Date: Mon, 31 Mar 2003 17:35:57 -0500
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: rebound - part 31

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

***

"I wasn't snooping," I blurted defensively, before I'd even had a chance to
think about what I was saying or why words were falling out of my mouth. I
was just suddenly so nervous, suddenly surprised and wondering what was
going to happen when Justin came down the stairs. Did we have ten minutes?
Maybe only five?

Somewhere a clock was ticking, possibly toward disaster.

"I didn't think you were," JC said, standing with his hands on his
hips. His voice had a low drawl of some sort to it, not like Justin's tiny
bit of twang, but something more languid and rolling.

I was about to apologize to him for us still being there, and then
remembered that I had nothing to be sorry for. I was with Justin in his own
house, and I had permission to walk around if I wanted to. Besides, the
only reason JC didn't want me here was so that he could play stupid games
with Justin's head, and I wasn't about to stand for that. I remembered how
much I had wanted to slap him before, how upset and angry I'd been in the
car to know that he was deliberately hurting Justin and dangling his
friendship like a carrot in front of a mule to make Justin do what he
wanted, and I threw him a haughty glare, my chin out, ready to take
whatever he had to throw and fling it right back at him.

Who the hell did he think he was, standing there in his jeans with his
hands on his hips?  Didn't he own any shirts with sleeves? His arms weren't
really all that much to see, anyway. They were ok, but could use a little
more toning, especially if he was going to show them off like that all the
time. Really all he had going for him was that he was skinny. Well, that
and his face, if you didn't count his eyes being all squinty, and that
weird little stripe beard thing. And his hair, too. I mean, long hair could
be kind of sexy, but it looked like he had about fifty different products
in it at once. And yeah, maybe he could sing, but otherwise his voice was
just a mushy kind of jumble, like he didn't really want to be heard.

And still there was something about him, despite all of that. There was
still some way that everything came together that just seemed to exude a
kind of understated sexy grace, and that bothered the hell out of me. I
didn't want him anywhere near Justin, and I didn't give a shit about
whether that made me seem petty and jealous.

"I used to collect those," he said, nodding toward the menus. "Wherever we
went I picked one up. When we were starting out, it was kind of my way of
keeping track, you know? Like I'd be able to look back someday and just
flip through them.  London, Paris, Toronto, D.C."

"That's nice," I said dismissively, crossing my arms. I didn't want to hear
some story about the good old days. He was probably just bringing it up to
remind me that he had known Justin longer, and had him first.

"I have one from Boston, too," he said, still keeping his hands on his
hips.  "I guess everybody who goes there picks up a souvenir."

Ouch. I guess I wasn't the only catty bitch in the room after all. Too bad
I was the one with Justin.

"You're not supposed to be here," I said sharply, and he flinched a little,
eyes narrowing.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice sounded sad, but it was probably an
act. "I didn't think you'd still be here. Justin's usually very punctual,
or at least he used to be, you know, before."

Oh, so now I was contributing to Justin's decline? I had a good mind to go
upstairs and fuck him, hard, right now. I'd make damn sure JC heard it, and
maybe we'd see what he had to say then. I was willing to bet he'd be all
out of snotty comments then. I realized that my attitude wasn't going to
lead to anything helpful, so I decided to just shelve it, and see if I
could get Justin out of here any faster.

"I'll go see what I can do to move him along, then," I said neutrally,
walking past him.  He moved to the side when I went by, and I felt him
watching me.

"Chris? You guys don't really have to hurry or anything," he said, and I
turned back, standing with my hands on my hips now.

"I thought you didn't want to see us around together?" I asked. Was he
trying to start something else now?

"I don't," he answered honestly. I had to give him points for that, at
least. "But it's a big house. If Justin needs more time to get his stuff
together, I could go out back or into my studio or something."

"Thanks," I said, not sure if I should be thanking him or not. Like I'd
thought before, it's not as if we really needed permission to walk
around. The house was half Justin's. "I'll let him know."

"OK," he said, still staring at me. His eyes ran up and down me, and I felt
the same way I had the other day, like he was appraising me. Was he
mentally comparing the two of us, me and him? Or did I just think he was
because that's what I was doing?

