"I love you," JC said quietly. The words felt wrung from him against his will, and Justin rewarded him with a huge, blinding smile, a hug, a long open mouthed kiss.

"'Course you do," he murmured as he started to lick his way down JC's abdomen. There was warmth in the blue eyes, and humor, but underneath they were smug and knowing. "What's not to love."

JC searched for more, but as long as JC was able to keep his eyes open Justin's expression did not change.

~ ~ ~ ~

JC met him at an industry party, two days after the first rumors about Justin and Janet Jackson began to circulate. He approached tentatively, said he'd seen JC recently at an art exhibit that he'd been to, and his hand trembled a little when they shook hands. His brown eyes were wide and honestly admiring.

His name was Carlos and JC gave him his finest, prettiest smile and thought "he is such an ugly little man." Two hours later he was on his knees in front of JC, his hands shaking as they moved appreciatively over his thighs, his eyes gleaming with excitement and arousal as he sucked diligently, carefully. JC smiled down at him and crossed his hands over his own head, pulling his stomach tight and watching Carlos's eyes widen, spark. "Harder," he said gently, and it wasn't a suggestion. Carlos did.

~ ~ ~ ~

"JC."

Chris's voice was exceptionally kind and JC straightened, all senses on full alert. Beside him in the limo he felt Justin stop tapping to the beat of the song playing over the speakers, and go absolutely still. Chris was at his most dangerous when he was being nice.

"Soooo . . ." Chris's face was all gentle interest and JC smiled back, warily. "Dude. All these years, and I thought you had a fetish for the beautiful people, man. I had no idea short and ugly and pudgy was your kink." Justin made an odd noise, something between a snort and a groan and JC didn't even glance at him. "You should've let me know years ago." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Justin stopped snorting. "I could've helped you out with that. And with the added advantage of being in the same band and stuff, so people won't think it's weird that we appear everywhere together. What do you think?"

"Fucker. Way to ruin my night," Justin muttered, and JC froze at that before kicking half heartedly at Chris. Chris kicked back, already losing interest as his eyes strayed out the windows, at the fans lined up for the red carpet still blocks away. Chris with his dark eyes and black moods and manic hyperactivity, with his sneering smiles and hard, rib crushing hugs and the way he had of looking at a person and smiling with that mixture of understanding and pity, like he's seen enough and can only be amused by it all. Chris was Justin's closest friend, but he was a survivor. He knew how to distance himself.

And now JC could feel the weight of Justin's stare on his profile. "Dude," he said softly, and JC resisted the urge to look at him. He felt Justin's hand bump against his, curl around it and squeeze a little too tightly. He looked out the window but didn't try to pull away. "He ain't coming here tonight, right." Justin's tone made it a statement rather than a question, and JC took a deep breath.

"As a matter of fact, yeah. Meeting me at the after party." He clenched his teeth a little as Justin's grip rolled the bones in his fingers together, hard. Chris looked up from the window, raised his eyebrows sardonically and laughed a little, his dark eyes shifting from Justin to JC and back again.

"What do you see in him, JC?" Chris seemed honestly interested but the question could've been taken two ways so JC said nothing. Justin tugged at his hand, said his name again, low, and JC turned reluctantly to look at him.

Justin's mouth was curved in a smile but his eyes were bright and very, very intent. His hand continued to rub a hard pattern on the inside of JC's wrist and he smiled slowly, seductively. "C. Call him. Tell him not tonight."

"No."

Justin's fingers never wavered, but his eyes shifted from calculating to cajoling with a speediness that took JC's breath away. His tongue appeared briefly, wetting his lower lip before he spoke. "JC. C'mon. I have to leave early tomorrow for Miami and I'll be gone for almost a week . . ." He trailed off, his voice low and soft, his accent imperceptibly thicker. His fingers were very warm on JC's wrist, scratch sliding a pattern that echoed his suddenly thudding pulse. The silence stretched thickly between them, and in it he could hear Justin breathing a little heavier. He felt a small trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades.

Across the limo from them Chris had lost interest in the small drama being played out and was speaking softly into his cell phone. Probably making his own plans for the after party, JC thought distractedly as Justin shifted closer, his breath warm on JC's neck. And it's not like it wasn't anything Chris hadn't seen before.

