Back of a car
"You do know that this is obscene, right? I mean, you're not so far divorced from reality that you can't see that."
"Yeah, whatever, Kirkpatrick. Do you want to see it or not?"
"As long as you recognize that come the revolution, you'll be first up against the wall. All my quick talking won't be able to save you."
"Come the revolution, I don't think they'll be making distinctions between obnoxiously rich boyband members and obnoxiously rich boyband members with too many cars, so you'll be right there with me." Justin stepped into the garage and flipped on the lights. "What do you think?"
It would be a lot easier, Chris thought, to give Justin a hard time about his extravagance if the kid were even the slightest bit jaded about it, if he weren't flushed with excitement and actually bouncing with eagerness for Chris' reaction. "That is one sweet ride."
"Yeah, she's nice, huh?" Justin said, trailing behind Chris as he circled the gleaming blue car. "You want to try her out?"
"Sure." Justin slid behind the wheel. Chris opened the passenger side door and sat in the back seat.
Justin smiled at him in the rear view mirror. "What, you think I'm your chauffeur or something?"
"Sometimes," Chris said, "I think it's almost criminal, the way your education's been neglected."
"You want to tell me what you're talking about, or is it more fun for you if I guess?"
"I mean, I know you say you don't miss going to high school, but I think of the fact that you're twenty years old and have never made out in the back of a car, and I want to weep."
"Well, I wouldn't want you to do that." Justin clambered over the gear panel and settled himself in the corner of the back seat. "I've had sex in a limo, though. Does that count?"
"No, that's a completely different thing," Chris said. "Wait. Who've you had sex in a limo with?"
"I believe I was promised some making out," Justin said, and licked Chris' jaw. "I thought you were going to take me to school."
"Oh, I'll take you to school," Chris said, and leered.
Justin laughed. "Oh, is that the famous Kirkpatrick charm that won all the lay-dees, back in the day?"
Chris kissed him lazily, tongue pressing gently for entrance into Justin's mouth. When Justin's lips parted, he moved his tongue slowly inside, feeling Justin surge toward him. He trailed fingers down Justin's cheek and neck to the hollow at the base of his throat. Justin gave a contented little moan and hooked his arm around Chris' neck, pulling him closer. Chris kept kissing him, leisurely languid kisses, dragging his fingertips lightly down the center of Justin's chest, rubbing small circles on his flat stomach. Justin swung his legs up over Chris' lap.
"Oh, you like this," Chris mumbled.
"Sure," Justin said, "but I don't see why it's anything, like, special. It's the same as making out anywhere, except a little more cramped."
"See," Chris said, "you're not thinking about it right. C'mere." Justin dropped his legs and got up, kneeling over Chris' lap, leaning his forearms on the leather seat on either side of Chris. He bent his head and whispered, "Hi," right over Chris' lips. Chris put an arm around Justin, dipping his fingers just below the waistband of Justin's jeans, tracing delicate patterns over his soft skin.
"You gotta think of the mood," and he hiked Justin a little closer.
"What's the mood?" Justin breathed, dropping his head to worry the skin along the curve of Chris' shoulder, nipping at it gently, then smoothing over it with his tongue. Chris clasped his other hand around the back of Justin's neck, both hands stroking in the same slow rhythm.
"The mood is," Chris said, drawing the words out, "we've been driving around all night with some friends. Doing nothing, smoking up in the car because everyone's parents are home cause it's a weeknight. So you're all warm and happy and lightly toasted, but you're starting to get a little anxious. Because it's getting late, and you have to be home soon, or you'll get in trouble, cause there's school tomorrow. And you're starting to get worried, just a little, that we're not going to have any time. That's how you think about it. Not time for making out, or fucking, but just time."
Justin slid his mouth up to the corner of Chris'. Chris tipped his head back, ran a thumb over Justin's lower lip. Justin pulled it into his mouth and sucked on it for a minute. Chris dragged his thumb down over Justin's chin, smiling a little as he watched Justin's lips fall gently closed. Justin was rocking against him.
"And then," Chris said, "we drop off the last of your friends. And you notice that I'm not driving toward your house, and you start to say something, but I put my hand on your thigh and you sit back and don't say anything at all. And we keep driving, and you're watching me, and then I look at you and smile like I know what you're thinking. And you blush a little, and feel stupid, and tell yourself it's because you're still kind of high. And then we pull over."
Justin grabbed Chris' hand, which was still resting on his chin, and took first one and then two fingers into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around them, looking at Chris, his eyes wide. His hips were pushing back a little harder against Chris' other hand. Chris stayed as still as he could under Justin's undulations, moving nothing but his fingers and his lips.