"What?" I asked finally, annoyed.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging. "That's a nice watch."

"Thanks," I said carefully. "Justin bought it for me."

His expression wasn't quite a smirk, but it looked wry somehow, not quite a
smile either.  Is there a word to describe the combination of sad, amused,
and resigned?  Because that's what I thought I saw.

"I figured," he said, shrugging. "I have one just like it with my initials
on the face."

"That's nice," I said, walking away. So Justin gave the same gift to me
that he had to JC.  So what? It didn't really mean anything, or have to
mean anything. If anything, it showed that he cared about me just as
much. Sure.

Justin was coming down the stairs, a bag slung over his shoulder and a
small suitcase in one of his hands, when I started climbing them, and we
smiled at each other.

"Hey," he said, staring down at me. "Did you look around?"

"JC is here," I said quickly, but not loudly. He could be anywhere
nearby. I hadn't seen enough of the layout of the house to know which rooms
connected to each other or what the acoustics here were like. Justin paled,
his mouth pressing into a thin line.

"Did he say anything to you?" he asked, walking quickly down the stairs.

"No, nothing bad," I said, shaking my head. "He was a little surprised, I
guess. He thought we'd be gone already."

Justin glanced at his watch, and I thought about mine. Behind me I heard JC
start playing the piano, and Justin looked down the hallway.

"I guess I should stop and say hi on our way out," he said, swallowing.

"You don't have to," I said quickly, and immediately wanted to kick myself.
I was acting stupid, and I knew I was, but I couldn't seem to stop. Justin
looked at me neutrally, and I took his bag from him.

"No need to drag these all through the house," I said, shrugging. "You want
me to go put them in the car?"

"No, we'll just leave them by the door," Justin said, taking my hand.

He laced his fingers through mine and we both walked down the hall to the
music room, stopping along the way to drop the bags off. When we walked
into the music room, JC had his back to us, playing the piano quickly. His
fingers were flying over the keys, and he was swinging his head a little,
as if keeping time. There was music open in front of him, but I didn't know
the song, and we were too far away for me to read the title. Justin watched
him, and I watched Justin.

"Hey," Justin said, not too sharply, but loud enough to be heard. JC
stopped playing, and I saw his whole body tense. The keys didn't bang, and
he didn't jump, but the overall effect was still jarring. I wondered if it
might be an act. After all, he knew we were in the house. How surprising
could it be that we would stop to talk to him, especially with him playing
the piano and drawing attention to himself? "Thanks for letting me stop
by."

JC turned, and his face looked expressively sad, but still somehow cute. I
mentally willed myself not to tighten my grip on Justin's fingers.

"It's your house, too," JC said, not getting up from the piano bench. "Did
you find everything you wanted? I didn't move anything."

"Yes you did," Justin said, swallowing again. "I noticed that you, um, all
your stuff is gone."

"I moved into the blue guestroom," JC said. "I didn't really want to stay
in our room, you know. And besides, it's not really ours anymore."

No, it's not. Damn it, why did Justin have to look sad when he said that?

"I'll give you whichever room you want," Justin said, his voice taking on a
little bit of a whine. Could he not see that he was being played again?
"You don't have to move out of the big one."

"Yeah, I do," JC said, turning back to the piano. "I'll see you tomorrow at
the interview."

"I guess so," Justin said, looking like he wanted to cry. I don't know what
he came here expecting, but I bet it wasn't to be dismissed like
this. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Justin, Chris," JC said, not turning around. He started flipping
through the sheet music again, maybe moving to a different song, or just a
different part of the same one, and then he started playing again as Justin
and I walked away. Good God. Did he have any sheet music besides "Songs for
Tragic Martyrs"? And why did Justin have to make that face when he heard
the music?

"Justin?" I asked, wanting to comfort him.

"Let's just get out of here, go back to Joey's," he said quickly, holding
his chin up. He was practically dragging me down the hall. "Come on."