"C." The voice was so soft. "C'mon, man. I told you I was a little freaked about this Miami thing . . ." Justin's voice trailed off and JC was reminded forcibly of a time when Justin's nerves were a real concern for him, when he had really needed him. The Justin then blended with the Justin now in a confusing jumble of mental images and sensory reminders, and he closed his eyes. Justin's fingers crept delicately into his front pocket, leisurely exploring before they gripped the tiny cell phone and drew it out. He handed it to him, and JC tried to ignore the light of triumph in his eyes as he took it slowly from Justin's hand.

Chris rolled his eyes in exasperation and disgust as JC flipped his phone open and Justin leaned back, smiling, his fingers firm on the back of JC's neck.

~ ~ ~ ~

Justin had grabbed him as soon as the limo door shut behind them, Chris's sardonic "sleep well, boys" still ringing in his ears as Justin pressed him hard against the back seat, his mouth urgent against his throat. JC gasped for breath, two hours of circuitous teasing at the crowded after party exploding into an immediate grinding arousal as Justin's teeth sank into the smooth skin above his collarbone, making him hiss. Tingling sparks jellied down his spine and pooled in his groin as Justin reached up, pulling the hat off of JC's head and sliding a hand up the back of his neck and deep into his hair as his mouth sucked wetly at his earlobe. "Pretty," he whispered into JC's ear, his other hand traveling hastily, clumsily down his chest and around his waist, tightening almost painfully around his hip. Justin's leg was tangled between his and he gripped it hard with his thighs, dimly surprised to find his own hands already under Justin's carefully casual clothes.

There was a discreet intercom beep as the driver, oh so politely, requested their destination. Justin didn't pause, making short work of JC's belt and pulling his jeans down over his hips. "Tell him your house," he mumbled into JC's navel, and his blue eyes glinted a narrow warning as JC hesitated. He'd been more than half hard for hours, feeling Justin's eyes heavy on him from across the room and Justin's tongue was already lapping at his balls as he gave the driver his address. Justin muttered "and take the long way," before dipping his head down, sinking deeply around JC's cock. JC managed to fumble the intercom off just before Justin wrenched the first groan from him.

The heavily tinted windows gave the exposed skin of Justin's stomach an odd grayish glow as JC uncovered him. It was fast and trashy, the two of them stretched out beside each other, Justin's mouth and tongue working frantically at JC's cock while JC's hands worked equally urgently inside Justin's designer jeans. He was aware of Justin's eyes flashing intently at him, forcing him to watch as he laved his tongue up and down and around, grinning when JC grit his teeth and hissed. His eyes slid closed and his mouth drifted open as tension curled at the base of his spine, his stomach and ass tightening, and Justin's hands grasped his hips and shook him, hard. He lifted his mouth from JC's cock and hissed "fucker, look at me," before plunging back down.

He groaned again, this time at the feel of Justin's hard, warm cock in his hands. Justin lifted his head. "Say it," he whispered. "C'mon. Say it."

"Fuck you. No."

Another wicked swirl of tongue, the muted light from passing street lamps illuminating Justin's face in alternating slashes of bright and dark. The eyes that looked up at JC were momentarily naked, almost desperate. "Please. Say it."

The words came from somewhere deep and he fought them all the way as they traveled up his throat and spilled out from between his clenched teeth. "Oh fuck, Justin. Fuck. You know I love you . . ."

His chest felt heavy and he gasped for air as he felt Justin shudder and warm stickiness spread over his hands. The blue eyes barely blinked, staring avidly at him over his own cock and that sight slammed him roughly over the edge. When his vision cleared Justin was sitting back with a pleased smirk, licking his lips like a cat. It had only taken a few minutes.

Justin clicked the intercom and had the driver change direction, to the swanky hotel he'd taken residence in. He smiled cheerfully at JC's questioning look. "Naw, I don't need to go to your house. I got what I need, and I still need to get packed."

JC looked away, his face carefully impassive. Justin hooked a finger under his chin, turned him back to face him. He gave JC a bright smile and kissed him chastely on the cheek. "I might be back in time for your birthday though. Sounds like a good party."

~ ~ ~ ~

Carlos always comes over, no matter how late he calls.

