Chris couldn't think of a single reason to get out of bed. Not one. And he did think about it. He'd been brooding for nearly two weeks, coming up with reasons beforehand, and he'd arrived at the conclusion that it just wasn't worth it. It was his death day. After this, he was old, so he was just going to stay in bed and avoid living until the storm of middle age passed.
"Get up," Lance finally said at five, shucking the sheets away, and Chris valiantly tried to hold on, but the silky fabric slid through his fingers. Instead, he pulled his knees to his chest and shivered pathetically, though it was really rather warm. "Oh, for the love of god, Chris."
"You don't understand my pain, you ignorant youth," Chris muttered, grabbing hold of Lance's thigh and grasping tight, and Lance pushed at him, trying to step out of the way. "No, Lance, seriously. I know you guys are planning something, and I appreciate it, but."
"But nothing. Here," Lance said, kicking free as he leaned over, sorting through the pile of clean clothes on the ground. Chris reached for him helplessly, but Lance just tossed a pair of leather pants over his back. Chris sighed, really feeling miserable and wishing, just once, he'd actually be serious enough that other people would believe him when he was legitimately upset.
"Chris."
Chris rubbed his cheek against the bed sheet. "Lance."
"Baby." Lance sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed a hand through Chris's hair. Chris leaned into it, frowning deeply, and Lance brushed his hand over Chris's mouth, fingers hooking into the corner and trying to pull it up. "I know you've been dreading this day, but I promise, thirty isn't that bad, especially when you neither look it nor act it."
"I feel it," Chris muttered, and welcomed Lance when he folded his body over Chris's, hugging him. Chris twisted around until he was on his back, Lance between his legs, and Chris sighed again, petting him. "Lance, man. I don't wanna go to this stupid party."
"I know, but look on the bright side, presents and alcohol, two of your favourite things," Lance said, smirking, and Chris grinned back, trying to get a kiss, but Lance turned his head away. "Chris, get dressed. I know what you're trying to do, and later, all right?"
"Oh, okay," Chris muttered, sitting up, but when Lance tried to leave, Chris looped over his back and nuzzled his face. Lance pushed at him, happily aggravated, but Chris merely held on tighter, grinning against his ear. "What did you get me, O fabulous boyfriend?"
"That's a secret," Lance said and stood so quickly that he slipped through Chris's grip, so Chris turned to find a clean pair of briefs on the floor instead, smiling when Lance slapped his ass lightly before leaving the room. Chris didn't feel that much better, but Lance was right. He did love presents and alcohol.
~~~
Chris knew he intentionally made his birthday more difficult than it needed to be, but if he was going to be unhappy, he was going to take everyone down with him. Being the incredible multi-millionaire he was, typically spectacular gifts usually didn't pack that much of a punch, so he made the other guys work for it. They all sucked, though, even Lance.
It always helped that by the time the presents were revealed, Chris was often too drunk to realise Justin got him rims, again, or that Joey got him porn, again. Of course, the videos now were a lot more fun. Joey couldn't just get big-boobed blondes licking each other, since Lance didn't really go for chicks. Chris loved the idea of Joey buying gay porn, so he'd sworn off tits too, just to be trouble. Joey hated him, and Chris enjoyed that very much.
"Baby, you're so sexy," Chris murmured, grabbing Lance by the hips, and Lance patted him, careful not to jostle, so Chris tried to stick his tongue in Lance's mouth. Lance peeled him off, holding him away by the shoulders. Chris looked as innocent as he could, though he couldn't help feeling a bit pleased. Lance's parents looked mortified, which just encouraged him. "Hey, baby, why don't you and me get out of here and go to your car?"
"Honey, I think he needs some water," Diane said, laughing behind her hand, and Chris looped himself around Lance, sticking his hands in Lance's pockets trying to find the keys. Lance was making excuses to his mom and eventually forced Chris to sit on the couch as he led them away, apologising. Chris snuggled up to a pillow instead, which was not nearly as nice as Lance.
Chris's mom sat down next to him, and Chris smooched her on the cheek, hugging her then accepting the glass of water she offered. With bleary eyes, he waved at everyone he could see then missed Lance desperately and felt the need to rant about him. "Mom, isn't Lance fabulous? Isn't he the best guy I've ever brought home? Don't you just love him to bits?"
"He is, and I do," Chris's mom agreed, patting Chris on the head. "I'm going to be leaving, Chris, but I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, even now, drunk off your chair. My baby boy is thirty," and she pinched Chris's cheeks until he was begging her to go. When she was gone, he felt lonely and wanted his presents.