"And then we pull over. And you turn sideways in your seat, lean toward me a little, but I don't kiss you. I just say, 'You wanna get in back?' And you climb into the backseat, and feel dumb again when I get out of the car and slide in next to you. And I'm pressed up all close to you. And I pull you up and across, so you're straddling my lap. Just like this. And you've been with guys before, lots of guys. But this time it's different. You feel like you've said yes to something and you're not sure what it is. But you have a feeling you're going to love it."
Chris ran his hand along Justin's waist and started undoing the buttons of his jeans. "So that's the mood. Any questions?"
Justin stopped sucking on Chris' fingers long enough to say, "Just one. How'd a band geek like you land the captain of the basketball team?"
Chris snickered. "You're not the captain of the basketball team, Timberlake. Captain of the cheerleading squad, maybe."
Justin laughed so hard that Chris had to grab his shirt to keep him from falling off his lap. "Oh, you laugh," Chris said, sliding his slick fingers down the back of Justin's jeans, "but this would all be a lot easier if you were wearing one of those little skirts."
Justin arched up, putting a hand on the ceiling for balance. "Don't involve me in your sick perverted fantasies."
"You love my sick perverted fantasies," Chris hissed as his fingers slipped lower. He fisted his other hand tighter in Justin's T-shirt and yanked him closer.
Justin bent his head to Chris' ear and whispered, "You know I do." Then he suddenly swung himself off Chris' lap.
"Where do you think you're going?" Chris said, then watched admiringly as Justin kicked off his shoes and shimmied out of his pants and underwear. He climbed back up and knelt over Chris' lap bare-assed. "Don't you think this takes a little of the challenge out of it?"
"You want me to put them back on?" Justin said, and squirmed a little as Chris ran a hand down his back and over the curve of his ass.
"You're here now," Chris said. "Left the shirt on, I see. Classy."
"I thought you'd appreciate it. You're a classy guy." Justin made a soft noise in the back of his throat as Chris idly circled a nipple through the cotton. Justin jerked the shirt up and Chris laughed as he felt it slide through his fingers.
"Slut," he said fondly, and pinched. "No wonder the football team talks about you that way."
"Oh yeah." Justin's voice was breathy. "You never said. Why am I with a band geek like you?"
"I'm not a band geek," Chris said in his ear. Justin was swaying back and forth under Chris' hands. "I'm a bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. And you want me," he slid his fingers further down as Justin raised up to let him, "because you think I'm wild. And your parents hate me." Justin bucked against him. "And I drive your daddy's car too fast. And I let you ride bitch on my bike."
"I've got my own bike," Justin said. "I don't need to ride bi -- oh." Chris pushed another finger slowly inside and grinned as he watched Justin's lips part and his cheeks flush.
"Looks like we've found something you don't mind riding bitch," he said, and Justin pressed against his chest.
"Don't be mean," he said, and licked Chris' lips. Chris dropped his head and put his mouth over Justin's nipple, letting Justin work himself on his fingers, feeling Justin's hot skin glide beneath his lips. "Tell me," Justin's breath was warm against Chris' throat, "tell me why you want me."
Chris was having a little trouble concentrating. He tilted his head back against the seat. "Because everyone thinks it's a bad idea. Because you're so fucking hot for it." Justin made a sharp noise that would have been a protest if he hadn't been moaning behind it. "Because I love to watch you leave me and walk into your parents' house with your shirt on inside out and your lipstick all messed up."
Justin burst out laughing and Chris grabbed his shirt again. "This hysterical laughter thing is not as attractive as you might think," he growled. Justin was still giggling, so he twisted his fingers viciously, and Justin yelped.
"Okay, sorry, sorry," he said. He leaned in and kissed Chris roughly. Chris moaned, and broke the kiss, pushing Justin away with one hand on his chest. Chris closed his eyes. He was enveloped by a soft indolent heat, the leather seat beneath him, the velvet skin above. He felt Justin's hips roll faster, and then Justin's hand slipped between them.
"Don't come," Chris said. Justin whimpered. "All right, fine, do whatever you want, but I'm still going to fuck you afterward."
"More of the famous Kirkpatrick charm," Justin said, but he stopped moving. "Okay, wait, lean toward me a little." He put a hand on Chris' shoulder and raised the other one to the ceiling again. "Put your hands on my hips. No, higher. Now scoot up a little." Justin pulled one long leg up and snaked it around Chris' waist, then did the same with his other leg. Chris moved his hands to the seat behind him and pushed forward so Justin could cross his ankles. Justin grinned triumphantly down at him.
Chris marveled, not for the first time, at the graceful way Justin could contort his body. He thought he should write Wade a thank you letter. 'Dear Wade, I'm sorry for the things I said about you. Thank you for making my boyfriend the most flexible man in the world. Your pal, Chris Kirkpatrick.' Then Justin shifted against Chris' cock, and Chris tried to push up but was pinned by Justin's weight, and he decided not to think about Wade right then.