He pushes hard into him with a bare minimum of foreplay, and closes his eyes as Carlos flexes his ass and sucks in his soft belly to keep it from jiggling. JC notices, but he pulls out and pushes at Carlos's hip until he rolls over, grabs his legs and pulls them up, over his own shoulders before re-positioning himself. "Like this," he mutters, and Carlos nods fast, eager, sucks in a shaky breath when JC thrusts hard. He's the same age as JC but his body is soft, pale. He's never had sex with a less than perfect body before.

Carlos's hands are clenched, white knuckled into the bedspread, but one loosens and slides slowly up JC's arm, tentative, reverent. JC has had his eyes mostly closed but now he's getting close and he shifts lower, changes the angle. He prods, nudges, holds his breath for a moment before clenching his teeth and thrusting hard twice, three, four times. Now it's the crucial moment so he opens his eyes and looks hard into Carlos's face, seeing the incredulity, the almost childlike wonder as the brown eyes move over JC's face. His vision splinters into jagged flashes of white and he comes, hard.

He wraps his hand around Carlos's dick when he's finished, because he has good manners, and takes care of him quickly, efficiently, smiling at the groan of gratitude before he wipes his hand off on a towel. He wonders if all homely people are this easily pleased. He thinks he should feel ashamed for that thought.

He's already up and half dressed when Carlos rolls slowly to his feet and searches for his pants. JC looks at him thoughtfully, thinking of the promotional event he has to attend the next day. Some video game thing, and he'd figured on meeting up with the New York-based model there, but he thinks about her haughty features and empty eyes, and tilts his head, consideringly.

"Hey," he started, laughing a little as Carlos whirled around, smiled at him. "You want to go to New York with me?" He smiles wider and stretches, rubbing his bare, flat belly just to see the expression on Carlos's face.

~ ~ ~ ~

"I don't understand."

A long-suffering sigh. "What? What is it you don't understand? We talked about the solo project, we talked about it until we were blue and you said you were fine with it, you all said . . . "

"I know. I am, it's great, but what I don't understand is why you're doing it like this?"

"Oh fuck, JC. Like what?"

It was an effort to stand up to the brusqueness in Justin's eyes, in his tone, but this was important and he refused to back down. "The way you're doing it, Justin. Letting Jive call all the shots, decide which producers to use, which tracks to use, what promotion to do, what you're gonna . . . I thought . . . I just thought that you would've had enough of that with Lou." He paused, watching Justin's jaw tighten as he looked away. "Like the rest of us did."

Justin heaved a deep breath as he turned to look at him, but his face softened. "Aww, Jayce. Always looking out for me, even now." The words were more than a little derisive but Justin's mouth curled in what looked like genuine humor, and a little sadness, and JC fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for him.

"But I need them, you know," Justin added, pacing across the room and looking out the window, his profile like granite. "There's all these producers I want to work with, and I need Jive's muscle, you know?" He picked at the bottom of his shirt, eyes downcast, and again JC resisted the urge to walk over to him, touch him. "It's just, you know, some of them won't even fuckin' return my phone calls otherwise." He raised his eyes to JC's and for a moment he was so much like the young man he'd been, beautiful, creative, genuine and honest. Wanting so much to succeed, and so terrified of failure.

"Hey," JC said, his soft tone a direct reaction to the rawness in Justin's eyes. "Hey, fuck them. You don't need those assholes, J. You could do it alone, you know, and there are plenty of people who would love to work with you, be honored to do it. You know I'd work with you . . ."

He trailed off as Justin blinked hard and turned away, his eyelashes effectively veiling any expression and his mouth twisted in an exasperated grimace. "It can't be you, C. Of all people, you know it can't ever be you. I'll never get any cred if I use someone like you for something like this."

And JC knew that, of course he did, but he couldn't stop the flush of color that rose to his face. He turned away, looking blindly at the opposite wall, and he heard Justin kick viciously at a chair.

Justin sighed perfunctorily, and his tone was one step away from complete dismissal. "Look, I know what I'm doing. Johnny knows what he's doing. I don't know why you're bringing it up this late in the game."

JC looked at him and remembered when he'd been able to read every expression on Justin's face, when hiding something from him had never, ever crossed Justin's mind. The memory made him ache with fury and helplessness. He tried one last time. "But Justin, don't you see? It's like Trans Con all over again. They're even telling you who to be seen with, who to be photographed with . . ."