"C! I want my presents!" Chris cried when he saw him, and JC grinned at him then made everyone gather around, his group of close friends, all eight of them that he trusted enough to make out with Lance in front of, which was pretty much the guys, Wade, and the three ex-girlfriends but still wonderful friends, Dani, Britney and Kelly. Lance's parents were gone, and Chris realised he probably shouldn't have tongue-fucked Lance's mouth in their presence, but there wasn't much he could do about that now. Hindsight, and whatnot.
Chris stood up and swayed unsteadily, then Lance was there, under his arm, holding him up, and Chris beamed. "Everyone, I just want to say I love you, but not as much as my boy Lance, and that I hope you got me something good, or I'll hate you forever."
"Jeez," Justin muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's not about that, Chris."
"Yes, it is. Give me presents," Chris repeated and sat down heavily, "and something more to drink! Like, um. What am I drinking, baby? I don't wanna mix." Chris murmured in Lance's ear, tonguing it as Lance laughed, trying to get away. "And get my man a drink, too. He's still putting up a fight."
Chris opened each gift slowly, drinking his rum and coke with a straw as Lance held it, so fucking helpful, and more than once, Chris decided presents weren't important and fucking Lance that very second was indeed, but Joey peeled him off every single time. Joey was sober. Chris hated when Joey was sober, but Joey kept refusing to drink. Asshole.
"I hate you," Chris said then opened his present, which was a bunch of porn, and a couple bootleg Playstation games, which was thoughtful enough that he launched himself at Joey and thanked him profusely. JC ended up getting him some hand-woven rugs, and Justin got him rims, again, and Chris hated them both because they sucked. "I only like Joey!"
Chris danced with everyone at the party at least once, and Lance a good ten times, making out in the middle of the living room as everyone watched. Lance tasted delicious, all clean and toothpaste-y. Lance was terribly sober too, but Chris didn't mind, since he could still kiss, even though he kept trying to get Chris to sit down and that just wouldn't do at all.
"But, baby, I love you," Chris murmured as Lance passed him off to Joey, who took him upstairs and put his head in the sink. Chris spewed and coughed and started singing, "Drowning," to piss Joey off, except he started singing too, and JC wandered into the washroom, because the acoustics were awesome, and Justin and Lance, honed to a harmony in action, joined.
Chris was left to work some of the alcohol off, a bowl of chips in his lap, in a big, empty room upstairs in JC's big, empty house. Dani came in, and Chris cried on her shoulder, feeling old and ugly and fat, and drunk. very, very drunk. "Lance is going to leave me," he heard himself saying, "he's going to find someone younger, and then they're all going to realise I'm past my prime, and I'm going to lose my place to one of those kids from O-Town."
"Chris, don't be silly," Dani said, patting his head and making him eat more chips, which he did only begrudgingly since they were fatty, greasy and gross. "You're beautiful. And funny, and you're really one of a kind, Chris. I promise. You're irreplaceable. It's just impossible."
"I am great," Chris agreed, sniffing. "I am incredible. I know. I just forgot there for a moment."
Dani left him to go rejoin the party, and Chris lay on the floor, snacking until he was full, then he stuck a hand down his pants and jerked off for a bit until Lance came in and stopped him. Miserable, Chris sighed at him and went for his own dick again, but Lance folded his hand over Chris's, lifting up his shirt and blowing on his belly.
"You didn't give me a present," Chris muttered, feeling a lot less drunk, and Lance handed him a bottle of water, which he drank in three gulps. Then he ate more chips. Lance rubbed his thigh, but Chris stopped him. "No, man, no distracting me. You." He poked Lance in the nipple, right through his tight shirt. "Didn't give me a present."
"Be patient," Lance said, squeezing Chris's knee. "Come on. Your party's dead, and I'm taking you to get your gift." Lance hoisted Chris to his feet, and Chris licked his neck, flicking his hand against Lance's cock. "Jeez. Do you ever stop? Just hold on."
Chris let himself be led to the car after he bade everyone a fond farewell, kissing all the women, then all the men, telling them all how much he loved them and how much he didn't blame them if they gave him shitty gifts. Some people just weren't good at gift-giving. There was always next year. When Chris was thirty-one. At that thought, he nearly started bawling again, so Joey carried him to the car before he could start.
Lance belted him in, and Chris fell promptly asleep, head still swimming though not nearly as badly before. He dreamed about fucking Lance while a row of giraffes watched and sang Backstreet songs, and he woke up with a start, blinking into the night. Lance was still driving, the music tuned to some country station, and Chris yawned hugely, unfurling his tongue.