We didn't talk on the way back to Joey's, driving in silence with the
bodyguard in the back seat. I wasn't really planning to talk in front of
him anyway, but Justin made sure I wouldn't by putting the stereo on and
cranking up the volume. Just in case that wasn't a clear enough message for
me, he also blasted the air conditioning fan up to maximum, to the point
that I kind of wanted a sweater or another shirt or something.  When we got
back to Joey's the bodyguard told us goodbye, and I tried to help Justin
with the bags.

"I have them!" he said sharply, tugging the shoulder bag away from me. He
wouldn't meet my eyes. "I don't need any help."

"Fine," I said, holding up my hands. "Do what you want. I'm going to get a
drink."

I walked away without glancing back to see if he was watching me. The house
was quiet, and I could hear him walking toward our room. In the kitchen I
found a note from Kelly and Joey on the refrigerator door, telling me that
they went to visit Joey's parents, but would be back for dinner. I glanced
at the clock, remembering that Justin and I were supposed to be in charge
of getting pizza and wings, since we were having some kind of dinner and a
movie night in Joey's rec room. We still had plenty of time, so I pulled a
can of soda out of the refrigerator and paced the kitchen while I drank it,
trying not to be pissed at Justin for pushing me away.

I started trying to reason out why Justin was mad at me, but then realized
that it didn't matter. He was hurt, and he needed me. He could make the
choice to push me away if I went down the hall, but at least I would have
tried. He'd left the bedroom door open, and as I walked toward it I could
hear him opening and closing drawers as he put things away. I also heard a
sniffle, and when I looked around the edge of the doorframe I saw Justin
dispiritedly unloading the bags, looking like he might cry any second. He
looked up when I walked in, and rather than saying anything I just walked
over and held out my arms. Justin folded into them, resting his head on my
shoulder.

"We're not going to fight, ok?" I said quietly.

"Good," Justin sighed, rubbing my back. "Because I don't want to."

"I know you're upset," I whispered, realizing that the two of us were
moving slowly in a circle, almost as if we were dancing. My face was
resting on Justin's bare shoulder, because he'd stripped off his shirt and
was just in pants and a beater.  "Baby, do you want to talk about
anything?"

"Can I talk to you about this?" Justin asked seriously, pulling back. His
face was serious, his eyes searching mine. "It's really ok? You really
don't care if I talk to you about, you know, about him?"

"No, I do care," I said, shaking my head. "I care enough that if something
hurts you, I don't want you to feel like you have to hold it inside. If you
need to talk about something, even if it's about the way that seeing JC
today, or being in the house you two shared, makes you feel, then you can,
and I'll listen."

Justin pulled me against him again, crushing me against his chest, rocking
back and forth, sighing a lot, but not crying. When he held me, I felt like
his lifeline. It was different from the way he held me after we made love,
or while he was kissing me. When he held me like this, I knew it was
because he needed someone to hold onto, needed someone to keep him grounded
and to keep the way he felt from overrunning him. Without an anchor, Justin
got completely caught up in his emotions. That's where the running away
came from, and the paranoia, and everything else. I held onto him, knowing
that it was what he needed, someone who wouldn't judge or question, and
that I could give that to him because I knew him so well.

"Chris," Justin asked, his voice and words a soft sigh over my neck. "Is it
ok if we don't talk about it?"

"Yes," I answered, surprised. "Do you want to do something else instead?"

Justin sat me down carefully on the bed, rubbing my shoulders. He began to
work at the spot where my neck met them, massaging a little. I didn't
realize I was tense until he started working on me, and then I just wanted
to melt. His thumbs, usually so light and tender, were kneading right along
my spine, but he wasn't hurting me, and I rolled my head back in
contentment.

"Why don't we finish putting this stuff away," Justin began, nodding toward
the bags.  "Then we'll order dinner, and while we wait for Joey and Kelly
to get back and dinner to come, maybe we can sit on a couch and make
out. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me," I sighed, leaning back against him. Maybe we could cut
everything out except the making out. Justin kissed my cheek, and then got
up, shooting down that plan. Instead we had to follow the one he'd come up
with.