"You know what?" Chris said. "I don't think this is going to work." Before Justin could say anything, Chris grabbed his arms and twined them around his own neck. Then he slid one hand down to Justin's back and the other behind his knee, and laid him flat on the car seat. Justin had one foot resting on the top of the seat, the other nestled against the small of Chris' back. He panted eagerly up at Chris.
"Move this," Chris said, reaching behind to tap Justin's ankle, and Justin dropped his leg to the floor. Chris knelt up, pushed his pants down, spat into his hand. He grabbed Justin's hips and pulled him up toward him. Justin hooked his leg back around Chris' waist. Chris pushed inside and Justin said, "Ohhh," on a long, shuddery exhalation. Chris waited for Justin to rock back against him, and then thrust again.
Chris was moving inside him, slow and steady, and Justin was moaning in the same steady rhythm. Justin put both arms above his head, bracing against the car door. Chris drove in faster, and Justin said, "Chris," in a slurred, ragged voice.
Justin's eyes squeezed shut tight, and Chris' name spilled out of him over and over in short groans. That was the thing about Justin, Chris thought. For all his attitude and entitlement and arrogance, he still took simple, uncomplicated pleasure in the things he wanted - in his cars, in his bling, in Chris. Chris couldn't do that, had never been able to, or else why would he be thinking while America's sweetheart was wrapped hot and slick around his cock, one long leg slung high over his back. Chris thought about what things cost, and Justin never did, had never had to, and Chris resented that sometimes but was drawn to it as well.
Chris twisted his hips, thrust a little harder, and Justin's groans changed pitch, became louder, higher. It would never occur to him to cloak that neediness. It would never occur to him that Chris would hear it and remember it and might make him pay for it somehow. Justin opened his eyes and took a hand off the car door, cupped Chris' chin. "Stop thinking," Justin said, and kissed him, and for a moment Chris did.
Justin let go of Chris' chin and grasped his own cock. Chris covered Justin's hand with his own and stroked, feeling Justin arch up and then push down. Justin cried Chris' name one last time when he came.
Chris pulled out and slapped Justin's hip. "Flip over," he said, and Justin stared back at him for a moment, one arm hanging limply over the edge of the seat, his eyes glazed. "Over, baby," he said, and slid Justin's leg down. Justin turned over and pulled his knees under him, leaning on his forearms. Chris' eyes followed the long golden curve of Justin's back down to his bent head. He had been all over the world, but he thought that this might just be his very favorite view. Justin spread his legs a little further, and Chris put his hands on his hips and shoved inside.
"Ow, wait, ow," Justin said, and Chris froze. Justin wriggled for a minute, then looked back over his shoulder at Chris. "I didn't mean stop." Chris slammed back into him, and he knew he wasn't going to last long, didn't even want to, not with Justin tossing his head and clutching the seat and letting out hot fast little gasps. Justin's name was torn out of him, once, twice, and he ran his hand over Justin's back to feel the muscles ripple under the hot smooth skin when he came.
Chris rolled off and sat back, head tilted against the seat, pants still around his ankles, one arm draped over his eyes. Justin slumped next to him, warm sweaty body pressed close, and gave a sated little sigh. He dragged Chris' arm from his face and curled under it, head on Chris' shoulder. "So," he purred, mouth touching Chris' earlobe, "does this mean we're going steady? Are you gonna give me your class ring?"
"Baby," Chris growled back, "you gotta understand, you can't tie a guy like me down. I was born to be wild."
"Yeah," Justin said, "you band geeks gotta be free."
"If we were in high school," Chris said lightly, "I wouldn't be -"
"If you were in high school, I'd be in, like, second grade."
"If we were in high school, you wouldn't even look at me," Chris said, surprising himself. His voice sounded bitter and angry and ugly to his ears. He closed his eyes against a violent rush of self-hatred. He had everything in the world, everything he could want, and still it wasn't enough, would never be enough, would never fill him.
Suddenly Justin was on top of him again, grabbing his wrists and holding them tightly against the seat. He tipped his forehead down to Chris' and stayed there, their faces almost touching, Justin's breath light against Chris' lips. Chris opened his eyes.
"I'd look," Justin said. "I look."
Justin's dark serious eyes gazed down at him, and Chris smiled involuntarily, held in the center of that warm regard. They were so close that Justin's grin, dazzling and broad, filled Chris' sight. Justin released Chris' wrists, patted his chest, murmured Chris' name into his ear. "Mine," Justin said simply, and Chris thought that whatever Chris might cost him, Justin would always, always pay it.