"Are we there yet?" Chris asked, smirking, and Lance shook his head. "Much longer then?" And Lance shook his head again, smiling. Chris put a hand on his thigh, and Lance chuckled, reaching down to move it off. "Lance, baby, it's been two days since we got freaky deaky. I'm dying here."
"And you're just going to have to wait a bit longer, all right?" Lance replied. "And stop talking like a freak. Even if there's a mood you're trying to establish, you're creeping me out, okay?" Chris nodded. "Okay. Just. Wait. Okay? It'll be good. I promise."
Chris waited until they pulled into a quaint little motel, which looked neither dirty nor cheap, but there was a house on the hill behind it, so Chris was wary. He watched the window, looking for a woman in a rocking chair, but he couldn't see any sign of one. Exhaling sharply, he decided he was not going to be murdered in the shower tonight.
Chris followed Lance in and ate some of the candy at the front desk while Lance got three sets of keys. Chris took a book of complimentary matches then followed Lance down the hall, into a room, and Lance made him sit in a chair by the window, then he left again. Chris decided that Lance was plotting his death but didn't move otherwise. It was just as well. Chris was thirty.
Lance came in again ten minutes later and sat down, taking Chris's hands in his, and Chris already had his farewell speech planned out, including bits about Lance owing him ten bucks from 1995 when Chris lent him a tenner to buy dinner and more sentimental stuff like the fact he appreciated Lance's love while he had it and wouldn't mind too much when Lance put a pillow over his face and later claimed it was a heart attack.
"I'll admit, I didn't know what to get you," Lance started, and Chris stared at him like he was stupid because no, no, no this was not about presents, this was about the maximum age cap of boybanders, but Lance just squeezed his hands and continued. "And I got you a silver necklace, which you can get from me later, but there's also something else."
"Oh," Chris said.
"Ah, remember, like, on our six month anniversary, the one you forgot and I remembered, and we fought for days because you said six months was nothing in the grand scheme of things and I was being an annoying girl for counting the days?"
Chris nodded sheepishly. He vaguely recalled it. Probably. Though it still wasn't his fault because, really, six months was small potatoes, and he didn't know that Lance expected him to count the important month groups, like half a year, or nine months, which, since they fucked on the first date, was the earliest that they could have been proud parents if Chris was a girl. Thankfully, he wasn't, and there were no babies to show for anything, but nine months was important like that.
"The sex we had after that, it was. pretty fucking incredible," Lance said, smiling, and Chris nodded, remembering it fondly. They'd fucked for three days straight, four times a day, until they were overused and undeniably in love. "Do you remember what you told me, when I asked what's the one thing you wanted to do sexually that you hadn't yet?"
"Midgets?" Chris asked, crooking his eyebrows. "I was joking about that, Lance."
Lance laughed. "No, no, Chris, after that."
"Um. Jeez, man, I mean it. I was really doing a lot of kidding there, due to the seriousness of the conversation, and I am not, nor have I ever been, into wearing diapers. That's. No, thank you, Lance. I love you for thinking of me, but."
Lance rolled his eyes. "Chris. Before that."
Chris tried to retrace his steps that night, when he'd just been saying things because Lance liked hearing secrets so much that sometimes Chris wondered if he wasn't really a thirteen-year-old girl. Maybe one-eighth of the whole conversation had been the truth; the other seven-eighths was Chris trying to freak Lance out.
"Happy Birthday," Lance said and kissed Chris on the lips before leaving, and Chris frantically tried to shuffle through his own head, because he said some pretty wacky shit that night, a lot of which scared him stupid to think about. Chris covered his eyes when he heard the lock click and the door open, and he hoped and prayed Lance hadn't gotten him a she-male hooker with a love for cock and ball torture.
"Hi, Chris."
Chris looked up and JC was standing there, smiling brightly. Justin stood behind him, just shaking his head, lips all twisted up in a smirk. Oh god. Chris's eyes went wide, and sure, maybe he hadn't been kidding about that part, but no way, no fucking way did Lance. Did. Fuck. No.
"Lock the door, J," JC said as he went into the bathroom, coming out with an armful of candles. Setting them up, Justin lit them with his lighter as JC walked over to close the blinds. Chris sniffed at him. He smelled like flowers and, under it all, like vodka, but he didn't seem drunk, just buzzed, like he couldn't stop smiling. Chris felt for him. He couldn't stop smiling, either. "So, Chris. What do you want?"