We ordered dinner from a place Justin seemed to know, and I wondered how
often the guys ate together. When I asked Justin about it, he explained
that even when they weren't in rehearsals or on tour they tried to do
something as a whole group at least every couple of weeks, even if they got
together in smaller combinations in between.

"It helps keep us in touch," Justin said, counting out money. "I mean, I
talked to each of them on the phone at least once a week, even Lance and
Chris, but we also like to see each other. It kind of reminds us of all the
times when we were first starting out, and we were practicing in warehouses
and all living together and touring and stuff."

"So it's always at Joey's house?" I asked. Kelly must be really
understanding to let these guys show up whenever, especially with the kind
of drama and chaos that seemed to follow in their wake.

"No, sometimes we hang out at Chris's," Justin said, leading me toward the
rec room.  "Sometimes at Lance's. They come to our house, too, but not very
often. It's just easier that way."

I felt that little twinge of irritation again that Justin's friends could
claim to be accepting, and still expect him to compartmentalize that piece
of himself. Half the reason he and JC probably had so much trouble being
with each other probably came from having to worry constantly about who
they were upsetting and who could see them and everything else. I doubted
that they'd ever actually had any time to focus on just themselves, and
wondered if Justin and I would have the same problem. There didn't seem to
be any way to avoid it, but we had to find one, or else our relationship
was in serious jeopardy, and every day that went by convinced me even more
that this relationship wasn't something that I wanted to lose.

"Is there anything you feel like watching?" Justin asked, squatting down to
open a cabinet. The television, huge and looming, sat in a large wooden
wall unit, and as Justin pulled the little doors open I saw that it was
full of DVD's and videotapes.

"Your ass?" I answered, almost drooling as his cargo pants stretched over
his strong legs and firm, curving butt. Justin glanced back over his
shoulder, eyes sparkling, and I saw a smirk curving across his face. In a
smooth roll he lunged toward me and tackled me, laughing.

The air puffed out of my lungs a little as his chest thumped onto mine. I
tried to struggle, pressing my hands to his curved pecs to push him off of
me, but we were both laughing, and his giggles were soft airy caresses over
my face as he grabbed my hands and pinned them to my sides.

"You've been like this all day!" he giggled. "What's gotten into you?"

"Let go of me," I squealed, squirming under him. Our legs were all tangled
together, and the feeling of him pressing me into Joey's deep pile carpet
was a definite turn on. While Justin had been the aggressor before, he had
never really done anything like this, holding me down and having his way
with me. My mind raced with possibilities even though he hadn't done
anything yet, and he seemed to sense it as he tugged my arms over my head,
holding them in place with one hand as he ran the tip of one finger up and
down my chest.

"Why should I?" he asked, licking his lips. "I could do anything to you
right now, you know."

He smiled wickedly, his finger sliding across my chest. I shivered under my
t-shirt, especially when he started drawing circles around my nipple. I put
up the pretense of a struggle, feeling as if I should.

"I mean it," I hissed through my smile, still squirming against him, our
bodies pressed to each other. One of his thighs was between my legs, not
crushing anything, but I could feel myself getting hard against it, and he
must have felt it, too. "Let go of me."

"What are you afraid of?" Justin whispered, still grinning. His tone
carried a little hint of a giggle, and suddenly his hand was scrabbling
over my side as I squealed with laughter.  "Afraid I might tickle you? Is
that it? Big bad Chris Vanderhall is ticklish?"

"Stop it!" I squealed, trying to wriggle away from him. He just tickled me
more. "Stop!  Justin!"

"OK," he said, leaning down suddenly to kiss me. He looked so comfortable
and relaxed, but I also saw something else in his eyes, a mix of lust and
something playful. I closed my eyes as he kissed me again, his lips pressed
against mine. He drank an endless stream of bottled water, so the inside of
his mouth was never dry, and my tongue seemed to slide through it as it
danced with his, languid and slow. He pulled back and smiled down at me.
"I could kiss you all day."

"I could let you," I said, sighing. We both laughed. "You know, I never
claimed to be big bad Chris Vanderhall."

