknowledged, curling up in his chair again. "He wouldn't be such an ass to all of us if you didn't taunt him, I told you that." He thought for a minute, then ventured a soft question: "What can *I* do? On my part, to help make things okay?"

"Leave him. Be with me." In Chris's head, it was as simple as that.

JC couldn't help but laugh. "You think it's that easy? God. And you can't even tell me what 'being with you' means."

"I don't know what it means," said Chris, his voice raw and naked. "I don't know what to do about all the *shit* inside me. The stuff that's telling me to just run now and not drag you into this insanity that's my life. The stuff that's telling me to grab hold and make you my everything. The stuff that's telling me that you'll never want *me* no matter how much I want *you*. And you *do* know I want you."

"Shit ... *shit*, Chris," JC stared at him, that lump in his throat returning. "How can you say stuff like that, *feel* stuff like that, when all you've done up 'til now is try and get in my pants? I told myself, I *assured* myself, that you'd only fooled yourself into thinking you wanted me. Shit."

Chris smiled at him crookedly. "You sure you don't want to hand that vodka back, C? I think *it* deserves most of the thanks."

JC frowned and started chewing on the inside of his cheek. "So you didn't mean it?"

"I meant every, fucking, painful word," Chris spat out. "Just take it or leave it would you? Just don't doubt me anymore."

"I'm not!" JC tried to keep from yelling. "It's just...it's so much, it's *too* much, to deal with -- neither of us are sober, or thinking clearly; we're both fighting with Justin, and that's affecting us, we just made love, for the first time, and *that's* affecting us...I don't even know *how* to make the decision to 'take it or leave it'!"

"I notice you said the first time," said Chris. "Not the *last* time." He was trying to remain in control, but things were still threatening to flow out of him more than they already had. He wanted to *talk* to this guy, and maybe not even about them but about *every*thing. He wanted to know how JC thought. The ways he felt. Everything.

JC smiled shakily. "You don't want to do that again?"

"I want to have you every day."

"I think Justin would have something to say about that," said JC softly, ruefully. "If you didn't get sick of me, first."

"Right," said Chris. "Justin. Didn't I tell you he was gonna come up? No matter what we tried?"

"Well, *you* haven't really tried to avoid talking about him," JC pointed out, leaning back in the chair. "God," he muttered, almost to himself. "He really *can't* find out about what we did."

"So that's it then?" said Chris. "I'm just some dirty little secret from Justin, now? Christ."

"What?" JC said absently, his mind all of a sudden *very* preoccupied about what Justin would do when he didn't go home. He looked over at Chris. "No. But you *do* agree he shouldn't know?"

"He's going to realize, at some point," said Chris. He shifted on the couch, his knee now covering his crotch so it wasn't quite as exposed. "He's going to figure out that you're with me."

"Chris," JC pinched the bridge of his nose. "You keep talking like this is some forgone conclusion. I. Am not. Breaking up. With Justin! Okay?"

"Fine," said Chris, dizzily trying to get up. "I'm going home, then." He stumbled off the couch onto his knees on the floor, his back to JC. "Fuck," he mumbled, leaning forward onto his arms, unable to go any further. "Just *fuck* you, Chasez. *Fuck* you." At least, from this position, he could hide the burning tears filling his eyes.

"Holy shit," JC breathed, frozen in shock. He'd had no idea Chris was that drunk -- how much vodka had been in that bottle when he'd started? -- and despite everything Chris had been saying, he had *no* idea how close to the edge he was about it.

Chris stayed where he was, trembling only slightly, scared to do *any*thing to break the delicate balance inside him right now. Not to mention his precarious position on the floor -- a bit to the right and he'd be falling against the couch, a bit to the left and he'd smack his head into the coffee table.

JC stuck his cigarette in Chris's untouched coffee mug and uncurled from the chair. He didn't stand up, though, unsure of what Chris might do if he actually approached him; he wouldn't be entirely surprised if he reacted like a cornered dog. "Chris?" he ventured softly, finally. "Do you need me to help you up?"

"No," said Chris sharply. "I'm fine where I am." He began leaning dangerously to the side, then just slumped to the floor on his stomach. "I don't need you."

"So you've said," JC whispered, standing up anyway and moving to crouch beside the other man, touching his shoulder gently. "Sofa? Or do you want to try and make it to a room?"

"I'm *fine*," said Chris, looking incredbly uncomfortable. He rested his head against the hardwood floor and closed his eyes. "Lance will find me here in the morning and take me back to bed. You can go home to that prick now. And funny thing...you probably *are* going home for his *prick*."

JC fought the urge to grab Chris by his ear and yank him up that way, but instead muttered "yeah, yeah," and slid his hands under Chris's outstretched arms. "Sofa it is."

"I don't need you," muttered Chris, but he let JC hoist him back up onto the couch and snuggled into it.

Standing back, JC watched Chris for a minute before speaking up again. "I think I'm getting you a blanket. Are you passing out?" He was seriously unsettled by Chris's rapid mood swings.

"I don't pass out," said Chris. And he didn't. He just got very...uninhibited. "And I'm not cold." He looked down at his own nakedness and shrugged.

"I don't care," JC sighed, walking to the other couch and grabbing the afghan off of it. "You're naked, and no one else needs to see that when they wake up." JC tried to avoid touching Chris as he covered him with the material...he was not only not cold, his skin was burning.

"I thought you were leaving," said Chris, pushing the blanket down to his waist. "You *said* you were leaving. But *don't* expect me to stop feeling what I'm feeling okay? It's not bullshit, it's real, it's *so* fucking real to me, JC, and it *hurts*. Fuck you, anyway."

"Stop saying that," JC said tightly, sitting down on the cushion at Chris's head. "I never said what you're feeling is bullshit, Chris, or that you should try to stop it -- I just don't know what *I* can do about it. Is that getting through to you?"

"Crystal. Fucking. Clear," he said, his voice unslurred for the first time in a whle.

"So?" JC prodded him, his brow furrowed. "Tell me, then. What can I do? I don't want you hurting, Chris, I -- I just don't."

"Be with *me*," said Chris. "We're so fucking hot together, C. You can't deny that."

JC didn't try. "It can't be hot all the time," he argued, instead. "And there has to be more to it."

"What?" said Chris. "Cause there *is* more." He pounded his chest a little, then his forehead. "There's *more*, C. There's more than Justin will ever give you, that's for sure."

Biting his thumb again, JC agonized over whether or not to pursue that. "You seem very sure about that, considering you don't know everything you think you do, about us."

"Then tell me," said Chris. "Tell me what I don't know. I'm sure you think I won't remember it in the morning anyway."

"I'm not betting on that," JC said wryly, picking at his jeans with his other hand. "Why don't you tell me what you think you can give me, instead?"

Chris snorted. "What you see is what you get, JC. All of it. No fucking holding back."

"Justin doesn't hold back, either," JC replied weakly, feeling immensely guilty at the lie, but too embarrassed to ask again what Chris *means* when he offers himself like that.

"Well, that's just fucking great," said Chris. "Remind me to never, ever fall for anyone again, okay? Because it's a hundred times worse than not feeling things for someone."

"Stop *doing* that!" JC exploded. "Just *stop*, Chris. Stop saying these things, these words, that I've never heard before, never believed before -- you've *fallen* for me -- and I believe it from you, dammit, and I don't know why! And you say them all offhandedly! How can you do that?"

"Not one fucking word I've said tonight has been offhand. Not one *fucking* word."

"Bullshit," JC spat, feeling like Chris might be jerking him around after all. "You don't tell me you're fallen for me like a real man would, by grabbing me and making me drown in your eyes and whispering it against my lips. Instead, you force out the words, make indirect references...tell me what not to let you do next time, making me read between the lines..."

"Fine, so I'm not a real man," said Chris. "I did it the only way I fucking knew how, JC. And I *did* say it."

"This is pointless," said JC, pulling himself up. "If you're not going to be straight with me, there's no point in continuing this conversation. It's like I'm fucking pulling your teeth, and *you're* the one that wants something!"

"Look, if you don't want me, JC, if you honestly don't want me back, then just fucking say so and be done with it and we'll both get on with our fucking lives." Chris clutched the blanket in his fist. "Stop playing these *God damn fucking games* with me. You're right about one thing -- *I'm* the one who said something. *I'm* the one who said what he wants. Not you."

"But that's just it!" JC fumed. "You're *not* saying what you want, not really. You say, 'I want you, JC.' Like I know what that means! You want my body, right? I get that. But then it seems that maybe there's something else you want, and I don't know *what* that could be. I don't know with you, I can't *read* you."

"How am I supposed to read *you*?" asked Chris. "Look, okay, this is gonna come out wrong because i've never fucking done this before, but I want *you*. *All* of you. Not just your body. Not just your mind. Not just your heart. Everything. And it fucks me the hell up because I've never wanted that before and I've never had it and I *shouldn't* want it but I do. I *do*."

JC's knees felt weak and he sat down abruptly on the coffee table. "That didn't come out wrong," he whispered, shaking his head. "God, see? You're making this so hard. You're right, you *shouldn't* want it, but not for the reasons you mean."

Chris suddenly felt completely humiliated for revealing everything to JC like that, especially since he was leaving. Especially since he was going back to Justin. It was everything he deserved, but that didn't make it any easier. "Just tell me," he said dully.

"Tell you?" JC stared, misinterpreting what Chris meant. "Tell you why you shouldn't want me? Because I *am* a whore," he said quickly, tears filling his eyes, now. "I'm a whore, and so I'm used, but I'm a cocktease, too, right? And the kind of wanting you're describing...that's too good for me."

"Get over here," said Chris. "Get over here right fucking now."

"What for," JC sniffed, wiping at his eyes with his knuckles. "What."

"Now," said Chris. "I mean it."

"What," JC repeated, whispering, as he scooted off the table to kneel in front of Chris on the sofa. "You know I'm right."

As soon as JC was within an arm's length of him, Chris reached out and tugged him forward and kissed him. And it went on and on and on.

JC's chest constricted at the heady sensation of being kissed by Chris -- not licked, not groped, not tongued, not teased. Just kissed honestly, with all the heat of their earlier lovemaking. He let a hand drift to Chris's jaw, tentatively.

"I want you," repeated Chris. "I hope you know what that means now."

"Shh," JC frowned, cupping Chris's face and gently sucking on his lips again, a little more desperately. He didn't want Chris to stop to say anything, because then he'd start thinking, and then eventually he'd realize that JC was right and nothing about him deserved to be wanted like that.

Chris just kept kissing him then, wondering if this was the last time he'd ever feel this and wanting to make it as memorable as he could.

"Oh," JC sighed when Chris's hands touched his face, and he realized he was still crying. He pulled back from the other man's mouth, pressing their foreheads together, not willing to lose all contact. "God. Please, Chris..."

"Don't cry, JC," said Chris, softly. "You're wanted."

JC closed his eyes, tightly, willing his tears to stop. "I shouldn't be," he breathed. "It won't last long."

"It's lasted this long," said Chris. "It's lasted this fucking long and it hasn't gone away, not one bit, and I *know* you, JC. I know you almost as well as I know myself."

"How long?" JC mumbled, ducking his head into the crook of Chris's neck, touching his lips to the feverish skin there.

"Months," said Chris. "I don't know. A long time. How long have I been pissing Justin off? Then add six months to that. And maybe more. Fuck. Don't leave me."

"Don't let me," JC replied, and captured Chris's mouth again, high on the words being spoken, and the warmth of Chris's body, but most of all on the feeling of knowing that *somebody* actually wanted him.

"I'm trying," said Chris desperately, clutching at him. "I don't know what to do!"

"Tell me you don't remember not wanting me," JC said shakily, kissing at his ear now. "Tell me you won't stop, even when you don't have to work for me anymore and I'll come when you call. Tell me you want me again in the way you just did, tonight, the way that *you* did, Chris, because I can't get enough of it."

"I won't ever stop," said Chris. "When you're here, the pain is not so bad anymore. I can almost believe that you want me, too, that you think I'm worth the trouble. I *don't* remember not wanting you. I don't remember the time when you didn't fucking *consume* me and it scares the shit out of me because it's so absolutely true. All of it. And I don't know if I'm big enough to hold it all."

"Yes," JC breathed, leaning into Chris, purring at the words that were making him achingly hard. "*Just* like that. Don't be scared."

"Tell me," said Chris, his fingers digging into JC's skin. "Tell *me* now. Don't let *me* leave."

JC frowned, the cloudiness in his head clearing a little without Chris's declarations of want to keep him in his trance. "Chris..." he started, "I don't...I mean, I want this, I want *you*, but..." He leaned forward again, biting at Chris's lips this time, hoping to avoid having to say anything more.

"Don't say 'but'," said Chris, closing his eyes, his words laced with agony. "Please don't say 'but'."

"It's just..." JC's words were muffled as he let his tongue slide into Chris's mouth. "Justin."

"Stop," moaned Chris, wrenching his head away. "Either stay, or go, but just don't sit there in between and think it's gonna be okay. Don't make me say things just to feed your ego. This is my fucking *soul* you're playing with, here."

"Chris." JC pressed against him, searching out his mouth again. "Don't, just don't...don't push me away. Just take this; take *me*."

Chris kissed him back, hungrily. "I don't want just part of you," he whispered against JC's lips.

JC climbed into Chris's lap, slowly. "I know." He did know, and maybe he could give all of himself to Chris, but not yet -- he wouldn't let go of Justin until he could be sure of something else.

"You have all of me," said Chris, still kissing him again and again, holding him close. "I'm yours to do what you want with, now."

"What about tomorrow?" JC asked quietly, hunching down to breathe softly at the hollow of Chris's neck. "What about when I have to go home...?"

Chris started crying then, he couldn't help it. And God knows he tried. "I'm yours anyway," he whispered. "Even when you go back to that *ass*, I'm yours."

"No, no, no..." JC murmured, nuzzling at the tears on Chris's cheeks with his nose. "No, Chris...you need to give me a reason not to go."

"I think," said Chris after a long silence punctuated by sniffling, "that if I could be in love...this is kinda what it might feel like. All pounding and aching and dizzying and overwhelming."

JC leaned back, still straddling Chris's thighs. "But you can't?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "If it's not...what you said...then what is it?"

"I want it to be that," he said, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist, "but I don't know. Can I be...you know? The guy who's made a hobby of fucking with people his whole life? Am I even *allowed*?"

Nodding, JC rubbed his palms over the blanket covering Chris's hips. "Look," he said softly, "If Lance can love, and Justin can love, and *I* can love, then there's no reason you shouldn't. You just...have to pick the right person."

"It's not like I have a long fucking list in front of me," he said. "I have a list of one. It's you or it's nothing, for me. Except the occasional blowjob from Lance, or finger fuck in a dark corner of the bar, or quick jerk-off when no one's watching. That's all I'll ever have, without you."

"And with me?" JC murmured, letting his hands drift around to touch at Chris's lower back, left bare by the afghan. "What will you have?" He never wanted Chris to stop saying those things, those words that he never would have thought might come out of his mouth. And never, EVER, for him.

"Everything else." said Chris, sounding breathless. "Everything else that's fucking out there, with you. And the blowjobs and the finger fucks, too, I hope."

"That sounds nice," JC said, his voice getting deeper as the fingers of one hand drifted lower and the others traced up Chris's spine.

"What can I have?" asked Chris. "What can *I* have? What will you give me, JC?"

JC sighed into Chris's ear. "You see what I'm like, with Justin," JC answered him, slowly, reaching his tongue out tentatively to taste the skin there. "If we were together, Chris, you could do anything you wanted with me."

"If we were together," said Chris, tilting his head toward JC, "*you* could do anything you wanted with *me*. No limits."

Grabbing Chris's chin, JC turned his head so he could resume his attack on his ear. "What would you do, first?" he mumbled, letting his teeth nip everywhere. "The veryfirst thing. If you had me."

"I'd lick you," said Chris. "All over. In every hidden crevice of your body. I'd taste every taste you had to offer. I'd feel every inch of you with my lips and tongue. Trace you. Learn you." He licked his lips. "I'm hungry, JC."

"Jesus," JC breathed, his hands clenching tighter at Chris's back. "What are you going to do about *that*?"

Chris smirked. "I *think*," he said. "I just told you." He leaned forward and sloppily licked JC's neck. He smelled strongly of vodka and sex.

JC shoved him, halfheartedly, and smirked back. "That's what you said you'd do if you had me," he corrected him, coyly. "What are you gonna do, since you don't?"

Chris frowned and shoved him away. "Nothing," he said. "Thanks for finally fucking answering."

"What?" JC tumbled off Chris's lap, confused that what he had figured to be typical, taunting foreplay had been resented. "What the fuck, man?"

"I want you so fucking bad that my whole body aches," hissed Chris. "Don't tell me you don't want me and then expect me to be fucking happy about it or something. I just ... I want to *take* you. Possess you. But I won't fucking *do* that without your consent. And obviously I don't have it."

"What if that's exactly what I *want* you to do?" JC growled back, pawing at the blanket. "Did you somehow miss how fucking hard you've made me again, already, too much, when I was straddling you?"

Chris blinked at him, his eyes still watery. "You just said ... " He began, but gave up that thought. Nothing that I will," he said finally. "Sooner or later. Because I'm not sure I'm in control anymore."

"What?" JC said again, distractedly -- fumbling to get between Chris's legs, still tugging at the afghan. "What does *that* mean? You tell me what to do, I'll do it...pretty simple concept."

"Fuck me. And make me believe you want it. That's what I'm telling you to do."

"I do, I do," repeated JC, over and over, as he pushed Chris deep into the sofa and finally succeeded in uncovering the rest of the other man's body. "I do want it. You'll let me?"

Chris exposed himself to JC, in every way possible. "Yes. Anything."

JC paused. "But that's what you want me to do? To fuck you? 'Cause you can, you know ... "

"Fuck me," repeated Chris. "Make me think you desire me."

"Okay," JC nodded, still kneeling in between Chris's now-bare thighs, his palms spanning the muscle there. "Um, is there anything that, like, you're not comfortable doing ... ?" JC had learned, from Justin, that it was better to ask first; better safe than sorry.

"I told you," said Chris. "No limits, not with you. Tie me up if you want. Fuck me with the remote control. I"m fucking YOURS, okay?" He closed his eyes dizzily and waited for JC to claim him.

JC bit his lip, barely recognizing the pliant man in his arms, and wondered where to start. He exhaled heavily and then crouched over Chris's groin, the scent from his earlier orgasm even stronger than it had been when he was in this same position a few hours earlier -- which made JC think back to how Chris had taken him, without holding back. Keeping his eyes on Chris's face, he lowered his mouth to his half-erect cock.

"Oh GOD," said Chris, arching his back, completely uninhibited. "DO me. Fucking DO me, JC."

"God, hold on," JC pulled off him, but trailed his fingers down the length of Chris's dick, over his balls, to massage at the skin beneath them. "Don't you want me to suck you, first?"

"Anything," said Chris, his lips parted and hanging open slightly. "Oh, JC ... "

"Okay," JC whispered, grabbing Chris's hips and tugging him down further on the cushion, so that his ass was right on the edge, pressed against JC's own chest. He licked lightly at one of Chris's nipples, and felt Chris's cock harden even more against him.

"FUCK," Chris blurted out. "I LOVE this. Just ... if not thing else, let me have THIS."

"What," JC mumbled, trailing his lips down Chris's chest even as he let his fingers linger over Chris's lips.

"This ... this fucking FEELING, over and over and over again."

"You're going to have it, Chris," JC said patiently, leaning forward to rub against Chris's cock again, letting his own erection press against the foot of the couch. "Now suck on my fingers."

Chris lapped at JC's fingers, coating them in saliva, sucking them into his mouth and tonguing them enthusiastically.

"Good," JC mumbled, feeling his dick swell even more with the insistent, eager suction on his fingers. Reluctantly, he pulled them out and dragged them down over Chris's chin, kneeling back on his haunches and ducking his head to return to licking Chris's length.

Chris moaned now, a loud unashamed sound. "God ... yes ... yes ... "

All the noise that Chris was making was so different from how silent he was when he was fucking JC -- it surprised him, and made his blood run just a little hotter, giving him the confidence to lift Chris's hips with his hands and tuck his chin farther to breathe slowly at the skin underneath his balls.

Chris cried out, his skin electric. "Yes," he repeated, wanting to make sure JC did. not. stop.

Taking a deep breath, JC let his tongue venture gently to trace around Chris's hole, then lap at it gently. He slid one hand off Chris's hip, up along his thigh, pushing behind his knee to hold him open and steady.

"Oh my FUCKING God," said Chris, not even trying to hold anything back. Not caring if Lance and Joey heard ... maybe even wanting them to.

Grinning, JC clutched at Chris's body more roughly before pulling his face back almost completely, letting the air cool the moisture he'd left between his cheeks. He was going to take advantage of a vocal Chris.

"Come BACK," moaned Chris, tossing his head to the side and trying to shove his hips towards JC. "Don't go."

"More?" JC whispered, letting one of the fingers that Chris had sucked on take the place of his tongue, tickling and teasing at Chris's opening.

"MORE!" shouted Chris, pushing back against him. "Fuck you, JC, MORE. Please ... " The last word was a long, drawn-out moan.

JC's own groan resonated with Chris's when he sank both fingers in his ass at once, letting Chris's leg go so he could grip himself in his other hand. "Fuck, Chris ... just, FUCK."

"Fuck me," said Chris, his voice dropping to a growl. He gripped his own erection and started pumping it. "God, yes."

"Not yet," JC purred in response, letting go of his own cock to tangle their hands together on Chris', replacing the fingers in his ass with his tongue, again, this time held rigid as possible.

Chris felt a shudder go through his body. "I love you," he moaned, seemingly completely unaware that he'd said it, "Do that again. Again. AGAIN."

JC paused briefly, then figured that either he heard Chris incorrectly, or he was too drunk to know what he was saying. In either case, it was only enough of a surprise to distract him for a second, before he flexes his tongue again, filling Chris's hole.

Chris shuddered again, almost overwhelmed. He was so hard he thought all of his blood must have been in his dick right then. It certainly wasn't in his head, that was for sure. His most coherent thought was 'more', followed closely by 'yes' and 'fuck me'. The WANT and NEED were swallowing him.

Still thrusting with his tongue, JC pried Chris's hand off his cock and entwined their fingers together beside their bodies. His other hand was still palming and rubbing his own erection, with no clear rhythm, no consistent touch.

"You ... God damn ... TONGUE me, LICK me, FUCK me," he cried out, thrusting towards JC's face. "You want me I know you want me like I want you want to hold you and fuck you and finger you and thrust and hump and twine and you want the things that are me you WANT this you want ME, oh GOD, JC, OH god, JC ... "

"Fucking CHRIST, Chris!" JC had to pull back from his body completely, pull his hands off his cock and grip the coffee table behind him, and use every last bit of his willpower not to come from the sound of Chris's voice and the things he was saying. He bowed his head and took several deep breaths.

Chris opened his eyes and stared at him intensely. "You stopped," he said, the franticnesssuddenly gone from his voice but not his gaze.

JC looked up, into Chris's eyes, and suddenly launched himself on top of his body. "No!" he said desperately, "I'm not. I'm not stopping. I can't ... "

"Good," said Chris, and closed his eyes again. His muscles were tense as he waited for JC to start.

JC's cock was aching, just ACHING, and he couldn't wait any more to feel himself inside of Chris -- to experience the heat and pressure for the first time since he could remember ... since Justin at least. He hoped the attention he'd already paid to Chris would be enough to make everything go smoothly -- but not too smoothly. He slid off him again, pushing himself up on his knees, spitting in his palm to ready himself.

Chris made a sound suspiciously like a wimper and yielded to JC's attentions.

"Last chance," JC whispered, moaning as he slid his hand over his cock, slicking it down, and touched Chris's hole with both its tip and a finger from his other hand.

Chris thrust against him, trying to get him inside. He was incoherent in his need to be fucked right now, he need to KNOW in the most base sense that JC wanted him.

"TELL me, Chris," JC gritted out, replacing his finger with his thumb, so he could grasp Chris's tailbone with the rest of his hand.

Chris grunted. "Fuck. Me. Now," he said, squirming.

So he did. He pulled the ring of muscle open gently with his thumb, and eased the head of his cock just inside. "Mother of ... *fuck*." He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his pulse to slow.

"J ... C ..." breathed Chris, willing himself to wait and very nearly failing. "Want you. Yours."

"Ah, fuck," JC said again, grasping at Chris's hips and practically pulling him off the couch into his lap as he thrust quickly into him. He let his palms drag around Chris's legs, pushing them back towards his body, spreading him open as wide as he dared.

Chris let JC do whatever he wanted with his body. There was very little he hadn't done, and nothing he wouldn't do with JC, right then. He reached out to grasp at JC's body, bucking against him, wanting to take it harder, wanting to take it longer, wanting to possess him, if only for that moment.

JC felt like Chris's heat was sucking him in. He leaned farther into the other man, pushing up from his knees, trapping his cock between them and licking at the muscles of Chris's chest. His thrusts varied in speed, in depth, in strength, but only increased in intensity when he slid his hands up behind Chris's back and cupped his shoulders to shove him down his length.

"That's it," moaned Chris. "Just ... yeah ... do that ... " He rocked against him, his mind clear of everything but each moment as it passed. He panted, his lips parted, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"How much?" JC grunted into his chest, pulling one hand back down to cup the top of Chris's thigh, relishing every impact of his hips against Chris's ass. "How much ... more ... can you take?"

"Everything," said Chris, bucking against him again. "*Fuck* me."

JC chuckled a little wildly, regretfully. "This won't last long enough for that."

"Then--" Chris gasped. "--we do it--" He tried to pull JC further inside him. "--again."

Laughing again, JC dipped his hips and rammed into Chris from a new angle. "God, are you going to come? Because I am ... I am, I can't help it, Chris, you're so *fucking* hot, I *can't* help it ... "

Chris felt like he was coming every time JC drove into him, but he knew something bigger was coming and nodded dizzily, his fingers sliding along JC's slick skin.

"Fuck!" JC blurted out, not wanting this to end so soon, but not anywhere near accustomed enough to the feeling to be able to hold out. He grasped Chris's cock roughly, tugging on it, not even considering trying to be gentle.

Chris feels hot, then cold, then hot again. He felt his cock pulse and knew what that meant, but he doesn't want this to be over. Things were good, when they were fucking. They were good right *now*.

"God, we fit," JC mumbled, delving deeply one last time before he pulled himself out completely andcame, the milky liquid spurting over his hand on Chris's cock, Chris's stomach, Chris's hips.

They came together, which to Chris was like a fucking sign from God or something that they were supposed to be doing this together. Together all the time.

JC gasped when he felt Chris splash on his chest, and pulled his hand off his cock quickly. "Oh ... oh, god ... I'm ... "

Chris grabbed JC's hair in his fist and pulled him in a searing kiss.

JC's apology was swallowed by Chris's lips, and tongue, and his face just burned when he gathered the smaller man in his arms, pressing their sticky torsos together.

Chris didn't want them to stop, was afraid to let JC speak. His tongue explored JC's mouth again; he wanted to memorize it, know it by heart in every sense he could.

JC moaned, still blushing, letting Chris take control of the kiss. His hands gripped the cushions of the sofa tightly; he strained not to push away.

When Chris finally let JC go he licked his lips compulsively and stared into his eyes. "So ... was it good for you, too?"

JC shivered and buried his head into Chris's shoulder. "You couldn't tell?" he asked, meekly.

"You never say," grunted Chris, pulling away a bit. "After all that and you can't just say?"

Clutching him tighter, JC exhaled shakily. "It's just you," he mumbled, touching his lips to Chris's collarbone. "I don't think you can do that any way other than good."

"Are you mine yet?" asked Chris, gnawing on the inside of his cheek a little.

Shivering again, JC snorted softly. "What?"

"It's a simple question." Things were starting to come into focus again for Chris. The sights and smells and tastes around him. The sounds. The words he wasn't hearing. He fucking surrendered and JC couldn't even admit to what it might have meant.

"Fuck, Chris," JC frowned, falling back on the floor, clutching his knees to his chest. "Can't you just fucking BASK for two seconds like a normal human?"

Chris shoved against him lightly. "What the fuck do you mean by that? You don't need to TELL me what a fuck-up I am. Thanks a whole fucking lot."

JC stared at Chris, totally not understanding how things could, once again, go from fucking mind-blowing to sullen and antagonistic in a split second. "I didn't ... " he starts, trying to calm Chris down by rubbing on his calf. "Chris ... please ... "

Chris felt his eyes burning again and scrubbed at them angrily. "I give you everything, and you still belong to *Justin*." He spat out Justin's name like it was poison. "Don't you."

Flinching at hearing Justin's name, and Chris's tone, JC's hand dropped back down to his lap. "Chris," he whispered a little pleadingly, "It's not that simple --"

"It could be," said Chris. He shivered, suddenly, and rubbed his arms.

"HOW could it be?" JC bit out, curling up even tighter. "You don't know, *you're* not the one who has to fucking *choose*..."

"And it's that hard to choose, is it?" said Chris flatly. He got up off the couch abruptly, wobbling unsteadily as he stood, and sought out his bottle of vodka. Or tequila. Whichever came to hand first. "Well. So that's it then. Nice fucking you, Kirkpatrick, and now it's time to go?"

JC's mouth dropped open as his eyes followed Chris over to the chair. "No...that's not...christ, Chris, what are you doing? I'm not...I didn't *go* anywhere!"

"Yeah you did." Chris took a shot of tequila right from the bottle. "Your body's here with me and *fuck* does it know what it's doing, but I don't have a fucking *clue* about the rest of you."

JC crawled up onto the couch that Chris has vacated, wrapping his arms around his body. "There wasn't a second there that I didn't know exactly who I was with," he said softly. "Why are you drinking?"

Chris shrugged. "What else have I got?" he asked back, taking another shot. "You liked listening to me want you. You liked *hearing* it. Am I right?"

"I did," JC nodded, frowning when Chris brought the bottle to his lips again. "What's wrong with that?"

"You ever fucking think that *I* might like that, too?"

JC bit his lip, confused. "What? I -- I said it. I *did*, Chris." He was suddenly very, very cold, and feeling very naked.

"Tell me you want me, then," demanded Chris, the tequila bottle dangling from his hand. "Tell me you want *me*."

"I do," JC shrugged, casually, drawing even more into himself. "Obviously."

"SAY IT!" Chris almost yells.

"I just *did*!" JC stared at him in confusion. "I *do*, Chris. I want you. How could you even think I didn't, I wouldn't, after that?"

Chris smiled at him suddenly. "Now we're getting somewhere."

JC frowned, hunching over slightly. "What are you doing? What does *that* mean?"

"It means ... " Chris paused, and even his body stilled. "You meant that, right? That you want me? Fuck, JC, I need to *hear* that. I don't deserve to be wanted, but that doesn't mean I don't fucking *crave* it."

"How could I not, after that?" JC asked. "And after what we did before? Fuck, you made me so hot, I couldn't handle it. So how did I fuck it up?"

Chris considered that for a moment. "Him," he said finally. "You didn't fuck it up. He did."

"He who?" JC furrowed his brow. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Justin," said Chris. The tequila wasn't giving him the renewed buzz he hopes=d for, and he sighed. "I can't forget that you're going home to *him*."

"Oh," JC breathed. "But you know I have to. I know you know that. Maybe not tonight, but..."

"You have to," repeated Chris. "Like it's some kind of fucking law or something. Is that it? Is he, like, your *law*?"

JC chewed on his lip, harder. "Chris. You *know* Justin, you know what he's like...and he loves me..."

"The hell he does," muttered Chris, bringing the tequila to his lips again. He sat back down, practically on top of JC.

"Fuck you, Chris," JC grimaced. "You don't have to fucking start *that* again. You don't have any *clue* how he feels about me."

"Yeah, I do have to start this shit again," said Chris. "Because if we don't finish it then, well, us won't ever fucking *be* in the first place." He sighed, drank again. "Which is probably the way it should be, anyway," he added, muttering.

"Put that *down*," JC hissed, grabbing at the tequila. "And tell me what you're fucking getting at. You said you'd leave him alone."

"I'll leave him alone. And I'll leave Lance alone. And I'll leave Joey alone. But I won't leave *you* alone, and *that's* where there's gonne be a fucking *problem* with him."

"You can't tell him," JC sat up straight, eyes wild. "You *can't*, Chris. You saw him, when you were just flirting..."

"Fuck you, Chasez," he said. "You don't want *me*." Chris suddenly felt naked again; he grabbed the first pair of boxers he found and pulled them on, almost stumbling as he tangled himself in the legholes. "I'm going home."

JC laughed, he can't help it. "You're not, you're not going anywhere, except into that extra bedroom. And I don't know *what* you want from me! I told you I wanted you, I *want* you, and somehow that's not enough?"

"ME," says Chris emphatically. "ME, meaning *not him*. I didn't think it was that difficult." He managed to get the boxers on, and felt a bit better about it.

JC cautiously tugged the discarded blanket up around his waist. "They're not mutually exclusive, you know. Fuck. I can't just flip the switch on everything I've had with him, everything he's done for me."

"Why not?"

"Because." JC couldn't seem to get warm enough. "He *loves* me, and takes *care* of me, and he's *good* for me. He doesn't play games, and he's not screwing Lance on the side."

"I was screwing Lance before I was screwing you," said Chris bitterly. "Technically, I'm screwing *you* on the side."

"So you *are* screwing him," JC sulked. "You fucking liar."

"I don't mean screwing like he's taking it up the ass," muttered Chris. "Don't be so fucking literal."

"FUCK," JC leaned back into the couch, with a hand over his eyes. "This didn't have to happen like this, you know."

"I've been second best too many times," said Chris. He tried to grab the bottle, but it was just beyond his reach. "I won't do it again, not for you. I should have known better than to fucking try."

"Who fucking *asked* you to?" JC howled. "Fucking *Christ*! You think I wouldn't be 100 times better off without you harassing me, taunting me, seducing me? This is *your* fault."

"You would be a 100 times better off without me," repeated Chris dully. "Well, way to fuck up, Kirkpatrick. I'll just be going now. He got up again, grabs=bed the bottle off the table, and locked himself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

JC sat there in shock for several minutes before standing and tugging his jeans on, wincing as they rubbed his tender cock. He stalked over to the bathroom, ready to pound on the door until he remembered that Joey and Lance are sleeping. "Chris! What the fuck are you *doing*?"

"Drinking," he said, his back slamming into the door as he slumped to the floor in front of it.

JC leaned against the other side of the door, grasping the frame and pressing his forehead into it. This time, it had been Chris that had gotten up so suddenly after the sex, it had been Chris who immediately thought of Justin, it had been Chris who couldn't seem to get far enough away from him, *soon* enough. Even after all the things JC thought Chris had meant, the other man would rather drink himself into oblivion than acknowledge them.

Chris even *realized* that tequila tasted like piss and he'd locked himself in a fucking *bathroom* like a little girl having a temper tantrum, but he drank there anyway. He couldn't think of *any*thing JC could have said that could possibly have made him feel worse about this whole thing. Just nothing. He was used to being the fuck-up, being the thing that messed up people's lives -- and he was just *through* hiding himself under his joking and foolishness -- but he didn't need to take *that*.

"Chris," JC said softly, his lips touching the door. "Please. Come out, or let me in, or something, but let me see you. Don't fucking *do* this...I have *no* clue what I did to piss you off so bad!"

Chris laughed bitterly. "You don't *know*?" he said disbelievingly. He gestured as he spoke, and slopped some tequila on his hand; he paused to lick it off before continuing. "You told me," he said, biting back the miserable, nasty things that he wanted to say, "that your life would be -- and I'm fucking *quoting* here, JC -- a hundred times better without me. Aren't I just giving you your fucking wish?"

"Oh," JC winced, his legs finally giving out and causing him to slump to the floor. "Damn, Chris, I...I don't think that's what I said. And even if I did, I didn't mean it...I need you in my life, I do. But I'd be better off without you trying to fuck up what I have with Justin, that's all."

"*Justin* fucks up what you have with Justin," said Chris, banging the back of his head against the door again helplessly. "You have to choose, JC. Him or me. Someone who wants you *as* you are and for *everything* you are ... or a whiny, self-centered jerk." He drank again, certain he wasn't going to like the choice that JC made. He'd thought that at least if he got the sex, that would be something. That would sate the yearning just a little. But it didn't sate anything, it just made him want JC more.

JC flinched when he both heard and felt Chris's head pounding on the other side of the door. "Justin wants me as I am," he replied weakly. "He *needs* me. And I don't care if he's self-centered sometimes, I told you I can't give him up when I don't even know what you're offering me!"

