For hotel room artwork, it actually wasn’t bad. It was kind of bright and peaceful and cheery looking.
Chris closed his eyes, but he could still see the picture. He figured he’d always see it, whenever he thought about JC.
Every time JC opened his eyes, he saw the picture. He used it as a focal point, letting it ground him and keep him calm.
JC kissed his shoulder, once, then again, soft and open-mouthed, and Chris moved helplessly against the mattress, almost lost with wanting. “Shh,” JC murmured, even though Chris didn’t think he’d made a sound.
It had been a mistake, he’d known it from the minute JC had smiled at him like that. He’d known what it meant, known what JC wanted, and Chris had wanted it, too. He’d wanted it, but he hadn’t thought about what it would feel like, after. He hadn’t thought it would change him so much.
It was a painting of flowers, with a red one in the middle, sharp and in focus, surrounded by a soft wash of yellow. JC’s eyes kept going back to the red one, as Chris twisted his fingers, making him shiver. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking with need. The realization that this was what he wanted had been unexpected, but as Chris’s mouth closed around him, JC thought with surprise that he should have known all along.
Chris moved down JC’s body, JC’s skin sweet under his tongue, soft under his fingers. JC breathed, slow and deep. His eyes fluttered closed. “Chris.”
They were fooling around onstage, waiting for soundcheck to start. JC watched as Chris avoided Justin’s attempts to make him talk. He had closed himself off completely, and even Justin was no match for that. JC leaned helplessly into Joey’s warm strength, and yellow daisies danced behind his eyelids.
JC woke up slowly, gradually coming back to consciousness, smiling contentedly at the picture on the wall. He stretched and his body hummed with pleasure as he burrowed back under the covers, savoring the familiar soreness, so sweet this time, because this time it was Chris.
Chris felt JC’s eyes follow him around the stage. Justin was talking, something about his back hurting, or maybe his knee, but those eyes made Chris’s skin itch, and he wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what JC wanted, and he didn’t know how to find out.
Chris didn’t want to touch JC, he was afraid it would hurt too much when he had to stop, when JC said no more. The way JC was looking at him, though, made Chris reach out, his hands trembling. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything except the feel of JC’s warm skin and the sound of his voice.
JC turned on his side, propped up on his elbow. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the window, glancing off the wall, reflecting yellow across the bed. He watched as Chris came awake, his eyes quickly going from soft and happy to flat-out panic. JC should have anticipated that, and it made him feel stupid that he hadn’t.
“Chris,” JC whispered hoarsely. “Chris.” It was the only word he knew, all the other words he had ever learned had deserted him, lost in a haze of lust and love and bright yellow flowers. Chris moved behind him, hard and fast and deep and it was everything JC had wanted it to be. “Chris.”
Chris opened his eyes to see a yellow blur on the wall, and he blinked at the fuzzy red blob in the middle of it. Right, they were flowers, or something. He remembered that from when he’d had his glasses on last night. He held very still, trying to sense if he was alone, if JC was still there, or if he had already walked out.
JC watched Chris laugh mirthlessly at whatever Justin was saying to him. Justin looked across the room at JC, his expression unyielding, his eyes telling JC to fix whatever was wrong, right now.
JC was trying to say something, but Chris didn’t want to hear it, and he scrambled out of bed. He couldn’t, he couldn’t stay there, he had to get out before JC said anything to make it worse. He wouldn’t stay there so JC could tell him pretty lies.
JC pressed him into the mattress, holding his wrists, pinning his hands over his head. Chris turned his face into the pillow, letting it muffle the sounds he made, words that Chris couldn’t stop from spilling out as JC slowly pushed into him.
Justin knew something was wrong, Chris could tell by the kindness in his eyes, which was disconcertingly at odds with the impatience in his voice. But this wasn’t about Justin. Chris watched Lance and JC talking quietly in the corner, JC’s head down. He looked up and pain ripped through Chris at the bleakness on JC’s face, but he didn’t know how to make it better.
JC hadn’t ever considered that hotel chains would use the same art in more than one hotel, mass-produced reproductions of cheerful flowers and generic scenery. When he walked into his room and saw the picture on the wall, his heart turned over. He was on the phone to Lonnie before his backpack hit the floor. “Hey, man, what’s Chris’s room number, and I need the key right now.”
Chris stared at the wall. He couldn’t help the startled laugh that escaped him at the sight of yellow and red flowers in a gilt frame. He almost didn’t hear the knock on his door, but that didn’t matter, because JC didn’t wait for him to answer it. He was inside before Chris could protest, and Chris found himself shoved against the wall, not breathing, as JC’s hot eyes held him in place.
“Goddammit, Chris,” JC growled. “Enough.”
Chris studied JC’s face. He nodded. “Okay.”
*****
This was written for the A Picture is Worth 1000 Words Mulit-Fandom Writing Challenge. Ashley pretty much gets a co-writing credit on this one. Thanks to Mary for the beta, as usual. It was a hell of a lot harder to make this exactly 1000 words than I thought it would be. Thanks to darkseaglass for the idea, because I sure didn't have one. The soundtrack for this story was Def Leppard's Love Bites.M