"Ah. Woo?" Chris said. JC giggled, all sharp and strange, and Justin grinned behind him, a hand on his hip. Chris looked at both of them like they were fucking the most crazy people he'd ever met. Chris cleared his throat. "Um. Uh?"
"You pick what you want us to do, and we'll do it. Right? Isn't that how that goes?" JC asked, turning around to Justin, who shrugged then nodded, and JC looked back to Chris, who was beginning to feel weird. It was just so. perfunctory, like they were something Lance had ordered online and had shipped to Chris for same-day delivery. "Chris, whatever you want."
"Um," Chris said then spread his hands helplessly. "Dunno?"
JC scratched a hand through his hair and turned back to speak to Justin, who pointed at Chris and said things like, "obviously freaked. Scar for life. Maybe shouldn't," and Chris made noises to signal his sudden willingness to communicate like a normal person.
"Well, what are you willing to do?" He asked, sitting straight in his chair, expecting Lance to jump out of the closet and scream at him for even thinking about it, but it was Lance's idea, and until eight months ago, they'd had an open relationship anyway.
"We're willing to do anything," JC said.
"So if I said I wanted Justin to stand behind you and touch you sexily then I wanted Justin to get down on his knees and suck you then I wanted Justin to fuck you, you'd do all that?" Chris asked quickly, closing his eyes for a moment in case his brain exploded.
"Sure," JC said, shrugging like it was no big deal at all, when, last Chris heard, JC and Justin were both saying they were walking the straight and narrow. Chris blinked at him but didn't say anything as not to jinx his luck. "No problem. Just a few ground rules. One, we only do this one time and it stays in this room."
"In a weird not-talking way, or in a comfortable, nice experience but not again way?" Chris asked, if only to clarify for himself, because he'd experienced both, and if it was the former, he just didn't want to deal with that, since he didn't speak to a large number of the pop world due to that very reason.
"The latter. We're doing this for you, as a gift, and we don't want any weirdness in the group," JC said, ticking the rules off on his fingers, one by one. "Also, no touching. You sit in your chair, keeping your hands on the armrests, and we stay over here, on the bed, and do whatever you want. Since, you know. Lance. These are his rules."
"I like touching Lance," Chris mumbled. "He's soft."
Justin grinned and rolled his eyes.
"Thirdly, don't talk. Absolute silence. One peep out of you, and we're out of here," JC said, and he was grinning at that, so Chris grinned back, solemnly swearing and crossing his heart, hope to die. "We made that one up because you're likely to talk all the way through it, and make us laugh, when it's supposed to be the hottest, sexiest thing you've ever experienced."
"Okay. Sounds fair," Chris said. "Go on."
Chris wondered how far they were actually going to take it all. Probably not very. But still, the thought was nice. These guys were great friends. This forgave the weird braided carpets and overpriced rims, definitely. Chris sat back and waited, the atmosphere in the room strange, all heated and mildly sexual and three semi-drunk dudes breathing hard.
JC lifted his arms, twining them above his head, and the shirt he was wearing rose on his stomach, revealing a silver sliver of pale skin. Justin, mostly hidden by JC's long body, dragged a thumb across it, mouthing JC's shoulder. JC smiled, all sultry and wet-lipped. Chris swallowed.
Justin's hands, which were big and manly hands that had punched and prodded Chris on way too many occasions in his lifetime, circled JC's waist. JC shifted his shoulders, sucking in his belly, and Justin slowly, slowly inched the thin white tee-shirt up. JC's stomach, which was flatter than Chris could imagine one being, had a line of dark hair right down the centre, and it was pretty fucking hot. Lance had one, too, but it was blond.
Justin whispered something in JC's ear that caused JC to gasp sharply and roll his hips forward. Chris stared at JC's crotch, wondering if JC was actually hard from the boy-on-boy touching, and looked up to see Justin smirking at him. Deliberately, Justin folded his hand over JC's groin, and okay, yeah, probably hard, after that.
Justin kept his hand there and flicked his wrist in pulses. JC's breath hitched as his tongue came out, licking over his lower lip as he dipped his head back, his neck exposed. Meanwhile, the shirt crept higher, hooked by Justin's fingers, and inch by beautiful inch of flesh was painstakingly revealed. Chris figured, if the boyband thing didn't work out, porn probably would.
When the shirt was gone, JC twisted his arms tighter, leaning back, with Justin's hand moving up from his dick to his belly, palming it. Justin's other hand dragged over JC's chest, twisting at his nipples, one then the other, drawing a long shuddery, "oh, oh," from JC's wet mouth as JC arched.