"I'm offering you everything," said Chris, his voice becoming dull again as he realizes just *how* much JC doesn't understand. "Everything. But I guess that's not enough for you, is it? *I'm* not enough. You've made your choice, now go the *fuck* away and let me wallow for a while, would you?" He closed his eyes, dropped the bottle to the floor. "You don't know what this fucking *feels* like ... you being there and me still feeling you fucking *inside* me and you being with him. Still. Because I'm not enough."

Reaching up over his head, JC grabbed onto the doorknob and started rattling it loudly. "LET. ME. IN!" he bit out, straining to keep his voice low. "This is bullshit. You want to fucking wallow, and get shitfaced with your damn tequila, when you should still be holding me and kissing me and telling me these things with your mouth on my ear. That way *I* could hold *you*, and kiss *you*, and tell you that I still feel *you* inside *me*. And that has nothing to do with being with Justin."

Chris let JC's words get to him momentarily. He stood up unsteadily and unlocked the door, then managed to get himself up on the bathroom counter, the bottle of tequila beside him. He wanted JC's lips on his body, JC's cock in his ass, JC's hands in his hair, and wished it could be real. Wished that somehow *he* were more important. That JC would see that *he* was right -- he stopped himself right there, though, because he *wasn't* good enough. Justin was bad for JC, yes, but *he* wasn't good enough either. But that didn't stop him from fucking *wanting*, so bad it ached.

JC scrambled to his feet when he heard the lock click, opening the door before Chris could change his mind. He frowned when he saw Chris's bloodshot eyes, the protective way he curled his body around the liquor. "Thanks," he said, finally, shutting the door behind him. "Now you want to tell me what this is all about? To my face? I mean, *look* at us," he gestured at Chris's bare stomach, his own naked chest, both coated in the evidence from their earlier lovemaking. "You have me all over you, I have you all over me, and somehow you've convinced yourself that you're not *good* enough? You couldn't *be* any better."

Chris smiled a little, but there was still bitterness in it. "Then why not be with *me*?" he had to ask again. "This shit you've got going on with Justin, why are you so fucking attached to it? He *doesn't* treat you good, he *doesn't* love you, and I don't even think he's fucking *faithful* to you. And for fuck's sake, JC ... look at me ... don't you think I need you, too? Huh?" He gestured broadly with the bottle, spilling a little over onto his hand again. His tongue flicked out eagerly to lick it up as he watched JC.

JC was fascinated, again, by the sight of Chris's tongue and couldn't help groaning to himself, wondering how it was possible that his exhausted body was responding to it. "You said you didn't need anything but your vodka," he mumbled, willing himself to close his eyes when he sat down on the toilet seat. "Justin, on the other hand, needs me to take care of him in a way that you're too stubborn to ever allow." He paused. "He doesn't cheat on me."

"And my tequila," said Chris, hugging the bottle. "My vodka and my tequila." He glared at JC. "Fuck ... you ever think I might have been wrong about that? But why the *fuck* am I gonna tell you I need you. Why ahould I give you that fucking power over me, when you'll just go back to that little fucker in the end, anyway. Go back to him and have a good laugh at me, won't you? I won't have that. I *won't*." He licked the rim of the bottle. "And who you got taking care of *you* anyway?"

JC let his head drop into his hand, at that. "I -- I thought you all did. Justin does, in his way; and Joey..." JC trailed off. "Even fucking *Lance* does, sometimes. The rest I can do on my own. And admitting you need me doesn't give me power over you..." He chuckled ruefully. "God, isn't what I have with Justin evidence enough of *that*?" Shifting a little so he was facing away from Chris, he added softly, "Look, can you put the bottle down, please?"

Chris looked at the bottle wistfully, took one last, long swallow, then handed it to JC. "I don't need you in the way that a friend needs you," he said, his words running together so much they were almost incomprehensible. His body was tilting to the side again; any further and he was going to topple over into the sink. "I need you to make me loved and I need you to *not* go back to someone who hurts you and makes you not be able to live like yourself anymore and is just plain *mean* and nasty and stuff. That's what I need. And you need."

JC took the bottle gingerly and placed it on the tile of the floor. "I can't ignore him, though, Chris," he said, just as gingerly. "That may be what you need, but what about what *he* needs? He's your friend, too; you don't want to hurt him, I KNOW you don't." He started rubbling idly at his torso, massaging the sticky substances there into his skin. "He doesn't hurt me," he said absently. "He doesn't cheat on me, he doesn't do *any* of the things you're saying...why are you lying, like that?"

"I'm not lying," mumbled Chris. "I *know* him, C. Maybe I see things you don't wanna. Maybe I see things you just *won't*. Wanna hear something really, REALLY fucked up? Like, more fucked up than anything tonight?" He paused dramatically. "I don't think I've ever seen you happy with Justin. Now *that*, my good friend, is fucked up." He tried to get down off the counter and started slipping on a wet spot. As he hit the floor, his legs refused to hold him up.

JC practically tripped himself when he jumped off the toilet to try and catch Chris before he collapsed. One arm closed around the other man's chest, the other cradled his head. "Jesus, man," he hissed, struggling with his weight. "What the fuck have you done to yourself?" He didn't have time to let Chris's words register.

"Tequila," said Chris with a sloppy smile. "Vodka. Rum. My best friends in the whole fucking world." He inwardly thrilled in the feel of JC's arms around him, but couldn't let it mean more to him than it did to JC. Which hurt, dammit, and he tried not to show that either. He wasn't much in control right now, though, of what he did and did not show.

"I'm not letting you do this anymore," JC told Chris bitterly as he eased him down onto the bathmat, combing his hair back from his forehead. "I don't care if you don't want me around, I'm making you stop."

"Letting me?" said Chris with an indelicate snort. "Whatever." A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him and he closed his eyes. "That wasn't good," he whispered. "Even my bottled friends don't like me anymore ... " He clutched at JC almost desperately. "And don't listen to me being an idiot," he added. "I don't care what I say, I always want you around."

"Right," JC whispered as he watched all the color drain from Chris's face. "You have a funny way of showing it, too, then." He sighed, then used the counter to pull himself back up again. "C'mon, Chris," he said louder, trying to get the other man to stand too. "You need to sleep this off."

Chris sighed, loudly. "Come to bed with me," he said, and tried to get up. "It's soft and warm and ... soft." His hand gripped the counter and it seemed to take every ounce of his energy to tug his body back into an upright position. "I *feel* things for you," he said, then fell against JC's body.

"Shit," JC sobbed out weakly, his arms catching Chris again, automatically. He was completely drained -- physically, emotionally, mentally -- and he couldn't tell if everything Chris was saying sounded so perfect to him because he was *vulnerable*, or because there was something deeper there. He stretched out to open the door, hitching Chris's almost dead weight up against his side.

Chris ran his hand over JC's chest as he was helped to his room, feeling the faint stickiness that seemed to be everywhere on his skin. "Thank you," he said. "Thanks for the best night I've had in a long time. And if *that* ain't fucked up, too, I don't know what is." He sloppily kissed JC's cheek but didn't try for his lips, not right then. "I'm fuckin' tired," he muttered as he stumbled.

"Me too," JC sighed, nudging the bedroom door open with his knee and making their way over to the bed. He *was* tired, but more than anything, he was scared. Because nothing Chris had done all night made JC think that he was going to stop pursuing him -- and everything Chris had done all night was making JC realize that he didn't *want* him to stop.

Chris fell onto the bed, onto the covers that he'd left unmade, and closed his eyes. "Did you bring my tequila? I might need it on the mornin ... " His voice trailed off and he pulled a pillow to hischest, clutching it close. He passed out waiting for JC to join him on the bed.

JC paused, in the middle of climbing into the bed. "Chris?" he whispered, pouting when he saw Chris grab for the pillow immediately, rather than for him. "You awake?" When the other man didn't respond, JC straightened back up slowly. So much for wanting JC in his bed -- not that JC wasn't half expecting to be ignored once they got to this point, anyway. Nobody ever wanted to just *sleep* with him.

Shutting the door softly, resigned to sleeping on the sofa, JC noticed that the door to Lance and Joey's room was ajar. Overwhelmed with curiosity, he peered around the corner and inhaled sharply. The two men were asleep, peaceful smiles on both their faces; Joey's large frame draped over Lance's shorter one, their legs and hands tangled together. *Perfect*, he thought bitterly. Even fucking *Lance* had someone to hold him. Justin would hardly ever let him touch him while they were sleeping ... if he even let him stay in bed with him. And now Chris turned out to be the same, despite insisting that he wants him and needs him.

Trudging down the hall, JC felt tears welling up in his eyes. He collapsed on the sofa, clutching the cushions, burying his nose in the scent of the intimacy that he and Chris had shared but now seemed to be wholly one-sided. And cried himself to sleep.

---@---

Justin banged his fist heavily on the thick door again. "I know you guys are in there!" he called through the door, the index finger of his other hand jabbing at the doorbell. "I can see your cars." He backed off for a moment, the shouting scratching at his throat, and rattled the doorknob. To his surprise, it opened easily under his hand. Slamming the door behind him, not caring who he wakes, he stalked into the house.

JC didn't hear anything, his face pressed into the corner of the couch, the afghan pulled up around his ears, but he was pulled into consciousness by the feeling of someone staring at him.

Justin reached down and shook his shoulder, not particularly gently. "There you are," he said. "I thought you were going to come home last night." His tone was accusing as he watched JC's eyes blink open, watched him become aware of his surroundings. "You're a fucking mess," he added. "Were you mauled or something." He spotted the almost-empty bottle of vodka at the end of the couch. "Or did you just get shit-faced and pass out? Nice. Real nice."

"What?" JC yawned, pulling himself up slightly and scratching at his back. Turning his head, he saw the bottle that Justin was glaring at, and flushed slightly, all his memories from last night rushing back. "No, Just ... I didn't ... " He bit his lip, realizing that this may be his best excuse. "I mean, yeah. I drank some -- I was upset about fighting with you -- and I figured you wouldn't want me driving home ... "

"What, and you couldn't call? I was *waiting* for you JC. I stayed up." Justin decided to lay it on thick, knowing damn well he could have called to find out if JC was still there, and he hadn't bothered. Not until this morning, when there was no answer. He shook his head at the bottle. JC's eyes were bloodshot, his skin flushed. He'd probably drunk the whole damn thing himself. "Is that bastard Chris still here, too?"

"Don't call him that," JC snapped, eyes narrowed, before he could stop himself. "And I don't have any fucking clue; I'm not his babysitter." He stood up, the blanket falling to the floor, and swallowed quickly when he saw Justin take in the rest of his appearance -- his touseled hair, bare chest, and half-unbuttoned jeans.

Justin narrowed his eyes at JC. "I always call him that," he said. "You've never asked me to stop before. Unless he was there." His eyes roamed up and down JC's body. "You jerked off," he said flatly. "You smell like fucking sex. You'd rather stay here than come home and get off with me?" He licked his lips, his eyes running over JC again. He expression started to become suspicious. "Either you noticed Chris leave or you didn't," he added. "I never said you were his babysitter ... "

"Well I'm not, and I have no idea if he left," JC repeated tightly. That, at least, was the truth -- he suspects that Chris was still dead to the world in the spare bedroom, but he could have easily gone home, as well. "And so what if I *did* jerk off? That's what I have to do half the time with you anyway ... "

Justin punched him in the arm, a little too hard. "Do not, and you know it," he said cockily, his expression a puzzling combination of frown and grin. "We're going home now," he said, then tugged on JC's arm. "Find your clothes and let's go. Fuck, you need a shower." He touched JC's stomach and chest and felt a familiar film on it. He pulled away. "Either you're kinkier than you were yesterday, or you weren't alone last night ... " His expression quickly shifted to dangerous. "Don't tell me you were so fucking drunk you didn't notice. Just *don't*."

"Notice what?" JC stumbled backward when Justin lets go of him, his face flushing again. "Of *course* I was fucking alone; you think *Lance* came out here and joined me, or something?" he sneered, trying to keep his expression neutral. "C'mon, let's go. I *do* need a shower."

Justin reached out and shoved JC's shoulder. "I think you're lying." Then he reconsidered and reached out to pull JC closer, to sniff him, but before he could he spotted a T-shirt on the floor, and it wasn't JC's. "What the hell ... ?"

"Jesus, Justin," JC grabbed his arm before he could bend over to grab the shirt -- *Chris's* shirt. "Let's just fucking get out of here, okay? Take me home? Make-up sex?"

"I stared at that shirt for a half an hour yesterday," said Justin. "You know ... while I was having that little shouting match with *Chris*?" He shoved JC again. "Apparently, you don't *need* sex. You already fucking *got* some."

JC paled. "Look, Justin," he said, holding up his hands. "I have no clue what Chris's shirt is doing out here, but I was on this couch the whole damn night. So stop fucking shoving me and let's go home, so I can apologize properly for not calling. Alright?"

"Blow me," said Justin, backing away a step. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I don't fucking cheat, you prick," JC bit back. "You *know* I've never slept around on you. I have no reason to. Baby -- "

"That wasn't an insult," said Justin, not even smiling. "It was a request. No ... it was an order."

Narrowing his eyes at Justin, JC pursed his lips. "You want me to ... what? *Here*? No way." He turned around finally, picking up his shirt. "Lance and Joey'll be up any second, and ... "

Justin grabbed JC's arm. "You don't want to? Since when do you not want to?"

JC tried to pry Justin's fingers off his bicep. "I didn't say that. Look, have some fucking shame, alright? Can we get home, first?"

Justin unbuttoned his pants. "There's no one else around right now. And I'm so hot for you that it won't take long." He smiled, somewhat sweetly. "And when I come then we'll go home. Come on, don't you have any sense of adventure?"

"How fucking romantic," JC stared at Justin, who didn't even push his pants down over his hips, but just pulled his cock out of his boxers. "No way, Justin. I feel like shit, I'm all fucking hungover ... let me shower, first, and then you can fuck me all day, instead."

Justin's face suddenly became stoney again. "I can smell him on you, you know. I was just giving you a chance to make it up to me." He spied Chris out of the corner of his eye and brought his dick closer to JC's face. "Come on."

"Smell *how*?" JC asked shrilly, then shook his head. "Nevermind. C'mon, Justin, I really don't feel good. Don't make me do this."

"I know what Chris smells like," said Justin, beginning to stroke himself. "You're such a liar. I should be kicking your ass right now for cheating on me. And with *that* guy, too. But I'm not, am I..."

"And why is that?" JC tossed over his shoulder as he headed out onto the balcony to grab his coat. "That's not like you, Mr. Kick-ass-first-and-ask-questions-later." He stopped suddenly. "And what do you *mean*, you know what Chris smells like?"

Justin paused. "We've only been practically living with him for years," he said finally, tucking himself back in when he realized JC really *wasn't* going to give him any. Which was a shame, because Chris was still watching and he'd wanted to give him a little something to think about, next time he wanted to hit on JC.

JC considered this for a second, then kept walking out the sliding glass door. Nothing about what Justin just did seemed normal -- especially backing down about the blowjob. Or talking about how Chris ... smelled. For a second, he worried that Justin actually *did* know, and he really *would* have gotten his ass kicked. Exhaling, he knelt and picked up his coat, and the practically-empty pack of cigarettes he had thrown at Chris the night before.

Justin- turned his head, finally looking at Chris dead-on and smirking. Now *Chris* looked hung-over. Either that or undead. JC just looked ... well-fucked, to be honest. And, when he took a closer look at Chris, so did he. "He's *mine*," he growled at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

Digging around in his jeans for his lighter, JC shrugged his coat on and pulled out a cigarette. It was a little early, and he coughed when he inhaled the smoke, but he needed the nicotine to help him through the interogation that he was sure wasn't finished.

Justin watched, both furious and amused, as Chris turned around and walked away from him, ducking into one of the bedrooms. They fucked. *They fucked*. Taking a deep breath, he followed JC out onto the balcony.

"I'm almost ready," JC said to him, without turning around. "Lemme just finish my smoke ... "

"You guys *fucked*," Justin spat out.

JC coughed again. "What?" he asked, his eyes watering. "Justin, look, I told you, I've *never* cheated on you. Why the hell would I start, now?"

"You tell me," said Justin, shoving him again. "Because you did. You think I can't tell? You think it's coincidence that you and Chris are both mostly-naked and both have dried fucking cum on your bodies? You must think I'm really stupid or something."

JC spun around quickly, but didn't see Chris anywhere in the living room. "Look, I haven't even seen Chris today," he scoffed. "And I don't think you're stupid, man, but I do think you're nuts. How the fuck should I know why Chris has cum all over himself? Maybe fighting with you turned him on, or something." He flicked his cigarette over the rail, and moved to brush past Justin back inside.

"He left," Justin called back to him. "He doesn't want you, you know."

Wincing, JC turned back around. "Believe me, Justin. I know he doesn't. Can we go, now?"

Justin nodded. "I'm going home now. Either you're coming with me, or you aren't. If you come with me, you're *never* fucking doing that with him again. Because if I find out ... "

"You'll what," JC asked dully, shoving his hands in his pockets. It didn't matter, anyway; Chris had already gotten whatever he wanted out of the deal. Now he just had to figure out how to handle Justin.

"So you admit it then."

"Justin -- " JC sighed, closing his eyes. "You won't believe me if I tell you I didn't, so what difference does it make?"

"Oh, it makes a difference all right," he growled. "I can't believe you ... after I've been faithful to *your* sorry ass all this time ... "

JC zipped up his jacket and approached Justin cautiously. "Let's just go home, and forget Chris. I'll *make* you forget him." He ran his hand down Justin's arm, and looked up at him from under his eyelashes.

"Yes, but can I make *your* forget *him*?" muttered Justin, still glaring at him.

"I'll never give him another thought," JC lied, reaching up to cup Justin's chin gently and kiss his mouth.

Justin pushed him away again. "Don't give me that bullshit. I see through you."

"Why would I want him," JC asked softly, pressing up against Justin's body, "when I have you?" He was desperately trying to play on Justin's weaknesses, here, so they could just *go* -- so he didn't have to see Chris.

"You flirt with him," said Justin. "You know you do. You lead him on. You're good at that."

JC bit down a little roughly on Justin's neck, by accident. "If you fucking *say* the words 'cock' and 'tease' in the same sentence, Justin..."

"Cock. Tease," Justin baited him.

JC stepped back, seething. "I seriously can't decide whether to fucking punch you, right now, or suck your dick."

Justin grabbed his crotch.

Realizing that was the response Justin wanted all along, JC just frowned. "Fuck you, Justin. One of these days, you're actually gonna appreciate me."

"I do appreciate you," snapped Justin. "I appreciate you *more* when you're not sleeping around on me."

JC just rolled his eyes and tosses him his keys. "You better fucking drop that shit, if you want to get laid when we get home."

Justin grabbed them. "All right. Lets go home and have a shower together. Maybe have a little fun ... " He didn't really believe him, but JC was turning him on right then and *obviously* wanted him, which made it more palatable.

"Sounds fucking peachy," JC replied, holding the door open for Justin and then following him out after one last lingering look down the hall.

Justin wondered briefly if that was sarcasm, then decided that, for the moment, he just didn't care.

---@---

Chris fell back against the bedroom door, realizing a moment later that it was the wrong bedroom. Lance was staring at him with glassy eyes, and Joey was snoring softly. "Uh, oops?" he offered.

"Shhh," Lance hissed, slowly unwrapping himself from Joey's limbs. "What the fuck are you doing in here? What the fuck are you doing *up*?"

"JC," whispered Chris, looking down, "and me. And then Justin ... " He gestured helplessly.

Lance just shook his head, not understanding. "Get out. Get *out*, before you wake him up."

"I slept with JC," hissed Chris desperately. "And then he *left* me. Lance ... "

Lance felt his world tilt. He never in a million years thought JC would give in to Chris. "Get *out*!" he spat again, louder. "Just ... fuck, go away, Chris. What're you telling *me* for, anyway?"

"Please, Lance ... " said Chris. "Help me."

"Fuck," Lance muttered, knowing he would. Like always, and JC didn't change anything. "Hold on, dammit." He slid out from Joey's embrace, pressing his lips softly to the other man's forehead, and smiling sadly when Joey mumbled, "I love you," in his sleep. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants over his boxers, and gestured at the door. "Lead the way."

Chris slipped out and back into the spare bedroom, Lance close behind him. "I wasn't gonna wake you up," he said, "but you were already up and all ... what were you doing up?"

Lance rubbed his eyes. "Hangover. Couldn't go back to sleep. And Joey was, like, suffocating me." He closed the door behind them and moved to sit on the bed. "So you actually did it, huh."

Chris nodded. "Yeah, we did. Last night." He paused. "Twice."

"Shit," Lance breathed. "Um...and was it...?"

"I can't even fucking tell you, Lance," he admitted. "It blew my mind. And then he fucking went back with Justin."

Lance couldn't decide whether that surprised him. Chris was a selfish lover, from his experience -- although he has his suspicions about Justin. But he'd never been fucked by Chris, either, and that tended to change things. "Why?" he asked finally. "Why did he?"

"You know why," said Chris. "I don't deserve him, or you, or anyone. But it was so fucking good."

"Well, great," Lance bit out. "Thanks for sharing. Can I go, now?"

Chris sighed and shrugged. "If you want. If you see my bottle of vodka out there, can you bring it in?"

"Well, what the hell do you need me to stay, for?" Lance pouted, not moving to go anywhere. "Since fucking *JC* is so fucking good."

"You make me feel better," said Chris, shrugging.

"Better than him?" Lance pressed, moving closer to Chris on the bed.

"Different than him."

"I can be *better* than him," Lance insisted, sliding off the bed to settle between Chris's knees. "You don't need him."

"Promise?" said Chris, almost hopefully.

"You don't even have to ask," Lance nodded, pulling at Chris's fly. "He's not going to leave Justin, Chris."

"I know," said Chris, trying not to whimper. He hated being hungover and heartbroken. It really sucked. It made him weak.

"You said you wanted me to help you," Lance purred, tugging Chris's boxers down slightly. "How can I help you, Chris? You want me to make you forget JC?"

"Yes," said Chris. "Please."

Lance flinched when he got close to Chris's already-hard cock, almost overpowered by the scent of both his cum and another's he doesn't recognize. He could even see the traces on Chris's belly. "How can I do that, though? If *he* was so fucking incredible..."

"Try..." whispered Chris, grateful for the distraction even though he hadn't gone after it intentionally.

Lance bit his lip. This was the most sober Chris had ever been when he'd done this, and that made him nervous. He touched his hip lightly, then let his fingertips trace around the head of Chris's cock.

Chris moaned lightly. It was unexpected...usually they just started with the whole blowing thing. It was also kinda nice.

Flushing at the sound of Chris's voice, Lance let his fingers caress Chris a little rougher, tugging on the skin of his dick, brushing past his balls, teasing at his entrance.

Chris bit his lip. This wasn't something Lance normally did. Normally it was just a quick suck and then it was over...but Lance actually knew what he was doing here.

"You like that?" Lance whispered against his groin, his confidence rising. He tickled at Chris's hole, then slid the tip of a finger inside with ease.

Chris moaned. "Yes," he admitted. Yes, this was *definitely* new. And good. And...yeah, okay. Yeah.

"This is gonna feel good," Lance promised. "I'm gonna finger you, and suck you off, and JC will never know what he's missing."

"Okay," agreed Chris easily, trying to expose himself more to Lance's fingers.

"Right?" Lance pushed, letting his finger slide in even further. "Tell me." His tongue darted out to flicker at the tip of Chris's cock briefly.

"Yes, okay," said Chris, moaning again. "Whatever you say." Lance would take him into oblivion, which was exactly where he wanted to be right then. And sex didn't come with a hangover.

"Okay," Lance echoed, plunging his mouth down on Chris's length suddenly, simultaneously thrusting all the way into Chris's ass with his finger.

Chris shouted, then clapped a hand over his mouth. He didn't want Joey to wake up.

Just as quickly as he had engulfed him, Lance pulled away, covering Chris's hand with his own. "Shut *up*!" he hissed, eyes red and slightly wild. "I swear to you, if Joey comes in here..." He trailed off, locked in a gaze with Chris. "Just fucking be quiet," he said softer, sullenly, but didn't move his hand as he worked his way back down Chris's torso.

"Sorry," said Chris and he meant it, but he was a bit shaken by Lance's sudden change of mood. He willed himself not to lose the mood, though, and with Lance's renewed attentions it wasn't difficult. It was strange suddenly for him to think that, really, Lance knew his body better than anyone.

Lance cursed himself mentally for showing emotion like that -- something he knew Chris would only ever take advantage of, as far as he was concerned. *You're only helping him,* he repeated in his head. *Don't you *dare* go look in his eyes again, thinking this means more to him than it does.* He nipped at the skin below Chris's navel, then licked slowly up the underside of his cock again.

Chris moaned, but it was much quieter now. Careful. If worse came to worse he could muffle his sounds with the pillow that was next to him on the bed. "God, Lance," he whispered. "You're so fucking good at that. Thank you." He ran his hand over his stomach, felt the remnants of his previous night's activities, and had to force himself not to think about it. Not to think about how he was rejected.

Wincing a little at that -- Chris had the tendency to never let him forget that he was performing a service -- Lance sat back and sucked his fingers in his mouth, grasping the base of Chris's cock in his other hand. He found his hole again, letting two of his moistened fingers slip just inside, spreading them slightly. Then he curled his hand, bringing his thumb up between them, massaging gently at the muscle. He watched Chris's face closely.

Chris's mouth fell open a little at the sensation. Lance had never done this for him before, and suddenly he wished that he had been all along because *fuck* that boy knew what he was doing. Even if there was nothing else there, he bet Joey would stay with him for the sex. But, he reminded himself, there *was* something else there. Joey and Lance were in love, and for a brief, painful moment he remembered that *that* is something that he himself could never, and *would* never, have.

Lance smirked slightly at Chris's expression, congratulating himself for always holding back somewhat when Chris was too drunk to appreciate it or feel the difference. He felt himself getting aroused a little as his mouth engulfed Chris's cock again -- something that almost *never* happened -- and wondered if perhaps this time Chris would actually let him cash in on the fact that he always said he "owes him one."

Chris grasped at the covers of the bed, the turmoil inside him momentarily forgotten as he became focused entirely on what Lance was doing to him. This wasn't the quickie he was expecting, this is just amazing. But still...it wasn't what he'd had last night, with JC. *That* had gone beyond the boundaries of sex as he knew it, drawing from something else, something that had previously gone untapped inside him. And so he began to realize just what he might have lost.

Burying his fingers the rest of the way inside of Chris, Lance started sucking slowly and heavily on his cock. He fervently hoped that the added stimulation, or the relative level of sobriety, or both, would keep the other man from thrusting like he normally did -- his throat was already raw and sore from the rough treatment it received last night. Plus, he had little faith in his gag reflex when he was this hungover.

Chris's hips started twitching a little but with the new position Lance was keeping him in in order to thrust his fingers inside him, he was unable to thrust. Which he *knew* was a good thing, but it was also driving him crazy. This was gonna be a different kind of orgasm than he was used to, that was for sure. He chewed on his lips, trying to remain silent, trying to keep this their little secret.

Lance spread and curled his fingers, pressing up against Chris's prostate haphazardly before pulling them out almost completely and inching them back inside. He squeezed Chris's hip gently with his other hand before jerking on his cock, squeezing at all the places his mouth won't reach. His hips started rolling against the mattress, and he groaned slightly at the pressure in his pants, but didn't say anything.

"Thank you," whispered Chris hoarsely, as though he wanted to scream it. He clutched at the sheets again, then at Lance's shoulders and the back of his neck, holding him in ways he normally didn't. He was going to come soon and he wanted to be able to let Lance know that. Each thrust against his prostate drove him closer and closer, sending shudders through his body.

Lance's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of Chris's fingertips on the nape of his neck, and everything in him started moving slower: his lips dragged off the head of Chris's cock, his fingers strained to move deeper, deeper into Chris's ass. The other man was being *tender*, and suddenly Lance wouldn't care if Chris started calling him a whore, because it seemed he'd finally done something to get through to him.

"Oh, Lance ... " said Chris, his hips thrusting just a tiny bit as he came, Lance's fingers buried in his ass, Lance's tongue on the underside of his cock. The feeling pulsed in his groin, then shockingly spread like a wave through his body. He tangled his fingers in the longer hairs on the back of Lance's head and panted, catching his breath. His other hand -- sweaty, shaking -- rubbed the back of Lance's shoulder softly.

Lance swallowed gingerly, letting his mouth linger on Chris's softening cock before withdrawing his fingers gently. Chris's hands were feverish on his body, and nothing in him wanted to pull back from the other man and risk him moving them. He placed a soft kiss on the inside of Chris's thigh, and then on his hip, before reaching up behind himself and closing his hand over Chris's. "I knew it," he mumbled, still pressing his lips against Chris's body, "I knew you felt something..."

"Felt something?" repeated Chris in confusion, his head still spinning. He continued to caress the back of Lance's head, enjoying the warm feeling of Lance's lips on his body. "I...yeah, okay. Lance, did you...?" He'd never asked before, and wasn't quite sure how. "I mean, do you want...?" He was willing right then, and able, and still needing in his own way.

Lance gave Chris's belly a final kiss before drawing himself up beside the other man, reaching out cautiously to touch his hair. "I can't believe it worked," he said almost to himself, shifting closer so that he could thrust subtly against Chris's side. "See, Chris?" he whispered. "You don't need JC..." He was still talking as he leaned forward, daring to try and kiss Chris's mouth -- something else he'd never done.

Chris didn't answer, allowing Lance to kiss him shallowly and reaching down to tentatively touch Lance's cock which he now knew was *quite* hard and still needy. He didn't trust himself to say anything yet, still sorting out how he felt about what just happened, and what was happening now. Lance was...warm, very warm. Comfortable, after all this time. But he wasn't JC and he never would be.

"Holy..." Lance shuddered when he felt Chris's hot fingers on the skin of his cock for the very first time, and fell on his back beside him, thrusting up desperately. He loved Joey -- he did -- but Chris's surly, cocky attitude had always turned him on. And now it seemed like *he* was actually able to do the same to Chris, instead of having to wait for him to get so worked up over JC that he resorted to Lance as a poor substitute.

Chris gripped him instinctively, stroking him at the frantic pace that Lance was forcing on him. He hadn't realized Lance had gotten quite *this* turned on by what he was doing; he'd always had the vague idea that Lance was more than a little annoyed when he sucked him off. Which didn't make a lot of sense to Chris, because why would he do it then? This, though, was proof to the contrary. "You like?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, shit," Lance inhaled sharply when Chris started talking and shoved at his hand, but it was too late. He looked down in dismay as he came, spurting into the air and down over Chris's knuckles. His head fell back on the mattress, his face flushed with embarrassment and disappointment at everything being over before it even started.

Chris smiled at him and rubbed his hand off on Lance's stomach. "Nice to know I turn someone on, still," he said, trying not to sound bitter. He didn't want to drive Lance away right now -- he was still enjoying the warmth, the comfort, the familiarity -- but he knew now more than he ever did before what he really wanted. With JC, things had exploded inside him. It was so much more than a physical thing. With Lance, even though Chris had a certain amount of affection for him, it was physical. Which, really, was fine because Lance had Joey. And he had...no one.

"Just...don't," Lance sighed, swatting Chris's hand away. "Don't touch me." He rolled over on his side, facing away from Chris, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal so he could get up and go take a shower. His eyes squeezed shut, and he had to acknowledge that he was hoping against hope that Chris wouldn't let him push him away -- that he wasn't just fooling himself when he thought he must have done something to get through to Chris.

"Lance...what...?" Chris stared at him in confusion. He'd thought that they'd both just really enjoyed what they'd done, but now... He sighed -- rejected again. "I know I'm not Joey," he said, even knowing that he really didn't have the right to, after everything he'd put Lance through, "but can you *try* not to make me feel like a reject right now? I've been through enought of that lately, don't you think?"

Lance stiffened, and turned his head slightly to stare at Chris from over his shoulder. "Oh, *right*," he bit out, angry -- *so* angry. But it was mostly at himself...for not remembering what had brought Chris to his room in the first place; for not realizing that there was no way that Chris had forgotten; for getting so caught up in it that he actually thought *he* might be responsible for making Chris act tenderly, rather than some memory of JC. "Right," he repeated. "I'm sorry, since when do my services include cuddling?"

"Services?" repeated Chris. "Is that what you feel like you're doing every time you fool around with me?" He looked away, his guts sinking. "I should have known. You *all* think I'm shit, huh." He resisted the urge to push Lance away just yet, though. He still needed to feel him there, on some level. To know that he hadn't just been left *completely* alone. Fuck. Lance thought this was a *service*, and not just two friends fucking around? All along? It made him feel...dirty. Dirtier than he normally felt, which was saying a lot.

Sitting up, Lance crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the older man. "The fact that this is the first time *I've* gotten off when we were together wasn't your first clue? Jesus, Chris." Slumping a little -- he didn't have the energy or the will to stay angry, and he was *so* damn hungover -- he started picking at the bedspread. "Look, we both know I was just helping you out. Like when we use the punching bag...only different. Okay? You don't owe me anything, but I also don't want to hear this shit about everybody rejecting you. Especially if you're going to talk about *him*."

"If you weren't enjoying it, you shouldn't have done it," said Chris. "Maybe then my whole fucking *world* wouldn't be crashing down around me right now." He sighed and flopped back down on the bed, thinking about what the hell he was going to do *now*. "Why don't people ever just say what they fucking mean, you know? If you had said a long time ago that you weren't getting anything out of this, then our last time would have been a long time before today. And if JC had just *told* me that he didn't want me, last night wouldn't have happened and I wouldn't be feeling like a pile of shit."

He turned his head to look at Lance. "I hope you had fun today, and we won't be doing this anymore." He sighed again, everything in knots inside him. "God, Lance, how can I stop thinking about him? Talking about him? Christ. I'm fucking in love."

Lance just stared at Chris, unable to find his voice enough to respond to that for a moment. "You're in...what? In *love*? With JC, you're in love." He paused, and started pulling out a thread from the blanket. Not wanting to believe that Chris had meant what he said about not doing this any more -- that was what he had told himself when he got together with Joey, after all -- he took a couple of deep breaths. "I thought you just...you know, wanted him, or whatever. Wanted to fuck him. I mean...was he really *that* good, once you had him? No wonder Justin..."

"So did I," admitted Chris, "But..." He was unable to find the words to explain to Lance what he felt inside when he was with JC, even when they were shouting at one another. "I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to believe it. But I am, I think. If this is what love is, this *everything* that he is to me." He sighed again, knowing how ridiculous he was sounding. And in front of *Lance* of all people. "Shit." He closed his mouth tightly, not wanting to let out any words other than the ones he carefully chose. "The sex was amazing, with JC," he said finally, "but it wasn't all about the sex. And it's never really not been all about the sex for me, ever before."

"Oh," Lance commentted softly, not surprised but still not able to keep from being hurt by Chris's verification that everything he had done for him was only about the sex. "Your 'everything,' huh? I guess you didn't tell him that, or he wouldn't have left with Justin."

Chris glared at Lance for a moment, then his eyes suddenly teared over and he looked away as until he'd forced them to stop. "You bastard," he muttered. "You had to..." He cut himself off and shook his head. "I told him," he said flatly. "You wouldn't *believe the things I told him. But still..." He snorted. "And you wonder why I'm so fucking upset today..."

"You *said* that to him?" Lance asked, genuinely surprised. "I was being serious, man. God, I would have thought that if JC knew that you felt that way, and...and the sex was good...then, I mean, it's kinda a no-brainer, right? I mean, Justin *doesn't* love him." He frowned for a second. "Um. Were you, like, *busy* when you said it? Maybe he thought you were just saying it to get him to fuck you."

"It was after," insisted Chris. "And fuck, *he* says Justin loves him. He tells me over and over and over again. And he *doesn't*." Chris grit his teeth. "Justin treats him like crap and we all know it. I don't know why...it must be me," he says. "It *must* be me. The fucker led me on and then..." He was worried he was gonna tear up again -- him! crying! what the fuck!? -- so he stopped there and shrugged helplessly. Lance couldn't do anything, but he was listening anyway which is a nice change for Chris.

Lance bit his lower lip, and cracked his knuckles, not sure whether Chris wanted him to touch him or not. "Well," he said weakly, "maybe JC thinks that Justin *does* love him. I mean, he hasn't really done anything *that* bad, to him, so..." Lance shrugged, awkwardly. "I'm sure it's not you, Chris. JC's probably scared. But..." He paused, not sure why he was bothering to defend JC, but continued anyway. "He doesn't *really* lead you on, though. You know that, right?"