"Really?" Justin mused, sliding his hand under my shirt. He still had my
hands caught above my head, and now he was tracing around my nipple again
with his finger. It stiffened as he toyed with it, and I felt my heart
pounding under his hand.  He trailed down over my stomach, his touch light,
and then his fingers were running back and forth along my waistband. "I
don't know about bad, but I think you definitely qualify as big."

I blushed a little, and now his fingertips were running along the inside of
my waistband rather than the outside.

"Justin, we don't really have time for this," I whispered, really hoping he
wouldn't listen.

"What did I tell you before?" he asked, still smirking at me. He slid his
hand out of my pants and began to undo my belt. "I can do anything I want
right now."

My belt was open, and now the button of my pants as well. His fingers
pressed against my hard cock as they fumbled around for my zipper
tab. Justin kissed me, hard, his face grinding into mine, as he pulled open
my fly and reached in. His hand slid inside my boxers, urgently seeking,
and I groaned into his mouth as his fingers finally found my shaft. My head
was slick with precum, and his thumb glided across it as he ran it along my
slit. My hips rolled up toward him, my legs falling open, as he pulled my
cock through the fly of my boxers. The two of us stared down at it,
watching his hand softly stroke it as my head throbbed. Each time he neared
the top he squeezed, and another fat clear drop of slick precum oozed out
of my slit.

"Justin," I sighed, wincing. His touch was light, but forceful, and he
started to stroke me a little faster, his fingers slippery with precum
now. "Oh, Justin."

"Shhhh," he whispered, kissing me, as he let go of my hands. He was still
on top of me, and he began to slide down my chest, kissing it dryly through
my shirt, little pecs, as he got closer and closer to my cock. He was
kissing my stomach now, just above my cock, below the bottom of my shirt,
and he hadn't slowed down jerking me off, either. "You're so hard, baby."

"Don't stop, please," I whimpered as he let go of my cock. I looked down,
wanting to beg him not to tease me. My eyes met his as his face hung just
above my cock. I could feel his breath on me, my skin hypersensitive where
it was wet and slick, and his bright blue eyes sparkled at me, glassy and
warm. My hips pushed up toward him as he leaned down to kiss just my head,
his lips pressing right against my slit, and when he opened his eyes to
look up at me again I saw a clear thin string of precum connecting his
mouth to me.

I almost came right then.

"I'm not going to stop," he whispered, the words skittering over my nerves,
carried on his breath. "I just need to get your pants down."

"What about dinner?" I whimpered, wondering at the same time where such a
logical thought had come from. The sight of Justin kneeling above my hard
prick, his mouth sticky and wet, pink lips glossy, looking so very hot and
needy and wanting all at the same time was burning everything else out of
my mind. I lifted my ass as he tugged my pants and boxers down, pushing
them past my knees, down to my ankles. My shoes were in the way, so he
stopped there, and began to kiss his way back up my thighs.

"I don't care about dinner," he whispered, kissing the inside of my thighs
as I pushed them as far apart as I could with my pants still holding my
feet together.  Justin kissed my sack, letting his lips caress my balls
lightly. "I have everything I need right here."

"Justin," I sighed. My hands were still thrown out behind my head and I
closed my eyes, gasping, as he kissed my cock again, working his way from
the base up my shaft. I winced, sucking in great gasping lungfulls of air,
and brought my hands to the back of his head, resting them in his short
hair as my back arched and my hips pushed up toward him. My shaft slid
through his wet pink lips as they clung tightly to every ridge and vein,
and his eyes closed as I pumped in and out of his mouth. When I could find
air again, my head spinning, I managed to sigh his name, and he hummed in
response, not pausing.  "Justin. Oh. Justin."

For several minutes the only sounds in the room were my soft gasps and
breathy sighing of Justin's name mixed in with wet kissing, slurping sounds
and soft humming. My hands caressed the sides and back of Justin's head,
stroking his hair, brushing over his forehead and cheeks, and his hands
rested on my hips loosely, his thumbs lightly stroking my skin.  He nursed
at my cock with an intensity that seemed completely out of proportion to
the languid soft togetherness of just laying on the carpet, and waves of
pleasure radiated up through me as I felt myself sliding in and out of the
hot tunnel of his mouth. His head bobbed smoothly as the tight circle of
his lips rode up and down my shaft, his tongue smoothing the way and then
swirling over the top each time my head was the only thing left in his
mouth, and then he would slide down again, sucking me rapidly into his
throat.