Chris wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't just passed out drunk in JC's bathroom somewhere, dreaming about his two hottest friends fondling each other. They were beautiful, all long and sleek and packed tight with muscles, Justin more extreme than JC, but they were both so fucking gorgeous. Chris loved Lance, all of him, but he wasn't blind to the others' beauty either, and especially not now.
Justin unbuttoned the top of JC's jeans then spread the front flaps, the zipper rolling down, but he stopped when it was only halfway open. Chris craned his neck, and Justin tilted JC until Chris could see. Blushing, Chris tried to look sheepish, but it probably wasn't very convincing since Chris suspected he was drooling. His lips felt numb.
Slipping a thigh between JC's legs, Justin continued to touch him all over, his own pink tongue trailing across JC's broad shoulders, and Chris admitted that was pretty fucking sexy, too. When Justin smiled over JC's back then kissed JC's neck, Chris shuddered hard and dug his fingers into the armrest. His own cock pushed angrily against his jeans, begging to be free, but there were rules, and Chris was going to follow them.
Chris could see a bit of JC's dick, forced uncomfortably downward, a spray of dark hair obvious against the pale skin of JC's belly. It didn't look very comfortable, and Chris was relieved for him when Justin finally opened the jeans all the way. JC gasped, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, as Justin took him into his hand. JC's cock, which Chris had seen before -- just maybe not this raw and erect -- was just like JC was: long, sleek and sexy.
Chris pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them, and watched as Justin slid down the pants, luring them off JC's slim hips. Chris thought of Lance's hips, which he was so embarrassed about and hated when Chris licked them, though Chris thought they were definitely hot and nice to hold in his hands. The jeans slipped down JC's body, pooling at his feet, and Justin kicked them away.
JC leaned his head back and said something that Chris couldn't hear, but when Justin slid to his knees, he understood quite clearly. Phase two. Justin, who to Chris had always been really straight and had kind of freaked out when Chris and Lance got together, pressed his face to JC's stomach, hands still around his small waist. JC looked almost petit, held like that, his chest tapering down to a vee and slender hips.
Chris looked down to Justin, who had his mouth open but hadn't put it anywhere near JC's dick yet. He was just kissing his thighs, looking over occasionally to make sure Chris could see, and Chris wanted to say, stop that, since it was kinda killing the mood, but he was sworn to silence, and it was nice of Justin to care, especially after the overpriced rims.
Chris missed Lance suddenly, who was by far the best cocksucker Chris had ever come across, and that was mostly the reason Chris stuck with him at the beginning, before he realised he would never do any better than his business-minded Mississippi albino and probably actually loved him.
JC's gasp brought Chris back, and he looked down at Justin, who was circling his tongue lasciviously around the head of JC's dick, taking his sweet old time and doing it right. JC's hand fluttered down to rest on the top of Justin's head, not pushing, not pulling, just resting, fingers spread. Chris watched Justin smile, cock still in his mouth, and JC grinned down at him.
Chris was suddenly struck with the idea that perhaps his beautiful straight friends weren't quite as new to this fondling each other business as he originally assumed. They seemed pretty comfortable, and Justin was definitely not blowing JC in a way that suggested he was new to it. That, Chris thought, was so fucking hot, and he bit his lip to stop from coming in his pants, though he wanted to, badly. They'd done this before. He was sure of it.
Justin's cheeks hollowed as he took JC in deeper, one hand dropping down to circle the base of JC's cock, and JC breathed in deep, his chest puffing out as he held it. With heady eyes, JC looked at Chris and grinned, his entire face crinkling up, and Chris seriously needed him to cut that shit out before his dick prematurely exploded. JC just blushed prettily and looked back to Justin, bowing his head as he brushed his fingers over Justin's face, urging him in closer. Justin took him in, deeper and deeper, until his nose was pressed to JC's belly, and JC lifted him off slowly, thumbing Justin's red, wet lips.
Justin stood, leaning forward with his mouth open, and JC met him halfway, tongue resting on his lips and just waiting for it. They kissed, tentatively at first then with greater determination, and Chris watched, chewing on his thumbnail. He liked the slick glide of their tongues, and liked even more how they turned so he could see it, the candlelight making it seem even sexier than it was already with the wetness on their mouths glistening.
JC slowly but surely removed every piece of clothing Justin had on, looking at Chris as his fingers slid the buttons out of the holes, one by one by one, and Justin turned, sleek as a cat, to grin in a lazy sexual way. Chris tried to smile back, but his face was not responding. Instead, he continued to stare stupidly as JC pushed Justin's shirt off his wide shoulders. The cloth pooled around Justin's wrists, and he curled his fingers, securing it there.