"Sleeping with me isn't leading me on? Even after knowing how I felt?" challenged Chris. "Well, what-thefuck-ever. It's not like there's anything I can do about it now. Not like there's anything *left* to fucking do. I think I'm just one of those fucked up people who's supposed to be alone their whole fucking life. I've earned it, huh." Chris turned toward Lance and seemed to curl up a little, like a cat. "Don't answer that. I know the answer."

"I meant...he wasn't leading you on *before*...and you said you didn't say it until *after*..." Lance stopped, realized the futility of arguing the finer points of the problem with a truly miserable Chris, and chose instead to focus on the larger issue. "Well," he said softly, tentatively stroking Chris's hair a little, "I mean, how did you end it last night? Maybe you're misinterpreting what you saw; maybe he isn't really staying with Justin."

"Well, he told me he wasn't leaving Justin," said Chris flatly. "And then I passed out in here and I don't know *where* the hell he ended up because last thing *I* fucking remember is him being on this bed with me. And then this morning, Justin's here and JC's about to suck his fucking *dick* and then they go home together. So tell me, Lance, how I might have *fucking* misinterpreted." Chris got angrier and angrier as he spoke, angry at Justin and at JC and even at Lance and at his whole fucking life, that wouldn't let him have a moment of happiness.

"Well, shit," Lance breathed, thinking that all that *would* be hard to misinterpret. "So, wait...you guys were in bed together, in here, and fell asleep together? And *then* he got up, when Justin got here? Justin didn't *see* the two of you, did he? I mean," Lance winced, "he's gonna *kill* you if he finds out."

"He wasn't here when I woke up," said Chris softly. "I think he left me here and slept on the couch. When I saw him, had the fabric pattern pressed into his cheek." He smiled a little, thinking about how JC had looked when he was sleep-mussed, then forced that stupid, sappy, romantic thought away. "I don't think Justin knows. He had his chance this morning...and all he said was 'he's mine'. Which is true, so..." His voice trailed off, and he turned to press his face into the pillow again, away from Lance's prying eyes.

Lance let his fingers stroke the back of Chris's neck, but he frowned at the silly smile that appeared on Chris's face when he mentioned JC. "Why would he sleep on the couch?" he mused, a little louder. "That's weird. Look, Chris -- you think that maybe this isn't such a good idea? I mean, it's great...er, nice...whatever...that you have these...*feelings* for JC, but you're right, it doesn't seem like he's planning on dumping Justin for you."

"I don't care anymore," said Chris dully, realizing for the first time how true that was. "It doesn't change fucking anything. I still...you know -- feel things for him. Do you love Joey?"

"What?" Lance looked up quickly, caught off-guard by the question. "Of course I do. You *know* I do. Why?"

"What would it take to make you stop loving *him*, then?"

"Are you comparing what you feel for JC with what I have with Joey?" Lance asked incredulously. "I mean, for one: I *have* Joey. It's a little different."

"*That*," said Chris, frowning at him, "is *not* what I asked."

"But it's not the *same*," Lance insisted. "I have a *relationship* with Joey -- it'd take a lot more for me to be able to forget about him, to convince my heart and my soul that he doesn't own me like he does."

"Yeah," said Chris. "That's it. JC owns me." He flushed, confessing that to Lance, but it just came out. For better or for worse. In his case, probably for the worse. "And it's not going to fucking stop, so don't you even *dare* tell that it's that easy. Okay? Don't *fucking* insult me like that."

"I didn't say it'd be easy," Lance said defensively. "Just that, you know, *I* have a right to be *insulted* that you'd compare your fucking *crush* with what I feel for Joey."

"Get out," says Chris, shoving against him. "I knew I shouldn't have fucking told you."

"And why's that?" Lance smirked, easily dodging Chris's hands. "Don't tell me it's more than a crush."

"Well," said Chris, going for broke. "I have never, ever, in my whole fucking life felt like *this* about anyone. And I'm pushing 30, Lance, so I think I've gotten past the fucking *crush* stage, don't you? Don't you *dare* fucking belittle my feelings like that. Now get out."

Lance shrank back a little, sulking. "Oh, yeah? If you love him so much, why'd you want me to do this?"

Chris looked him in the eye angrily. "I *could* say ditto to you on the Joey thing," he said, "but I'll say this instead. Doing *this* was what showed me for real that I love *him*."

With that, any last hope that Lance had -- that Chris hadn't meant it when he said they wouldn't do it again -- was crushed. "Fuck you, Kirkpatrick," he spat bitterly, slamming the door shut behind him and heading down the hall to take the shower that seemed even more necessary than ever.

---@---

JC leaned his head back in the window of the taxi, handing the driver a crumpled bill. "Thanks man," he said softly, stepping up onto the curb and heading back up the walk toward Lance and Joey's. He wished he had his keys with him -- he still didn't want to run into Chris -- but he was pretty sure they fell out on the couch somewhere last night. And he needed his keys to drive his car.

He paused before pressing the doorbell, figuring that it wouldn't hurt to walk in unannounced, locate his keys, and duck out undetected. And then maybe drive around some. Sighing, he pushed open the door and crept down the hall.

Joey stirred the cream and sugar into his coffee and stepped out of the kitchen. Lance was already gone when he got up this morning, and he was feeling a bit lonely. A bit lost. He didn't like waking up alone, especially after the tension of last night. "JC?" he said suddenly, seeing his friend skulking into the living room. "I thought you were gone."

"Um," JC froze, caught. "Well. I was. But...I left my keys, and...y'know. Had to come back and get them. I didn't want to bother anybody."

Joey nodded. "You less pissy this morning?" he asked, not unkindly. He looked around his living room -- the couch cushions were shifted, there was a blanket thrown over it, alcohol bottles, a couple articles of clothing on the floor... "Hey, did you guys throw a party while I was sleeping or something?"

JC laughed hollowly. "Um. Sure, of a sort. I'm sorry; I should probably clean this shit up, huh?" He walked over to the sofa and picks up the cushions. "And, yeah...I guess everything's better, today. Justin's not mad anymore, at least."

Joey pointed at the shirt on the floor, then sighed. "Isn't that Chris's?" he asked, leaning over to pick it up. "He got drunk last night, didn't he? I thought he was gonna cut down on that stuff." He dropped it again and shrugged. "Well...I guess there's not a whole lot I can do about it, until *he* wants to. Maybe you guys should just try not to fight so much, you know?"

"Maybe," JC replied noncommitally, eyeing the shirt. "I dunno. It's him and Justin, really. Do you think that's why he drinks as much as he does?"

"Well...I sure as hell know it's why you *smoke* as much as you do. It kinda makes sense. He didn't used to drink this much, before that that stuff started happened between you three. Or...I don't know...maybe he did and he just hid it better." He looked up at JC. "I worry about you guys. All of you."

JC flushed. "You do? Why? Everything's cool...me and Justin are cool...I think Chris is gonna lay off, so..."

"Last night, JC," Joey began, looking down for a moment. "I know I pushed a little hard, and I know I came on a little strong, but I really want to know what's going on. It's getting out of control...and I don't believe you now when you say everything's cool. Everything was too much of a mess to be cool overnight."

Finding his keys and pocketing them, JC sat gingerly on the arm of the sofa. "No, really...I said some stuff to you I shouldn't have said. I know you were trying to help. It's just..." JC paused, *really* not wanting to get Joey wrapped up in this; not wanting the other man to think less of him for his part in all of it. "Justin and Chris are just both really passionate, and sometimes everything comes to a head. And Chris...well, I think he decided to lay off. So."

"You ever think you and Justin need to take a break?" asked Joey, seriously. "Just...spend some time away from one another? So you won't break up with him, even though you're not in love and you hate each other half the time. Okay. I thought about it and I can accept that...but I think *you* should take some time to think about it. I don't like to see you miserable, C."

"Why does everyone keep *saying* that?" JC frowned, his head dropping. "I'm *not* miserable. Look, I know I told you last night that I don't think we're in love, but I didn't mean that...I was just angry. Really. We're good for each other, just like you and Lance." JC couldn't help the bitterness that crept into his voice at the end.

"You meant it," insisted Joey. "I'd believe that if even if you hadn't said anything. I watch, you know. I see some of the stuff that you don't tell me, probably more than you mean people to. I don't know *what* is going on with this unholy trio thing you got going on, but I'm pretty sure on the love bit."

JC didn't bother to deny it. "There's nothing going on with Chris. Not with me, anyway," he added cryptically, irrationally furious with Lance at the moment, for screwing around on *Joey*.

"I don't think I believe that either," said Joey. "How come you guys lie to me so much, anyway? All I ever did was try to help..."

"Who lies to you?" JC retorted, defensively. "And why don't you believe me about Chris?"

"Because you look like you're lying," he said. "You're all twitchy and you won't look at me." He leaned forward and shook JC's knee a little. "You think I don't know you? After all this time? Even a little bit? You and Justin...JC, you *don't* have what me and Lance have. And I don't know, but I think Chris is a part of the reason why."

"Cause he keeps pissing Justin off," said JC petulantly, still not looking at Joey. "I don't know what else I can do to convince Justin that I'm there for him the way that you and Lance -- uh, the way you're there for Lance."

Joey narrowed his eyes a little. "I'm not sure what you meant by that, but I don't think I like it. JC...do you *want* anyone to help you? I don't want this group to fall apart because none of you actually want to *deal* with what's happening. You all seem to want to...I don't know...*wallow* in this drama, or something. It's exhausting."

"Oh, JC bit out, standing back up stiffly and grabbing Chris's shirt without even realizing it, then throwing it back on the ground when he did. "So *sorry* to inconvenience you at the office, Mr. Fatone, involving my fucking *life* in what I guess is just supposed to be a *job*. I definitely don't need your help if all you can say is 'put the group first'."

"That isn't what I said," said Joey, grabbing JC's arm. "If Nsync has to break up then Nsync has to break up and life will go on, but I will *not* lose the four best friends I've ever had because they refuse to deal with their problems. Refuse to let me help, when they start to show that they *can't* deal with them themselves. You know me better than that, C. Now calm down and *talk* to me."

"I can deal with this," muttered JC, but he didn't pull away. "And what can you do to help, anyway? You're just gonna tell me to leave Justin, and I don't *want* to leave Justin, I want to *have* someone." He blinked rapidly, trying to repress the tears that threatened, before continuing stubbornly. "Everything is gonna be better, now, anyway. Chris is over whatever...whatever it was."

Joey pulled JC into a hug. "I can help by listening," he said. "The way I used to, remember? I'm not all wise or nothing, but I listen well. And I'll hold you for as long as you need me to." He chuckled a little. "Unlike Justin, Lance won't flip out if he sees us like this. Which maybe is the *first* thing you need to be talking about..."

Snorting, JC buried his face into Joey's neck and breathes in his scent. "I guess he wouldn't," he agreed slowly. "So I guess you think Justin was out of line to react the way he did, to what Chris was doing?"

"I think Justin gets pretty out of line a lot," said Joey, rubbing JC's back. "I think you and Chris get out of line a bit, too, when you all start going at it. Christ, JC, what the hell is going *on* with you guys? It can't just be flirting, not anymore."

"Going at it, meaning, like yelling, right?" JC said quickly. "'Cause, I mean, it's not flirting. Anymore. It's...nothing...anymore."

"Yeah, like yelling. And whatever else you guys do when you're mad. Why...what did you think I meant?"

"Nothing, nothing," JC sighed, rubbing his face into Joey's collar and pressing against him a little tighter. "I'm just being dense. Ignore me."

"I won't ignore you," said Joey. "And I won't let you hide from this. Just tell me, straight up, what's going on? And what *was* going on, if that's a more appropriate question. I won't judge, okay? And I won't tell anyone. I just want to get this fixed."

"There's nothing to *fix*," JC said, a little forlornly. "And nothing's happened that can't be forgotten. So if you want to help? Just hold me, for a minute."

Joey did hold him, stroking his back, remaining silent for the moment but definitely not willing to give up on this. Not when JC was actually being more receptive than he'd been in a long time.

JC just melted into Joey's embrace -- his strong arms and thick body that make JC feel ridiculously safe. He struggled with whether to actually tell Joey about what happened with Chris: on the one hand, he wanted to be able to talk to *someone* about it...but on the other hand, he didn't really want to see Joey's reaction.

"I meant it," said Joey softly after a moment. "The most important thing to me is having the five of us all okay again."

"Well," JC said, his voice still muffled by Joey's shirt, "I can't speak for you and Lance. But Justin's over it; and if Chris isn't yet...well, he will be. Soon. Everything will be back to normal."

"Don't do this," pushed Joey. "Don't feed me that bullshit again, JC. Just tell me the story here, and I'll make my own judgment about whether everything's okay or not. Uh...okay?"

"Joey," JC pulled back, staring at the other man. "Everything inside of me is telling me not to talk to you about this. I don't think you can help. All it will do is just...destroy whatever you thought of me."

"Just don't worry about that, okay? I told you I wouldn't judge and I meant it." Joey looked him in the eye. "You've been my friend for a very long time, C. We've been through tons of shit together, and it's never destroyed our friendship, so I'm sure as hell not going to let *this* -- whatever it is -- destroy it."

"Really?" JC asked meekly, then took a deep breath, and clutched Joey to him again. "Okay...I slept with him. We slept together. *Fuck*. And it was incredible, and amazing, and he said all these *things*...and it's never gonna happen again."

"Wait," said Joey. "You slept with who?"

JC didn't answer for a minute. "Chris," he said, finally. "Chris, okay? And just...whatever you were gonna say, don't say it."

"Okay," said Joey, trying to process this. "And...just to be clear...why is it never going to happen again?"

"Because," JC stared at Joey. "He doesn't want me, like that. And I'm with Justin. And...it was a mistake. I'll be jerking off thinking about it for the rest of my life and it was a *mistake*."

"Well," said Joey slowly. "The one *other* thing I'm sure of, other than the fact that you and Justin aren't in love, is that Chris is into you. I just didn't know that *you* knew that. Which, clearly, you do. Or did."

"I thought he was just fucking around," JC admitted, hiding his face again. "But then, after we talked out on the balcony, and he came out? It wasn't a joke anymore. Instead, it was terribly short-lived, on his end."

"Are you sure?" said Joey. "I didn't think...well, just tell me what happened. Do you want to sit down?"

JC shook his head, holding Joey's waist tighter. "I don't even know! We were just teasing each other -- you know the kind of shit he says to me -- and then he kissed me and I'd never wanted somebody so bad in my life! So we did it." JC swallowed. "Um. Twice."

Joey had to grin a little, in spite of the gravity of the situation. "Okay, so you had sex with Chris. Twice. And then? What's all this crap about it being short-lived, on his end?"

JC snorted. "Well, you don't see him, do you? He freaked out. He fucking freaked *out*, and then *passed* out, and I slept on the damn couch. I couldn't even begin to tell you why we did it a second time."

"Nope, didn't see him," said Joey, "which is *why* I'm asking you to tell me. Tell me what happened, not your version of what happened, too." He rubbed his back again, hoping that'd loosen his lips a little more.

"What," JC pouted. "What does *that* mean? That *is* what happened; I'm not sugar-coating it. I guess he got what he wanted, all long, and bailed."

"See, that's where you're, like, 'editing'," said Joey. "Define 'bail' for me. I mean, what did he do, exactly?"

"He pushed me away," JC shrugged. "He started talking about Justin. He started downing tequila shots. He told me I was leading him on. He asked me to sleep with him -- like, *sleep* -- and then went to bed without me. He *bailed*."

"You mean he left you out here and just went to bed?" asked Joey. JC chuckled. "Uh, no. I practically had to carry him to your extra room. But he just grabbed a pillow, and held onto it like a damn lifeline and fell asleep. What was I supposed to do?"

"So," said Joey carefully. "Just to make *sure* I understand what you're saying here -- Chris asked you to sleep with him, but he'd been drinking too much and passed out before you got into bed...and you consider that rejecting you?"

"Well, yeah," JC bit the inside of his cheek. "I mean, isn't it? He was all curled up with a pillow like it was his only friend in the world, so I figured he didn't mean it. Even if I *had* presumed to get in there with him, he wouldn't have known the difference. It wouldn't have been like when you and...uh, it wouldn't have been sleeping *together*. And then he probably would wake up and kick my ass if he found me touching him."

"JC," said Joey, squeezing him for a moment and chuckling softly. "I say this in the most affectionate way, but you're a fucking idiot."

"What's *that* supposed to mean?" JC sniffed.

"*Think* about it for a second, would you?" said Joey. "He asked you to sleep with him, he...thought you were going to?" He waited for a confirming nod from JC before going on. "Then he passes out -- the fault of the alcohol, I'm sure, and not a conscious decision -- and you leave. Christ, JC, he probably woke up this morning alone and thought *you* were rejecting *him*. Fuck, you're *both* idiots."

"Shit," JC breathed into Joey's chest, before pulling back from him and shoving the other man away, not wanting to be faced with the real possibility that not only had he read Chris wrong, but that he then might have fucked everything up himself. "But...what about the rest of that shit? Like, pushing me away? And...God, if it was good for him too, and he was happy about it, then why the fuck did he start drinking like a fish afterwards?"

"Because he's Chris, and that's what he does when he's stressed. And," he said, pulling JC closer again, "if you don't think facing the possibility of dealing with Justin after this isn't stressful -- not to mention getting past his *own* shit -- then you're kidding yourself."

JC tried to pull back from Joey. "But he stands up to Justin all the *time*."

"Not after sleeping with you," said Joey. "I'm not gonna pretend to know what went on with you guys last night, but things are different now for him, I'm willing to bet. So...what *are* you guys gonna do about Justin?"

"Nothing," JC replied sullenly. "I told you, I'm not leaving him. He picked me up earlier, and we went home, and...just, nothing. I don't think he knows what happened, even if he tried to get me to admit it did -- and I'm happy to leave it that way."

"You're choosing Justin?" said Joey, a pained look crossing his face. "Oh, C...what are you doing...?"

"What do you mean?" asked JC as he bent down to pick up the rest of the clothes on the floor. "I'm not doing anything. And I'm not *choosing*. I don't have *alternatives*. Justin was there this morning; Chris wasn't. End of story."

"Chris was there," said Joey. "*You* left *him*. I really believe that." He sighed and covered his face with his hand. "What a fucking mess," he said. "Justin's fucked up. You're fucked up. Chris is fucked up. But you already know how I feel about Justin, and now you know how I feel about Chris...and you have to make your own decisions. But the ones you guys are making right now are tearing us apart, JC."

"I told you, everything is gonna be better, now," JC insisted. "Chris got it out of his system; I at least got him to agree to leave Justin alone. And Justin won't worry about Chris unless he's provoked. So everything will go back to normal, okay?" He frowned when he picks up the vodka bottle that Chris had all but polished off the night before. "Out of curiosity...how *do* you feel about Chris?"

"I think that when you say 'Chris got it out of his system', you're making a pretty damn big assumption," said Joey. "I see how he looks at you sometimes, and I didn't think he was after a quick fuck." He looked JC in the eye again. "I *don't* believe this is resolved and I *won't* believe it until I see all three of you happy again. Which -- honestly -- I don't think is going to happen while you're still with Justin."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't gonna happen if I set myself up to try and be with Chris, either, is it?" JC scowled. "Even *if* Chris wanted that -- and despite whatever way you think he 'looks' at me, he said and did shit last night that pretty much convinced me he doesn't." He sank down onto the floor, rubbing his forehead. "My hands are tied in this, Joe."

"No, they're not," said Joey. "They never are, unless you *think* they are. Fuck. Okay...can you do just one thing for me?"

JC laughed hollowly as he realized just how *much* he'd do for Joey if he asked. "What is it?"

"Talk to Chris. Find out what really happened. Stop making up stories and explanations in you head."

Pulling his knees up to his chest, JC dropped his head into the crook of his arm. "It won't matter. I can tell you what he'll do: he'll laugh at me, and call me a damn moron for thinking it was anything more than a fuck, and probably say he wishes it hadn't happened."

"*Stop* making up stories," insisted Joey. "Is that what he did last night? Because I seriously doubt that would have worked to get you into bed with him. Twice."

"No," JC admitted reluctantly. "I mean, the first time...maybe; we were both being pretty stubborn and...aggressive, I guess. But then..." He looked up, eyes red, voice barely audible. "Joey, he told me that he *aches* for me. And that he's fallen for me. And that he thinks that...well. It was all crap, anyway. I know that now."

"Stop. Making. Up. Stories." said Joey, punctuating each word. "Christ, JC, you're your own worst enemy here."

"Oh, yeah?" JC cried, tears appearing on his eyelashes. "Then where *is* he? I'm *not* wrong about this. Even *Justin* told me that Chris doesn't want me."

Joey suddenly laughed. Inappropriately. "Justin, the guy who's desperately trying to hold onto you, tell you that Chris doesn't want you...and you believe *him*? My God, JC, just listen to yourself for a minute. And fuck, talk to Chris about this. If you didn't want him more than anything, you wouldn't be so *damn* worked up about it. And if you hadn't left his bed last night, he'd be with you right now. And you know it."

JC shrank back, embarrassed beyond belief that Joey -- the only one he thought had *honestly* cared about him -- was *laughing* at him. "Fuck you, Joey. You don't know anything. He left me *way* before I left him."

"Maybe I don't," said Joey, becoming serious again. "But neither do you, JC, so stop pretending you do. That's *all* I'm asking. Talk to him instead of jumping to conclusions. Cause where would we *all* be if we jumped to conclusions all the time."

"I hope that was a rhetorical question," JC muttered, pulling himself to his feet and spotting his other pack of cigarettes by his discarded coffee mug from the night before. "Anyway. Thanks for listening, I guess. I just wouldn't bother crossing your fingers, hoping that I've got it wrong."

"Go into it without an open mind, and that's just gonna be a self-fulfilling prophecy," said Joey, beginning to straighten up his living room. "And..." He sighed. "No matter what happens, you can come to me afterwards, okay?"

JC just nodded. "Dude, just leave all that. I'll clean it up, I just gotta go have a smoke first. Go...find Lance, or something."

"I got it," said Joey. "Go have a smoke. Maybe that'll help you get your head on straight." He picked up a couple of mugs that had left rings on his coffee table, almost dropping them when he heard a loud bang. "Fuck!" he said, craning his neck to look down the hallway. All he could tell was that the bathroom door is now shut. "I think I just did."

"Whoa," JC echoed, narrowing his eyes as he follows Joey's gaze down the hall. "Uh...maybe you should go talk to him. *Really*, Joe, just leave this shit. I promise I'll even recycle the bottles."

Joey put the mugs back down, taking a moment to wince at the rings before standing up again. "I'll be back for it later. You've got bigger shit to worry about. I'm just gonna -- " He gestured towards the hallway. " -- find out what's what. Then I need to pick up some stuff to get that stain off the carpet, too." He gestured again, toward a dark patch near the couch. "Go smoke. And *talk* to him, for fuck's sake."

JC just waved Joey off, bringing his lighter to the cigarette already in his mouth before he even reached the balcony door. The *last* thing he wanted to do was worry any more about his "shit." He winced a little when he turned back around to close the sliding door.

Joey headed down the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door. "Lance?" he said, loud enough to be heard above the pulsing water. He heared a muffled response and nodded. "I'm just heading to the store, hon. I'll be back soon." He listened for his muffled reply, then pressed his hand flat against the bathroom door for a moment before turning around and heading out of the house.

---@---

Of course, every time that JC closed his eyes, all day long, he'd been plagued by a new memory from last night. And he still had no clue where Chris went. Doubts started to creep into JC's head -- he might actually let himself *believe* Joey, *believe* that Chris really had wanted him to stay last night...

JC sighed, exhaling smoke through his nostrils, something he only does when he's very upset. He *would* let himself believe it, if Justin hadn't told him he'd *seenChris that morning. He'd smoked his cigarette down to the filter, and stared at it for a moment before pulling out another. It wasn't like he was in much of a rush to get back home to Justin, anyway ... not that being reminded of what happened after the last time he was smoking alone on the balcony was any better.

One thing that Joey was right about ... things would probably get worse before they get better. He could barely hide what had happened between him and Chris from Justin when Chris wasn't even *around*. Somehow he knew that once they're in the same room together, even if nothing else happened, the connection between them wouldn't be easy to mask.

~*~

Lance stepped out of the shower and dried himself off roughly, still feeling dirty despite the hot water that had cascaded over him. Still feeling *used*, and he didn't think that was going to go away any time soon. In some deep, dark crevice of his brain he'd known that it was going to end like this, someday, that he had a Good Thing in Joey and he should go with it, but that was buried right now.

Pulling on his sweatpants, he scrubbed his hair as he headed out of the bathroom. He stopped briefly in front of Chris's still-closed door, then turned on his heel and headed determinedly into the living room. He took in the mess that's still in there and was unwillingly reminded of everything that Chris had told him. Before *and* after.

Lance heard a noise from outside and looked up. He could make out JC's figure standing on the balcony, leaning on the railing; saw the tell-tale waft of smoke blow out from in front of him. JC was one of the last people he wanted to see right then, but there was also a part of him that wanted to make JC *realize* just what the fuck he'd done to Chris.

He tapped on the glass door a moment before he slid it open and stepped outside. Wordlessly, he walked over to lean on the railing next to JC and held out his hand for a cigarette.

JC jumped slightly at the noise that startled him out of his thoughts, and cursed himself for hoping it was Chris before turning around and watching Lance approach him. He really, really tried to keep from glaring at the younger man as he handed him a cigarette. "Need a light, too?"

Lance nodded, sucking in the smoke as JC lit his cigarette, then blowing it out over the backyard. "So," he said conversationally. "What the *fuck* did you do to Chris last night, anyway?"

Choking on the smoke, JC had to cough for several minutes before he could answer. "What did I...?" He stared at Lance, wondering how much he knew, and HOW he knew. He continued with an air of feigned indifference. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, man. What's wrong with him?"

"God," said Lance, rolling his eyes. "Where to *start*? Hmm, let's just say I was woken up this morning by a panicked Chris, freaked out because he'd been *abandoned* last night. Christ, JC, you know his self-esteem is the shits. Couldn't you have just let him down gently or something? He's a fuck-up, but he's *our* fuck-up, you know? You didn't have to be a bastard about it."

JC swallowed slowly. *Panicked*? "But I didn't..." JC started, then pouted slightly. "Wait. He *talked* to you?"

"Yes," hissed Lance, looking away. "We had quite the 'conversation' this morning. He *particularly* liked the part where he walked in on you giving Justin head in the living room, right after he woke up alone. That was like *gravy*, JC. Fuck. I can't believe I'm even talking to you after this."

"Oh...oh, god..." JC stared at Lance's profile, wondering how he couldn't have seen Chris come in, wondering if Justin had -- wondering if Justin *had*, and that's why he pulled down his pants... "Look, Lance...this is none of your business, and I don't have to explain myself to you, but I SWEAR that's not what happened..."

"Know what? I don't give a fuck if it happened or not. But Chris does. And Chris *made* it my business, JC. Don't think this little drama you guys have got going on isn't fucking up my life, too." Lance puffed on his cigarette, still looking away.

JC's eyes narrowed. "Look at me, asshole," he said slowly. "If you're talking about that shit the two of you do together, I'm warning you that I don't fucking want to hear about it."

Lance turned his head towards JC. "The 'shit' the two of us do, as you so delicately put it, is fucking OVER, you bastard. Because he'd rather PINE over you than have me. So I hope you're fucking happy."

That is the absolute last thing JC would have expected to come out of Lance's mouth at that point. "Why?" He just mouthed the word, then cleared his throat and said it louder. "Why is it over?"

"It's over because Chris SAID it was over," Lance spit out, butting his cigarette on the railing then tossing it into the back yard. "The guy's fucking in love with you, you moron! He doesn't want our 'shit' anymore." He stared at JC for a long moment. "And you gave that up. Ripped his fucking heart to shreds. Way to go."

JC backed up until he was stopped by the sliding glass door. "Look," he said shakily, holding his hands up, "I don't know *what* he told you, or *why* he told you, but somehow you have this ALL wrong. I didn't do ANYTHING to him..." JC trailed off, remembering what Joey had said, about Chris waking up alone, and his heart broke a little. Maybe he DID fuck it up.

"I have it on good authority that you DID," said Lance angrily. "And if you were fucking doing this RIGHT, you'd be in his bedroom with him right now instead of out here talking to ME. Maybe he would have gotten his morning blow-job from YOU and not ... well, whatever. How the HELL can you turn away someone who loves you with that ... that absolutely INSANE intensity?"

Desperate to deter Lance from saying anything else like that, sentiments that just didn't seem *right* delievered in Lance's deep and venomous voice -- sentiments that scared him with how much he wanted them to be true -- JC latched on to what he implied, instead. "His morning blowjob, huh? Yeah, he sounds *real* broken up, if he wakes you up to suck his dick. And while we're ON that subject..."

"He didn't wake me to suck his dick," Lance bit out. "I did it for him so he could forget. Forget the shit you pulled on him last night. He fucking CRIED , you asshole."

"Alright, yeah, you did it for him," JC couldn't let this go; couldn't think instead about how Chris *might* have cried, because he had last night. "But he didn't stop you." He sneered a little, because being nasty to Lance was easier than being vulnerable. "Are you telling me you actually think he went and found you for some other reason?"

"Fuck you," said Lance, flicking a piece of ash off the railing. "He was lonely, he was feeling TOTALLY fucking rejected by you, he was feeling worthless ...but you know all this, so why bother going on? And THEN -- since you're having SUCH a great time trashing me, I may as well give you another reason -- he pointed out that it wasn't as good with me as it was with you, and he only wanted YOU. So FUCK YOU, Chasez."

JC slumped against the door, shutting his eyes. "Where is he?" he asked quietly.

"The spare room," said Lance, frowning. "Right where you left him."

"FUCK, Lance!" JC looks up. "I am fed UP with that shit. I did NOT leave him. He didn't want me there, okay? He was shitfaced, and I wasn't about to curl up with him and have *him* reject *me* in the morning, once he sobered up. Some of us aren't lucky enough to be able to fall asleep in Joey's arms and know you're WANTED there."

"He wouldn't have fucking REJECTED you, you idiot," said Lance. "How many times to you have to hear that before you get it through your thick skull that Chris LOVES you and you FUCKED it up. Now for fuck's sake, go and make it better already. You're both insufferable today."

"Lance," JC started, surprised when he heard how insecure he sounded. "You have to tell me, honestly. Did he really say you guys couldn't do...*that*...any more?" He stared a little harder. "I mean, you *know* it should have been *you* that stopped it, but it was really his initiative?"

"Yes," said Lance flatly. "HE stopped it." He paused for a moment, trying to remember exactly what Chris had said. "He said -- and I'm fucking quoting here -- he had never, ever, in his whole FUCKING life felt like THIS about anyone. And he was talking about you. So yeah, JC. He broke it off with me, for you. And if you don't take him up on that I'm going to have to fucking kill you."

JC's heart felt warmer, and he had to bite back a smile, knowing that Chris had broken things off with Lance because of him. And that he might have *meant* all the things he has said last night, caring enough to talk to someone else *about* him. But still... "Lance, I know you're trying to look out for Chris, that you care about him. But you *also* know, as well as I do, that he can make you feel things and *believe* things that he never meant you to, never *meant*, when he kisses you."

"He cried," repeated Lance. "I don't know about you, but *I've* never seen Chris cry before."

"Yeah," JC agreed softly. "I hadn't either, before. But Lance, it's not like I can just 'take him up on' anything, that easy. I'm with Justin. I was before, and Chris knew that. I am NOW, and Chris knows that."

"So who do you want, then?" asked Lance. "Justin or Chris. Because you have to make a choice, JC. Now. Today."

"That's *just* what Joey said," JC muttered. "And I'll tell you what I told him. I don't HAVE a choice."

"You DO have a choice," said Lance. "And for fuck's sake, make the right one, because -- and you have to realize this -- there's NO going back once you've made it. I think we all know who you want, and we all know who wants YOU ... we just don't know if you'll have the guts to go for it."

JC shuddered a little, remembering what happened with Justin this morning, what happened when they got home. "He's gonna kill me. He's gonna kill HIM."

"Nobody's gonna kill anyone," said Lance, sighing. "It's just gonna be messy for a while. No matter WHAT happens. And then ... maybe ... things'll start getting better again." He turned around and reached for the sliding door. "I think maybe *I* need to have a talk with JOEY ... "

"Wait, Lance," JC grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Um...since you talked to Chris and all...do you *really* think he wants to be with me? Enough to go through all of this?"

"JC," said Lance, quite seriously. "He'd go through ANYthing for you. Think about that." He slid the door open angrily and stalked off through the living room and down the hallway, leaving the door wide open behind him.

So JC lit another cigarette, and thought about it.

~*~

Chris lay down on his stomach on the bed, stretching out, staring at the door that Lance had disappeared through. He was alone again, which should've hardly been a surprise to him, at that point. He always managed to ruin anything good in his life. It was HIS fault. If only he could manage not to care. His blood was racing in his veins again, the way it always did after a fight, and he was hard. SO fucking hard. Hard not from the little tryst he'd just had with Lance but from just the image of JC in his head, the memories of the night before, the need inside him that runs deep. He was torn between wanting him so badly, and knowing that he didn't deserve ANYthing that might make him happy.

Roughly, Chris thrust his groin against the bed, the folds in the sheets raking across his erection. He wasn't so much simulating fucking something as BEING fucked. Being taken from behind - hard, impersonal, fast. His poor, abused cock ached even as it became more aroused. He thrusted repeatedly against the bed, then drew his knees up underneath him and grabbed his cock in his hand.

Chris gripped himself hard and told himself he enjoyed the tightness, rubbing himself hard and fast, trying to release the pressure inside him. His breathing came in pants as he drove himself towards another brutal orgasm.

Chris balanced himself on his knees and his shoulders, and used his now-free hand to pinch at his nipples and scratch at his chest. It would all be over soon.

Willing his pulse steady, JC walked down the hall of Lance and Joey's house, having talked himself into at least *approaching* Chris about what happened last night. He was still not sure he believed Lance, or Joey -- there were times last night when Chris not only seemed like he didn't love him, but that he HATED him -- but he owed it to both of them to find out what really happened.

JC stared at the closed door to the room that Lance said he could find Chris in -- the room that, he could admit then, he *left* him in last night. He rested his forehead on the door, then inhaled and called out softly. "Chris? Will you let me in?"

As soon as Chris heard JC's voice the vision suddenly changed. He was no longer being fucked roughly, anonymously. He was being fucked by JC, who was being both enthusiastic and tender, and was about to make him come. WAS making him come -- Chris gasped as he spurted hot fluid over his fingers and onto the bed. It all happened so fast he hardly had time to process it.

Chris bit down into his pillow to keep JC from hearing his gasps and moans as the orgasm slammed into him. As it subsided, he self-consiously wiped his fingers off on the sheets and covered himself a little. He deliberately lay on the wet spot. "Come in," he said aloud, his voice rough, his breathing still a little ragged.

Pushing the door open slowly, JC peeked around the corner. He bit his lip when he saw Chris lying face down on the sheets, his back bare. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you still sleeping? I can go..."

"I'm not sleeping," said Chris dully, memories of how last night ACTUALLY ended coming back to him. "I CAN'T sleep. You may as well come in."

JC approached the bed slowly, but didn't sit down, waiting for Chris to look at him. "What do you mean, you can't sleep? Your voice sounded funny."

"I mean I can't sleep," said Chris, trying not to look at him. "Especially not now that you're here. What if I fall asleep, and when I wake up you're gone again?" He snorted. "Not that it matters. I'll know EXACTLY where you'll be and who you'll be with."

JC's hand froze in the act of reaching out to touch Chris's shoulder. "Okay," he said softly, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, "I guess I deserved that. I'm...sorry about leaving last night. I could explain, but...from your tone, I'm not sure it'd make a difference?"

"You left to be with him," said Chris. "What the fuck more is there to tell?"

"I slept on the damn *couch*, Chris," JC retorted. "Are you gonna look at me?"

Chris looked up at JC, his eyes flashing. "Why would you do that? Why the fuck would you go and sleep on the couch, when you could be in here with me? Is it me, is that it? I thought we ... fuck it. Forget it."

"No, what?" JC pressed, kneeling beside the bed, reluctant to get too close to Chris when he looked that upset. "What did you think? I just...look, how much do you even remember, anyway? You didn't reach for me, or anything, you just grabbed the damn pillow like you wanted to sleep with *it* and passed out. I didn't want to assume anything, okay?"

"But I ASKED you to stay. And after everything I fucking SAID, JC ... Look, I'm sorry I passed out and all, but don't take it so PERSONAL."

"Alright, the next time *you* fuck someone and they reach for the tequila before your dick is out of their ass, you try not to take it personally. Jesus." JC frowned, frustrated that Chris had managed to upset him so much, when he really just wanted to...not apologize, but at least explain. And Chris wouldn't even let him.