Justin was silent for a minute and when he turned to face him his expression was impatient and almost scornful. "Who said any of that wasn't my decision?" He shook his head at JC's expression, hesitating before turning to walk out of the room. "You'll see, man. When you start your solo shit, you'll see." He walked out without looking back, and the beat of his footsteps down the hall echoed JC's own heartbeat as it filled his ears and blurred his vision.

~ ~ ~ ~

JC remembered a time when he liked New York City, when the hectic pace energized and exhilarated him. Now he looked out the limo's window at a huge billboard advertising the Video Music Awards, and just felt weary. It had already been a very long summer.

He'd always avoided taking private jets, thinking them a largely unnecessary expense despite the convenience. This time it worked out well. Carlos had done his best to cheer him up on the plane, talking intelligently about a new artist whose exhibit had been advertised in the paper, informatively on music piracy and the ethics of sites that allowed free downloading, and amusingly on some random Hollywood gossip. When none of that succeeded in piquing JC's attention he'd slid tentatively to his knees, undid JC's zipper, carefully pulled him out the small opening, and blown him. Watching Carlos's eyes, seeing the way his hands stroked JC's denim-clad thighs and listening to his attentive, enthusiastic grunts, JC had come in something under a minute. It had relaxed him enough to sleep the rest of the trip.

The pre-party was supposed to be for performers and presenters and nominees only, but judging by the sheer mass of people in the club there had been a significant number of gate crashers. The handlers were there, people from his own PR who pulled him aside before the red carpet and told him to wait, the Brazilian super model was in the next car and was most anxious to be photographed entering the party with him. He understood the implication, that under no circumstances was he to be photographed with Carlos. He wholeheartedly agreed. Carlos wasn't a good enough actor to play a friend, and with his own solo project now in the works he realized the wisdom of practicing extreme discretion.

He could never remember the model's name, although he'd been out with her several times and had had sex with her twice. She was wearing a screamingly sexy non-dress that managed to conceal her the essentials on slender frame while still showing an eye popping amount of skin. Her smile was flawlessly seductive as she kissed him lingeringly on the lips, and clung to his arm down the red carpet. He lost sight of Carlos and the other people he knew once inside, but the model stayed with him, coaxing him onto the dance floor with huge slanted eyes and a suggestive smile.

She was a good dancer, a seductive mover, calculatingly and carefully uninhibited. He allowed himself to enjoy it for a moment, the sinuous movements of her trim hips against his, her head tossed back on his shoulder in apparent abandon, eyes half closed, mouth dropping open slightly to show a wet slick of tongue, a flash of white teeth. They were both sharply aware of the flash of light bulbs. It was, after all, what they were there for.

He smiled winningly and handed her a drink. She was speaking, saying something low and throaty, her fingers stroking a lewd pattern on the front seam of his jeans, and her accent was too thick to catch the actual words but her meaning was crystal clear. He curved his head, looking closely into her eyes as her long, thin fingers continued to stroke. Her mouth curved in a perfect, alluring smile, but there was nothing in her eyes but a sly sort of acquisitiveness, a calculation that made him step back in unconscious revulsion. Looking around him at the pressing horde of people, he saw similar avarice in their eyes as they passed over him. His fame, his body, everybody there wanted something from him.

Her fingers trailed languidly over his arm as he stepped away. "Later, tomorrow," she said with a smile, and he smiled, nodded, grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray as he moved through the steaming crush of bodies. The music blared, making his ears ring, strangers trailed their fingers along his waist and slid them down his arms as he passed. He could almost taste and feel eyes crawling over him with a cold greed.

He kept moving until he found Carlos, leaning against the bar in a dark corner, a glass of something half empty in front of him, talking casually to a bored-looking woman in a gold blouse. Her eyes widened as JC approached, and he smiled perfunctorily. He tapped Carlos's shoulder sharply, mindful of all the eyes on him, and there wasn't anything different in Carlos's face now then there had been the first time they'd met. Wonder, simple and uncomplicated appreciation. He didn't want anything from JC except the chance to pay attention to him, in any way JC dictated.

"Time to go," he said with a sideways jerk of his head, and Carlos nodded eagerly.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Tell me, tell me what you want. Tell me how . . ." Carlos gasped out the words, his face partially smashed into the cushion of the couch in JC's penthouse suite as JC braced his arms and thrust, roughly. The lights were out, only the glow from the city's surrounding high rises reflecting dimly in through the gigantic picture window. For this position, JC prefers the room dark.