Justin's cheeks were a little red under his tan, and his chin, pushing
against my balls, was a little shiny with leaking spit. When I looked down
he seemed to sense my eyes, and his popped open, locking with mine. I felt
like I was falling into them, and I gasped again as I saw them widen in
surprise when we heard a door close somewhere else in the house.

"Hello?" Joey called, sounding far away.

My hands tensed on Justin's head, not hurting him, but trying to slow him
down. He grabbed them, pulling them off of his head and holding them on
either side of me, as he began to bob and swallow faster, sucking harder. I
tried to stop him, but could barely speak.

"Justin, uh, Justin, stop," I gasped, trying to whisper, feeling the
tension build. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but Justin seemed to
smile around my cock, and I heard him hum an answer.

"Mmmm mmm."

Joey and Kelly and Bri were home, and they were somewhere in the house, and
I was in the middle of one of the most intense blowjobs of my life. Justin
quickened his pace even more, his tongue lashing at me now, his lips
tightly massaging me as he held my hands down. I writhed beneath him, my
shoulders pressing into carpet, ass tensing as my hips drove up to him,
spearing his face as that tingling started in my groin. I couldn't even
gasp his name again as he inhaled deeply and then swallowed hard. I felt
the head of my cock sucked in, and realized he was deep throating me, his
nose pressed all the way into my pubes, my cock all the way down his
throat. He pulled back almost immediately, lashing me with his tongue again
before he inhaled, nose flaring, and sucked me all the way in a second
time.

That was all it took. I felt my body lock up, felt waves of pleasure wash
over me as I fell into him, all of my being narrowing down to the sharp
jerking of my cock, the surging shots into his greedily swallowing mouth,
and I felt his hand clamp down over my lips.  My chest was heaving, his
mouth was still working, and my cock was firing what felt like a gallon of
cum into him. I realized that I was screaming with pleasure against
Justin's hand, and then it was finally over. Justin kept me in his mouth,
swallowing, gently sucking the cum out of me, as I stared at his eyes and
tried to catch my breath. His palm was soft against me, strong but smooth,
and I kissed it, pursing my lips.

"Justin?" Joey called, a little closer than before. "Chris?"

"Maybe they're out back," Kelly suggested as my cock slid from Justin's
mouth with a soft popping sound. He kissed the head as I began to deflate,
and kissed his way up my chest as he caressed the side of my face and
smoothed my hair back.

"We'll be right there," Justin called, right before he turned and kissed
me.  My tongue danced all through his mouth, seeking out my salty cum mixed
in with the taste of him, and he sealed his lips over mine, opening again
for me. His hand lazily toyed with my balls as he propped himself up with
the other arm.

"Kelly says the gatehouse just called and the food's on its way," Joey
said, even closer. I started to squirm, wanting to reach for my pants so he
wouldn't find us like this. There was a difference between Joey knowing
Justin and I had sex and Joey walking into his rec room to find us with my
pants down and Justin's chin sticky. Justin put a hand on my chest.

"I left some money on the counter by the fridge," Justin said, redirecting
Joey. "I'll come help you get the boxes."

"OK," Joey called, heading away toward the kitchen. Justin smiled down at
me, leaning in for tight, quick little pecks.

"Chris?" he asked quietly, smiling contentedly. I smiled at him. "I just
want to lay my head down on your chest right now and cuddle. I want you to
hold onto me, and play with my hair like you always do, and I want you to
show me how much you care about me, but we don't really have time. Let's
get your pants up and go get dinner."

"We could always got to bed early," I suggested, still dazed, reaching for
my pants. Justin smiled, kissing me again as he helped pull my pants up.

"Oh, believe me, we will," he promised.

***

To be continued.