"I wanted you to STAY," insisted Chris, shifting a little on the bed, the sticky clamminess underneath him becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "Fuck, look, I DRINK, okay? And I had a bit too much. But it wasn't because of you! Just that punkass fucking kid you picked over me ... "

"I didn't PICK him!" JC interrupted. "I swear, how many times do I have to *tell* all of you that??? I don't have a CHOICE."

"You're the ONLY one who has that choice here. So just ADMIT to me that you've made it and stop fucking dicking me around. All right? It's like...it's like fucking TORTURE or something."

That time JC did touch Chris's shoulder, and his skin was just as hot as he remembered it being the previous night. Before AND after they made love. "Chris...it's not that I don't...WANT you, or anything, it's just...I can be SURE of Justin, you know? He was there this morning, when I woke up. You weren't. And that's not all my fault, either."

Chris frowned. "Okay, there are two things VERY wrong with that. First, you would have woken up with me -- ME! -- if YOU hadn't snuck out after I was asleep. And second ... if you slept on the couch, WHY was Justin there when you woke up? Not that you didn't seem ... enthusiastic ... to see him."

"Fuck off," JC sulked, settling back on his haunches. "If you're gonna bring THAT up, I don't know WHAT the hell you told Lance, but he has this idea that I was blowing Justin in the living room. Why's he think that, Chris?"

"Oh PLEASE," said Chris, rolling his eyes. "I fucking SAW you guys, C. Justin with his dick in your face. It was a real wake-up call, that's for sure."

"Hey, thanks for saying something, man," JC replied sarcastically. "Look, I'm not in the habit of doing shit like that where other people can see it, okay? He was pissed and wanted me to, but that's as far as it got." His eyes narrowed. "As far as I know, only one of us was involved in getting or giving head this morning. And it sure as fuck wasn't me."

"It was the last time," said Chris quietly, guiltily. "I thought you were gone. I thought I could get at least SOME of what I had with you back, when he offered ... but I didn't. It was NOTHING compared to you." Chris sighed. "So I'm not doing that anymore. With anyone. Except you."

JC didn't know what to say to that. "You shouldn't have done it, anyway, Chris," he said frustratedly. "You never should have. Don't you care about Joey? *He's* the reason it didn't feel the same as it did between us, you know. As much as Lance is ready to kill me right now for ruining...whatever this is...his heart wasn't in it."

"I can be selfish," said Chris. "THAT'S no secret. But fuck ... if you had ANY clue how much I've learned about MYSELF since yesterday, let alone everyone else ... well, fuck. Does it even MATTER what I tell you, at this point? You think Justin's so fucking perfect anyway ... I'm wasting my time. My heart's fucking yours anyway, though, JC ... so be fucking careful what you do with it."

JC let his head fall onto the bed. "Justin's NOT perfect, Chris. I know that, okay? Look...I don't want to talk about him, anyway. I just wanted to come in and tell you that...well, I wish things had gone differently last night. I really do. It would have been...god, SO nice to sleep with you, I think."

"Then why DIDN'T you?!" Chris glared at him. "You could have and you picked him. What the fuck does he have that I don't, anyway?"

"Nothing, god!" JC picked his head back up, his face red. "Look, you're not listening to me, and that's fine -- I guess I don't deserve it. I know I fucked up, even Joey thinks I fucked up. You don't have to keep yelling at me about it. I get it."

"I'm not yelling," said Chris. "YOU'RE yelling. JC ... if you WANT me, then what's the problem? Just ... just BE with me. I don't care if you fucked up, if you'll come back to me now."

"I just don't know HOW," JC frowned, hiding his face again. "Joey said I should, that I should break up with Justin, but it's like...I *can't* make myself do it. I can't hurt him. And I'm scared of losing everything."

"Fuck," said Chris. "I don't know what to tell you. How? Just do it, maybe? And just ... just tell Justin you've found someone else Let him find someone else to control, JC. It doesn't have to be you. And you won't fucking lose ME, that much is for damn sure."

"He doesn't *control* me," JC snapped. "That's not what this is about. I just don't want to let either of you down. Stop making him out to be, like, the bad guy."

"Just ... don't lie to me okay," said Chris, scowling. "I know DAMN well how Justin gets with someone he's sleeping with. You just ... you LET him. YOu should never have let him get away with that shit." Chris paused and looked at JC sincerely. "With me ... you won't have to worry about that anymore. I just want you to be YOU."

JC stared back for a minute. "How *noble*. And just because you *think* you see how Justin treats me, doesn't mean you *know* how he is with someone he sleeps with. You just don't."

"The idiot gives head like he's sucking on a straw, fucks like a jackhammer, and he fucking rolls over when he's done. Which is great if you're in the mood, but fucking SELFISH if you're not. And he doesn't give a shit about YOU, just wants to make sure YOU are there for HIM. Trust me, JC, I KNOW how he is with someone he sleeps with."

JC scrambled up quickly, hands clenching. "You...you what? WHAT? HOW do you know all that shit? And don't fucking lie to *me*, either." He stood over Chris, chest heaving slightly.

"Me and Justin used to fuck around," said Chris. "A LONG fucking time ago. Before you and him. Before a lot of stuff. So I KNOW what the fuck I'm talking about when I rag on Justin, okay?"

"You...and JUSTIN? You used to..." JC shook his head, completely disbelieving. "No fucking way. No WAY. You guys hate each other. You're just saying this shit 'cause you think I won't leave him..."

Chris shrugged. "Ask him," he said. "I didn't tell you that to piss you off, C. I told you that so you'd know I KNOW what you're going through with him. And worse ... because you KNOW I wouldn't put up with his crap when we were fucking around. So you don't have to lie to me about it ... I KNOW."

"You know JACK," JC spit back, more unnerved than anything by the matter-of-fact way Chris was talking about it. "Justin isn't like that, with me. And god, what is *your* damage? Justin, and Lance...and now me? You just making the rounds, man?"

"Fuck off," said Chris, on the verge of tears again suddenly. He turned his face away. "YOU don't know jack, if you think that. Fuck, why did I even TRY and be honest with you, since you haven't been doing much of that with me."

"YOU fuck off, Chris," JC practically yelled at Chris's back. "I've BEEN honest. *I'm* the one that came in here to find you, *I'm* the one that apologized for leaving last night -- which STILL wasn't all my fault -- *I'm* the one that's been struggling to get you to understand why it's hard for me to just let myself go with you, the way every cell in my body is BEGGING me to. What have I NOT been honest about?!?"

"Who you want, and what you're gonna do about it," said Chris. "About the fact that you and Justin AREN'T in love, and I don't know WHY the fuck you keep telling me that you are. Are you TRYING to rip my heart out? Cause -- and I hope you get this this time -- no ripping necessary. It's fucking YOURS, JC. So get your hand out of my fucking chest and do what you will with it. But don't make me suffer, ok?"

JC knelt on the bed next to him, touching his arm, his back. "Chris -- Chris, *please* ... I don't want to do that, and I don't want to fight -- that's not why I came in here -- and, can we just *stop* talking about him, and..."

"We can't," confessed Chris. "Not when HE'S the reason I can't have you. I'm sorry, C ... you probably don't believe that, but I really am. But you're KILLING me every minute you STAY with him. Not just because of how much I WANT you, but because I KNOW how he treats you, and you don't deserve that."

Pulling his hands back, JC placed them in his lap. "So...we can't talk about anything else, about us, until we talk about Justin? Is that it? 'Cause I don't have any clue how else to tell you it isn't that bad, and he's the last thing on my mind right now."

"I'll ... I can live with that," said Chris. "Okay. Fuck. I'll try and ignore the fact that I feel like he's WATCHING us and let you go on. What do you want to talk about that's not Justin?"

"Um," JC responded, flustered. "I don't really have anything...I just didn't want to talk about him. But, okay...here's something I need to know: are you serious about not doing anything with Lance, anymore?"

"Yeah," said Chris. "I am. I SO am. It was ... " He screwed up his face as he paused. " Lance is good in bed, but he's not you. And he's taken, and I wasn't really helping him remember that. So yes. Lance and I are over. No matter what happens -- IF anything happens -- between us."

"That's good," JC started picking at his nails. "No matter what happens, yeah. Because that wasn't helping you any, either, I don't think. I told you last night I wanted you to come to me instead, anyway. So." He bit his lip, and continued a little timidly. "It was better? With me?"

"You have to ask?" asked Chris, a smile creeping onto his face in spite of himself. "Yes. It was better. It was best."

"Really?" JC let himself grin back, and stretched out beside Chris on the bed, resting on his stomach. "Huh. Takes a big man to admit something like that."

"Are you a big man?" Chris challenged him.

"You have to ask?" JC echoed.

Chris nudged him with his hip. "What?" JC looked at him innocently, letting a hand sneak towards the waistband of Chris's boxers. "Or are you a LITTLE man?"

"Why don't *you*," JC grabbed hold of the material and used his grip to push Chris onto his side facing him, "tell me?"

Chris was gonna push it, gonna MAKE JC say something about how much HE liked it, but when JC got a little more sexually agressive, he backed off. He still felt like every time they had sex, it could be the last time, and he didn't want to miss a moment of it, for any reasons. "You're a big boy," he said, and pulled JC into a kiss.

Savoring the feeling of Chris's mouth, appreciating how much easier kissing Chris was than fighting with him, JC let himself be pulled on top of Chris's body. "*Man*," he corrected eventually, when Chris let him up for air. "Big *man*."

"THAT," teased Chris, "you're going to have to prove." He would let it go, for now. Let everything go and just grab this moment while it was still there for the taking.

JC cocked an eyebrow, and brought a thigh up to rest between Chris's legs. "I can maybe do that." He let his hands drift down the sides of Chris's body, resting most of his weight on the man beneath him, but paused when he felt something damp on the sheets where Chris had lain a few minutes earlier. "Um...what...?"

Chris blushed and just shook his head. "Never you mind that."

"No, what..." JC was cut off when Chris grabbed his face again and kissed him, hard. He dragged his other knee up the outside of Chris's leg so he was straddling the other man's thigh, and dipped his hips slightly to rub his erection against Chris's hipbone, groaning.

"That's more like it," said Chris clawing his fingers down JC's back and thrusting up against him. He was hard again. Still aching, but hard.

JC felt Chris's cock against his own hip and grinned into his neck, happy to be doing this sober, without being nasty to each other, taking the time to enjoy it. Even if it still didn't mean that he knew what would happen afterwards.

Chris thrusted up against JC harder, gripping him with his fingertips. THOSE were the moments, right then, when everything was okay. "So who gets to do who this time?" he asked with a smirk. "Whose turn is it now, anyway?"

Giggling breathlessly, JC traced his own fingers over Chris's jaw. "Is that how this is gonna work? I don't know, you *did* just question my manhood..."

"There's more to manhood than where you stick your dick," said Chris, licking his lips, still smirking. "Oh, and you COULD thank me, for giving YOU the choice, you know."

JC calmed down a little, and let the tips of his fingers drag over Chris's moist lips. "Mmm," he said, staring into his eyes. "I guess I should."

Chris flicked his tongue out to lap at JC's fingers, his eyes locked with JC's. His hands still held him close, tight against his body.

JC's eyes shut of their own accord when he felt Chris's tongue claim his fingers like that. "Oh, Chris...baby...come on, let's make this last, this time. Don't tease, that way."

"I like teasing," said Chris, sucking on them lightly. "But I ALWAYS follow through." He let them slide out a moment later. "I do love you," he said suddenly. "I don't want to do this again without you knowing that."

"It's okay, Chris," JC replied lightly, bowing his head to lick at the underside of Chris's jaw. "We can talk about that later." He started nipping at Chris's earlobe, and then sucking it gently into his mouth. "I just want you to show me you forgive me for leaving last night."

"I'm mad and I'm hurt," said Chris, leaning up into JC's touch. "But I do forgive you. Even when you act like a fuck, I forgive you." He shut up then, not wanting to run the risk of drawing JC into an inevitable conversation. His touch became lighter, caressing JC's back and sides, kissing his face.

"I'm glad to hear that," mumbled JC, letting the tip of his tongue trace around the top of Chris's ear. "Can you show me, now? Or do I have to be even more repentent than that?" Suddenly, JC wanted his clothes *off*; wanted to feel the length of Chris's body against his *skin*.

Chris ran his hands all over JC's chest, under his shirt. He claimed his lips again and kissed him deeply, closing his eyes and imagining that this was just what it was gonna be like ALL the time, not acknowledging that it's JUST imagination. "So are you gonna fuck me, then? I wouldn't mind ... "

Biting Chris's lower lip gently, JC pulled back a little, shifting his weight to his hands and knees. "You wouldn't *mind*. Wow." He smiled ruefully, taking in Chris's flushed face, the dark eyelashes that rested on his cheeks. "Um, so thanks for the enthusiasm -- glad I made *such* an impression last time. Guess I need to re-think that whole 'big man' thing, after all."

Chris laughed a little. "You know what I mean," he said. "I MEANT I wouldn't mind if you wanted to top, even though it IS my turn. You know, since you seemed to be having such a tough time making a decision about it." Chris gently slipped JC's shirt off, dropping it to the floor next to the bed. He looked up at him, giving JC his most innocent look -- not very, but it was cute anyway -- and smiled. "Be gentle," he said teasingly.

JC frowned slightly, despite Chris's expression. "I will be," he said seriously, shivering a little, trying in vain to force down the memory of what it had been like with Justin that morning. "But, look...if you feel like you won't get as much out of it, then we can...you know. Do it the other way. To be fair, or whatever." He had to ask, even though he wasn't sure he *could* do it the other way; he was sore, and maybe a little swollen, and the *idea* of having anything touch him there right then was making him flinch.

"I like it when you make love to me," said Chris quite seriously, choosing his words carefully. He reached down to start taking off JC's pants. "Don't look so worried," he said, teasing again, trying to kiss the frown off JC's face. "It's not like it's our first time, anymore. No performance anxiety or anything, okay Big Man?"

"Okay," JC said softly, nodding and kissing him back. He leaned forward over top of Chris again so that the other man could slide his pants down over his hips without having to stretch too far. "I liked doing it," he added, maybe a little unnecessarily, waiting until Chris met his eyes so that he could convey that he heard exactly how he had said it. "This'll be different."

*Different from what?* Chris wanted to ask, but didn't. Instead, he just slid JC's pants down, then wrapped his arms around him again. He was responding well to the kissing, so he did it again. It WAS different between them this time -- slower, more tender, less combative -- but he didn't think that was quite what JC meant. "If we want ACTUAL lubricant this time, there's some in the dresser," he offered, before they got too far.

JC felt himself relax even more every time Chris slid his tongue in his mouth, and sighed contentedly that they didn't need to be high on adrenaline, trying to prove something to each other, to get that heady feeling when they touched. "This from the guy that was complaining about *my* lack of foreplay?" JC smiled affectionately into Chris's shoulder. "And I *know* I don't want to ask why Lance and Joey have lube in the extra bedroom, and especially how you know it's there."

"I'll tell you another time," promised Chris. "It might even turn you on, you know." He reached his hands down the back JC's boxers and cupped his ass as they kissed and rubbed against one another. He'd thought about stripping those off, too, when he'd taken care of JC's pants, but that way things wouldn't go QUITE as fast as they might've -- and that was something he didn't want to ever be over.

JC stiffened a little when he felt Chris's warm palms on his ass, and gave him two quick pecks on the lips before scrambling off the bed. "Um," he said, pointing at the dresser. "In that one? Okay, hold on." He was blushing, smoothing down the waist of his underwear, not looking at Chris directly.

"Whoa," said Chris in confusion, "hold on. Yes, that's the one, but come BACK here, JC." He leaned up on his elbow and watched JC with a frown on his face. "Foreplay? Remember? We aren't DONE here yet ... "

"I know, I'm just..." JC mumbled, rooting around in the drawer before finding the small tube. "I thought it'd be better to get it now, then have to stop again later, okay?" He turned back around and approached the bed again, hiking up the leg of his boxers to scratch at his thigh, smiling weakly. "Um. You want me back up there?"

"Yes," said Chris, still frowning a little. "Um ... good idea." He patted the bed next to him and waited for JC to be beside him again. "Okay," he said after a long moment of just staring into JC's eyes and slowly trailing his fingers up and down his arm. "If I do something wrong, or something you don't like ... you know you can tell me that, right? I mean, we don't have to do shit we both don't enjoy."

JC smiled gently. "I know; I *know* that, Chris. Everything's fine, I'm just..." he cut himself off before he could mention being sore, figuring there was no way he can blame it on what *they* did last night, because despite everything and all the aggression, Chris had been smooth when he was inside him. And so Chris would know that something else happened since then, something with Justin, and nothing would ruin the mood quicker than bringing *him* up. "Despite what you think of me, I'm not a fucking pushover, okay?" he smiled again and touched Chris's knee to cushion the blow of his words. "I don't think you could do anything to me that I wouldn't enjoy."

Chris's frown wasn't quite gone, but he let the subject go. "Okay," he said. "Trust me, I KNOW you're not a pushover. Now where were we?" He smiled, and stroked down JC's side until he was cupping his ass again, this time through the boxers. They were side by side, facing each other, and Chris leaned forward to suck on JC's throat. "You smell like apples," he said, pulling back and laughing a little, but it was friendly laughter. "I never thought of you as an 'apple' kind of guy." He didn't vocalize the thought that popped into his head -- that JC had showered using *Justin's* stuff -- but it did make the smile fade, just a little.

"Yeah," JC murmured, arching his neck in a sign of encouragement. "I ran out..." He trailed his hand down the length of Chris's arm, stopping near his wrist, then tugged up gently so the other man's hand was resting on the small of his back, instead. He nudged a knee between Chris's legs, then, and let go of his arm so he could touch his stomach and his hip, smiling when he felt goosebumps on the skin there.

Chris licked at his throat, then sucked wetly at JC's earlobe. He let his hand fall down from the small of JC's back again, dipping just underneath the waistband of his boxers, and pressed himself closer to JC, wanting to feel them rubbing up against one another again. His free hand moved to gently cup the back of JC's neck. Chris moaned softly.

JC felt himself harden even more at the sound of Chris groaning behind his ear, and whispered "c'mere" to him, rolling him over on top of himself. His leg was still lingering between Chris's thighs, so he bent his knee, foot planted on the bed beneath them, and bucked up slightly, letting his quad rub deliciously against Chris's bare cock.

"Oh, SHIT," said Chris, the sensation electric. He braced both hands against the bed for a moment and rubbed himself against JC again, abruptly, then leaned down to kiss his lips, licking at them before letting his tongue slip inside. Then one hand grabbed hold of JC's wrist and held it against the pillow, above his head. The other slid underneath JC to touch his waist, then cup his ass again.

"Mmph," JC protested weakly into Chris's mouth when his fingers squeezed a particularly sore spot. He was careful not to push against the hand that Chris is using to pin him down, enjoying *that* feeling, but he couldn't help but squirm in an effort to get Chris to move his other hand.

Chris frowned again and gets off him completely. "What the hell?" he said, but not angrily. "JC ... I thought you were gonna TELL me if I was doing something you didn't like. I thought -- you know, from the other night -- that you *liked* ... " He broke off and sighed. "Are you trying to tell me you'd rather be with HIM? Just say so, okay?"

"What?" JC asked, confused and disappointed at the reference to Justin, pulling himself up to sit at the head of the bed, wincing slightly even at that. "God, where did you get *that* idea from? You feel good...amazing, even. I like having you on top of me." He blushed, and smiled tentatively, unsure about how to ask Chris to stop without asking him to *stop*. "Just...*you* be gentle with *me*, too, okay?"

"I thought I was ..." said Chris in confusion, reaching out to stroke JC's thigh lightly. "You wanna tell me what's wrong so we can go ahead WITHOUT you tensing up every couple of minutes? I think it might be a lot more fun that way. For both of us."

"I'm not tense," JC responded a little defensively, latching on to Chris's hand, then sighed. Chris had criticized him for not being honest earlier; it wasn't fair to let him think he was doing something wrong, no matter how much JC didn't want to admit the real problem. "It's just...I love having your hands on me -- LOVE it -- but do you think this time you could maybe, like...stick to my hips, or my chest, or whatever? I'm...I'm a little sore. Um. Where you were touching me before."

Chris looks confused for a moment, then angry. "What the FUCK did he do to you?" he asked, taking his hands off JC completely, afraid he'd hurt him. "I'll kill him. I swear I will. Just say the word." He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down -- JC didn't need to hear about anything violent right now. It wasn't easy; he KNEW JC wasn't sore when they'd parted ways the previous night. "Did he hurt you?" he asked finally, touching JC's leg, his voice soft again.

JC shook his head, but didn't look up, needing Chris to wrap him up in his arms instead of staying on the other side of the bed like he was contagious. "Well. I mean, you saw him this morning, right?" JC didn't wait for Chris to respond, knowing that he had. "He could tell that I had, um, gotten off, or whatever, without him -- we were both pretty messy, and...I guess he saw you, too." JC bit his lip. "Anyway. He kinda...wanted to do it when we got home, and was maybe a little rough..." JC remembered *exactly* what he said -- *I'm gonna fuck any memory of that bastard Chris right outta your head, C* -- and shook his head again. "But, I mean, he didn't force me. So it's okay. I'm okay."

Chris didn't believe him, but JC looked scared half to death right then -- he didn't know whether of Justin or him -- and the need to make it BETTER overwhelmed the need for revenge. For the moment, anyway. "Shit," he said, still trying to remain calm. "He knows? Fuck, nevermind, that's not the fucking important thing." He reached out to to touch JC's arm, his fingertips just brushing over the skin. "You have to leave him, C. You KNOW that. But ... I won't push it. Not right now." He sighed. "I can't make it okay," he said, "but I can try and make it better ... "

"You *were*," said JC, under his breath, slumping against the headboard. "You are. Look, this is why I didn't want to get into it, okay? Just -- forget I said anything. I'm fine. I'm not a damn girl. Touch me wherever and however you want, just stop *looking* at me, and *do* it."

"Okay," said Chris agreeably. "First, though, take the boxers off, okay?" JC looked unsure for a moment, then all in one motion stripped them off and tossed them away, as though afraid he'd lose his nerve. "Okay," said Chris again, reaching for him. "Now you have to trust me."

JC met him halfway, closing his eyes, but couldn't keep from one last plea. "Gentle, Chris."

"I promise," said Chris, gently turning him over onto his stomach. It'd been a long, long time since he'd been THAT gentle with ANYone. Before anything else, he ran his hands all over JC's back, calming him further and even drawing a soft moan out of him. Then he moved further down, his fingers gently brushing against the skin of JC's ass. He winced as he saw the light bruising that covered it in places, especially when he could make out distinct fingermarks. JC is tense again, but still Chris leaned down and ran his tongue tenderly over the bruised flesh. He didn't dare go anywhere else, not just yet.

"Oh," JC inhaled, burying his face into the crook of his arm when he felt Chris's wet tongue, so *soft*, on his skin. He was still not entirely comfortable being exposed to Chris like that -- Justin had taken him from behind the first time this morning, just *slamming* his hips against his ass. Nevertheless, slowly, the rare but welcome feeling of someone being delicate with him in this position -- of *Chris* being delicate with him -- had him arching his back for more contact.

Chris lapped at the bruises until his tongue had caressed every bit of JC's ass, then very, very carefully separated the cheeks a little and lapped at his crack. JC's hole was an angry red, clearly abused, and Chris had to stop for a moment just to keep his anger in check. Justin was going to DIE when he got his hands on him. Finally, delicately, his tongue flicked out to try and soothe JC's hole.

"Oh, ow," JC bit the skin on his arm, tears springing to his eyes. His shoulders hitched, a bit, and he grabbed on to the sheets to keep from scooting away from Chris's mouth. He knew that Chris was trying to make him feel better -- and underneath it all, the sensations were definitely keeping him aroused -- but he was just so *raw*. For the millionth time that day, he repeated to himself that he would never, never, NEVER treat anyone he was with, like that.

Chris pulled away. "Okay," he said, "I don't like the sound of that. You want me to go back to what I was doing before?" He rested his hands on the backs of JC's thighs -- which, he suddenly realized, also had very light bruising in places -- as he waited for JC's reply. He wasn't doing ANYthing else until JC gave him the word.

JC sniffed and nodded, his face still covered. "Yes, please," he mumbled softly, straightening his other arm behind him and groping blindly for Chris's hand. He was petrified of scaring Chris off from ever trying that again, knowing that having his tongue inside him would normally feel incredible... "Maybe...maybe it didn't hurt as bad as I thought, or...maybe it'll feel better in a second..."

Chris felt his fury at Justin rise up again, and released JC's legs for a moment to keep himself from squeezing them too hard. The fucker hurt JC. HIS JC. And he wasn't going to get away with it. He once again had toforce himself to calm down, to concentrate on what he was doing, to remember that he was making love with JC right then and THAT is what mattered. "Another time," he said quietly, lying down next to JC and wrapping his arms around him. "You still want to fuck me, though?"

JC exhaled in frustration even as he burrowed into Chris's embrace. "I'm hard as hell. Do *you* still want me to fuck you?"

"Hell yeah," said Chris with a grin. "What, you think doing that didn't get ME hot? I don't do that shit for just anyone, C, but I LIKE doing it for you. Doing ANYthing for you. And sooner or later you're gonna believe that." Chris kissed JC's throat again, hungrily, unsure of whether JC wanted him to be kissing his lips right now or not.

"I'm getting there," JC said honestly, letting his head fall back to give Chris better access. "And just so *you* know, I liked doing it for *you*, last night." He started thrusting slightly against Chris's hip. "I don't ever get to do that, to fuck someone with my tongue..."

Chris moaned a little, even at just the words, and sucked on JC's adam's apple. He ran his hands over JC's chest, then reached down to stroke his erection lightly before moving back up again. "I'll let you do it any time," he said, wondering WHY the HELL Justin doesn't let him do it.

"How benevolent," JC teased, nipping at Chris's collarbone before pulling the other man back on top of him. "Let's talk about what I might do *this* time, though."

"Yes," said Chris, straddling him, smirking a little. "Talk to me. What are you going to do, Big Man? What are you going to to to me?" He ran his hands over JC's chest again, plucking at his nipples briefly. "Tell me," he added in a lower voice.

"Well," JC's expression darkened a bit, the lust very apparent in his eyes, and he thrusted his still, AGAIN-hard cock up against the inside of Chris's thigh. "Feel that? Any thoughts on where I might should put that?"

"I have a couple places in mind," said Chris, thrusting back against JC's hip. A safe place to touch. This time he trapped both of JC's arms over his head, his hands holding JC's wrists loosely, and leaned down to suck in his ear again.

"Ah, shit," JC bit out, shutting his eyes and flexing his arms a little, testing how strongly Chris would keep them pinned where they were. He smiled, practically purring at having Chris's tongue in his ear, and slid one of his thighs up to press against Chris's ass and lower back, preventing him from sliding back down.

Chris grinned and squeezed his wrists briefly, then squeezed JC's body with his knees. "I want you so fucking much," he said suddenly, licking JC's jaw. "So FUCKING much."

"Probably should tell me about those places, then," JC replied, contracting his stomach muscles and chasing Chris's mouth when he pulled back. "Before I decide I don't want your input any more."

Chris grinned wryly. "Surprise me."

"Easier said than done, with you, I think," JC arched an eyebrow before suddenly pushing again at Chris's hands. "Let me go, or kiss me. You've got me at a bit of a disadvantage."

"You sure you want me to kiss you?" said Chris teasingly. "You KNOW where I've been ... "

JC just laughed, enjoying every second of the banter, loving that he and Chris were this comfortable their first time being sober in bed together. "I'm quite sure. *I*, unlike some people, have actually showered today."

Chris looked down at his naked body for a moment. "I'm pretty sure most of this mess is YOURS, anyway," he teased, then leaned forward, kissing him slowly, still pressing JC's wrists down against the bed.

"Mmm, lemme see," said JC, after Chris let go of his lips. He used his leg to nudge Chris up higher on his hips, and struggled to slide down further beneath his legs. He kissed a trail down Chris's chest, fully extending his arms as he does, still tugging against Chris's grip.

"You'd tell me if you wanted to be let go for real, right?" whispered Chris, trying not to break the mood.

"Maybe," JC mumbled, licking at one of Chris's nipples. "I might want you to let go now, since you're not taking much advantage of it."

"I'm serious," said Chris, nudging him. "You would?"

JC stopped and looked up at Chris, smiling gently. "Yes." Then, catching Chris by surprise, he freed his wrists from the other man's grasp and hooked them around his waist. "Or, I'll just do that."

Chris laughed softly and fell against JC, kissing him again. "You're too good for me," he whispered, but he didn't go away. "And GOD I'm horny, C. Please ... do me? Do SOMEthing? I might have to beg soon."

"I might like to hear that," JC replied, sucking on Chris's lower lip, mouthing at his goatee. "We still have to sort out where you want everything to go."

"Frankly, my dear -- " began Chris, then grinned watching JC's expression change as he finished the quote in his head. "Surprise me. You can put it anywhere you like. I'm YOURS, remember? That hasn't changed."

JC's smile softened as he hugged Chris to his chest briefly. "You're too good for *me*," he echoed, letting a hand drift down over Chris's hip and then up the back of his thigh to slap his ass lightly. "But you're kinda in no-man's land, where you're sitting now. Scoot up? Or...back? Or get the hell off so I can pounce on you?"

Chris opted to get the hell off, grinning at JC's renewed enthusiasm. THIS was how it was supposed to be, and how it'd rarely been for him. Suddenly, he realized everything that might have been missing.

JC wasted no time, pouncing as promised, draping his lanky frame over Chris's body and grabbing for his cock. "We just can't seem to get this foreplay thing right," he lamented with a chuckle, feeling how hard Chris already was. "Either we skip it altogether, or we waste too much damn time that the real deal has *no* chance of lasting long enough."

"I have remarkable recovery time," said Chris dryly, with just a hint of a smile -- it was the truth, after all. "We can always do it again. I think we learned THAT at least, last night." He thrusted up against JC's hand. "I think you're just TEASING me, now."

"So *demanding*," JC shook his head, pulling back and resting on his haunches, digging around in the sheets for the lube he had grabbed earlier. "You'll get what you want, soon enough. I *am* still open to suggestions about how you'd like this to work, though." As comfortable as they were together, it was going to take a lot more for JC to get used to being in control at ALL in bed.

"Like this," said Chris with a shrug. "I'm pretty flexible ... and I want to watch you. Um ... however YOU'RE comfortable," he added. "I mean, there are probably some positions that really AREN'T good for you, right now ... "

JC nodded, uncapping the tube and squirting some of the liquid onto his fingers. "Let's just do this, then," he whispered, barely audible. "Nothing fancy. Let me inside you?"

"Of course," said Chris, lifting his hips a little. "At this point, I'm HARDLY going to say NO."

Smiling, JC placed one hand underneath Chris's knee, holding him open and still, and let the other apply lubricant all along Chris's crack, avoiding his hole for the moment. "We really *should* do this slow, at some point in this relationship," he said softly, enjoying the way Chris trembled at his touches.

Chris suddenly broke into a grin, hoping he didn't need to explain why. "We will," he said. "Right now, I NEED you. Please?"

"I'm holding you to that," JC said, gasping as he slid a finger inside Chris's ass as far as he could, the sensation already familiar to him. "Is that okay?" he asked, kissing the knee he was still holding. "Any body parts of yours I need to be careful with?"

"It's not enough," was all Chris said at first, gasping the words out, trying to get more of JC inside him. "Anything you do is okay," he added a moment later. "My dick's a little sore, though -- he's been getting a lot more attention lately than he's used to ... "

JC thrusted a second finger inside roughly -- up to the knuckle -- then peered at Chris from under his eyelashes. "Oh, I'm sorry. I slipped. You said something about getting too much action?"

"I said NOTHING of the sort," snapped Chris, thrusting against JC again. "You ARE a tease."

JC pulled back, letting both his hands fall away, a slightly pained look on his face. "Um. I was just...did you mean that? Chris?"

"Whoa," said Chris, suddenly realizing that JC was pulling away. "Back up! I didn't mean ... I mean ... I meant it in the FUN way, C! Please come back ... "

Reaching a tentative hand out to rub along Chris's calf, JC shifted a little on the bed. "Okay. I'm not...*going* anywhere, just...sorry. Overreacted, I guess." He forced out a sheepish smile.

"I'll try not to say stupid, insenitive shit to you if you'll try not to overreact," said Chris. "OR jump to conclusions about what I mean. Now ... I believe you were in my ass ... ?" Chrid tries to smile innocently.

JC smiled for real, his eyes crinkling, when Chris seemed to know not only exactly what had happened to upset him, but also how to fix it right away. "Almost," he agreed, and then, "Fuck it," and gave his own cock one smooth stroke with his lube-coated fingers before settling down between Chris's legs.

"Yes," said Chris happily, closing his eyes and lifting his hips again. "Finally. Not that I don't love foreplay ... "

Laughing, JC manuevered the head of his cock against Chris's hole and grasped Chris's waist between his palms. "Like you even NOTICE."

"Now?" said Chris, his voice tight with anticipation. "Please, C ... "

"Shhh," JC exhaled as he slid slowly inside Chris's ass, gripping him tighter as the sensation threatened to overwhelm him like it did the night before. "Oh...*god* that's sweet..."

Chris moaned loudly, once again past the point where he cared about being heard. "Fuck," he said, his voice breathy, almost awed. "Yes. Oh god, yes."

Thrusting shallowly, JC rested his lips on the hollow of Chris's throat, whispering nonsense about how 'this feels too incredible' and how Chris is 'too fucking hot' and how, again, everything is 'sweet, too sweet, how it taste so good and hurt so good?' All the while, he kept his hands on the skin above Chris's hips, a subtle guard against him thrusting back too soon.

Chris moaned again, a constant noise, babbling nonsensical syllables and squirming under JC's grip. He reached out blindly to touch JC's body, running his hands randomly over any piece of warm flesh in arm's reach.

Still moving very gently, extremely conscientious of making sure each thrust was smooth, JC pulled out enough to nudge his shoulder under Chris's leg. "Here, baby," he purred, "Open up for me some."

Chris lifted his legs up and spread them wider, letting JC lift them up onto his shoulders. "You feel right, inside me," he said. He knew as soon as it was out of his mouth how stupid the words might sound, but right now there was no filter between his brain and his mouth. He was saying what he was feeling, and believing what he was saying. Sex -- great sex -- was good for that sort of thing. "Harder," he added, a small plea for JC to move faster, go deeper.

"Don't want to," JC disagreed, enjoying the torturous pace he'd set for himself, relishing the fact that he knew Chris was enjoying it too, by the look on his face every time the head of JC's cock dragged along his prostate. He *did* feel right inside Chris -- a revelation unclouded by anger or intoxication -- more right than anything. Unless it was having Chris inside *him*, and his hips speed up despite himself when he remembered sitting in Chris's lap the night before, riding him hard.

"Damn you," said Chris, but he was smiling and didn't mean it. He felt a jolt go through his entire body every time JC thrust against his prostate, a new sensation for him. Half of him wanted to come THEN and come HARD, and the other half wanted those tiny shocks, those mini-orgasms, to continue for as long as he could bear them. JC was sliding in and out of his body like he was meant to be there, like it was their fucking PURPOSE in life to make love as often as they could.

Clutching an arm around Chris's thigh, JC rested his other hand on the bed beside them and began dipping his hips a little deeper. "Chris," he panted slightly, "You need to tell me that it's okay, anyway. Please."

"Okay?" repeated Chris, dazed. "Okay, C? It's fucking PERFECT. FUCK." He tried to push up against him, and was a bit surprised to discover that, really, JC was in complete control.

"'Cause I don't *want* to go harder, or faster, Chris," JC groaned, punctuating his words with another smooth thrust and squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm gonna come like this, I can't help it, and then I'm probably gonna cry, 'cause I don't want it to be over. Ever."

"Me too," said Chris, his voice quiet, his breath coming in shuddery gasps. "Stay with me, C. Stay with ME." He, too, closed his eyes and pressed his head hard into the pillow as he tried to arch his back.

"I will," JC moaned, barely even aware of what he was saying. "I will; I will, Chris..." he kept repeating the words, over and over, and suddenly he was coming. Coming *inside* of Chris, for the first time; filling him, shouting out loud, *loud*, and that was for the first time, too.

Chris felt the last thrust to his bones, sending a shudder throughout his body, but it wasn't until he heard JC shout that he came. And JC wasn't even fucking TOUCHING him, which is a revelation. The very last thought going through his head before the fireworks go off is that JC is going to STAY. And it makes him come all the harder.