JC kissed Justin's chest, his tongue circling a nipple before taking it into his mouth, and he sucked hard enough that Justin arched and threw back his head. Chris watched JC sink lower and lower, numbly thinking he hadn't asked for JC to suck Justin's dick, but who was he to complain, really? Chris just shut up and continued to gawk.
JC's tongue, which deserved sainthood for its goodliness, Chris decided right then and there, pressed to the dip in Justin's chest then slid slowly, wetly down, leaving a trail of damp flesh behind. Chris blessed the foresight of candles, and shifted in his seat, eyes wide as JC's knees finally hit the ground and his mouth, his wonderful mouth, pressed against the front of Justin's jeans.
Justin tensed, and Chris sympathised, he really did, his own hips thrusting slightly at the air, just trying to get the denim of his jeans to rub and relieve the pressure. Justin's hand settled on JC's shoulder, sliding up to his neck, and JC mouthed Justin's dick through the fabric. Chris could see how wet the jeans were, clinging to Justin's hips.
JC looked at Chris, rubbing his cheek against Justin's groin, and he smiled, the corner of his mouth crooking upward. His fingers, long and delicate, lifted to tug down the zipper then rose to yank down Justin's jeans. Justin's bare legs spread, finding balance as JC's hands squeezed his ass. Nice image, Chris thought, as JC opened his mouth, taking Justin's cock in, and Chris swallowed, just in case he was going to choke and end up dying from his own saliva. It was a serious concern at this point.
JC bobbed his head, going at it from every angle, and Justin met the hand JC slid up his chest, holding it between his own, rubbing it over his flat belly. Chris shivered hard, half torn between watching and turning away, just to gather his own bearings. This was, beyond a doubt, even sexier that he could have imagined, with the heat permeating off them and the wet sloppy sounds and the idea that this wasn't new, that this was a huge fucking secret, a private love affair that involved two of the most beautiful guys Chris knew screwing each other. Life was so fucking good to him. Chris just couldn't believe it.
Chris leaned forward when Justin pulled JC to his feet then walked him back toward the bed, hands low on JC's hips, and JC went willingly, lying down and spreading out. "Hey," he said, lifting his head, "can you see?" And Chris just sorted grunted because he really didn't need anymore verbal reminders of this mind-blowing situation. Also, he could see quite clearly.
Justin pulled JC's arms up over his head, kneeling over his stomach and straddling his hips, and JC leaned up into him, mouth open. Bowing down, Justin captured the swollen lips in a kiss, and JC moaned, not in that fake-orgasm way but in a sexy, hot, painfully aroused type of way. Smiling, Justin pressed their lips together again, closed this time, and Chris touched his own mouth, fighting to keep his other hand on the armrest and not at his groin.
"Beautiful," Justin murmured, licking down JC's neck. JC squirmed, pushing up from the bed, but Justin used a hand to hold him down, dragging his mouth over sweaty skin that glimmered in the half-light. JC hoisted a leg around Justin's waist, and Chris tilted his head, looking at his ass then feeling pretty silly about it, though it was an admittedly fine ass, just not as nice as Lance's.
They seemed to be humping on the bed, as far as Chris could tell, which was pretty fucking hot in its own right, with JC's fingers scrabbling over Justin's back and Justin twisting his hips against JC's crotch. The slick slap of flesh on flesh was sparking bumps on Chris's skin, and he rolled his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension out of his body.
Justin pulled back suddenly, breathing hard, and JC stared at him, mouth opened like maybe he was shocked by something. Chris looked between them, trying to understand, and he was suddenly doubting they'd been with each other before. JC, maybe, was a virgin with guys, though Chris was suddenly wondering that too, but Justin definitely knew what he was doing.
Justin turned to Chris, his face a myriad of emotions, and Chris looked back, ready to leave if they wanted, but JC mewed, bucking sharply. Justin nodded then bent down to JC again, his arm going into the bedside table and pulling out condoms and lube. Chris chewed on his nails with more force as they set themselves up, suddenly fumbling and losing the choreography.
Justin whispered something, what, Chris didn't know, but JC spread his legs wider, arching his back, and then they were back on, Justin's bigger body moving over JC's slimmer one. JC rocked against him, head thrown back, and Justin slicked up his dick but didn't do much else besides returning his left hand to hold JC's wrists above his head, pressed to the pillow.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional squeak of the motel mattress or the shuffle of linen as JC literally writhed, pushing the pillows off the bed, the blankets to the ground. Sometimes, JC mewled or gasped, and Chris's ears burned with it, hot as blood raced through them, almost deafening. Justin was breathing hard, his back muscles tight with exertion, but unlike JC who made the most sensual noises Chris could imagine, he remained silent otherwise.