Carlos got his arms under him and tried to lever himself up, push back against JC, rotate his hips and arch his back. "How," he panted, sweat making a thin sheen over his back. JC tilted his head, adjusted the angle so it was deeper, slowed his thrusts and listened to Carlos keen in appreciation. The light reflected dimly and he pushed again, watching the extra flesh shake with a peculiar sort of fascination.

JC's voice was like velvet, so smooth he barely recognized it although he recognized the tone with a small, detached chill. "I think you'd better tell me . . ." He hesitated, took a deep breath before finishing the sentence. "Tell me what you want." It was not a question, and he punctuated it with a small, wicked thrust, nudging Carlos's legs further apart.

Carlos groaned, said something muffled by the cushion, and JC ground his teeth, breathing sharply. "C'mon," he whispered. "Say it."

"JC." Carlos's voice was almost a whisper, soft, reverent. "God. JC, I just want . . ." he trailed off as JC changed his angle, ran the tip of one finger down the curve of Carlos's spine to the hollow of his tail bone, eased himself closer, deeper. "I just want you to feel good," he finally gasped out, throwing his head back and locking eyes with JC in the window's reflection.

JC looked into the window and saw their dim outlines there, his own lean form braced behind the softer one bent at a raw angle over the back of the couch. But he could see the glow of Carlos's eyes in the window's image, fixed on the reflection of JC's face. He drank it in for a moment; the excitement, the arousal, the simple and pathetic eagerness to please, before gritting his teeth and starting to thrust in earnest. It really was such a relief.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Hey." Justin's voice was warm and wet and right in his ear, his face flushed, his eyes huge and sparkling and slightly glazed over. The music from the post awards show party was an overwhelming cacophony of bass and out of key treble, the background music from the sound system competing with the impromptu jam session on the stage, and it was making JC's head throb. Justin bumped his groin against JC's hip, sliding sideways so JC could feel the bulge under his designer jeans, and his hand moved confidently over his waist, his stomach, lower. JC sucked in a breath, feeling the familiar vicious stab of arousal as Justin leaned closer and flicked his eyes over the crowd around them before darting in and nipping at JC's earlobe. JC shivered and Justin smiled, a little breathless as he pressed closer.

For one desperate moment he allowed himself to lean in, to run his hands down Justin's arms and up his taut waist, under his loose shirt, feeling the silky heat of his skin and inhaling the mixture of clean sweat and musty aftershave and cranberry that would always mean Justin to him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling his heart twist.

Justin's breath had gone harsh in his ear, his body still moving languidly against JC's fingers in time to the throbbing bass. His neck arched, curved possessively toward JC and his hand was urgent against his stomach. "Dude, c'mon. We can go. Let's go. Now."

His mind swirled for a moment, remembering similar situations not so long ago, when the anticipation of leaving together had made him shake with excitement. Stepping away was an actual physical pain, like wrenching a huge bloody chunk out of his body. He watched Justin's face change with a small, wretched hope but it faded as Justin's expression moved slowly from lambent arousal to puzzlement to annoyance.

"Oh, what now? The fuck, JC." He couldn't make his throat work, could do nothing but shake his head and take another excruciating step away. Justin's face darkened and his lips tightened into a thin white line as he spat something foul under his breath. "Goddamnit, JC. You know you want to. You do. As much as I do." He hesitated, his eyes throwing sparks, his lips drawn up just enough to show a glint of teeth. "More, even."

The music pounded in his ears and Justin's words rolled sickly in his stomach and he froze, his eyes still searching Justin's face. "Maybe. But, from you . . . from you, I want more," he whispered, and hope finally died because there was nothing but irritation in Justin's eyes.

"Fine." His voice was cool, his eyes cold and stone sober now as they swept over JC, and the scorn in them made him gulp. "Dude, just . . . fine. Whatever." He grabbed another drink from the tray of a passing waiter and took a huge gulp, his eyes narrow on JC's watchful face. And here came the smile, cocky, confident. "No sweat dude. I can get it anywhere, you know."

"Of course you can," he whispered, but Justin was already walking away, easing his way through the bruising, clinging mob of people that surrounded them. "And so can I." But there was nobody to hear.

~ End