JC shouted again when he felt Chris's orgasm hit him in the chest; mostly in surprise -- he hadn't *done* anything to him -- but also from the muscles in Chris's ass constricting around him, choking, milking the very life-blood from his body. He couldn't catch his breath, or open his eyes; it's as if everything they'd just done and experienced together was willing him to stay right where he was, whether he wanted to or not.

Chris gasped for breath, reaching out to touch JC, to increase their connection. As if that was even POSSIBLE. He didn't want JC to leave his body -- even though he knew he'd have to, eventually -- and ignored the cramping in his legs to keep him there. His limbs and spine were still tingling. "Love you," he murmured, again hardly aware of his words other than that they were EXACTLY what he was feeling. "Stay."

"YOU stay," mumbled JC in reply, bowing his head, waiting for the fog to clear and his pulse to slow. Chris's cum was cold and sticky on his skin, and his arm was ready to fall asleep, but he still didn't move an inch. Eventually he looked back up and opened his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Chris breathed out slowly before even trying to answer. "Other than having just had my mind absolutely blown? I'm fine." He grinned at JC and started lowering his legs a little, teasing JC's shoulder with his foot. "You? You doing okay, Big Man?"

JC just nodded, biting his lip, letting the hand he had wrapped around Chris's leg drop, reaching out tentatively to stroke the other man's stomach. "Thank you," he whispered, turning his head to kiss at Chris's ankle. "You made it easy."

Chris wasn't entirely sure what JC meant by that, but he smiled and nodded and stretched the moment out. "I'm easy," he said teasingly. "What can I say?"

Chuckling, JC kissed that bone again, then licked it delicately. "You're NOT, either," he responded softly, still trying to find his voice. "And that's not what I meant. It's just...I could *forget* myself, when I was doing that to you. WITH you. Feeling you underneath me, you letting me come inside you...it was like there wasn't any other way it could go. It was easy. And *you're* the reason. Does that make sense?" He looked at Chris, smiling lopsidedly.

"Yes," said Chris, his voice strangely soft. "I just hope it means what I think it means." Chris slid his feet to the bed and leaned up to kiss JC's lips, needing that emotional connection. "I lost myself, too."

JC sighed, parting his lips slightly under Chris's mouth, letting his arms collapse a little to rest more of his weight on Chris's body, now that the other man's legs weren't preventing him from doing so. "I knew where you were the whole time, Chris," he murmured, nuzzling against his nose. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Hurting me?" said Chris. "No. No, not yet ... " His fingers traced random designs on JC's shoulders as reality once again began to invade his brain. A few minutes from then he could very well be alone. For good. No more Justin. No more Lance. No more *JC*.

"What?" JC looked up, his eyes wide, and started slipping out of Chris's body. "What do you mean, 'not yet,' Chris? I just meant...if I was too heavy, or..."

"Oh," said Chris, wrapping his arms around JC's back. "No, you're perfect. I just ... " He paused, feeling strange about just EXPRESSING himself like this, when he has time to think about it. To change his words. "I'm afraid you're gonna leave now. Back to the bastard that hurt you. And I don't want that."

JC let Chris hold him, but didn't move to hug him back -- he was taken by surprise that, once again, practically the first thing on Chris's mind after making love to him was *Justin*. Which was the absolute LAST thing that JC wanted to have to worry about right then. "You're kicking me out before I'm gone, again, Chris," he finally said, regretfully. "Why do you DO that?"

"No, I'm not," protested Chris. "I don't want you to go! EVER! I'm just fucking telling you what I'm afraid of, JC. PLEASE don't go back to him. If you do, I can't guarantee I WON'T fucking kill him, the next time he so much as LOOKS at you funny." He caressed JC's back, trying to take the sting out of his words.

"Then stop *reminding* me about him, Chris, Jesus." JC pulled back, shrugging off Chris's arms. "And I don't need you getting in the middle of it. Just...just let me handle it."

Chris shut up very quickly, realizing again that JC WAS going to go back to him, and there was really nothing left he could do about it. He'd given JC everything he has -- which he admitted wasn't much, and no wonder it wasn't enough -- and it wasn't enough to make him leave someone who CLEARLY treated him like shit. He was a pleasant enough diversion, and nothing more. He let his arms fall to the bed and sighed, looking away. "Sorry," he said, unfeelingly.

JC rolled onto his side, facing Chris, and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Looks like our pillow talk is in even worse shape than our foreplay," he sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I should go."

"Please don't," said Chris simply, gripping JC's arm suddenly. "Every time you go, I don't know if you're coming back. Not that ... " He sighed and fell away again. "I guess I'm not worth your time, now that we're not fucking, huh." In the back of his mind, he'd been expecting this moment to come all along. He just hadn't wanted to admit it. He couldn't make up for the past decade or so of his life with just three orgasms, no matter how good.

JC flinched, Chris's words hurting him more than anything Justin had ever done, or *could* ever do. "More like I'm not worth *yours*," he snapped back. "I didn't come in here just so I could get a lay out of you, Chris -- I've sure as hell been *fucked* enough today. I came to *find* you, to apologize for going away last night, to see if..." he trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. "One of us sure has a knack for screwing this up. But hey, at least now you don't have to guess whether I'm coming back or not. You kinda made that decision for me."

"JC, I love you, DON'T GO!" Chris cringed at the deperation in his voice, but there was no taking it back. If JC couldn't tell THEN how much Chris wanted him, then he never would.

JC stared at Chris as he pulled on his boxers. "And you told me that *Justin* didn't mean it when he said he loved me? He could take *lessons* from you on fucking with my head." He shivered a little, bending over to grab the rest of his clothes.

"What did I DO?" pleaded Chris. "What did I do besides fucking OPENING myself UP to you? Besides confessing to you what I'm afraid of? Besides telling you and SHOWING you exactly how I feel? Is THIS what I get for it, C? Is this what I get for being honest? For fucking CARING about someone?"

Tugging on his shirt roughly, JC didn't turn around. "This is what you get for proving to me what we just did was only sex. You might think you opened up to me, Chris, but you didn't let me IN. I *listened* when you told me I should leave Justin; *you* should have listened when I told you I'd stay with you. I would've done both, for you. But I'm learning it was never about *me* -- it was about one-upping *him*. Well, FUCK you. I'm not a goddamn PAWN."

"FUCK! JC ... no ... you don't fucking understand!" Chris tore at his hair. "I don't say things right sometimes, I KNOW that, and I KNOW I've fucked up a lot ... but you ARE everything to me and you're killing me if you leave. I was listening, JC, I was LISTENING, but that doesn't fucking mean I'm not still AFRAID. Just like you ... "

JC grunted in pain when he pulled his pants back up over his sore body, then laughed hollowly. "What, exactly, am I so afraid of?"

"Being alone?" suggested Chris, treading on dangerous ground. "Being without Justin. I don't know, JC, you tell me. But it's SOMEthing ... " Chris sighed and laid down flat on his back. "Did I really fuck up that bad?"

Taking a deep breath, JC considered Chris's words. What was the *real* reason he was so upset? If he was going to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that Chris really didn't say or do anything wrong -- he had every reason not to believe that JC would stick around. And as for his bad timing, bringing up Justin...when would it *ever* be a good time? JC realized that he acted defensively because as soon as Chris acknowledged that they were finished making love, he didn't have anything else to resort to as a distraction from what he knew in his heart he had to do eventually. Joey was right, Lance was right, *Chris* was right: he had to break up with Justin. And that was more than enough to be afraid of.

"Chris?" he ventured softly. "I'm sorry...you didn't do anything wrong. I -- I *have* to leave, though. Um. Will you look at me?" He waited until Chris propped himself up on his forearm. "I hope you don't need to be ask if I'll be back."

"Just tell me you will and I'll believe you," said Chris quietly. "Because I WANT to believe you, C. Okay?" He pulled the sheet over to cover the lower half of his body, feeling terribly, terribly vulnerable right then.

JC shifted his weight between his feet. "Okay," he echoed meekly. "Um, do you...I mean, are you going home, or staying here, or...? I just...wanna make sure I know where to find you, in case." It scared the shit out of him to think that he might need to call Chris to help him deal with Justin, but he couldn't tell him that's what he was planning on doing, because then Chris would insist on going, too. And that was something he figured would go easier -- as easy as it *could* go -- without Chris in Justin's face.

"I'm staying right here," said Chris. "Though I'm considering showering. There are only so many layers of cum you can get on your body before you start to feel REALLY disgusting." He looked down at himself, then looked up at JC and grinned openly. For the first time, he was actually feeling secure that, in some way, JC was coming back to him.

JC grinned back, nervously. "Shoulda thought about that before I got dressed, I guess," he said, making a face as he pulled his shirt away from his chest. "So. Um...I'll see you later?" He desperately wanted to pull Chris into a hug, and have Chris tell him that he didn't have to worry, but he shoved his hands into his pockets instead.

"Yes," said Chris decisively, sounding more secure than he felt. "You will."

~*~

Lance congratulated himself for not throwing JC off the balcony as he stalked down the hall to the kitchen, vowing to be *over* this whole thing by the time Joey got back from the store. He put a kettle of water on the stove for tea, and sat on the barstool with his chin in his fist. *This is all for the better,* he tought, wondering why that was such a hard concept to swallow. *Chris is making this EASY on you, doing you a FAVOR, by not coming to you any more, by not making you make a choice.*

Joey slung the plastic bag over his wrist as he unlocked the front door, almost dreading what he might find inside. Things hadn't been quite right with everyone for a while now, and it was starting to wear him down -- mostly he didn't know WHAT was happening, and he wondered if they were keeping secrets from him, half the time. But then he pictured Lance, dripping from his shower, eyes bright and skin soft, and he smiled and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Lance almost fell off his perch when he heard the door close, Joey having gotten back a lot sooner than he expected he would. He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "Joe?" he called out, padding across the kitchen in his bare feet. "I'm in here."

Joey continued to smile, heading for the kitchen. "Hey baby," he said, sliding an arm around Lance's waist and pulling him into a kiss, dropping the bag to the floor. "You smell great."

"Hey, Joe," Lance breathed in reply, not able to help the grin that appeared on his own face at seeing, and hugging, and being kissed by his happy boyfriend. "What did you go to the store for?"

Joey sighed. "Shit to clean up the living room with. I think the other guys had a death match in there or something." His hand absently caressed Lance's back as he spoke. "Where'd you disappear to this morning?'

"Mmm," Lance mumbled, nuzzling into Joey's chest, reveling in the feel of Joey's large palm on his bare back. "God. Just...dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Chris. Or Hurricane JC, I dunno."

"Yeah, what a mess," said Joey sadly, shaking his head and planting a grateful kiss on Lance's forehead. "You should have woken me up. I could have helped out."

"Uh, no..." Lance said, averting his eyes. "I handled it. Plus...I mean, you talked to JC, when he was here, right? He said you did..."

Joey nodded slightly. "I don't know what to do about them, baby," he said with a sigh. "This isn't going to end well, no matter WHAT happens, is it?"

Shrugging and pulling away slightly, Lance sniffed. "Do you want me to tell you what I think, or what might be nice to hear? I just...I don't know, Joe. I *do* know that we can't do much to help."

"I WANT to help," said Joey, squeezing him slightly as though reassuring himself that Lance was really there. "I want things to be the way the used to be. They weren't PERFECT, but they were a lot better than this."

"Hmm," Lance replied, noncommittally. "Look, I wouldn't get too wrapped up in this, Joe...I know you'd LIKE to help, but this is something THEY'VE got to work out. *JC* has to work out, really."

"What were you doing this morning then, hon?" asked Joey, still rubbing his back. "Weren't you trying to help?"

"That was different," Lance sulked. "Like I said, I was dealing with the *aftermath*, not trying to FIX anything." *Obviously,* he thought sullenly, then forced that memory back down.

"Lance?" said Joey, leaning back and looking at him. "What's up? You okay?"

"What?" Lance said, then shook his head. "I'm sorry...yeah, I'm fine. Just...not a good morning, y'know? I'm still hungover, and then I had to leave you alone in bed this morning, and I'm *so* *mad* at JC right now I could *spit*..."

"Look, I know JC has made some mistakes -- maybe some big ones -- but let's TRY not to be mad about this." He ruffled Lance's hair. "Did you take some aspirin? Next time they blow up ... how about you FAKE the drinking part when you're talking to Chris, okay? I don't like it when you're hurting."

"Me either," mumbled Lance, hugging himself. "Are you telling me you're actually taking JC's side, in this?" he asked after a second, walking back to the stove and grabbing a teabag out of the canister.

Joey shook his head. "I am NOT taking sides," he said emphatically. "I don't want to get involved. Off the record? JC's being a damn moron, but I can see why he's doing what he's doing. Kinda. I mean ... wouldn't YOU be a little leery of getting involved with Chris? With his whole history and everything?"

Lance chuckled. "You don't want to get involved, babe, but you want to help? Let me know how that works out for you." Then his eyes narrowed as he pours the water into his mug. "Wait. What do you *mean*, Chris's *history*?"

"Come on, Lance, you KNOW how he is. Chris is just ... messed up, you know?" Joey reached out to touch Lance's back again, softly, for just a moment. "I ... I don't want to get in the MIDDLE of it. I can help without taking sides. I HOPE I can. Can't I?"

"Sure," Lance shrugged again, but this time didn't move away from Joey's hand. "If anyone can be impartial, and fair, then it's you. I just ... feel bad for Chris. He doesn't really deserve to be jerked around. Maybe it's shit like this that MADE him 'messed up,' or whatever."

"Yeah," agreed Joey. "That wouldn't surprise me in the least. I mean, he's pretty ... well, whatever."

"What," Lance said, hissing when he burnt his lip on the hot tea. "He's pretty *what*?"

"I don't know what I'm talking about," muttered Joey. "Forget I said anything. Sorry." He reached out to put his arms around Lance again, needing to feel secure in THAT at least.

Lance accepted the embrace, but couldn't shake the feeling that Joey knew more than he was saying -- about Chris, and that was slightly scary to Lance, who thought he knew him pretty well. "No, no. *Tell* me. Please?"

"He's a little promiscuous," said Joey vaguely. "And he has this crappy self-esteem thing going on. It's not pretty."

"Well, shit," Lance retorted defensively, "I mean, how do you think *your* self-esteem would measure up, if you had JC-fucking-Chasez eat your heart up and spit it out? And, I mean, just 'cause he's the only one of us not in a relationship, he's promiscuous all of a sudden? That doesn't sound like something you'd say, Joey."

"I'm not saying it to be mean, Lance," said Joey seriously. "I mean ... he just is. Do you think that's going to stop, with JC? I mean, I'm HOPING so -- and I'm hoping JC will wise up and at least give it a shot -- but it's not all new, you know? This is stuff that's been going on with him for a long time."

Lance stared at Joey from over the rim of his mug. "Aren't you worried about JC, then?" To be fair, Lance had his suspicions, given how readily Chris had accepted *his* advances, but Joey didn't know about that. "And no. I didn't know, about Chris's...past. I *don't* know."

Joey shrugged. "I'm not saying anything specific, Lance. I'm just saying stuff I thought we all knew. He picks up guys a lot. One night stands. Never finds anyone that's good for him ... until now. Maybe. Fuck, though. I'm worried about the BOTH of them. The only person I'm NOT worried about is Justin -- he got over HIS fling with Chris easily enough, so I hope this'll blow over for him faster than we think."

"Fuck!" Lance cursed as he dropped his tea, but didn't make a move to clean up the broken bits of ceramic. "His *what*? His WHAT, with Justin?" Joey had to be wrong about that. Chris *hated* Justin. *HATED* him. And Justin never acknowledged Chris...unless Chris was hitting on JC. Lance suddenly felt very, very naive, and very, very used.

Joey looked down at the floor, at the shattered cup, then back up at Lance's stricken face. "Chris and Justin ... " He said softly. "They used to fuck. It was a long time ago, obviously ... " He trailed off and reached out for Lance again. "What's going on? Are you okay? Talk to me, hon."

Lance swatted at Joey's hand, not wanting to be coddled right then. "No, I'm *not* okay. What the hell? Why didn't I *know* that? And...does *JC* know that? 'Cause that bit of knowledge might put quite the damper on Chris's grand romantic agenda." *Get your shit together, Lance,* he berated himself. *Your reaction is a little over-the-top, even if you try to play it off as concern for JC.*

"Don't push me away!" snapped Joey, then he took a deep breath and calmed right down again. "Lance, baby, what has been UP with you today? Chris and Justin, that was YEARS ago now. Just like you and Danielle was years ago. Come on ... tell me what's happening. It's bad enough that the restof the guys pull this shit on me, Lance ... not you, too. Please?"

Flinching at Joey's tone, Lance took another step backwards. He never, never thought he'd even consider telling Joey about what he had done with Chris. Never. It was something he compartimentalized; something he didn't let affect their relationship; something, therefore, he didn't need to know about. But now...it *was* affecting their relationship, and he wondered who he was bothering to protect. He had either over- or under-estimated Chris, that much was clear. But if he told Joey about what he'd done with Chris, would he risk everything they had?

"Joey..." he started, more calmly than he felt, "I'm sure that, you know, if the other guys aren't telling you something, it's because they're worried about what you'd think of them..."

"I don't like this," said Joey, frowning, not trying to reach over for Lance that time after being rejected repeatedly. "I don't like being the guy that never knows what's happening with everyone else. But I accept it from them because that's what they choose to do, even though *I* know that I wouldn't judge them like that, that I never have, that anything I do with them is trying to HELP, even when what they're doing pisses me off. But you, Lance? You're my lover. We share EVERYthing ... or I thought we did ... "

Lance looked at him for a minute before walking over to the sink to grab a sponge. "What makes you think I'm hiding something from you? I told you -- I just feel like ass, and I had to spend all morning listening to Chris pine over JC, only to come to find out that trying to be sympathetic was probably a wasted effort, since he's obviously not capable of seeing any of us for anything more than sex. And, okay, that *is* bothering me."

"Wait," said Joey, "that's not what I SAID, Lance." He frowned at him for a moment. "So what if he had a thing with Justin way back when and he's into JC now ... that's hardly ALL of us, and it's not necessarily just sex either. Hon ... you're not normally like this. What's gotten INTO you today?" He tried to take Lance's arm, to lead them out of the kitchen. "Let's sit down, okay? You're worrying me."

"I gotta clean this up," Lance muttered, but touched Joey's hand briefly before crouching down on the floor. "And I'm sorry if I'm acting weird. I -- I guess this stuff, with JC, and ... with Chris, it's just worrying me, too. And it's a lot to take in. I just feel *used*, I guess, that I tried to be there for him ... and took his SIDE, kinda ... and he wasn't even HONEST with me in the first place. He's not who I thought he was." It was impossible to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Joey frowned again and crouched on the floor next to Lance as he cleaned up the spill, careful not to cut himself. "How was he dishonest with you? How is he not who you thought he was? Who DID you think he was?" he asked, one after the other. "You haven't told me much about what you talked about -- and you don't have to or anything -- but I really don't think you were USED, Lance. I think he DID need you. More than JC needed me, anyway."

Lance snorted. "JC is just..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Nevermind." He bit his lip, and started carefully picking up the broken shards. "Chris wasn't...*dishonest*, exactly, but... I guess, all along, he would tell me how worked up he'd get over JC -- I mean, *you* saw him -- and I'd try to calm him down, or whatever, and I didn't think about it much, 'cause it just seemed like a physical thing, what he felt for JC? And I understood that. But then *today* he fucking tells me he *loves* him, and ... look, I can understand that too. I know what that feels like." He gave Joey a soft, but brief, smile. "But now you tell me he used to fuck Justin? And somehow that wasn't, like, an essential piece of information for him to share? It just makes me question...his intentions. Question *him*. Like, what part of anything we said to each other was the truth?"

"Maybe he just didn't think of it," suggested Joey. Lance's smile encouraged him to reach out again, totouch his shoulder. "I mean, his thing with Justin? It WAS just sex. They've both said as much. And you know, there's nothing WRONG with that, if that's what both people want. It's not something *I* would do, but then I'm not Justin or Chris." Joey wondered, before going on, if they'd REALLY gotten to the root of Lance's problem, but at least Lance was TALKING to him, which was way better than before. "I think," he said carefully, "maybe Chris IS in love with JC and it scares the shit out of him and that's why he's been all argumentative and stuff. It's certainly different than it ever has been before, when he's wanted someone. I'm SURE you recognize that." He touched Lance's neck, lightly. "I love you," he added in a heartfelt whisper.

"I love you too," Lance replied absently, considering Joey's words. He knew, he *always* knew, really, that he wasn't anything more to Chris than sex. He had never had whatever it was that made Chris so crazy for JC, and if Chris really *loved* JC, well...then that explained it; that's what had been missing. "So...that sex without love thing...you don't think there's any circumstances where you'd get with someone, like that, unless you really cared about them? Or wanted something more out of it?"

"Why does it matter?" asked Joey with a tender smile. "I'm with you, now. But ... I've never been with someone that I didn't care about. I wouldn't say I LOVED everyone I've slept with in my whole life, but I've at least liked them and gotten to know them and been in a relationship with them." He chuckled. "That can't surprise you. You know me better than ANYone, Lance."

"Hmm," Lance nodded, straightening up and dumping the ruined pieces of mug into the trash can, guilt rushing over him in waves. "I guess not everyone's as good a person as you, then," he said, not nastily, but affectionately, and a little ruefully. "I *know* none of the rest of us are."

Joey pulled him into a hug and kissed his throat gently. "You're a good person, Lance," he said, "and I'm very, very glad that you're mine."

"Oh, Joey," Lance sobbed, collapsing a little against his boyfriend's chest, the honest and eager way that Joey had embraced him breaking something inside his heart. "I'm not; I'm *not* a good person, and I don't deserve you, and you're gonna leave me, I just *know* it..."

"What?" said Joey, holding him tightly and sensing that Lance really NEEDED that right now. "What are you TALKING about? I'm not going anywhere. I love you. Now come on ... what's eating you, baby? What's wrong? Don't let this whole drama between JC and Chris mess with how you think about US, OK?"

"No, no," Lance cried, practically blubbering, powerless to stop the flood of words now that he'd started. "You don't understand, it's not that...it has nothing to DO with that. Not really. This is something *I* did wrong. And...I thought maybe it was okay, that I had a good reason for it, but I *didn't*...and I just wish I could do it all over again, because I *wouldn't*...god, if nothing else, what's going on with them should have PROVED to me what a good thing I had with you..."

"Lance?" said Joey hesitantly, still holding him. "Baby, what are you TALKING about? What did you do that you think was so awful? It can't be that bad. Honest. It'll be okay, because I love you ... "

"PROMISE me," Lance pleaded, clutching tighter onto Joey's shirt. "Promise me that if I tell you, that it'll be okay, that you won't leave, and that you'll still love me... PROMISE me, Joey. I can't do this, otherwise."

"I promise," said Joey easily. "There's nothing that'll make me leave you, Lance. We need to trust each other here, okay?"

"Okay," Lance pulled back, gripping Joey's forearms instead, and took a deep breath. "Okay. Joey. How can I even...? God." He really couldn't believe he was about to tell Joey about the relationship he had with Chris, but he needed to deserve Joey's trust, and even he realized that. "Okay. So, you know how you just told me that Chris and Justin used to...fuck, I guess?" He waited for Joey's confused nod before continuing. "Well, I guess after that was over, Chris started being really...self-destructive. You said it yourself. And ... I was *really* young, and worried about him, and thought maybe that if he came to me, when he was upset, then he wouldn't get hurt..."

Joey thought he was understanding, and didn't want to be. Not really. "Are you telling me that you and Chris used to mess around, hon? I mean ... that's okay, if that's what it is. We both have our histories, you know? I mean, neither one of us were virgins when we got together, or anything ... "

Lance bit his lip, and looked away. "Well, not exactly 'mess around' ... I mean, it wasn't really ... *mutual*."

Joey frowned, and held Lance at arm's length, clutching him reassuringly. "I don't understand," he said. "He took advantage of you? You took advantage of him? I'm a plain guy, Lance, you know that. Just spell it out."

"I know," Lance said, blushing furiously now, ashamed at how pathetic and self-loathing what he had done was going to sound, out loud. "No one took *advantage* of anyone. More like...if he needed to get off, he knew he could...come to me. And I would. Get him off."

Joey wasn't sure what to say to that. "Um, okay," he said after a moment. "Lance ... I hope you don't think that the fact that you used to do that with Chris makes me love you any less ... "

Lance steeled himself, trying to find the courage to tell him the rest. "Yeah. So *whenever* he needed to get off, he knew he could come to me." He caught Joey's eye as he said that, emphasizing the most important word in that sentence, wondering if it would be enough for Joey to understand what he was trying to tell him.

"Lance," said Joey carefully, holding his gaze. "Please tell me you don't mean you're still ... " He didn't even want to finish the question.

"Ah, shit," Lance exhaled, grabbing Joey's hand and entwining their fingers together. "Joey. No. Not anymore. But ... it didn't end as soon as it should have." *Or BY WHO it should have,* he added silently.

Joey looks down and squeezed his eyes tightly shut so his sudden, hot tears wouldn't fall. He let Lance take his hands but didn't have the energy to squeeze back. "Oh God ... " he whispered quietly. "Oh, Lance, please no ... not that." He shook a little and fell silent, then forced himself to take a couple slow, deep breaths so he wouldn't break into sobs.

Lance's heart broke again at seeing Joey struggle with his emotions, and he stepped closer to him, cautiously. "Joey -- Joey, I'm sorry, I'm SO sorry, you don't *know* how sorry ... I don't know why I didn't stop, but you have to know that I wish I had ... and it's not about you, you HAVE to know that ... "

Joey was still holding back his sobs. He couldn't believe this, couldn't believe it was happening to him. "Oh, Lance," he whispered. "Why? Why would you ... just WHY?"

Lance dropped one of Joey's hands so he could touch his hip, gently. "Joey. I've been asking myself that, and I don't have a good reason. I don't have any reason. Like, was it habit? Or was keeping Chris from going out to pick up some random guy instead, like, THAT important to me?" He bit his lip. "I don't know. I'm just -- sorry."

"I love you," said Joey, almost inaudibly. "And you cheated." The sobs were coming, like it or not. He didn't think he'd ever felt quite that kind of pain before.

"It wasn't ... it wasn't *cheating*, Joey," Lance protested feebly. "I didn't do it for me, and I didn't get anything out of it, and you SAW me afterwards ... I had to basically drown myself in booze every time it happened. It didn't mean ANYTHING. PLEASE."

Joey sniffleed and shook his head. "It was, Lance. You ... you're with ME. And ... " He paused. "Is there something ... something that I'm not doing for you, that he does?" Joey sniffled again. "I'm gonna be mad, soon. You know that, right?"

Nodding warily, Lance squeezed Joey's hip a little tighter. "Joey. Listen to me. I have never, EVER had anyone make me feel the way you do, even when you're just holding me. And *especially* when you're loving me. Chris wouldn't do that, and even if he WOULD, I don't think he could."

"No more," said Joey hoarsely. "Please, Lance, no more. You're mine. MINE, dammit! I don't care if I sound like a jealous fuck -- there's NO one else gonna have you. Do you -- ?" He broke off again and the sobs returned.

"Joey," he murmured, tears forming in his eyelashes as well as he snaked his other arm around Joey's waist. "Joey, baby, it's over. It's OVER. Okay? Now, do I what? Do I *what*, baby?"

"Do you still love me?"

Lance laughed, he couldn't help it. "Joey," he said, cupping his face between his hands and grinning. "I have never, EVER, loved you more, or *appreciated* you more, than I do today. No one else is gonna have *you*. Got me?"

Joey breathed a sigh of relief. It was safe to get mad, then. "Lance, what the FUCK were you thinking?" he blurted out, rubbing his tears away harshly. "There was no way to comfort Chris other than blowing him? Or whatever ELSE he had you do for him? Are you SERIOUS?"

Lance flinched and stumbled backwards a little. "Um...I don't know...it just, it seemed to make him feel better, and he wouldn't TALK to me, so..."

"So that made it okay? God Lance, do you really think doing that made things better for him?" Joey snorted. "Am I the only one who HASN'T fucking slept with Chris, now?"

"We didn't *sleep* together," Lance muttered. "And now you see what I mean?"

"See what you mean about WHAT?" Joey could still feel that piercing pain; it wasn't going away.

"Just about him not seeing any of us for anything other then sex," Lance frowned. "Even though he DID seem really hung up on JC today. Like, *really* upset. He was...I mean, he was *crying*."

Joey gritted his teeth, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do now. "Yeah, well, love fucking HURTS," he muttered.

Turning his attention back to the distraught man in front of him, Lance coughed a little. "Oh, Joe...look, let's go into the other room, and sit down, and you can yell at me some more, or punch me, or cry, or kiss me, or...just whatever you need to do to feel better?"

"I'm not going to punch you," muttered Joey. He made sure there were no fragments of the mug left on the kitchen floor before going into the living room. He left his bag of cleaning supplies sitting there.

Lance followed Joey out of the kitchen. "You can. If it'd make you feel better." He stopped when he saw the mess that was still around the sofa. "I'm...sorry. I shoulda picked up some, while you were out..."

Joey shook his head. "I'm GUESSING," he bit out, "that you were busy." Lance stopped halfway to his seat. "I was," he said evenly, looking at Joey with watery eyes. "I was in the shower, and then I was talking to JC. I was *trying* to get him to talk to Chris, to explain what happened last night. Look, I'll do it right now, if..."

"Fuck," said Joey, practically falling onto the couch. "That's why I woke up alone, isn't it? That's what you meant by 'comfort'."

Biting his lip, Lance considered not telling Joey the truth about that. Knowing that he did it since they'd been together was bad enough; knowing that it happened up until *that day*, when Joey could *guess* that Chris had stopped it, would be worse. "Joey," he started, then changed his mind. He'd been honest so far. "He came in our room, Joey, and...you should have *seen* him..."

Joey covered his ears and closed his eyes. "No," he said, the pain leaking out in his voice. "No ... Lance ... "

"What, do you want me to lie about it, now?" Lance said shrilly, wishing he could find the right thing to say to get Joey to talk to him, rather than just react. "What do you want me to *say*, Joe, 'cause I'll do it. I'll tell you whatever you need to hear."

"Why did you decide TODAY to stop?" asked Joey, his eyes still closed and leaking tears, his hands falling limply to his lap. "Why not a month ago, A YEAR ago? Why, Lance? I just...I CAN'T understand."

And honesty reared its ugly head, again. "Joey, c'mon, babe...you know all those details aren't gonna help us get over this, or help you understand it. There's nothing *to* understand. There's no good reason for what I did, or didn't do ... can we leave it at that?"

"No," said Joey softly, finally opening his eyes. "Fuck. Lance. What am I supposed to SAY. If I didn't fucking love you so much ... "

"Then let it GO, baby," Lance said desperately, kneeling in front of Joey. "Please. I made a mistake, a HUGE mistake, and it's only hurting both of us to think about it."

"What was it?" asked Joey softly. "What was it I could have done to make you want me enough that you wouldn't have ... ? Is it something about Chris? Is there some attraction that I just don't get. You ... JC ... " He sighs. "I hope Chris isn't gonna fuck around on him. They both need something real. Something like what I thought I had."

"What you *still* have," said Lance firmly, gripping Joey's thighs. "What you have with *me*. And Chris...well, sometimes he's overwhelming with what he wants. I guess that I couldn't stand up to that; even JC finally gave in. But *you* ... you're too strong to be susceptible to it, I think." He sighed, and continued to knead Joey's muscles. "And as much as Chris said what he feels is real...I wonder how it can turn out well, given how it started."

"I hope it turns out," said Joey. "I hope they find something HALF as strong as what I feel about you, Lance." He patted the couch next to him. "Sit down," he said, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes. "Let's talk about this, okay? You hurt me, Lance ... and that's not going to be easy to forget ... but I'm NOT going to lose you. Okay?"

"Okay," Lance said meekly, gratefully, giving Joey's torso a hug before climbing up next to him on the sofa. "I -- I don't know what else to say, Joey. I'm sorry, *so* sorry I hurt you. Seeing you like this, knowing it's my fault...I wish I hadn't told you. It's what people always say in these situations ... you only tell to make *yourself* feel better."

"I don't ... I don't UNDERSTAND," said Joey, sighing. "I mean ... of all the things you could have done ... is that all you thought you had to give? Because you're just so much MORE than that." Joey looked up for a moment, thinking he heard a noise, then shook his head and looked down again. A few seconds later he reached out blindly to take Lance's hand. "I accept your apology," he added softly. "But just don't think this is going to be easy."

"Of course it won't be," Lance agreed sadly, clasping Joey's hand and kissing his knuckles. "But I know we love each other enough to get through it, too." He leaned his head on Joey's shoulder, then, trying to take advantage of the warmth he offered. "Why did Chris let me do it, Joey?"

"Let you?" said Joey, sounding skeptical. "Lance ... Chris is a pretty messed up guy sometimes, I think. Maybe he wanted the attention. The ... the affection." He frowned as he said that. "Maybe he thought that you wanted it, too. Or maybe he was looking for a substitute for what he REALLY wanted, but didn't have..."

"You mean JC," Lance replied flatly. "Believe me, he made me very aware that I couldn't compare to him. And I doubt very much he thought it was something I wanted, he..." Lance trailed off, finding himself getting angry again, and knowing it wouldn't help their situation any if Joey realized that being rejected by Chris *did* bother him.

"I know how he feels, though," said Joey. "For me, there's no one in the world who can compare to you. Not even if they were my best friend. Not even if they were the world's best lover." He was upset that Lance seemed unhappy about having to end things with Chris, and tried not to show it. There were some things he needed to deal with in his OWN head before he could even talk them out with Lance. "He did what?" he asked, though, prompting Lance to finish his sentence.

"Nothing," Lance said sullenly. "I really didn't know he felt that way, about JC. I'm not surprised he liked it better, with him, then. I mean, if he ever tried to seduce *me*, I'd probably laugh at him, because he's not you." Lance remembered that he *did* get off on it, that morning -- but that was before Chris had really started talking about JC, *before* Lance realized that time wasn't different from any other, and Chris wasn't doing anything but using him. Still.

"I don't like to think about you being with someone else," said Joey. "Letting someone else touch you. I don't OWN you, Lance, but ... " He squeezed his hand tightly. "And the fact that it was Chris, who ... I think being with Chris must kinda mess with your head, because he's so confused himself. I mean, do YOU know what he wants, out of life? Do YOU know what makes him happy? Cuz I sure don't."

"No, I don't...I really don't understand him. I understand him less than I thought I did, even. And I don't understand how he thinks JC'll make him happy, 'cause, I mean, you want to talk about messed up..." Lance pressed a gentle kiss to Joey's shoulder, shivering a little. "But I know it messed with my head. It was like it wasn't even *me*, doing those things. Does that make sense?"

"Love is fuckin' blind," muttered Joey, shaking his head. "And I think they do. Let's hope 'love conquers all' hold true for them, too." After a torturously long pause, Joey turned his head and brushed a kiss across Lance's lips. "Thank you for telling me," he whispered.

"Oh, baby..." Lance sighed into the kiss. "No. Thank you for being the person that made me feel like I *had* to tell you. I can promise you -- *promise* you -- that we'll never have to do this again." Snuggling a little more into Joey's shoulder, he chuckled. "You think *who* do *what*, baby?"

"JC and Chris," said Joey, letting go of Lance's hand and putting his arm around his shoulders. "I think they love each other. They just have to figure that out. And not kill each other before they do."

"Oh," Lance said, not able to keep the smile off his face with every affectionate gesture Joey made. "You think they do? I mean ... Chris *seems* like he really feels something for JC, enough to get him all fucking weepy about it ... but I don't know *what* JC is thinking. And speaking of killing ... oh, god, *Justin* ..."

Joey nodded. "Yeah. Justin will lose his toy." Joey mentally berated himself for being so harsh about the whole situation. "He's not gonna be happy. IF that's what JC does. I don't know ... I REALLY can't figure JC out, sometimes." The following silence was punctuated by a couple of shouted words, the squeak of bedsprings. Joey looked up. It had come from the spare room, but he wasn't sure whether it was the sound of fucking or fighting. Nor whose muffled voices he was hearing.

"Well, you talked to him, right? Did he say anything that made you think he was gonna pick Chris? I mean, when *I* talked to him, I didn't give him much of a chance to explain himself..." Lance smiled guiltily and then arched an eyebrow. "Um? What *is* that, by the way?"