Chris still felt a bit bad about staying, only because he wasn't sure he should be watching his two friends have sex for the first time. If they hadn't before. That particular idea was going back and forth in his mind, unable to settle on anything resembling the truth. He knew he should leave, give them privacy, let them fuck like animals without him watching, but it was rude, he thought, to get up and go. It might disrupt everything. It might change their minds. That, Chris decided, would be a travesty. So he stayed and swallowed the guilt, watching with wide, curious eyes as the scene progressed, and his dick just got harder.
Justin sucked on JC's neck, which caused JC to squirm, and Chris bit his own tongue, just to stop it from stretching out and trying to lick at something, anything. JC squeaked, lifting his hips, and Justin turned to smile at Chris, lifting his body so it slid along JC's belly. JC's impossibly lithe legs spread wider, his knees pressed to the bed, and he said, "J. Please."
And Justin, that fucking infant kid, winked at Chris. Winked! Chris would have spluttered if he could, if his dick wasn't so raw and sore that even the slightest movement was going to set him off. Chris looked at JC's dick instead, where it lay on his belly, leaking and hard. Justin's right hand, the left still holding JC to the bed, sleeked down to slide over it, and Chris watched those fingers spread and stroke upward.
A little louder, JC repeated, "J. Please," and he pushed his hips up, the muscles in his calves straining. Chris swore, if Justin didn't do something soon, he was going to break the vow of silence and make Justin relieve poor JC's tension. Chris considered it cruelty to JCs everywhere to allow such mistreatment. Justin, on the other hand, slid two fingers deep into JC, and nearly got himself tossed off the bed.
JC's ass pushed at them, rising to meet the thrusting fingers, and Chris's head swirled with this new information. Unless JC fingered himself on a regular basis, that would have hurt, but the way he was carrying on, all twisty and writhing, suggested exactly the opposite. All right, Chris decided, JC was into being fucked, okay. He just wasn't convinced that it was Justin doing the fucking.
JC arched his back suddenly, and Justin stopped, pulled out his fingers and sitting back. JC panted hard, his belly almost concave with the tension in his body, and Justin leaned over him, brushing his mouth across JC's ear and speaking quietly. Chris, knowing he was nosey and doing it anyway, strained to hear, but he couldn't make sense of it. JC smiled, a full happy-JC type smile that crinkled his eyes into slits and changed his whole face, and Justin pulled back.
Maybe Justin was doing the fucking, Chris thought, okay, that was cool. He was into his friends fucking without bothering to tell him of this important information. He looked at Justin, who looked back at him, and his face, which had been slightly amused from the beginning, was suddenly very serious. All right, Chris amended, maybe he was intruding, maybe he should leave.
Chris decided it was a mindfuck when Justin suddenly smiled and lifted JC's leg over his shoulder, holding it there with one very big hand. Justin smirked, winking again, and Chris licked his lips, since they were painfully dry and, probably, bleeding from being chewed to crap. With a thrust of his liquid hips, Justin was in, and Chris nearly swallowed his own tongue.
Justin paused halfway as JC shifted uncomfortably, and Chris was suddenly horrified to think maybe JC was just pretending it wasn't splitting him in two for Chris's sake. Lance knew Chris was completely turned off by pain, and he himself had refused to fuck Lance for three weeks for fear of hurting him. But Justin pushed in further, and JC suddenly turned into a languid puddle of limbs, exhaling sharply as he lifted his other leg up, sliding it against Justin's neck.
All right. Chris decided to stop over-thinking every fucking thing and just enjoy the way JC was nearly bent in two, knees by his ears, with Justin pressed into his ass. The slide of Justin's cock into JC's body was hot. Justin twisted his hips, corkscrewing in, which always caused JC to mewl and push back, taking him in deeper and deeper. Chris's fingers dug into the armrest of the chair, and he could feel the left one loosening, ready to crumble.
Justin's eyes were closed, Chris noticed, and JC's were open, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open as he gasped. At one point, he turned his face and looked right at Chris, and Chris stared back, frozen by the look of rapture. JC turned his head back, looking at Justin. JC bucked up sharply, and Justin was gone, hissing loudly as his ass clenched. So this, Chris thought dazedly, is what Justin looked like when he came.