"I think -- " Joey shook his head. "I won't even speculate until I hear a name. Do any of them KNOW how often we have to change the sheets in that damn spare room?" He squeezed Lance's shoulder. "I think he might pick Chris," he said. "I think he wants something real. Something that's not Justin. But ... he didn't say. Probably WON'T say, until it happens."

"Yeah, he seemed pretty upset when I told him upset *Chris* was. Did you know he just, like, LEFT him alone last night?" Lance shook his head, and pulled a leg up onto the couch, tucking it under his body. "I told him he needed to talk to Chris about it. Maybe they're ... um ... 'talking,' in there."

Joey raised an eyebrow as a loud, prolonged moan escaped the room. "if that's what you want to call it ... " he said dryly. "I knew about the alone thing. I think that was about the biggest mistake that was made by either party so far ... but maybe that's just me. I'd rather be hurt than abandoned."

"Maybe I need lessons from JC in how to apologize effectively," Lance mused, staring down the hallway. "Anyway. But, I mean ... NOT to defend JC, at ALL ... maybe that's what he was doing. Y'know? Letting himself be hurt, rather than setting himself up to be abandoned? He MUST feel like he's in no man's land, losing Justin before he really has Chris."

"Did he think about what it would do to Chris?" asked Joey quietly. "The LAST thing that guy needs is to think that no one wants him. Trust me on that. And hell, JC isn't losing Justin any more than he was a month ago." Joey sat in silence again, his head still full of thoughts about what was going on between him and Lance right then. "Lance ... I don't want to have sex with you tonight."

Lance exhaled sadly. He couldn't remember the last time Joey called what they'd do together "sex," and that concerned him infinitely more than the fact that Joey didn't want it. "Me either, baby," he said finally, and it was the truth. "I just want to hold you, and have you spoon up behind me, and forget about Chris and JC, then still be there when you wake up. Will you let me?"

"Yeah," said Joey, sighing. "But we still have to get through a whole day before we can deal with that ... and I have a funny feeling it's gonna be a rough day today." He ran his finger through his hair, still morning-sloppy, and sighed again. Suddenly there was another noise from the bedroom, a loud "Chris!" and he looked up again. He almost smiled, until the image of Lance saying that very word in that very same way pushed its way to the front of his mind.

Lance DID smile at the sound. "Whoa," he softly chuckled. "They don't waste a lot of time, do they?" He scooted away a little, and curled over to rest his head in Joey's lap. "Joey? What did you mean, when you said JC isn't losing Justin any more now than he was a month ago?"

Joey listened to the now-obvious sounds of sex for another moment before answering. "They aren't any different today than they were then, is all I mean," he said finally. "Until JC finally gets some balls and tells Justin he's leaving him, he knows that nothing is going to change. And Chris knows that, too. And maybe that's part of the problem."

"You think Chris is pushing him too hard, is that what you mean?" Lance asked, tracing a pattern in the leg of Joey's jeans. "You think JC is scared of what Justin'll do?"

There was another wordless shout from the bedroom, definitely JC's voice this time, but no accompanying sound from Chris. "No, I think JC is too chickenshit to make a decision. And maybe a little scared of how Justin'll react. I dunno. Like I said, I don't really understand what goes on in his head. He just ... he *thinks* differently than I do. I can't predict what's gonna happen here. And I REALLY can't believe they're having sex in our spare room right now. Again."

"Well," Lance twisted around, staring at the living room, and the discarded clothing strewn about. "I'm not sure that they did it in there the FIRST time. But yeah ... it DOES seem like JC is just waiting for someone else to tell him what to do. Like, if Justin catches them, he'll kick Chris's ass and JC'll stay with Justin? Or ... if the sex between them is so good, maybe Chris won't ever let JC go home to Justin? Like maybe he expects Chris to protect him?"

"I just don't know," said Joey. "I know what I WANT to happen, but I think you and I are just gonna have to let this one play out, from here on in."

"You're right," Lance groaned, sitting up. "We don't need to be involved. How 'bout you and I go take a nap together, so we don't run into them at all? And then when we wake up, I'll clean up out here, and cook you dinner." He couldn't keep the hopeful look off his face.

"How about we wait for them to finish and THEN we take a nap?" suggested Joey, gesturing vaguely at Lance's growing erection without even looking at it. "I don't think either one of us need to be getting any ideas before we curl up together."

"Okay, sure," Lance replied softly, blushing a little. "Sorry for ... just, sorry."

Joey just nodded at that. "I still love you," he reminded him.

"How long's it gonna take before you mean that the same way, again?" Lance asked quietly.

"I don't know," admited Joey sadly. "But I'm willing to stay with you, Lance. To work this out. So I guess that should tell you something."

Lance stood up, and held out his hand. "It tells me I don't deserve you, I know that much."

Joey took his hand and got to his feet, ignoring the sounds of orgasm in the background. "I forgive you," he said softly. "And once you do, too, then we can get somewhere again."

Biting his lip, Lance nodded and pulled on Joey's hand. "C'mon. Come lay down with me. I just want to hold you."

Joey sighed, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "But I really don't want to ... "

"I KNOW," Lance exhaled, hugging Joey briefly before leading him down to their room. "I think you're capable of resisting me, and anyway, I promised I wouldn't try."

"I'm just saying," said Joey as Lance led him to their bedroom. "I want you to know it's just ... now. Not forever."

"I know that, too," Lance smiled tenderly as he shut the door behind them. "And I love you. And that IS forever."

"Exactly," said Joey, kissing him softly. "Thank you."

"For what," Lance kissed him back, pulling off the other man's sweater and nudging him onto the bed.

Joey shrugged. "Choosing me?"

Lance didn't respond, knowing that if he said what he felt -- that there was never anyone else for him -- Joey had every right not to believe him right then. So he just climbed into the bed behind him and rested his head on Joey's back, kissing him through his tee shirt.

Joey felt Lance slip his arm around his waist and clutched at his hand desperately, afraid to ever let him go again. Afraid of what will make Lance's heard turn the next time. It hadn't taken much to get him to cheat this time, really, and it was a big world out there with lots of beautiful, willing people. He closed his eyes and lets silent tears slide down his cheeks and drip off his nose.

Hearing Joey's breathing change, feeling the desperation with which he grabbed his hand, Lance stretched up to whisper into Joey's ear -- knowing he needed to say something else to put his mind at ease. "Baby. You're the only person I'll ever, ever want, and I'm never leaving you."

"Good," whispered Joey, and that was all he trusted himself to say.

~*~

JC shut the door to the house silently behind him, although he wasn't quite sure why he was bothering to be quiet. The sooner he saw Justin, the sooner he'd be able to talk to him, and maybe it'd help him figure out what to do.

Justin rolled over on the couch; the sound from the television woke him periodically and his jeans were twisted, causing his underwear to crawl up his ass. He was NOT comfortable, and drifting in that strange consciousness between waking and sleeping.

Dumping his keys on the table in the hall, JC decided he really should just get it over with as quickly as possible. He'd take Joey's advice, and approach Justin about taking some time off for a while, and ... see what he said. "Just? You home, man?"

Justin snorted and blinked, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Huh?" he said aloud, barely audible. The creases in the leather couch had marked his cheek and his hair was EVERYwhere. "Jace?" he said, momentarily confused.

JC heard the television on in the den, and followed the sound. He chuckled a little when he didn't see anything except Justin's curls from over the back of the couch. "Napping?" he said to him lightly.

"Waiting," mumbled Justin, squinting at the clock on the VCR. "You've been gone a long time."

JC's expression quickly turned into a frown. "Well, if you had dropped me back off at Lance and Joey's, instead of making me take a cab, maybe I would have been back sooner."

"I didn't want you going back there," muttered Justin. His head ached and he wasn't in the mood for JC's shit right then. "Can you blame me?"

"I needed to get my car, I couldn't just..." JC trailed off, knowing that Justin either wouldn't understand, or wouldn't care. "What'd you do while I was gone?"

"Nothin," said Justin. "Waited for you to get your ass back here so we could do something together. Didn't expect you to take your sweet time about it."

"Sorry," JC mumbled. "Um...what did you want to do? I was kinda hoping that we could talk ..."

Justin lifted an eyebrow. "About?" he said, stifling a yawn and sitting up.

"Well," JC perched gingerly on the arm of the sofa, trying to rest as much weight on his hip as possible. "Uh...'us', I guess."

"What's to talk about?" said Justin. He put a hand on JC's waist and grinned a little. "Unless that's a euphamism for us gettin' busy again ... ?"

JC couldn't help but flinch slightly at Justin touching him, even though it was gentle, and it wasn't near anywhere sore. "No ... no, twice already today wasn't enough for you?" He started pulling at the front of his shirt, unconsciously.

"You know me better than that," said Justin, lifting JC's shirt and kissing his bare back. "What took you so damn long anyway?"

"Nothing," JC said, inching away slightly. "I was talking to Joey, and then Lance, and I wanted to help clean up all that shit ..."

Justin frowned. "Where are you going? Come back here ... we were just getting started ... "

"Nowhere," sighed JC, leaning back over. "Justin ... really, I don't think that I can. Do anything. Right now."

"Why?" growled Justin. "You getting it from somewhere else, C? Is that what took you so damn long? I thought I told you -- " He grunted and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you serious?" JC reached his arm out to touch Justin's shoulder. "Look, I'm just ... I'm sore, okay? I told you that you were being too rough."

"You liked it," laughed Justin, and not maliciously. "I heard you moaning, C." He reached up to take JC's hand.

JC let him hold his hand, but didn't bother disabusing him of his notion of events. "Anyway, I'm too sore now. Okay? Can you just, like, accept that?"

Justin sighed dramatically. "I *guess*," he said, then grinned. "It's *fine*, JC. I'll live. So what DID you want to talk about?"

Smiling back, a little warily, JC rubbed Justin's fingers. He had no idea how to approach it. "So ... that was a pretty nasty fight we all had, last night, huh?"

"What, you want to bring THAT up again?" said Justin incredulously. "I though we already took care of that."

"Well," JC hedged, "I guess we did, but ... you were pretty pissed, at me, and you said some stuff that ... I mean, made me think that maybe you aren't happy. Being with me?"

"Hey, what's not to like? As long as you aren't fucking around on me with that asshole, it's all good, C. Do we HAVE to do this?"

"Do what?" JC frowned, getting angry at Justin for calling Chris an asshole, and at himself for not defending him.

"TALK about this. I'm SO not in the mood. Can't we just watch tv or eat or something, since you're not into fooling around?"

"But ... " JC frowned harder when Justin leaned over to grab the remote, apparently having decided for them. As usual. "Look, I really think we should talk about this. About us. You just don't seem to like me much, anymore, unless we're fucking."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Justin without looking at him.

"I'm NOT," JC said firmly, reaching for the remote. "Look, do you love me anymore?"

"Of course," said Justin. "What's WRONG with you?"

"Do you really?" JC asked, trying to catch his gaze. "Tell me why."

Justin shrugged. "Does it matter?"

JC barked out a laugh. "YES, it matters! I want to know why you're with *me*, instead of ... just some random other person."

"You're JC," he said simply. "You're mine. Do I need a better reason? Now come on, just let this shit go and sit down and watch TV witih me."

"No!" JC said, a little louder, pushing the power button on the remote. "Look, if the only reason you're with me is because you think you ... *own* me, or something, then ... that's not enough. For me. Anymore."

"JC," said Justin in exasperation. "Don't you WANT to be with me?"

"I *thought* I did," JC explained, "but ... Jesus, Justin, can't you give me one good reason why I should?"

"Because you love me."

"How 'bout something that makes me think you *return* that sentiment?" JC walked over to the stereo and started fidgeting with the CDs. "'Cause I'm not really interested in some unrequieted crap, even with you."

"Well, I love you back," said Justin. He looked at the blank television. "Can we make out, even if we don't have sex? You can ... blow me or something ... "

JC turned around to stare at Justin. "No. Look, are you *capable* of having a conversation with me? 'Cause, y'know, that might be a problem, too."

"What the FUCK is your problem?" asked Justin, tossing the remote to the couch. "You're not normally like this. Did that fuckhead put you up to this? Since when do you fucking talk to me like this?"

"Look," JC said shortly, "This has nothing to do with Chris, and everything to do with us. Maybe I'm just sick of you bossing me around, or only being nice to me when you wanna get laid. And sometimes not even then."

"All right, fine," said Justin. "Just tell me what your problems are and get them off your chest and we'll be DONE with it. Okay?"

"Those ARE my problems!" JC cried. "They not big enough, or something?"

"Are we done, then? Come on ... sit down. Christ, RELAX a little."

"NO, we're not done!" JC felt his face getting red. "What are you gonna *do* about those things?"

"What do you mean "do" about them?" Justin asked, in all seriousness. "C ... it's not like I'm REALLY not nice to you ... you're just in a pissy mood right now. It'll blow over."

JC seriously couldn't believe how callously Justin was treating the whole situation -- even for him, and even though Chris and Joey and even LANCE had prepared him for it. "Justin. This isn't a *mood*. I seriously want you to start treating me better. If you don't think you can, or want to, then maybe we should take a break."

"A BREAK?" Justin's head snapped around to stare at him. "You ARE fucking around with him, aren't you? I KNEW I shouldn't have fucking trusted you ... "

"Dammit, Justin, this isn't ABOUT him, I *told* you that!" JC found the courage somewhere to stare back. "And if you don't trust me, maybe it's because you know you don't treat me well enough to stick around forever."

Justin stood up and shoved JC out of his way. "You aren't leaving me," he said. "There's no WAY you want to leave me. You've got it good, here."

"Right, how's that again?" JC called after him. "Is it the halfhearted declarations of love I have to drag out of you, the constant demeaning comments, or the opportunity to suck you off whenever you want it?"

"You LIKE it," said Justin. "You TELL me so. Shit, what the fuck is this all about? Stop this, JC. Stop this right now."

"I like it when I *feel* like it," JC clarified. "You should recognize the difference. *That's* what this is about."

Justin 's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you getting at anyway?"

JC took a deep breath. "I don't want to just be something convenient for someone. And lately I've realized that maybe that's all I am to you. Esepcially since you can't or won't see anything fucked up about the way you act around me. So, I think ... that it would be better for both of us ... if we weren't together anymore. At least for a little while. I don't want to lose you, but ..."

"What?" asked Justin, his voice dangerously quiet. "No. You aren't leaving me, JC. You need me."

JC turned back to the CDs he was playing with, slightly oblivious to Justin's tone. "Justin ... I'm not *leaving* you. I'll still be there for you, whenever you need me, and I hope I can still come to you. 'Cause I'm still your friend. I just don't think we should try to be anything more, right now."

"No, fuck you, Chasez, we're not ending this. I need you with me and you need me with you and that's the END of it." He made a move towards JC, then paused. "Look at me," he growled. "Look at me!"

"You can't *make* me stay with you, anymore, Justin," JC said, still with his back to the other man. "It doesn't *work* that way." He fiddled with the stereo and then turned around slowly. "Look, I'm sorry, if ..."

Justin grabbed JC's shoulder and wrenched him around, his eyes blazing. "Are you fucking him, C? Are you leaving me for that pushy little fucker? Just have the balls toSAY so and don't give me this shit about me MAKING you stay. You're your own fucking man, JC." He crossed his arms over his chest again, almost to prevent himself from doing anything, but he was twitching.

JC felt his own temper flare when Justin grabbed him. "So what if I am?" he replied loudly, not really thinking about what he was finally admitting to him. "Look, it was just gonna be a one-time thing, I was gonna stay with you, but you've been such a *prick* about it today that I'm realizing maybe I *should* leave you and be with him!"

Justin just pulled his fist back and struck him across the cheek, then gasped and backed away. "Fuck, C, you see what you did? I never meant to hit your FACE." Then he turned his back on him and looked down, trying to regain control of himself. He got the impulse to strike out so often, but normally he managed to control it. A twinge of regret struck him, but JC was fucking CHEATING on him. With Chris. And that fucking BURNED him, because it's something that HE had never done.

"Ah, shit!" JC cried, falling against the shelf, CDs clattering to the floor. The pain was just *exploding* behind his eyes, and he could barely stay on his feet. A thousand different emotions and thoughts coursed through his head: how he couldn't believe Justin actually *hit* him, how he was scared he'd do it again...and how awful he felt that he had done the very same thing to Chris the night before. He fet the tears well up, perhaps more at that than because of being hurt. "Jesus, Justin."

"What?" snapped Justin. "Fuck." He slowly turned around. "You okay?" He didn't really want to hear the answer to that, but he had to ask. He expected he'd be spending his evening holding ice to JC's cheek to keep the swelling down. Fuck.

JC stared up at him through his tears, cupping his face gingerly. "No, I'm *not* fucking OKAY. You *hit* me, Justin! What the hell was that for?" He didn't even want to reach for his hand, to let Justin help him to his feet. He didn't want to touch him at all.

"What the hell was CHRIS for?" countered Justin angrily. "I thought we'd already DEALT with that shit ... "

"Well, I guess we didn't," JC snapped back, moaning a little as he rubbed his fingers over his cheekbone lightly. "Interestingly, two hard, fast, unsatisfying, *painful* fucks from you didn't turn out to be enough to make me forget about what it was like with him. Imagine that!"

Justin growled, low in his throat. "Go to him, then, because I don't want you anywhere NEAR me. Go! And then remember just what the fuck you've lost, here, when he fucks you over and leaves you." He turned his back on JC again, didn't even OFFER to help him up.

JC just slumped the rest of the way to the floor. "He's not going to do that," he said softly, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than Justin. "That's it, then? You really want me to go?"

"No. But I certainly don't want you around spouting THAT kind of shit at me. YOU fucking slept with him, C, now YOU deal with the consequences." He still didn't look at him as he talked, not at all. "Get the fuck out."

JC stared at Justin mutely for a minute, tears dripping down his already swelling face, before clambering to his feet. "I'm not coming back," he said slowly. "I don't think Chris will let me go as easily as you did."

Justin snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet. You'll fucking be back, JC, you know you will. I'm calling your bluff, here. Now let's just see if I'll fucking TAKE you back."

"I think you'll be waiting a while," replied JC shakily. "'Cause everything you're saying is just reinforcing the fact that I'm making the right choice. Everyone *told* me this was how it would be, and I didn't believe them, and now I've got a fucking bruise for my trouble. You're not worth it."

"You're just mad," said Justin. "You know you like being with me. And you'll figure that out again soon, but maybe by then I'LL have found someone new, and won't need you anymore. Think about THAT, too, when he's fucking you."

"I do NOT like being with you," JC retorted, tugging his coat on -- realizing as he said it that it was the truth, even if he never admitted it to himself before. Being with Chris was so much more...emotional, and tender, and exciting, and passionate and real and deep and everything that *love* was supposed to be. "And I can guarantee you'll be the last thing on my mind when he's fucking me."

"I bet I will," said Justin bitterly. "I bet I'll be the last thing you think of, every time, before you fall asleep in his arms. Wishing you'd stayed. Maybe I should tell him what a fucking LIAR you are, too, so he knows what the fuck he's getting into. Well FUCK you, JC. Get the fuck out and go be with him, if that's what you want so much."

JC barked out a laugh as he grabbed his keys. "I'm going. Because he *will* let me fall asleep in his arms." He couldn't help taunting Justin a little further, giddy with the realization that he *was* going to go be with Chris, and it *was* what he wanted, more than anything. "And you don't need to bother trying to tell him anything -- he knows exactly what he's getting into with me. He's had it three times already."

"FUCK you! Have a nice fucking life," was the last thing Justin shouted before he stormed out of the room. And fuck Chris, too, for taking what was HIS. He thought he left his keys in the bedroom, and went to find them. JC, he'd let off easy. Chris wasn't going to be so lucky.

JC watched Justin stalk out of the den before turning himself and heading down the hall. *Chris*. He got to be with Chris -- without feeling guilty, without the threat of Justin hanging over them. He was torn between driving right back over to Lance and Joey's, and falling into his arms, and telling him how he promised he'd be back and that he wouldn't leave again, or ... even better, doing something for Chris to *prove* that he wanted to be with him. His mind raced with the possibilities as he climbed back into his car, barely feeling the bruise on his cheek.

Justin waited until JC was out of sight before heading for his own car and some business that he definitely needed to take care of.

---

Justin had to admit to himself that he was surprised not to see JC's car at Chris's when he drove by. Of course, *Chris's* car wasn't at Chris's, either, so he just continued on to Lance and Joey's. Not like that wasn't their fucking love nest, anyway. *Three times*. Fucking bastards, going behind his back... And he was *really* surprised when he pulled up and saw Chris's car, finally, but still no sign of JC. He couldn't bring himself to bother to care if something happened to him, right then. Getting Chris alone first was too good an opportunity to pass up, he figured, as he walked up to the door for the second time that day.

Chris stretched out on the bed, hoping that JC would be back before long. There was still so much that needed to be said and done before things were right. He was still sitting in limbo, waiting to see what happened, waiting to see IF JC was going to come back to him at all. Despite his words, there was still a niggling fear in him that JC was toying with him, using the fact that Chris was in love with him to get what he wanted. He didn't want to BELIEVE that -- didn't believe it -- but the fear remained.

Justin just walked straight into the house that time, not bothering to knock, or ring the doorbell, or call out for someone to let him in. He didn't see anyone in the kitchen, scowled at the mess still in the living room, and went right past the closed door to Joey and Lance's bedroom -- only to pause in front of the guest room. He had just enough self-control to knock lightly, anticipating quite the reaction when Chris opened the door expecting to see his fucking *lover*, and finds Justin standing there instead.

Chris frowned a little when he heard the knock. JC would have just come right in, wouldn't he? He got up off the bed and stretched, half expecting to find Joey or Lance there -- or both -- ready to berate him for either drinking their vodka, or messing with JC or leaving a bloody mess in their living room. Abruptly he swung the door open.

Justin grinned and placed a hand in the middle of Chris's chest, pushing him back into the room and kicking the door closed behind them. "Hey, *baby*," he sneered. "Miss me?"

"What the fuck?" said Chris, stumbling back, a scowl now firmly in place on his face. "Shouldn't you be somewhere kicking puppies or drowning kittens or something?" What the fuck was JUSTIN, of all people, doing at his door. And thank God JC wasn't here at the moment -- that would take some explaining that was better done with more than a pair of boxers on.

"Ha! Noooo," Justin shook his head, pushing Chris again. "It seems like I left the party too early, last night. I don't want to miss out on any more of the *action*."

"For Christ's sake, Justin, will you GROW UP for two whole seconds and tell me what the fuck you're talking about? Did you lose your security blanket or something? Can't function unless JC is there to coddle you?" He backed up a step, maintaining a safe distance from Justin. "Just fuck off, would you? I'm hungover and I don't need your shit." Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.

A flash of anger passed over Justin's face before he grinned again, if a little more tightly than before. "What am I talking about?" he repeated, following Chris backwards. "Well. You and JC, of course ... making 'sweet, passionate love.' I wish I'd seen it." His smile broadened as he faked a gasp. "And *three* *times,* Chris? An old man like you? I'm impressed."

OhfuckohfuckohFUCK! Chris took a moment to compose himself, to not let any of his MANY emotions right then cross his face. How the FUCK had he found out? Did JC say something? And FUCK, where was JC? "Amazing how JC could fuck me as well as he did, after the way you tore up his fucking ass, Timberlake, you abusive FUCK."

"He likes it," Justin shrugged. "Do it right, and you can get him to ask for it." He leaned in closer, eyes glittering dangerously. "It's a nice ass, too, huh? Too bad it's not YOURS to FUCK."

"It's a great ass," agreed Chris, gritting his teeth and trying NOT to lash out at Justin until he figured out what the FUCK was happening. "You know, with what I could see of it through the fucking BRUISES. You are out of your fucking mind. He doesn't want that. Treat him better or I'll kick your fucking ass. Got it?"

"So it *was* you," Justin said slowly, tightly, reaching out to trail a hand along Chris's bare arm. "You know, Chris, you *really* fucked things up for me, telling him that he doesn't like it. We were getting along just fine until you went and stuck your fucking *dick* in the middle of our business." His fingers curled around Chris's bicep and gripped it tightly. "And Chris? You don't want to fucking threaten me."

Chris wrenched his arm away. "I didn't have to TELL him he didn't like it, I just had to remind him he didn't have to fucking TAKE that shit from you. You don't own him, Justin, and he doesn't WANT you anymore. Now get the fuck out before I kick your ass. And yes, that IS a threat. Deal with it."

Having Chris reiterate what JC himself had said to Justin only an hour or so earlier -- that JC might NOT actually want him anymore, that he *seriously* chose Chris over him -- pushed the limits of his self-control. He grabbed Chris again, this time squeezing his shoulder. "I'm going to ask you this once. What the FUCK were you thinking, screwing him behind my back?"

Chris stiffened up and hardly moved in Justin's grip. "What the fuck were YOU thinking, fucking him so raw he can barely sit? Is that how you treat him? I LOVE him, you moron. Do you? I don't think so. No WONDER he came looking for something better." Chris could admit privately that JC certainly didn't come LOOKING for him, but Justin didn't need to know that, not right then.

"Is that what you told him?" Justin spat, pulling him closer. "That you 'love' him??? I *knew* something had gotten into him, asking me all that shit today. God, you're both such fucking *girls*." He closed his eyes, and took a breath. "Don't think for a *second* that I don't blame every fucking bit of this on you, Kirkpatrick. I know JC better than you do, and I know he doesn't make choices like that on his own."

"Only because you've never let him," muttered Chris, wrenching out of Justin's grasp again and taking a step back. "I LET him choose me, Justin. I gave him a fucking REASON to choose me, which is more than you've ever done for him. So go ahead, blame it on me, I'd LOVE to take credit for making JC fall for me. All YOU ever did is push him away."

"You *took* him!" Justin cried, finally, his hands clenching at his sides. "He was *mine*, and you *took* him from me, and I could fucking KILL you for that!" He bowed his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "He said he's leaving me, but I'll tell you what I told him -- he'll be thinking of me every time you fuck him. And then when you fuck it up, like we both know you will, he'll come crawling back."

Chris suddenly remembered that yes, he was gonna fuck it up. Yes, somehow, he'd probably drive JC away. But he'd be fucked if he'd let him go back to Justin. "He's not coming back to you, Timberlake. You burned that fucking bridge already. You don't give him ANYthing he needs, and you never have."

Justin snorted. "You know, if I was you, I'd have to tell myself shit like that to explain it, too." He leaned up against the door. "Nice outfit, by the way. Waiting for someone?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Unlike some people in the room, I'm actually going to get to make love today."

"Oh, yeah?" Justin arched an eyebrow. "So where is he? I kicked his cheating ass out over an hour ago, and yet ... he's not here. Maybe he changed his mind about you. And 'making love.'"

"Get out," growled Chris. "Fucking moron. I TOOK him, yet you kicked him out? Whatever." Over an hour ago? Chris sighed; maybe JC had changed his mind after all. Maybe he'd decided he didn't want EITHER of them.

"You know what I meant," Justin frowned. "And we're not done, here. You still haven't explained to me why you thought you could fuck my boyfriend and get away with it."

"He's not your boyfriend," said Chris. "You lost that right, you ass. Don't you EVER call him that again."

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. "Or what?"

"Do you KNOW how much I want to kick your ass right now?"

Chuckling, Justin didn't move. "What for?"

"Hurting him. Fucking him up. Growing up to be such a selfish bastard."

"I think you're giving me a little too much credit, there," Justin replied, starting to pick at his nails, seemingly bored. "Let's talk about how much I want to kick *your* ass, instead."

"Let's not," said Chris. "Let's just fucking let this GO, Timberlake. You're a fucker, I'm a fucker, and everyone knows it. And JC is with me, now, and you can't do anything to change it. We still have to be a fucking little pop group, so get used to it."

"I'm not sure this is something I can just let *go*, Chris." Justin pretended to ponder it. "No. I don't think so. 'Cause I kinda liked having him around, even if he's been a mouthy little bitch lately, and I'll miss him a little. And you're gonna have to pay for that."

"I an NOT going to pay for YOUR fucking mistakes. Christ, Justin, do you even KNOW what you did to him? Did you really think it was GOOD? If so, you're even more fucked up than I am."

"I didn't hear him complain," Justin yawned, pulling away from the door finally. "And anyway, that's not why he said he left. So, look, are you gonna back off, or what? Since, I mean, he obviously doesn't want you, after all."

"*I* heard him complain," said Chris, trying hard to convince himself of that, trying NOT to let Justin get to him even though he sounds SO damn reasonable. "It's JC's choice anyway. Not mine. And NOT YOURS. Why are you still here? I thought I told you to get out."

"And *I* told *you*, I'm not leaving until you promise to keep your dick in your pants, and away from him."

Chris crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I'm not doing that. He's NOT YOURS, you stupid little child."

Justin smiled. "Keep that up; you're making this easy on me."

"What the FUCK are you talking about?"

"You, talking shit to me," Justin replied, reaching out an arm to shove Chris a little. "I was gonna feel bad about punching you, like when I hit JC earlier, but now I'm not."

"You hit JC?" said Chris coldly, freezing.

"Yeah," Justin said offhandedly, shoving him again. "That was kind of an accident. This won't be."

"You HIT JC?" repeated Chris, right before swinging his fist into Justin's face. "You little FUCK. Do all the shit you want to me, but don't EVER touch him again!"

Justin's head snapped backward. He grabbed his jaw and stared at Chris, and then pulled back and threw a punch of his own, connecting with Chris's eye. "Oh, you fucking asked for that one, man. You think he even cares that you're trying stand up for him?"

Chris desperately wanted to believe it would matter, but said nothing. "You got your fucking punch in," he muttered. "Was there anything else you needed? Or will you go back into that hole you crawled out of, now?"

Justin worked his jaw, grimacing. "I'm done. Just don't forget what I said. He's with you now -- if he even is -- because you told him he should be. Not because that's what he wanted. And so nothing's gonna keep him from thinking about me."

"Fuck off," said Chris, and stared him down.

"You too," Justin stared back, and then dropped his hand to grin at Chris. "Good luck with that whole making love thing."

"At least I know HOW," mumbled Chris, being the first to break the gaze. "Just go. You've done enough."

"Yes," Justin stretched and turned around. "My work here is done. See you in rehersal, loverboy."

"Unfortunately, yes," said Chris, knowing JUST how horrid rehearsals -- and everything to do with the group -- were gonna be for a while.

"And say hi to Joey and Lance for me, too. Tell them I'll be sure and thank them for their support." Justin waved over his shoulder when he exited the room, and left the house immediately. Mission accomplished, with moderate success. He'd just ignore the fact that he didn't feel any better.

Chris stared after him for a moment, before collapsing on the bed. He'd been SO excited, waiting for JC to get back. Now he wasn't sure what to feel at all.

~*~

JC walked straight into Lance and Joey's house without knocking that time, too, practically whistling. He had thought up and rejected all sorts of romantic gestures since he left Justin's, trying to come up with the perfect way to show Chris that he was *his* now. Nothing seemed that right combination of seductive, and...Chris.

He wouldn't say he *settled* on flavored condoms, but that was the direction he ended up leaning. Getting them had been an adventure in itself. First, he tried to figure out whether to get a flavor *he* liked -- chocolate -- or one for Chris -- cherry. And then he worried that it didn't make much *sense* for him to get them, since they hadn't bothered to use them til this point anyway. Fed up with the fact that he was *thinking* too much, he just grabbed some oil instead. Chris would understand the implications.

Chris got up again, looked around for something to wear. There was a sweatshirt of Joey's on a chair in the corner and he pulled that on, almost thankful that it was way too big on him. He was feeling exposed enough as it was, feeling like his guts were hanging out for everyone to see. To point at. To laugh at. He STILL didn't know where JC was, and wasn't sure he wanted to.

Reminding himself that he needed to clean up the shit in the living room before he left that time, JC walked down the hall and rapped on the door to the spare room even as he pushed it open. "Hey," he said brightly, "You still here?"

Chris turned from where he'd been searching the closet for a pair of pants. "Hey," he said hesitantly. "JC. Um ... where've you been?"

"Nowhere," JC started, teasingly, but stopped when Chris turned around. "What the fuck happened to your eye?"

Chris sighed and bit his lip. "Justin happened," he said as he moved towards JC a little. "He came by to tell me the 'facts of life'."

"The facts of ..." JC frowned. "He came *here*? When? I can't believe he *hit* you."

"Maybe he wanted a matched set," said Chris, reaching up for JC's face. "He just left, C, a few minutes before you got here. He ... said you weren't coming."

"He did, huh," JC said flatly, jerking away from Chris's fingers self-consciously. "And you believed him?"

"Fuck, C," said Chris, backing away. "I didn't WANT to. But you know ... forget it. Maybe you DON'T know how I am."

"But I *told* you I would be," JC insisted, letting his own fingers hover over the brusing skin under Chris's eye. "I can't believe you listened to him. What did he act like? Did he just ... come in and punch you?"

Chris shook his head. "Not until I freaked on him for hurting you," he admitted. "He was ... he just acted like himself. You know, laying into me because I 'stole' you and all. Did you really ... I mean, did you break up with him, C?"

JC smiled softly and nodded. "I asked him to tell me why he loved me, and he couldn't. Or wouldn't. And so I told him I didn't want to be with him, then, and ... I guess he kicked me out. But I was leaving anyway," he finished quickly.

"Oh," said Chris, uncertain of what that MEANT really. Everything was just SO in limbo right then. And he really wished he had pants. "Well, that's great. That you got away from him and all." Chris made a move to go past JC into the hallway. "I'll be back," he said quickly. "I just need to get a drink, okay?"

"Wait, Chris, just..." JC frowned, grabbing Chris's elbow as he tried to walk by. "Wait. I thought ... I thought we could talk about this, a little? Are you that thirsty that you can't sit with me for five minutes?"

"I need to, C. I can't deal with all this right now, with you ... and me ... and Justin ... and just not KNOWING what this IS." Chris ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Look, I KNOW I'm gonna fuck this up, okay? I don't know if we have a day or a week or a month but I WILL. Even Justin knows that."

With that, JC realized what Chris meant when he said 'drink', and his frown deepened. "No. FUCK that, Chris, I told you that you're not doing that anymore. You don't need the vodka, or tequila, or whatever ... you have me, okay?"

Chris frowned. "Do I?" he asked, still poised to leave the room. "I just ... one drink, C. To calm me down or whatever."

"No," JC repeated, leading Chris over to the bed and shutting the door on his way. "And where did you get that sweatshirt?" he asked, eyeing him.

"No I don't have you? Or no I can't have a drink?" asked Chris, too nervous about the answer to fight being led to the bed. This was IT, this was where JC would tell him he didn't want him, not really. "I think this is Joey's," he said, plucking at the sweatshirt. "It was over there." He gestured vaguely at the chair, not looking up.

"Well, get rid of it," JC mumbled distractedly, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him and tugging on the hem. "It's in my way."

"Wait ... " said Chris, sighing inwardly, certain then that it was just about the sex. "I ... never mind. Fuck."

JC pulled the bulky shirt over Chris's head and tossed it on the floor, before nudging the other man down on the bed. "No, no 'never mind,'" JC said softly, rolling Chris over on his stomach. "What's bothering you?"

"JC, what's HAPPENING here? You come in here and you don't want to even talk, you just want to get me NAKED and there's nothing WRONG with naked, but ... is this about the NAKED?" Chris realized he sounded like an idiot, but also recognized that was probably his natural state. "I mean, first Justin, and now this, and I don't even have and FUCKING vodka ... "

JC sat back. "What are you...? Look, I just wanted to give you a *back* rub, Chris, honestly. To 'calm you down, or whatever'," he mimicked, tenderly. "I'm not trying to get you naked. Right now, at least. And I *do* want to talk, I just thought you might like this, too."

"Oh," said Chris, relaxing a little. "Shit, C, you coulda just SAID, you know? It hasn't exactly been the easiest day ... "

"I'm sorry," JC said, chastised, then spread his palms out over Chris's shoulderblades. "I didn't really notice how that might have been misinterpreted, I just ... I wanted to give you something else to focus on, instead of just wanting the alcohol."

Chris frowned a little, still unsure of what a lot of things meant. "It's not like that, C. I mean, I just thought it would help. But...thanks. This is nice."

JC hesitated a little, then leaned over and brushed a kiss along the back of Chris's neck. "It wouldn't help. You need to let *me* help. That's what I'm here for."

Chris closed his eyes, let JC's utter *tenderness* envelop him. "Thank you," he said. "But I still ... JC, I don't know what's going on here. This isn't fun, not knowing what's going to happen five minutes from now."

Closing his eyes too, JC continued to knead Chris's back. "Well, look. That's something you and I get to figure out together, right? We got all of the hard stuff out of the way."

"The hard stuff ... meaning Justin?"

JC nodded, and then realizing that Chris can't see that, said softly: "Right. I'm ... *so* sorry he hit you, because of me, but ... thank you. For defending me, I guess."

"I don't want anyone to hurt you, JC," he said. "Least of all Justin. Or maybe least of all, me." He sighed. "Just so I know ... how long to I have before you get sick of my shit, JC? How long before you leave me?"

"What are you talking about, Chris?" JC asked lightly, pinching Chris's waist. "I just got here. As long as you cool it with the drinking ... we'll be okay. You're not going to hurt me."

"People get sick of me, C," said Chris sadly. "It's inevitable. So, you know, you hurt people before they hurt you ... that kinda deal. And I don't want to hurt you, not like I've hurt I don't know HOW many other people. So I'm asking. How long do I have ... and then I'll try and bow out as gracefully as I can. Just, can you promise me you won't go back to Justin? Because I WILL kick his ass again if he touches you."

JC's fingers stilled on Chris's back, his lover's mood only sparking his own insecurities. "I won't go back to Justin, for any reason," he said first. "But I had hoped it would be because you weren't ever going to let me go. I ... I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about the fact that not only are you certain you will, but that it's soon enough that you want to start *planning* for it."

"No, I don't WANT to lose you, JC," said Chris quickly, "and I don't CARE anymore how desperate that sounds. But people ALWAYS leave me. ALWAYS. And I just wanted to make sure that even when you left me ... I'd still have some part of you in my life." He snorted at himself. "I sound so pathetic. But I NEED you, JC. I don't wanna do this without you, anymore."

"Sit up and look at me," JC said after a minute. "You think I don't need you? How long do you think I would have stayed with Justin if you hadn't FORCED me to open my eyes, to see that not only was what we had really BAD for me, but that I had something really GOOD for me right there if I wanted it." He ducked his head. "And I'm too selfish to give that up willingly, or without a fight. Now *that's* desperate."

"I love you," said Chris quietly. "Do you know how fucking long it took me to figure that out, thanks to my own fucked up life? Don't ever, EVER think that I want you to go, okay? I can hardly even believe yet that you're HERE ... and you fucking left JUSTIN for me. I mean ... wow."

JC touched Chris's cheek again, under his swollen eye. "I wouldn't have deserved you if I hadn't. And thinking of you, realizing I could come back to *you*, is what got me through it. I didn't even know I felt that strongly."

"I need to -- " began Chris, then paused. He tried again. "There was some stuff Justin said," he began this time. "That's kinda -- " He shrugged helplessly, unable to find the words. "That if we do this, we might want to talk about. Becuase I don't trust ANYone, JC, and I'm starting to trust you and that's SCARY, but it's making me want to say stuff..."

JC gathered the other man into his arms. "What are you doing, listening to Justin?" he said softly, into Chris's hair.

"Because I'm like that," said Chris. "And usually I just yell when I'm feeling insecure. Yell and drink and get nasty. But I'm trying really fucking hard not to do that to YOU, okay?"

"Shhh, okay," JC said soothingly, even as he worried to himself that *he* did something wrong to make Chris feel insecure. "I don't want you listening to him, though. He *is* gonna try to mess this up, and we just have to refuse to let him. Now tell me what you think we should talk about."

"Nothing, I guess," said Chris, wondering if JC even wanted to hear it. "I'll just ... not listen, I guess."

"Chris, c'mon," JC said, pulling back a little. "You said you were beginning to trust me, so...what is it? What's eating you?"

"He said you're only with me because I told you to be. He said you're going to go back to him when I fuck up. He said I AM gonna fuck up ... and he's right. I will. I'm a fuck-up. Always have been and always will be, C."

JC was a little overwhelmed by the certainty with which Chris is saying all of this. "And THAT is why you can't listen to him! He's so wrong, about all of it, Chris. You might have told me to leave him, but you couldn't tell me to turn to you instead. I did that on my own. And I don't plan on letting you fuck it up."

"It's not just him," said Chris, snorting. "I mean, honestly, do you think I'd giveafuck if it was just Justin, making me feel like that?"

"Oh," JC frowned, letting his arms fall listlessly to his sides. "It's me? I'm doing something to make you feel ... inadequate, or something?"

"No," said Chris softly. "Not you. Come back to me, JC."

JC wrapped himself around Chris's neck, sighing. "I'm trying. Tell me who you're talking about, Chris. 'Cause I can tell you right now, they don't *know* you, if they think that about you."

"Nobody," said Chris, and actually meant it. He was nobody, now. "It's just been a lot of my life, you know? Before *NSYNC. Before college. Before ANY of that. Justin, he's just ... a reminder."

"Well, we're gonna have to work on giving you better memories to be reminded of," JC smiled, twisting a little to kiss Chris's lips softly. Then his voice became a little more serious. "Chris, you know you couldn't be where you are today if you were really a fuck-up. You've worked harder than any of us; maybe even all of us put together."

Chris shrugged. "I wanted something that would make me happy. I thought Nsync would be it."

"Hasn't it been?" JC kissed him again. "Maybe not lately, but you got to do what you've dreamed of, and now you can say it brought you to me. Were you really that sad, before?"

"I didn't feel much," said Chris. "I was all hyper on the outside and just ... just NOTHING on the inside. *NSYNC's been good and awful and frustrating and some days I love it and some days I hate it. But yeah, it make me feel, at least. And I got you ... and that's the best thing of all."

"You know, you can kiss me when you say things like that," JC teased, trying to keep Chris talking, but not wanting him to dwell on anything that would bring him down, right then. "You want to talk about why you felt all ... numb, or whatever, before?"

"I don't know," admitted Chris, kissing him softly. "I'm not sure how far this trust thing goes ... right now. It's kinda ... well, it's deep, and it's gonna take a lot of prying to get out, and I'm not sure I want to subject you to that when my heart is still trying to convince my brain that you're really staying."

"I am," JC said, squeezing him tightly. "Staying. So we can work up to that. If you think that I might be the type of guy you'll eventually be able to trust, enough."

"You're the ONLY person I think I trust," said Chris. "Except my mother. And don't think it doesn't make me feel fucking WEAK to say that." He sighed again and looked away. "Everything feels so STRANGE right now, you know? I'm floating."

"That doesn't make you weak," JC argued. "I trust too easily. THAT makes you weak. Look where it got me -- I believed everything everyone ever told me, to the point where I couldn't depend on myself to make any decisions. Now that I HAVE -- THAT feels strange."

"I can't say I'm unhappy about the decision you made," said Chris, leaning in to kiss him again. "Worried, maybe, but ... happy." He smiled. "I'm fucking scared, C," he said through the smile.

"Oh," JC didn't let him pull away, and kissed him deeply. "Why, baby? Why worried, why scared? You did it, you convinced me that we're going to be amazingly hot together, and I can tell you that as much as you need to hear it."

"Why? Why NOT? Nothing's STABLE, JC. Just nothing." Chris closed his eyes. "This opening up thing? Not all it's cracked up to be. Are you sure I can't have any vodka?"

"Yes. That's the one thing I'm going to ask of you, in this relationship, Chris, okay? I'll take anything and everything else you want to give me, but you're going to stop drinking like you do." JC ran his thumb over Chris's eyebrows. "Why is talking to me hard? I'm not judging you. You've seen me at my worst."

"I ... " Chris was kind of at a loss for words. "I can't believe I'm saying this ... but I don't know if I CAN that easily, JC. And talking ... God ... I'm not even sure I know HOW."

"Okay," JC said quietly, still touching Chris's face. "You were doing good so far, with the talking, before you freaked yourself out. Just let me in. The drinking, though..." JC sighed. "You need to tell me if it's something you want bad enough. 'Cause I can help you, but if you want it more than you want me, then..."

"I don't want ANYthing more than I want you," said Chris simply, hoping that answered everything.

"Then you can stop," JC replied, just as matter-of-factly. "Whenever you think you need to wrap your lips around a bottle, I'll just ... make you wrap your lips around me." He blushed, but let his fingers linger on Chris's mouth.

"If it was that easy," said Chris, lapping at JC's fingers, "I might have done it a long time ago. Don't ... don't trivialize it, okay?" He licked his own lips before going on. "You'll help?"

JC nodded mutely, trying to force back his arousal, mindful of how defensive Chris had been earlier when he thought he was trying to seduce him.

"Okay," said Chris, wondering why that seemed to relax him more than anything. Maybe it was the feeling that JC DID know him, knew who he was, but he was still THERE. But the real tests, he thought, were yet to come. "My -- " He hesitated, wondered if the words would come. "My stepfather was the first person to ever call me a loser."

"Oh...Chris," was all JC said, pleasantly surprised -- and HAPPY -- that he was talking to him, but worried at the same time. He knew about what happened to Chris's stepfather, but he'd never heard him talk about it. His mom had been the person to tell the rest of the group.

"And I believed him for a very long time," said Chris. "It was like ... it didn't MATTER what I did, because who cared, right? I was just a stupid loser. I still believe that, most of the time, C."

"Will you let me help you with that, too?" JC said softly. "'Cause you're not. He should never have said or done anything to you to make you feel that way, for so long. I ... I admire you, you know?"

"You shouldn't," said Chris, shaking his head. "I'm not worth that, JC."

"You *are*," JC insisted. "And every minute I spend with you, I realize it more. You know that you ... like, *saved* me. No one else could, or would."

"I didn't save you," Chris said with a sigh. "I brought you into my nightmare, and I'm scared that you're gonna hate me for that, some day."

"What nightmare, baby?" JC had his head resting on Chris's shoulder. "The only way I could hate you is if you let me go. And probably not even then."

"I'm a shitty person," said Chris. "And a shitty friend and shitty brother and a shitty son. And I want you SO fucking bad, JC, but I KNOW I'm gonna hurt you. No, don't argue with that, I AM, and I can only hope that you'll stay with me anyway. And then I wonder if, by making you stay with me, I'm fucking up YOUR life, too."

"YOU," JC said firmly, pointing at Chris's heart, "are not MAKING me do anything. This was my decision, remember? That's what you told me. That's what it FEELS like. And I made it KNOWING that you'd probably hurt me somehow, someday. And that I'll do the same. But somehow I doubt it can be any worse than what we had to go through to get here. Does that sound melodramatic, or what?"

Chris smiled a little. He pretty much had to agree with THAT, anyway. "I feel pretty worthless a lot of the time," he admitted quietly. "And you're gonna have to be able to deal with that, and KNOW that if I'm nasty or shouting or drinking or being just a dick it's probably just because I'm feeling like a pile of shit and not because I actually want to HURT anyone."

"Well, you won't be DRINKING," JC said, smiling faintly, "but the rest of it, I can handle. Just ... try not to ... make it painful? I mean ... physically?"

"C," said Chris, wincing. "Even in my worst moments, have I *ever* done that? To any of you?"

"No," JC said quickly, "and I don't think you would. I'm just ... remembering. Sorry."

Chris frowned. "JC?" he asked softly. "How often did he, you know, 'hurt' you? Like that, I mean? I KNOW about the mindfuck stuff he pulls ... "

Burying his face back into Chris's shoulder, JC thought for a second. "Chris ... why do you need to know? It doesn't matter anymore; I'm with you. I'm WITH you."

"It matters because I WANT to know," said Chris. "I want to know every tiny little insignificant thing about you, so I THINK it's reasonable I want to know the big stuff, too. And because I'm trying to spill my guts here, so the least you can do for me is the same so I don't feel so damn NAKED again. Naked in front of the Superbowl crowd or something...not too comfortable..."

JC laughed despite himself and kissed Chris's nose. "Okay. I wasn't trying to keep it from you, baby, I just ... didn't want to add to your worries. I dunno. No, I mean ... I'm making it sound worse than it was." JC shook his head. "Justin wasn't bad."

"I didn't ask for a description of the quality of his abuse," said Chris, seriously. "I asked how often, JC. It doesn't add to my worries ...trust me, it might even make thigns a little better."

"Okay...?" JC frowned a little, confused, but willing to tell Chris what he thought he needed to hear. "It really WASN'T often. Maybe a little more, lately ... nothing made him madder than you hanging on me, you know that. And today was just bad, because he did it twice. He, like, NEVER did that."

Chris held JC close to him. "I really want to do bad things to him, for hurting you. AND I feel responsible. I AM responsible. I'm sorry."

Letting himself be held, JC closed his eyes. "Mmmm. No. You're not responsible. I never told him to stop, and that's my fault. Besides ... if I know you, you probably got a punch in yourself, today."

Chris smiled a little. "I don't hit, as a rule, but FUCK he was asking for it. Touching you. I could kill him."

"It's over," JC murmured into Chris's shirt. "That's over. Thankfully you have a different ... technique ... when it comes to that part of my body."

"I would never ... EVER ... " Chris clutched him tighter. "I'm a fuck, but I'm not THAT kind of fuck."

"You're not a fuck," JC grinned, his face still mashed against Chris's chest. "And I know you wouldn't. That's why I ... why I trust you," he finished, a little lamely.

"Thank you," said Chris. "I'll never hurt you like THAT. At least that I can promise you, if nothing else. I'm not EASY, JC. You DO know that, right?"

"What do you mean, 'easy'?" JC asked, distracted by the feel of Chris's hands on his back.

"Easy to be with. Easy to understand. Easy not to hate, sometimes."

"Oh," grunted JC. "Well. I feel absolutely right when I'm in your arms, and wrong when I'm not, so in that sense ... you do make things easy."

"I'm still not ... right ... inside," said Chris. "But having you makes it better. Makes it seem like I *might* be okay. Might be normal, someday."

"You know you just set yourself up for about a million jokes," JC chuckled before snuggling against Chris more. "Tell me how I make it better."

"Don't tease," said Chris, but he was smiling. "You make it better because I've just said all this fucking SCARY shit ... and you're still here. You haven't gone anywhere."

"All that 'shit' just helps me understand you, it doesn't change how I feel about you. Like you wanting to know about Justin and ... you know. It's just a part of the package that I'm -- falling for." JC practically whispered his last sentence: he never said things like that, unbidden. Like almost everything else, he'll say what he's asked to say, and do what he's asked to do, and not volunteer anything else.

"You could really fall for someone like ME?" said Chris. "The guy who, the next time he sees Justin, is going to be back to the snarling jerk we all know and love so well?"

"No, Chris," JC replied, grasping Chris's hand tightly, "I *am* falling for you." He looked into Chris's eyes for a moment, then frowned slightly. "What do you still need to say to Justin?"

"I planned to gloat, a little," admitted Chris. "Would that be so wrong?"

"Oh!" JC's frown disappeared, and he tugged on Chris's fingers. "No, you've earned it, I guess. Who do *I* get to gloat to?"

"Justin," said Chris with a bit of a grin. "I'm not much to brag about, but at least I'm yours."

"I think," JC shifted closer, "that you are *very* worth bragging about. The way you can make me melt with the things you say, the way *I* can make *you* melt when I put my tongue ... everywhere ... You're right. It might do Justin good to hear that."

"Didn't he ever try and make you feel good?" asked Chris. "Didn't he ever do anything to make you feel as fucking SPECIAL as you are?" His hand stroked up and down JC's back, still scared he was going to go, but not REALLY scared. The fear remained at the back of his mind, and their growing relationship remained at the front.

"The sex was good," JC said a little bashfully. "It could be, at least. But, uh ... you know that, I guess. I felt special when I did things to help him, is that what you mean?"

"But what did HE do for YOU?" asked Chris. "What do you like most? And did he ever do THAT?"

"He let me take care of him," JC answered, still confused by the question. "Do you mean, like, in bed?"

"I mean at ALL, JC," said Chris. "What did he ever do to make you happy?"

"Oh," JC said, pulling back a little, feeling *guilty* for some reason. "He was really nice, to me. He paid attention to me, and I always knew he was looking out for me, like when we'd go out. And sometimes he'd sing for me, too; I liked that a lot?"

"He was NICE?" said Chris. "JC ... how can you SAY that?"

"What?" JC asked honestly. "He *was*. He complimented me all the time, and ... let me stay over, usually, and ..."

"Listen to yourself," said Chris. "'Let you stay over?' JC ... it's not a PRIVILEGE to stay over. If I have my say -- if you want to -- you'll be sleeping with me very night. And what do you consider a compliment, anyway?"

"Well, he'd say I had a great body, or a pretty mouth, or ... look, Chris," JC paused, his lower lip sticking out in a slight pout, "Why are you making me talk about him? I *get* that you think he didn't treat me well. But you're making me feel stupid for staying with him, and I don't like how it feels."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad," said Chris. "I'm sorry. I'll just ... I'll be quiet now."

"No, no" JC protested gently. "I don't want you to stop talking to me, I just ... don't want to talk about him. Right now. Why don't ... why don't you tell me more about us, instead? That sleeping together thing sounds ... perfect, actually."

"I don't ever want to sleep withOUT you," said Chris. "Waking up this morning, without you, I NEVER want to feel that again."

JC's face fell again, reminded of how badly he had treated Chris so far, and how much the other man had done for him despite all of it. "I really fucked this up to start, didn't I."

"I don't blame you," said Chris sadly. "You didn't have much reason to trust me. I know that."

"But you DID ask me to stay, and I ... god, okay. We already fought over whose fault it was, we don't have to fight over whose fault it wasn't." JC sighed. "I'm just sorry you had to hurt, and then ... Lance ..." JC trailed off, not wanting to ask.

"Let's not talk about Lance," said Chris with a sigh. "Lance is a good guy who made the mistake of getting mixed up in my shit. I love you, JC. When I say stay, I don't mean stay for NOW. I mean, stay for GOOD."

JC nodded, hugging himself. "Okay. No Lance. Well, wait ... *one* Lance question? Are you sure he wasn't ... didn't make you feel better? Than me? I mean, you seemed to go to him, a lot, and ..."

"No one could replace you, JC," Chris said, trying to make JC feel the truth of that statement as much as HE did. "No one can even come close."

"Yeah, okay," JC said, mostly to himself, as if he was trying to make himself believe it. "Everything you do makes me feel like I'm all you want, Chris. I know I shouldn't be jealous of Lance."

"You shouldn't be. Lance belongs to Joey, and he likes it that way, and I think he just needed to be reminded of that. The only thing I NEED is you. Honest, C." Chris stroked JC's back again, carefully touching the curve of his ass through his pants.

JC relaxed slightly under Chris's gentle hands, not a little surprised that the soft pressure is all pleasure and none of the pain from earlier. "Oh," he breathed. "I need you back. I need *you* to belong to *me*."

"I do," said Chris. "I have for a while, you just didn't know it."

"You never *told* me," JC pointed out. "You never *showed* me, not really."

"I tried," said Chris softly. "I did the best I knew how."

"Chris," JC said, taking his face in his hands, "that wasn't a criticism. Just ... a regret. That it took us this long to get here. Took *me* this long to get here."

"Maybe it was supposed to happen this way," said Chris. "Maybe if we'd gotten together sooner it would have fallen apart ... or something."

JC kissed Chris for the first time in several minutes. "I know how much I appreciate you, now. Do you know that you're the first man to make me feel like I deserve to have someone protecting me?"

"How is that even possible?" asked Chris. "You deserve ... well, more than ME, that's for damn sure. But I'm not letting you go, C. I CAN'T let you go now."

"Promise?" JC asked, trailing his lips down from Chris's, mouthing at his chin.

"With everything I am," said Chris. "You have everything I've got. EVERYthing."

"Talk about not deserving something," JC responded, then hugged Chris to his body tightly. "God, you feel so good to me."

"We're gonna have to face Justin again, though," said Chris, stroking JC's hair. "And Joey and Lance, too ... God."

"What's wrong with Joey and Lance?" JC frowned, letting his eyes drift shut. "I thought this was what they wanted."

"It is!" said Chris quickly. "It's just gonna be ... hard to face them. I don't know."

"Why hard?" JC thought for a second. "You're not, like, ashamed to be with me now, are you?"

"No! God! I'm just ... ashamed to BE ME. And facing Lance, well, isn't gonna be easy."

"Oh," JC stiffened a little. "Lance. I thought you didn't want to talk about him."

"I don't," said Chris, sneaking a hand under JC's shirt again. "I'm sorry. I'm TRYING not to think about that ... but it IS real and it's just outside that door, and if we're gonna BE together, then we're gonna have to deal with it. Some time."

"But not now," JC argued. "I have a bruise, and I just want to wallow and be coddled and not have to WORK for this any more today. I just want to EXIST with you."

"You should take your clothes off," said Chris softly. "And then lie here with me. And THEN we can just exist, okay?"

JC rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. "God, how do you DO that?"

"Do WHAT?" asked Chris, tugging at JC's shirt.

"THAT ... " JC arched his back off the bed slightly. "Say something so innocent, even though I *know* you don't mean it, and make me hot. Like you don't even have to think about it."

"What have I said that I don't mean, C?"

"No...I just mean, when I know you don't mean it *like that*..." JC hissed as Chris's hot fingers teased along the skin under the hem of his shirt.

"I still don't understand ... "

JC yanked Chris down on top of him. "When you tell me to take my clothes off so we can lay here, I *know* you don't mean for me to take my clothes of and *lay* here," he emphasized with a slight buck of his hips.

Chris laughed. "Well, I thought we were TALKING," he said. "I didn't know we could do BOTH."

"I WAS just talking!" JC replied, good-naturedly exasperated. "But then you said that ... about the clothes ... and I can't help it. You have me trained, and it hasn't even been 24 hours."

Chris paused for a moment, halfway into taking JC's shirt off. "C? I don't want you to EVER think this is just about the sex ... "

"I won't," JC sighed, letting Chris undress him willingly. "With you, even the sex isn't just about the sex, Chris."

"The sex is ... " Chris sighed happily. "It's amazing, C. YOU are amazing. I mean that."

"Really?" JC propped himself up on his elbows to study Chris. "You even like it when I ... ?"

"When you WHAT?" asked Chris, laughing a little. "Are you ENJOYING confusing me?"

"No!" JC flopped back onto the bed. "You're making me be blunt on purpose. You like it when I'm on top? I mean, THE top?"

"Oh!" said Chris. "Um ... yes."

"We still need to work on your enthusiasm," JC muttered.

Chris was actually blushing. "I don't ... I mean, I REALLY like when you do that. I don't LET just anyone ... you know?"

"Really?" JC pulled himself back up. "How much of a special case *am* I, exactly?"

"Lately? THE special case," said Chris, smiling almost shyly. Shyness was a strange, strange feeling for him. "It'd been a LONG fucking time, before last night ... "

JC was still looking closely at Chris. "But...you didn't even, like, hesitate to do it with me. You *asked* for it. I mean, I know *I* like it, that way, I'm just surprised that you ... opened yourself up, like that. I hope I didn't disappoint you."

"Not in the least," said Chris. "JC ... It's not like I haven't been IMAGINING doing that with you for a very long time, you know. Usually at the same time as I was shooting daggers into Justin's back with my eyes. Not DOING it, in general ... just doing it with YOU. Fuck, I TOLD you I was totally gone for you. Believe me now?"

"I just ..." JC blushed a little, and started playing with the sheets. "I had no idea. I knew what you did with Lance, and I thought that all your flirting and fighting was just a way to piss off Justin. I *really* thought that. But, now, knowing you *meant* everything you said; it's kinda overwhelming. I'm scared you've built me up too much in your...dreams, or thoughts, or whatever."

"Trust me, Chasez, I KNOW what you're all about," Chris reassured him. "I know just HOW much neither one of us is perfect. And sex with you was even better than I imagined. So don't go all worrying about THAT, okay? The pissing off Justin ... well, that was just a bonus."

"Oh," JC took a second to digest that. "Does that mean that when the sex gets repetitive, and there's no more opportunity to get in Justin's face, that you'll get tired of me?" He smiled awkwardly. "I'm not trying to be all clingy and needy, but ... well, maybe I am."

"I can't imagine ever getting tired of you," said Chris, confident in that at least. "Not even when you're 80 and can't even get it up for me anymore."

"Talk about not imagining something ever happening," JC smiled guiltily, rolling over and pressing his erection against Chris's knee. "I'm forgetting what it's like to be in the same room with you and not be hard the whole time."

"That could get awkward during performances. And interviews," acknowledged Chris. "Can I ask an insecure question now?"

"Sure," JC said easily, rubbing a little more, then curling up behind Chris's waist.

"I feel like a moron," admitted Chris. "I'm supposed to be fucking COCKY about this ... but are we an US now? You and me, for good? I just want to hear it ... "

JC wrapped both his arms around Chris's torso and held him tightly. "You and me, for good," he repeated tenderly. "I want us taking care of each other, and looking out for each other, and fighting like hell with each other just because we know we'll still be together for make-up sex. I want us to be so wrapped up in each other that we barely notice anything else."

Chris breathed out a shuddery sigh, both turned on and elated. "I want that so much. I want to be a person who's ABLE to feel that, to be that, to have that with YOU, JC. I want to be safe with you, and know that when I fuck up we'll still be able to work it out, afterwards. I've never had that, and I need it SO much."

Sitting up, JC pulled himself to his knees in front of Chris. "You're the only person I've met that could *be* that, for me. And I knew it when you kissed me -- you took my breath away, and then you keep *doing* it with the way you're so damn *honest* with me. I'm going to be that for you. I AM."

"Thank you," said Chris. "I promise I'll never be anything but honest with you. No matter how hard. No matter how painful." He reached for JC's hand, wanting to feel him closer again.

"So?" JC arched an eyebrow. "What other flowery-type things to I need to say to get my breath taken away again?"

"Anything," said Chris, tugging at his hand. "Or you could just be quiet and let me kiss you. That might work, too."

"I think you're an angel," JC said softly, threading his fingers between Chris's and leaning forward.

"Oh God," said Chris closing his eyes. "You're such a liar. Say it again."

"You're an angel," JC repeated even more quietly, tilting his head. "It's not a lie. You. Are. An. Angel."

"I'm a little devil," said Chris. "And we both know it. But thank you." He sighed happily. "I really like to hear you say that about me. I might even believe it someday."

"Okay, you're a devil, too," JC conceded, his lips just barely held back from Chris's. "And you're evil. You said if I was quiet, you'd kiss me," he whispered.

Chris leaned forward to claim JC's lips, keeping them for a long, long time. "I did, didn't I," he whispered. "Okay, no more thoughts of anyone else. For the next little while, it's just you and me, okay? All the other issues, they can wait. Because we have all the time in the world."

Nodding, JC looked up at Chris, almost shyly, from under his eyelashes. "Now do I get foreplay? I'm almost scared that I won't be able to control myself if you actually put your mind to romancing me properly."

Chris kissed him again, running his hands up under JC's shirt to caress his back. His tongue flicked around JC's lips, tracing them, tasting them. "I don't WANT you to control yourself," he whispered, running his hand far enough up to touch the back of JC's neck. "Not when it comes to THIS, anyway."

"OH," JC exhaled, shuddering, before pulling Chris back into another kiss, accepting his tongue in his mouth willingly. "How *do* you want me to act, then? You already made me scream once today."

"Act however you feel," said Chris. "Don't ever NOT do something because you're afraid of what it will look like, or what it will sound like, or what I'll think. Do everything it takes to make it COMPLETELY enjoyable for you ... and I'll do the same." He trailed his fingers down JC's spine, using the other hand to grip his hip firmly. "And we'll have fun."

JC shivered again and grasped at the hand Chris had on his hip. "That's good advice," he managed. "Sound logic. I just might need a little help in figuring out what that is, maybe."

"Logic?" said Chris, tugging at JC's lower lip with his teeth for a moment, "Or fun?" He kissed the corner of JC's mouth, then his cheek, then his throat. "Just let yourself go. It's just you and me. Let's just let this ... happen."

"Oh, God," JC mumbled, struggling to stay upright when he felt Chris's lips on his neck. "No, no ... I meant, I might need your help figuring out what's gonna make it completely enjoyable for me. But I'll put myself in your ... capable ... hands."

Chris shook his head. "It's not you or me, JC," he said, kissing his throat again, since that seemed to really get a reaction out of him. "It's about us. You tell me when it's good for you and I'll tell you when it's good for me and if we do that then it can only get better. Honestly." He touched JC's ass gently, still through his clothing, and tried to make even that feel good.

JC gave up on remaining seated, and lowered his and Chris's bodies to the bed, the heat from Chris's hands making him feel like he was melting. He tilted his head back, letting Chris have even more access to his neck. "It can't get better; it can't."

"It can," said Chris. "It will. Just imagine, JC, just IMAGINE what it's gonna be like when we're both secure about this, and secure with who we are, and don't have to worry about all that other shit anymore. Just imagine THAT." He lifted the hem of JC's shirt again, began to try and pull it off over his head.

JC lifted his arms and let Chris tug the shirt off his body, then allowed his hands to drop to Chris's chest, tracingly lightly along his ribs. "As soon as I'm sure that you want me, and will *keep* wanting me, you're gonna have to lock me up to keep me away from you."

"Talking about bondage already?" teased Chris, running a hand from the hollow of JC's throat down to his waist. "Isn't it a little soon for that, hon?" He kissed JC's forehead tenderly and held him close. "I don't want to be angry all the time anymore," he said. "Don't let me do that, okay?"

JC nodded his agreement. "I like you better when you're content and ... what did you call it? Sated?" JC smiled, licking delicately at the underside of Chris's jaw. "And since we already established we're not letting go of each other, you won't have any room for angry." His voice dropped a little. "I'll be filling you up, every way I know how."

Chris murmured something that couldn't quite be made out, then smiled at JC, stroking his chest some more. "I like that idea. The other guys aren't going to recognize us when we come out of here, C. You're remaking me."

"I don't want you to change," JC said seriously, closing his eyes at Chris's gentle caressing. "I just want to ... add some of me to you."

"You are," said Chris. "You have." He continued stroking JC's body, enjoying the sight of him completely relaxing with him. He explored his sides and hips, then moved back up his back again. "I love you," he said quietly. "Do you want to take your pants off? Or do you want to leave that for now?"

"Off," JC agreed, smiling at Chris's sensitivity, seemingly so ... *opposite* from how he treated him before, even last night. "I want to feel you touch me."

"Okay," said Chris, sitting up for a moment and carefully removing JC's pants. "I just don't want to hurt you," he said. "I don't want to make this at ALL bad for you, okay?"

"I think I told you this morning," JC said, lifting his hips, "that I don't think you could. And being here, now, and knowing I don't have to be anywhere *else*...it's like everything that happened before this is too long ago to even worry about."

"Okay," said Chris, dropping the pants to the floor and gently rolling JC over onto his stomach. He lightly stroked his back some more as JC nestled his face into the pillow. "In that case, there's something I'd like to try again, if that's okay with you ... ?"

"I should be so lucky," JC replied, his voice muffled, as he shifted his hips on the bed to accomodate the fact that he was already aroused. "Angel," he added, and took a couple deep breaths.

Chris grinned at the name. Even though he didn't believe it, it still made him feel special. "Okay," he said, kissing his way down JC's back to his waist, where he paused. "JC? Just remember you can stop me any time, okay?"

JC just reached back and nudged Chris's head lower in reply, pushing up on his knees slightly so that Chris could remove his boxers if he was ready to.

Chris smiled as he pulled the boxers down as far as JC's thighs before taking his first tentative laps at JC's still-bruised flesh with his tongue. His fingertips teased at JC's hips as he licked. A moment later, he carefully slid JC's boxers all the way off his legs and dropped them on the floor with the rest of the discarded clothing.

JC's hand fell limply back at his side as soon as he felt Chris's warm tongue taste at his skin. "Just an angel," he sighed to himself, pressing his forehead into the pillow as his underwear was removed. He worried, briefly: not that what Chris was about to do would hurt again, but that he wasn't touching him in return. But then he told himself that Chris wouldn't be doing this if he didn't want to, and that he didn't have any agenda. He wasn't Justin.

Chris started by licking all the flesh of his ass again, trying to be as tender and as sensitive to the bruises as he could be. When JC seemed to be enjoying himself, he carefully spread his cheeks and licked down his crack. He felt a brief flash of anger again when he saw the damage that Justin did, but he didn't show it. He licked at the hole carefully and waited for a reaction from JC. This was where they had stopped before, and he wanted to make sure JC was okay with it before going any further.

Shivering and moaning at the soothing touches of Chris's mouth on his sore flesh, JC willed himself to stay still as he felt Chris separating his cheeks, exposing him. He didn't even flinch at the feel of his wet tongue in the crevice between; the mild pain he was experiencing completely overwhelmed by the sensation that he had been anticipating since that morning. "Oh, please," he breathed, not sure if Chris could hear him. "PLEASE."

Not being stopped, Chris continued to lick softly at his hole, soothing the reddened flesh with his tongue. His hands gripped JC's cheeks lightly enough to not aggravate the bruises, but firmly enough to hold him open. Delicately, he poked the tip of his tongue inside, then pulled back for a moment. "You okay?" he asked softly, breathily.

JC could barely respond, almost completely overwhelmed by both the reverence and generosity with which Chris was handling his body. He had to bite back tears again, but this time they're due to just the rush of emotions he feels for Chris. "I promise," he finally bit out.

Chris pulled away hesitantly. "JC?" he said, getting his attention. "What's wrong? Do you want me to stop?"

"Please-" JC swallowed, turning his head and finding his voice. "Please don't. Un-unless you need to."

"Okay," said Chris, still softly, stroking his waist for a moment. "I don't need to stop. Not at all." Then he held him open again and licked at his hole a few more times, coating it with saliva. JC's quiet moans encouraged him rather than deterred him this time, and a few minutes later he was slowly tongue-fucking him, his thrusts still shallow, making sure it wasn't painful for him.

Chris's tongue was warm and wet inside JC, slipping in and out smoothly, stretching him just to the point that he can feel the familiar, comfortable tightness. Without even realizing it, he started rocking back against Chris's mouth, in opposition to his motions. And each time he relaxed back to the bed, he rubbed his swollen cock longer and harder against the sheets beneath him.

Chris stopped again for a moment as JC became louder and squirmed beneath him. "JC?" he said again, leaving his hands against his cheeks. "You still okay up there?" He licked at him softly as he waited for an answer, but didn't go inside.

"Stop...STOPPING," JC groaned. "Or I'm never never never returning the favor. Damn you."

Chris went back to what he was doing again. The niggling fear that he could aggravate JC's injuries remained, but JC's assurances overruled that. He started dipping his tongue in a little deeper, as deep as it will go, thrusting smoothly into JC's body as JC rocked against the bed.

A steady rhythm was established between them for an indeterminate amount of time before JC struggled to get his knees beneath him; propping himself up on his forearms, tilting his hips up to give Chris better exposure. Slowly, he let a hand creep to his cock, touching it briefly. "Oh...oh, GOD, Chris," he gasped -- what hadbeen unintelligible moaning turning into words.

Chris grasped JC's hips, JC completely open to him, and continued fucking him with his tongue, stiffening it and plunging it inside, occasionally swirling the flat of his tongue around JC's hole. At that point, he didn't dare stop.

JC started jerking himself off, quickly and roughly, in complete contrast to the slow, smooth, strong strokes of Chris's tongue. He *was* crying, all of a sudden, and trying desperately to hide it from Chris; forcing his voice steady as he moaned his name over and over: "Chris...angel...please, Chris..."

Chris brushed JC's hand away insistently and took over the task of stroking him, gripping him firmly and speeding up his tongue in JC's ass. His jaw was getting tired and sore but he ignored that entirely because what was making his heart beat faster and his whole body tingle was the way he was CLEARLY making JC feel right then.

JC's hands, let free, clutched the sides of his pillow and bunched it around his face, muting his screams as Chris tugged on his cock. He didn't know if he'd EVER been this hard; although he knew a huge part of it was the incredible physical stimulation, he wasn't sure if the majority wasn't that it was *Chris* doing it to him -- *Chris* *loving* him.

Chris continued jerking him, almost roughly as JC thrust into his hand, his tongue still busy in JC's ass. He felt JC's balls begin to tighten as he jerked him and planted a last kiss against JC's hole as he stroked him to orgasm.

JC reached down and grabbed Chris's wrist tightly when he came, sobbing into the pillow under his head. He felt the void when Chris pulled his mouth away, and it was emotional as well as physiological. His shoulders heaved as he spurted all over the sheets, practically hyperventilating.

Chris quickly moved back up the bed to JC's side, pulling him into his arms and pressing JC's face to his neck. "I love you," he whispered, holding him close. "You okay?"

Nodding frantically, JC pressed several wet kisses along Chris's throat. "Amazing," he sniffled. "You make me feel amazing."

"I didn't hurt you?" said Chris tentatively, bringing JC's head up to his lips.

"No," JC said solemnly, pulling back after a minute. "No. I knew you wouldn't. In my heart, I knew it."

"Good," said Chris, stroking his fingers lightly up and down JC's back again. "I was worried. He was so -- " Chris shook his head. "He's so GONE, and that's all he is to us right now. You're wonderful. That was great."