Justin pulled out and sucked JC off, cheeks hollowing, hand working at the base of JC's dick. Chris watched both Justin's determined expression and JC's blissful face until JC arched and came, Justin's throat working as he swallowed him down. And that was it. Justin collapsed on the bed, breathing like a man after a race, and JC lay there, half under him, boneless and pliant.
Chris swallowed again, thinking about clubbed baby seals and other terrible things, then he stood on shaky legs, keeping his lips pressed tightly together. One false move, and he was going to come in his pants. He looked in the mirror as he passed it, seeing an aroused, suffering man staring back, and he nodded morosely at himself, feeling acutely turned on and unable to do a thing about it.
"I'm leaving," Chris said abruptly, speaking to the mirror more than anyone else, and he tried not to look at them, but JC was sitting up now. Justin stayed where he was. Squinting at the reflection, Chris realised Justin was asleep, lying on his belly. Chris glanced up, catching JC's eye in the mirror. "Sorry for breaking rule number three."
JC smiled and tipped his head, eyes sparkling with muted laughter. "We honestly didn't think you'd follow it. I'm impressed, definitely, man." JC scratched a hand through his hair, looking sleepy and sated, then he yawned, lying back down and pulling the blankets up around his waist. "Lance is in 107, waiting for you. The key's on the desk. Happy Birthday again, okay?"
"Thanks," Chris said and slipped out, making sure the door clicked shut and locked behind him. Slowly, he walked to Lance's room and went in. Lance was on the bed, reading a magazine, and Joey was sitting in the desk chair, the television turned on full blast.
"Well, I'm off to bed," Joey said, flicking off the tv and standing up. He clasped Chris on the shoulder tightly before trying to pull him into a tight hug, but Chris stopped him and offered his hand instead. It was creepy to hug Joey with a hard on, and at least, due to the rules, Chris could honestly say his hand was clean. Joey grasped it tightly. "Happy Birthday, old man. You make me look forward to turning thirty, and that's style, Chris."
Joey left, and Chris climbed onto the bed, putting his head onto Lance's lap. Lance petted him until he finished his article then leaned over and put it away. Chris was feeling half turned on, half turned off, and he sighed deeply, knowing he wasn't allowed to talk about it but feeling like maybe he should. Perhaps, since Lance was the evil overlord of the whole gift, he'd break the rule and let Chris speak.
"Lance?" Chris said quietly as Lance's hand dipped back into his hair, and Lance nodded, his face a cool, calm plain of emotionless expression. Sometimes, that made Chris calm too, but right now, it was sort of freaking him out. "Well, first, thanks, you know. It was cool. Very thoughtful, but um. I'm kinda overcome with despairing guilt here."
Lance smiled, his forehead wrinkling. "Why?"
"Well, I think I just intruded on, like, a really personal moment. Like. Really fucking personal, and I don't think, that first time we got into bed, that I would have liked --"
"What makes you think it was their first time?" Lance asked abruptly, and Chris gaped at him as Lance's fingers moved down to tickle at the underside of his neck. Lance shook his head. "Listen, Chris. They're two consenting adults. Whatever happened, they were in full control of it. You were there because they let you. All right? Now. Moving on."
Chris twisted up his face then relaxed, a coy smile passing over his lips, and he grinned wolfishly. "Presents?"
Lance handed Chris a small box, and he opened it, painstakingly untying the ribbon then peeling away the paper. The necklace, as Lance said, was silver, cold between Chris's fingers, and Chris bowed his head forward, letting Lance put it around his neck. Chris snaked an arm around Lance's waist and yanked him close, pressing his face to Lance's hard belly.
"You feel good," Chris muttered, lifting Lance's shirt to mouth the soft skin underneath, and Lance shuddered against him, solid and sturdy in his grip. Lance's arms came down, crossing over Chris's back, and Chris bent his head into Lance's body. "Baby, you know you're irreplaceable, right? Tonight was great, I mean, I appreciate the thought, but."
"I know," Lance said, and Chris looked up, putting on his best smile. Lance grinned at him and pushed the hair from his face, and Chris could feel the laughter rumbling through his belly. "Just wait until you see what I have planned for forty."
"Forty, huh? You sticking around that long?" Chris asked, and Lance nodded. "Good. Now, man, someone's been keeping me away from his booty for two whole days, and it's my birthday, so I think I have something coming to me, don't you?"
Lance sighed. "Chris, stop with the ghetto-talk, okay? You're really freaking me out."
Chris grinned, tugging him down, and they tangled on the bed, laughing as Chris said, "yo, yo, yo," and Lance slid his hand down Chris's pants, which shut him up entirely. Life at thirty, Chris decided, was very, very good.
Fin.
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