JC couldn't help but giggle, a little, at that. "I was just laying here. And providing the soundtrack. *You* did all the work...which, by the way, WAS wonderful." He nipped at Chris's neck gently, and continued quietly. "You're making me forget I was ever with him, with every second we're together, you know."

"Good," said Chris, running his fingers through JC's hair, "but ALL I wanted to do, C, was make you feel good. Nothing to do with anyone else. Just you, okay?"

"Not even a *little* about you?" JC asked innocently, peering up at Chris with huge, still-teary blue eyes.

"Okay," admitted Chris easily. "It was a lot about me, too. I LIKE doing that for you." He took JC's hand into his, brought it down to cup his own erection briefly before pulling it away. "See?"

JC tugged his hand back out of Chris's grip and placed it back on his cock. "Do I have limited visitation priveleges, or something?" he asked petulantly, his breathing having returned to normal but now threatening to quicken again, an automatic reaction to Chris being aroused around him. BECAUSE of him.

Chris licked his lips, then smiled. "I didn't want you to think that you HAD to, just because I ... you know." He kissed him softly. "No obligation, or anything."

"No NO," JC cocked an eyebrow, giving Chris a gentle stroke. "It's an HONOR. We have months of lost time to make up for."

"I hope you don't expect me to ARGUE," said Chris, leaning into JC's stroke. "Well, maybe about the honor bit ... but I'm not going to ask you to stop ... "

"That's very good," JC said, squeezing Chris again gently and rolling him onto his back. "'Cause you've been teaching me not to let people tell me what to do." He pressed a soft kiss to Chris's lips, then brushed his hair off his forehead. "How's your eye, baby?"

"Hurts," admitted Chris. "But it's not so bad that I can't ignore it." He reached up to touch JC's face gently. "You?"

"It's amazing, the healing power of an orgasm," JC remarked. "I'll have to show you." With one last, lingering kiss on Chris's lips, JC climbed on top of him and settled between his legs, trailing his tongue down his neck.

Chris moaned softly, feeling JC's skin sliding over his. "You do that," he said. "Oh man, you do that, C."

"You taste sweet, you know that?" JC asked idly, licking at the hollow of Chris's throat, dragging a palm over his hip. "Sweet ... and after I get a little taste, like this ..." -- he bites Chris's chest, not particularly gently -- "I just want to eat you up."

"Oh, C," said Chris, sighing softly, tangling his fingers in JC's hair. "Yeah, okay ... " His skin was still tingling a little, and JC's attention was only make that sensation more intense.

"Okay," JC echoed, almost purring the word, letting his tongue flick out over one of Chris's nipples. He slid a little lower against Chris's body, careful to let the skin of his stomach drag against the hard flesh of Chris's cock. "And the thing about it is," he continued, sucking on his other nipple, "I already know you taste that sweet *EVERY*where."

Chris moaned again, louder now. He'd really meant it that JC didn't HAVE to return any favors, but what he was doing felt incredible. It still sent fireworks through his brain every time he realized that JC was HERE with HIM and there was no Justin in the way anymore. Nothing in the way of them being together. Nothing but their own insecurities, and they were well on their way to curing each other of those.

After tracing down the line of hair that led to Chris's belly button, dipping his tongue in his navel, and then continuing along the inevitable journey, JC pulled back and rested his hands gently on the tops of Chris's thighs. The other man looked dark and *alive* beneath him, so gorgeous, with a slight sheen of sweat that tasted just like sugar to JC. JC said something so softly that Chris couldn't hear it, then bent over again.

Chris squirmed underneath him a little. "JC ... " he mumbled. "Wait ... wait ... "

JC shook his head and pressed his lips against Chris's hipbone without looking up. "You said you wouldn't stop me, baby ... what's wrong?"

"I just ... " Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not good at this."

That did make JC pause. "Good at what? Am I -- being too presumptive, or ...?"

"Good at getting blow-jobs," admitted Chris quietly. "I tried to warn you before ... I, like, thrust and stuff. I don't MEAN to, and I don't want to hurt you. Not like I've hurt people before."

JC didn't move for a minute, then placed another soft kiss on Chris's hip. Part of him wanted to laugh -- who ever actually ADMITTED they weren't considerate when getting head? -- but he knew that Chris was still somewhat fragile where all this is concerned, and he didn't want to belittle him. It must have taken both an incredible amount of self-control, and an almost overpowering concern for his own well-being, for any of this to even cross Chris's mind; let alone for him to stop JC to say something. "Okay..." he said slowly, letting his tongue taste the skin right at the edge of Chris's groin. "How're we gonna handle that, baby?"

"I don't know," admitted Chris with a soft, frustrated moan. He sighed, not wanting to bring up what *Lance* would do to control him, and not wanting to let JC stop. "Just ... keep it in mind. And if I start doing anything, you know, PAINFUL ... just back away. Just stop me. I promise not to get mad or anything." Chris winced at how he must sound to JC right now. "I don't know how else to ... " He shrugged helplessly.

"Shh, okay," JC replied, running his palm down the length of one of Chris's thighs. "Just relax, Chris. I want you to enjoy this, and you won't if you're worried about me. *I'll* worry about me right now; you just promise you'll take over that job again when I'm done. Deal?" He punctuated his question with a leisurely lick up the side of Chris's erection.

Chris shuddered and tried to relax a little. He'd never felt guilty about it before, really -- always just took what he needed -- but this is JC and this was DIFFERENT. "Okay," he said, leaning back into the soft pillows. "I just ... you had to know." He licked his own lips in time with JC's licks at his erection. "It's a deal."

JC didn't respond, just clasped one of Chris's hands in his and held it against the bed. He reached out to touch the head of Chris's cock lightly with his other fingers, taking a moment to just admire it, to admire *Chris*. It was the first time he'd had the luxury to take his time with what he was about to do with him, and it was terribly important to JC that it feels good for Chris. More than anything he wanted him to know that he wasn't going to hurt him -- 'cause if Chris thought about it, he'd remember that NO one was worse to suck dick for than Justin.

"Thank you," said Chris, almost too softly to be heard. He wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking him for, whether it was for the blowjob, his patience or him just BEING there when a lot of people would have run, already. JC was being incredibly meticulous about arousing him, examining him, learning him, and it felt just wonderful. Chris moaned again, still softly, and squeezed against JC's hand.

"Shh," JC just said again, stretching foreward briefly to kiss the tips of the fingers that were holding his own tightly, then settled back down to deliver a similarly sweet kiss to the tip of Chris's erection. He didn't need to hold it steady as he slowly lapped up the side: it was stiff, and swollen, and twitching, and JC had to bite his own lip to keep from taking the whole thing in his mouth right away. He didn't want to tease Chris, but he didn't want this to pass too quickly, either; Chris tasted too good, and JC got almost too much out of sucking cock himself.

Chris began squirming a little under JC's attentions, much as he tried not to. It was SO good, though. So attentive. He wondered, briefly, if that was the difference between good sex and great sex -- attention to detail. That and love, and with JC he had both. He tried not to let that renewed realization overwhelm him as JC licked slowly at his erection, touching his body tenderly.

JC watched, slightly amused, as Chris's hips began shifting under his hand. He leaned forward a little and rested more weight on the bone there; brought his other hand, still entwined with Chris's, up against the top of his thigh on the other side and presseds down. Slowly, he lowered his mouth down the length of Chris's cock, stopping only when he felt the head against the back of his throat -- then he swallowed, twice, and let it slide back out. "Mmm," he whispered, back to planting soft kisses on the underside of his length, "I can't wait until you stick this inside me, again, Chris."

Chris slid sideways on the bed, unable to thrust upward due to the pressure on his hips and thighs. "Oh God," he said, his voice even higher-pitched than normal as he gasped the words out. He wanted to tell JC that they'll wait until he's ready, wait until he's HEALED, before doing that, but it's too many words and, even if his brain could string them together properly, his mouth would never be able to form them. "Yes," he said instead, and hoped that implied everything he wanted it to.

"Yes," JC repeated softly, pushing down even harder to keep Chris in place underneath him, closing his lips around Chris's cock and sucking gently before pulling back off again. He planned on doing this all with his mouth; maybe later he'd be able to move his hands, but he sensed that Chris might be less worried if he at least *felt* like he was being prevented from thrusting too hard. "That's what started this ... the way I feel about you ... even though it's been incredible every time, I can't help but, like, *fixate* on the way you fucked me the first time we were together."

"Oh, JC," said Chris, still inarticulate. He loves to say JC's name, loves to see the look on JC's face when he hears him saying it. Confirming that he KNOWS who he's with and that he wants to be there. It's the same way he feels when he hears JC say HIS name, no matter when or why. His hips rolled under JC's firm hands and he felt a tightening in the small of his back. There had been so many times in the last day when he just couldn't BELIEVE how much JC could turn him on. And how much he couldn't wait to be inside him again. This was definitely one of them.

JC bobbed his head down again, licking and sucking and tonguing for an even more extended period of time, enjoying Chris's gasps and the way his fingers clenched around JC's own. He relaxed a little himself, which allowed Chris to slide further down his throat, but also left him holding onto Chris's body less tightly than before. He was curious to see whether Chris would react to that; whether it really was just a problem when he didn't care about what he was doing and who he was doing it to. But he didn't let go, either.

Chris felt JC's grip on him loosening as the attention to his cock intensified. His body tightened as he panicked for a moment, certain he was going to do something to hurt him, do something to make JC leave him. Hate him, maybe. Feel about him the way he felt about JUSTIN maybe, a combination of need and loathing. "C ... " he gasped out, wrenching his fingers free and gripping his OWN hips to keep them down as they began to twitch. "Don't ... please ... " He could barely get that out; he WANTED to come in JC's mouth so FUCKING badly ...

JC's heart just about broke when he heard the desperation and worry in Chris's voice, but he wanted more than anything to show Chris that he could do this, that JC *trusted* him. As he descended over Chris's cock one last time, burying it up to the hilt in his mouth, he gently placed his hands on top of Chris's. Not as restraint -- just as gentle security, almost a calm presence to counteract the frantic action of Chris's hips.

Chris took a couple deep breaths and just let JC take over. There was nothing else he could do at that point, especially not when he could feel his orgasm rushing to overtake him very soon. JC was calm and willing, and he KNEW what could happen because Chris had been sure to tell him, so Chris had to just trust him. Trust him to take care of both of them.

JC did squeeze Chris's hands, but it was unintentional; an automatic reaction to the pulsing heat of Chris's cock full against his tongue, his lips. The suction had become frantic enough to drive the other man over the edge, and JC couldn't help but moan, his own hips twitching, as he felt Chris begin to come down his throat.

Chris shouted as he came -- that's one habit no one's ever broken him of, one he doesn't WANT to be broken of -- and struggled a little not to thrust into JC's throat. He won that battle, mostly, and a moment later his hips fell, spent, to the mattress. He closed his eyes and panted, catching the breath that JC sucked right of of him. "Oh my fucking god," he managed to say a moment later, his lips curling into a smile even though his eyes remained closed.

JC felt himself smile, too, as he swallowed and let Chris's used cock fall from his mouth. He pulled both Chris's and his own hands off the other man's hips, replacing them with his lips, in an infinite number of soft kisses, soothing away the strain he had put them under. "See, Chris?" he finally said, clearing his throat, nuzzling his forehead against Chris's belly. "You just needed the right person, baby. You didn't hurt me, and I didn't even have to stop you." He licked a little at the sweat that pooled around his navel. "I hope it was still everything you wanted it to be."

Chris grinned at him lazily. "How long before we can do it again?" he asked, even though he knew he'd be lucky to even get it up again any time soon. He tugged on JC's arm, bringing him up for a long, soft kiss and wrapping his arms around him. "I'm so fucking lucky," he said. "I want you to know that I KNOW that, and I'll do anything I have to to keep you."

JC kissed him back, blushing, then dipped his tongue inside Chris's mouth a little more insistently. "There are two ... no, okay; *three* things you gotta do. To keep me." He draped an arm possessively across Chris's chest. "To, uh ... have a happy, healthy Chasez of your very own."

Chris widened his eyes. "And those are?" he asked, suddenly worried that he wouldn't measure up after all. That he wouldn't be able to be everything that JC needs.

"First," JC said, letting his lips drop to Chris's neck, "you have to stop thinking and acting and *believing* that I'm somehow doing you a favor by being with you. *You're* not lucky; *I* am, and I'm fucking *insane* for you. I'm doing everything I know how to do to help convince you of that, but you need to know it in your heart, yourself, for it to count for anything."

"It's a hard thing to believe," admitted Chris. "Especially so soon. But I promise to try." He looked at JC solemnly. "I hope that can be enough for now, because I AM gone for you, JC, and it's easier to believe you than anyone else and I KNOW that someday soon I'll believe that I'm worth it. Worth you. Okay?"

JC closed his eyes and kissed Chris again, softly. "Okay, that'll do, for a little while. But that leads me to the second thing ... uh, *requirement*, I guess." He smiled tenderly at Chris's worried frown. "It's like my rider, or something. This is the important one, baby: you gotta stop drinking, I mean it. It's not good for you, and it's not gonna be good for us, and you just ... you don't *need* it. And I already promised I'd help, and I will, but -- just like convincing yourself you're worth me -- you have to want to help yourself too."

Chris nodded, a little more hesitantly this time. "And I already promised you I'd try, JC. Are you gonna leave, though, if you find me drinking some time? Because that really scares me, that I could slip up and lose you ... "

JC sighed. "No. I won't leave. I don't want you to do anything because you're scared of what might happen if you don't." He inched closer to Chris, snuggling up beside him, letting a leg inch up and over one of Chris's. "But I won't be happy, if it happens. I hope you think about that, when you consider 'slipping up'."

"JC," said Chris, sighing in return. "I said I'd try. I don't want to promise you anything I can't do. You'll be disappointed in me. I know that. I'LL be disappointed in me, too. But I think we need to face the fact that it's probably going to happen, at some point, and I'm not going to MEAN to do it. I'm not going to CONSIDER slipping up. It'll just ... happen. And I want to know that we'll DEAL with it if it does, and not just give up. Okay? That's what I'm asking in return, I guess. I'm not sure I have any right to do that, but I think I have to."

"Part of helping you means that I'm going to stick by you, Chris," JC replied seriously. "I'm just ... warning you ... that I'll be bitchy, about it. You haven't even *seen* bitchy, like that." He hugged him again. "And of course you have every right to ask that of me. You can give me your list next, in fact, if you want."

Chris nodded. "I understand," he said slowly. He's still a bit scared of how it'll go down, when it happens, but just the reassurance that JC will be THERE, no matter what, helped. "You had one more thing, then ... ?" he prompted, squeezing JC's side.

"Right, just one more," JC rested his chin on Chris's chest. "You have to promise to fuck me again. Lots. More. SOON. But ... lots; that's the key."

Chris laughed and kissed JC thoroughly. "THAT," he said, "I can finally give you an unqualified YES to. And I'm SURE that you'll be able to give me the same, right?" He held JC's face in his hands and kissed his eyelids softly. "Whatever you ask of me," he said, "I promise to try. I can't always say it'll be easy -- fuck, some of that stuff's gonna be REALLY hard, C -- but I WILL always try."

"Kiss me again before I get all Yoda on your ass," JC grumbled, holding Chris's wrists in his hands. Chris obliged, and JC was once again struck by how he really just *melted* when he felt Chris's mouth on his. "Okay," he said finally, stretching languidly, "your turn."

"My turn?" said Chris, momentarily dazed by the kiss and not understanding what JC was asking him. "Oh ... uh ... " It wasn't something he'd really thought about. "I guess I'm not sure what to say," he said. "A lot of this stuff is just kinda gonna come up as we go and I guess we'll deal with it as it does. There's just this one thing ... " He looked at JC speculatively, then planted another, delaying, kiss on his lips.

JC raised an eyebrow, then chased Chris's lips when he pulled away again. "You know you're making this too easy on me. Well, go ahead and tell me what your 'one thing' is, and then I'll help you come up with a better list of demands."

"Just believe in yourself," said Chris simply, touching the bruise on JC's face with gentle fingers. "You're JC Fucking Chasez. You can do any fucking thing you want to, okay? And don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Oh," JC said softly, ducking his head when he felt the tears in his eyes, embarrassed beyond words that Chris had made him cry more times today than Justin did in the whole tenure of their relationship. "Okay, Chris ... but that's not really doing anything to keep *you* ..."

"You don't have to do anything to keep me," said Chris, kissing the top of his head gently. "I'm just ... yours. But that's something that's going to keep the both of us happy, so ... " He kissed JC's head again, not feeling the need to complete that thought. "The only thing you need to do to keep me is to tell me you want me to stay."

JC worried that Chris might think he cared about him less, because he *had* listed things that he wanted Chris to do to be able to hold on to him -- and he *meant* them. But feeling Chris's gentle touches, he realized that Chris probably didn't think that way; not about him, at least. "I *do* want you to stay," he sniffled gratefully. "I want you to take me home."

"Where's home?" asked Chris softly, holding JC's body to his and reminding himself all over again that JC was with HIM now and they were both exactly where they wanted to be. "This is corny as hell, but anywhere you are, that's home for me now. That's the only place I can find a me that I like."

"It's a you I like, too; very much," JC replied just as quietly. "*Very* much. And I want you to take me home to *your* house, 'cause you promised you'd let me sleep with you, and that you wouldn't let me leave, and I ... really need to learn what that's like."

"Okay," said Chris, still holding him, liking the idea of JC being in HIS home, using HIS things and sharing HIS life with him. "I don't think Joe and Lance will mind if we FINALLY leave. I'm thinking they aren't going to appreciate the sheets, though ... "

JC blushed furiously, remembering coming all over those sheets just a short while before, Chris's tongue in his ass ... "Um. Maybe they'll think of it as a sacrifice to a good cause?" he tried, shifting his hips to try to prevent any contact that'd make him aroused again before they could get home. *Home.* Chris's home; maybe -- eventually -- *their* home?

"I think they'll understand," admitted Chris, shifting slightly. "We need to put our clothes on, then, hon, and head out of here. Come on ... let's go home."

~*~

Joey knelt on the floor, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the carpet and frowning when it still wouldn't come out. He wasn't even sure what it WAS, let alone how to make it go away. Sighing, he stood up and cracked his back, tossing the sponge on the coffee table and wiping his hands on his jeans.

JC walked in the front door of Lance and Joey's for what seems like the eighteenth time in the past twenty-four hours. He had left Chris at home, asleep on the couch; likely exhausted from the whirlwind that had been the past night and day, especially with what had probablynot been a restful night of sleep. JC had, however, been so preoccupied with the mess they had left at their friends' -- and not a little embarrassed -- that he hadn't been able to relax himself.

Walking into the living room, intent on finishing the cleaning he had started, he realized he was a little late. "Oh, hey ... hey, Joe."

Joey turned his head and saw JC standing in the entrance to the living room. He gave him a knowing smirk. "Hey, JC, how are you doing?" he asked, and there was definitely geniune concern in his voice. "Still able to walk, I see."

Groaning, JC hid his face in his hands. "Just don't ... god, never mind," he stuttered, flustered but smiling, before walking the rest of the way into the room. "I'm scared to ask what you heard."

"You should be," said Joey in mocking admonishment. "I never realized how damn VOCAL you both are. So ... did you forget something, C?"

JC hugged himself a little, blushing more. "I don't know that we *were* that vocal, before. And ..." he looked around, apprehensively, "I don't *think* I forgot anything, I was just coming back to clean this mess up."

Joey walked over to JC and lifted his head with a finger. "JC?" he asked, looking him in the eye. "You happy, man?"

Unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face, JC just nodded, and then threw his arms around Joey in an impromptu bear hug. "Oh, Joey, I didn't even know ... you were *right*, and just ... god, *thank* you."

Joey had to laugh and JC threw his arms around him. "My God, JC," he said. "Do you KNOW how long it's been since I've seen you like this? I can't even remember." He held JC at arm's length and just looked him over. "You're like a little KID!" he said, grinning at him. "You wanna tell me about it?"

JC nodded again, vigorously, then tugged Joey down with him to sit on the sofa. "It's Chris," he said simply, happily. "It's just ... him, and I can't explain it any better. And he wants me to *stay* with him tonight, *every* night, I guess, and I ... " He trailed off, shrugging, really unable to put the rest of it into words.

Joey thought about the Chris HE knew, and realized the Chris JC was describing was just another person entirely. He HAD to be. But maybe that's what love did to a person like Chris. He sat down next to JC and threw a friendly arm over his shoulders. "So you worked things out then?"

"Yeah," JC said slowly. "Yeah, I think we did. I think I made a mistake last night, leaving him, but ... it all worked out. Maybe better, the way it actually happened, 'cause I got to see a part of him that I might not've, had I stayed then." JC was thinking back to that morning; about Chris's reaction to Justin's rough treatment of him when he had gone home the first time.

"And that's a good thing?" said Joey, taking in JC's change of expression.

"Oh, yeah," JC insisted. "Full disclosure, and all that. Just...maybe not the best of circumstances, y'know?" He quieted, then grinned again. "Every bit of it's a good thing."

"I'm very glad to hear it," said Joey, giving him another hug. "VERY glad. I just want things to be GOOD again, you know? For all of us."

That did cause JC's smile to falter. "Yeah. You don't ... Justin hasn't been back here, has he?"

Joey swallowed nervously and looked away. "Um ... he called ... " he had to admit. "A little while ago."

JC frowned, and his fingers drifted up to touch his cheek, unconsciously. "He wasn't ... looking for me, was he?"

Joey shook his head, then paused and shrugged. "He didn't say," he said. "Lance talked to him. He's, uh, over there, now. And your--at Justin's place." He peered closer at JC's face as he called attention to it. "What happened to you?"

Smiling despite himself, JC used Chris's response to that very same question. "*Justin* happened to me. And Lance went *over* there? Why?"

Joey squirmed uncomfortably. "To *comfort* him, I guess," he said, looking away again. "His boyfriend just dumped him, you know."

JC bristled at that. "Wait. I'm supposed to feel *bad* about that, now? You've been trying forEVER to get me to do it. And ... he *hit* me, Joey. AND Chris. I'm sorry if I'm not too sympathetic to his plight."

"No, no, no," said Joey. "That's not what I meant. I mean Lance ... nevermind, I just don't want to get into it ... " Still looking away he wiped at his face with the back of his hand and began to stand up, reaching to straighten the chair cushions.

"Whoa, hey," JC said, tugging on Joey's elbow and grabbing his chin, withdrawing a bit when he saw how red his friend's eyes were. "What's going on? What's wrong with Lance?"

"Nothing's WRONG with Lance," said Joey, trying to look away again. "Apparently, he's very GOOD at what he does, really." He took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes again. "But we weren't talking about that. We were talking about you and Chris. I think it's really wonderful, JC. I do. And it'll all work out."

"Mmm," JC said, eyes narrowing, not moving his fingers from Joey's face. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Joey had actually finally found out about Lance and ... "What aren't you telling me? Did Lance ... did he talk to you? About ..."

Joey hesitated before tilting his head and looking at JC curiously, unsure of what HE knew. "He talked to me, yeah. About ... something. But, whatever, we're working it out, you know?"

That time JC looked away. "Oh, I ... didn't realize you guys had stuff to work out, too. So ... can I return the favor? You wanna talk to *me* about it?" He wasn't sure he wanted Joey to take him up on it, *especially* if his suspicions were correct. He just ... didn't really want to revisit that.

"I'm ... " Joey shook his head. "I don't think that's the best idea right now," he admitted. JC didn't look like he knew, and maybe it was best that he didn't. Or at the very least, best that Joey wasn't the one to tell him. "But thanks."

JC was fairly certain that was exactly what Joey was talking about. He couldn't *believe* Lance admitted it, finally, and wondered what prompted *that* moment of honesty. But Joey's behavior, talking about Lance *comforting* ... "Joey," he said seriously, "You can talk to me about anything. And you never know ... I may understand exactly what's bothering you." He tried to insinuate enough with his tone that Joey would pick up on it, if he did know.

"Maybe," said Joey. "But ... I don't ... " He hesitated again. "I don't want to take the chance of hurting you, or making things more complicated than they need to be. Maybe another time, when your life is more ... settled? You should be all happy and giddy right now. Stop WORRYing about me, okay?" He turned away again so that his tears weren't visible and began picking up the remains of someone's late-night snack.

JC sighed, realizing both that Joey desperately needed to talk about this, and that he was going to have to take the initiative to get him to do so. He wrapped his arms around Joey's chest from behind, resting his cheek on his back. "It's the stuff with Chris, isn't it."

Joey closed his eyes and nodded his head, grateful for the contact. "Yeah," he whispered. "It's ... a little fresh right now, that's all. We'll work it out. When he gets back from ... taking care of ... Justin, maybe."

Frowning at the mention of Justin again, JC decided to hold off comment on that for the moment. "I'm sure you will," he said, trying to be reassuring. "Uh ... what did he tell you, Joe?"

"Just what they did," Joey said, his voice getting clearer. "And why. And that it's over now. C, don't get all down just for ME, okay? You deserve a bit of happiness, right now."

"I can be happy for me and be concerned for you at the same time, Joe," JC rolled his eyes, hugging him tighter. "It's just ... you seem remarkably *calm* about the whole thing. I, uh ... wouldn't have reacted as well. *Didn't* react as well, actually; Chris told me about him and Justin today."

"Oh," said Joey. "I'm not *really* calm. I just look calm. I don't think I've entirely processed it yet." He turned around in JC's arms and gave him a big hug. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"Me?" JC asked, as he returned the embrace. "What'd *I* do?"

"Got out of a bad situation and into a good one," said Joey. "And helped Chris, maybe. And smiled, which is a good look for you, you know ... "

"Oh, stop," JC smiled again, knocking his forehead against Joey's gently. "Well, I owe a lot of it to you, really. *And* Lance, for that matter, and ... even Justin, in his way. I think it *is* a good thing, for both of us." He paused. "He's gonna stop drinking, too."

Joey looked at him in amazement. "You're a fucking MIRACLE worker, then," he said, squeezing him one last time before letting go. "It IS going to be okay. All of it."

JC just nodded, wanting to believe it. "Joey ... that stuff with Lance ... you know a lot of it, *most* of it, was Chris's fault. You know that, right? I bet Lance owned up to it, and all, like he had as much to do with it as Chris did, but ... I think maybe that's easier for him to admit than the truth."

Joey frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked, almost hopefully. "What's the truth?"

"Well," JC began, examining his fingernails intensely, uncomfortable about thinking about it, *talking* about it. "I mean, Chris *used* him, Joey. He did. I completely adore that man, and I know he regrets it, but neither of those things changes the fact that he. Used. Lance. And you know how proud Lance is: he'll never acknowledge it."

Joey chuckled a bit bitterly. "Now you're gonna get me all pissed off at CHRIS," he said, then shook his head. "I've forgiven him already, JC. I just need to ... deal with it. Myself. Accept that it happened and that I can't change that, no matter how much I want to. And, learn to trust him again, I guess ... "

"I'm sure you can, Joey," JC said softly. "He wouldn't have told you, otherwise, I don't think. And you can be pissed at Chris. God knows *I* am. Especially since they ..." JC stopped short, not sure if Joey knew how *recently* it ended.

"I know," said Joey quietly. "I'm ... he's with Justin right now. And I KNOW that nothing is happening. But still ... " He wrapped his arms around himself. "I guess we all have a little work to do, huh."

JC frowned, glad that Joey was sure. "Yeah, we do. Look, Joey ... about Justin ... " He wasn't sure how to verbalize all his worries and concerns about what Justin would do the next time he saw him, or saw Chris, or even what he was doing with Lance.

"Yeah?" said Joey, frowning again. "What about him? You guys ... I know you talked ... did it work out? I mean -- " He gestured at JC's face. " -- obviously it didn't go WELL, but ... "

"Yeah, I don't know," JC waved Joey off a little. "I get the feeling he kinda threatened Chris, but ... I mean, he's clear on the fact that it's over. I guess ... I guess that's the problem? Like -- how to handle him? And, god, I *don't* want to scare you, but he's obviously not in a great frame of mind right now."

Joey paled a bit, thinking of Lance, but he knew that his lover could handle himself, when it came down to it. "I know he's not. I heard him on the phone. I think ... like maybe he thinks he can open up to Lance more than any of us. So maybe that'll be a good thing, you know? Maybe it'll cool him down some."

JC doubted seriously that Justin would 'open up' to anyone -- that would mean admitting a dependency, which Justin was loathe to do -- but maybe having someone there like Lance to at least vent at *would* help. "Maybe. So...what about tomorrow? And ... after? 'Cause ... shit, Joe, I'm not as worried about me, but Chris is still looking for an excuse to just beat on him, I think."

Joey sighed. "Well, fuck. Maybe we should just let them have it out, and be there to patch them up when they're done. Maybe they just need to get the whole thing out of their systems, once and for all." Joey knew he didn't REALLY want that to happen, but still. "I mean, they have their reasons to be pissed at each other, you know?"

Nodding guiltily, JC looked away. "This is all my fault. Isn't it? Isn't it, Joey?"

"YOUR fault?" said Joey. "What, are you nuts? C'mere, you."

JC fell back into Joey's arms easily, still pouting. "No, it is. Like ... I should've left Justin earlier, and we'd be past this now. Or ... I should've tried to work it out with him?" He swallowed at that thought, getting sick to his stomach at the idea of never being with Chris. "At the very least, I should've ended things with him first, before Chris and I ... did anything."

"Okay," said Joey, trying to sort it out in his head. "I'm not saying doing anything with Chris before breaking up with Justin was the BEST idea, but think about this ... if you HADN'T done anything with Chris, WOULD you have broken up with Justin." He paused a moment, but JC didn't say anything. "So...you see? Sometimes, these things have to happen the way they do, to work out in the end."

JC knew that Joey was exactly right -- it's precisely what he had said earlier, anyway. "That doesn't help us much NOW, though," he laments.

"No," agrees Joey. "I guess not. There's not much WE can do now, though, really."

"But," JC continued, "what if they can't get past this? I mean ... I think Chris'll be okay, eventually ... I just don't know *what* to expect from Justin. Maybe it wasn't ever love, but ... he took this really bad, y'know? You don't think there's *anything* we can do to help? And I don't even know if it's better for me to try to be friends with him again, right away, or leave him alone, or ..."

"Not yet," said Joey. "Give it a few days. Let things calm down. Then maybe we can ALL talk about this, like we used to do about stuff that was upsetting us. I'd really like to see that happen again ... and for the first time in a long time, I think it has a chance." He gave JC a thoughtful smile. "You're good for Chris, and Chris is good for you, you know? I mean, god knows neither of you is PERFECT, but I'm happy for you both."

"You are?" JC smiled back. "Really? I think we'll be good for each other, too, Joe. I hope that we can have something like what you and Lance have, someday -- you're not perfect either, but you can still make it work. Maybe that should be our philosophy about the whole group, huh?"

Joey gave him a bit of a bitter smile. "Maybe we would have done well to remember that a long time ago," he said with a sigh. "So tell me ... first of all, did you REALLY make him stop drinking? And second, how ARE you still walking?" Joey pushed thought of Lance and Justin out of his mind and concentrated on JC, on the phenomenal things that had happened to him over the past day. Justin was .. Justin. It would take patience, but he WOULD grow up one day. And Lance was his, and, with time, they WOULD work all this out. He was sure of it.

JC cuffed Joey on the arm, grinning. "We weren't *that* bad. Plus ... maybe you should be wondering how *Chris* is still walking." That did worry him a little; even though Chris hadn't complained once. "As for the drinking ... well, last night, even before we got together, I told him I wasn't letting him do it any more. And I was pretty successful at keeping him from it today, even though he was really agitated. I just ... I told him that if he wanted to be with me, he'd have to stop. And he said we didn't want anything more than he wants me, so he'd try." JC shrugged. "So I'm gonna help him, and hopefully it'll work."

"That's really great," said Joey. "I mean it. I was -- we were -- starting to get worried about that. Well, I've ALWAYS worried about Chris. I don't think that's gonna change any time soon, no offense or anything." He smirked at JC. "And you were too that bad. We had to LISTEN to you guys. Hmm ... and IS Chris walking? I see no proof ... " He grinned then, to make sure JC knew he was teasing.

"What were you doing, listening, anyway?" JC pouted slightly. "And Chris is walking fine, although he's pretty worn out." Then he grinned a little, devilishly. "It was incredible; I swear I couldn't help it. And I *never* scream during sex. But he did things to me that I just ... NO one has done." Just thinking about it; thinking about Chris, and how soon he'd get to feel him inside him again, threatened to get JC all hot and bothered.

"Listening?" repeated Joey with a smirk, sitting back on couch again, his arms spread wide. "It's not like we were TRYING, C. Frankly, this morning I could have done withOUT the reminder that OTHER people are having sex right now. So?" he said. "Details, boy. God knows you grilled ME when Lance and I got together." He tried not to think about the things that he and Lance did, that the might not be doing again for a while, until things between them were right again.

"Maybe that's not the best idea," JC hedged, shifting in his seat. "And wait ... that doesn't mean you guys are, like, taking a break or anything, does it?" He was plenty willing to talk about what he and Chris did -- well, brag, really -- but he didn't want to rub it in.

Joey just shrugged. "No, we're not. I just ... it doesn't feel right, right now, between us. To be doing anything, you know? It's too soon and all. It still hurts, that ... well, whatever. I DO want to hear whatever you want to tell me. JC, man, you look about ready to BURST. Seriously." And his offer WAS sincere, but it made things that much better in his own life to know how well his friends were doing.

"Okay ..." JC started, appeased and relieved by Joey's assurances. "But just stop me if it's, like, too much ... or something you don't want to hear, okay? 'Cause I can tell you right now, I'll be fucking babbling all DAY if you'd let me." After Joey's encouraging nod, he took a breath. "Um, okay ... so is four shared orgasms since we about tore each other's heads off last night fighting, um, excessive?"

"Four?" repeated Joey, grinning widely. "Is that total, or each? Either way, it's *impressive*, not excessive." He made himself a little more comfortable, tucking one foot up underneath him. "You can babble as long as you want," he promised. "As long as you'll stick around to help me clean the carpet afterwards. And if there are stains anywhere else that I should know about, you'd best tell me now."

JC looked a little warily at the upholstery on the cushion between them, and started blushing again. "Uh ... not that I know of, but maybe I should invest in a new set of sheets for your guest room." He leaned back, then, too, and smiled at Joey toothily. "So, yeah. Four. *Each*. And it's like...each one was better than the one before, y'know? And the last time -- I don't know if this was the one you heard, or not -- we weren't even *fucking*. Technically." He stopped himself from visualizing it just in time. "I can't even be in the same room with him, now, without getting hard as shit and just ... *wanting* him all over me."

"And you were't like that before?" asked Joey, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly?" He reached out and squeezed JC's knee briefly. "So yes, new sheets. Blue, if you don't mind. Maybe two sets, if you're planning on visiting often. And tell me ... what exactly is "not technically fucking". If it's a blowjob just SAY blowjob. It's not like I don't know what it is, JC. Jeez. HOW long have I been with Lance, now?"

"Weren't like what, before?" JC asked. "Turned on around him?" He laughed a little as he waited for Joey to explain. "And no, it wasn't a blowjob. Well, that's what I did to him, yeah, but what he did to me ... " He'd resigned himself to the fact that as long as they were talking about this, he was gonna have a hard-on. "He wasn't inside me, because ... well, just because ... so he used his tongue. Instead. It felt like I came for an hour."

"Oh!" said Joey, blushing a little. "Oh, okay. I ... um .... yeah. Okay." Joey resettled himself on the couch again. "Yeah, well, I was saying you WERE turned on by him before. And that was part of the 'problem', you know? So, when you finally did it, it was like this unrequited ... OOMPH. Right?"

"Or four 'oomph's, yeah," JC smirked a little now that he'd gotten Joey to blush. "And, sure, there was a hell of a lot of buildup, to it -- we've always, like, been sniffing around each other, I think because we were and ARE so different? -- but even all the anticipation in the world couldn't prepare me for what it was like to actually be *kissed* by him. *Really* kissed. But NOW, it's even worse, 'cause I *know* what it's like, and I *know* he can bring me to my knees without even lifting a finger. Chris knowing he can get what he wants is more frightening than Chris chasing after what he thinks he can't have."

"I think," said Joey thoughfully, his blush fading, "that I would really like to see Chris smile again. And from the noises HE was making, you're certainly doing that. Bout damn time, too." He paused for a moment and looked JC up and down. "Four? Seriously?"

"Four," JC confirmed. "And we haven't even made it to *his* bed yet."

END.