"So any plans for the big birthday, Chris?" Leno asked.
Justin saw Chris flinch before he said flippantly, "Oh, I thought I'd sit in the dark, listen to all my Replacements albums in chronological order, and weep for my lost youth." Everyone laughed, but Justin heard something in Chris' voice he didn't like.
He cornered Chris in the dressing room. "So I want to do something good for your birthday," he said. Chris groaned.
"It's a nice thought, J, really. But I'm not happy about this one, and I'd like to be left alone to be not happy about it."
"But why? It's not like you're old or anything."
"Maybe you could lecture me on aging gracefully when you've actually left puberty," Chris snapped, and Justin bit his lip. Chris sighed. "I'm sorry. But the guys will do something for me, and I'll pretend to have a good time, but I'm afraid that's about all the good will I can muster this year. I just don't want you to get me something great and then be disappointed."
Justin put a hand on his chest. "I wasn't going to get you anything," he said.
"No?" Chris quirked an eyebrow.
"I'm going to do something for you," Justin said, pressing up against him.
"And what are you going to do for me?"
"Anything you want."
Chris smiled. "Anything I want?"
"Anything," Justin breathed.
"That's quite an offer," Chris said. He leaned in and kissed Justin lightly, ran a hand through his curls. "I'll have to do some thinking about that."
There was a jaunty swing to his step as he walked away. Justin smiled.
He had been hoping Chris would take him up on it. Chris still had a tendency to treat him as if he were made of glass, as if Chris couldn't quite believe Justin would want to be with him. And while it was sweet sometimes, and certainly could work to his advantage, Justin was starting to feel a little cramped by it. He had had to sulk and pout for two days, glad the others were used to his moods so they wouldn't ask him what his problem was, before he had finally convinced Chris to fuck him. Even then, Chris had been slow and gentle, watching him carefully, as if he expected Justin to jump up at some point and yell, "What do you think you're doing?" Chris was still reluctant to ask him for anything, and Justin wasn't always sure if what he was doing was right. He was hoping this birthday present would give him some insight into what Chris wanted.
Besides, he thought, the anticipation should drive Chris crazy.
After a few days, the anticipation still had no noticeable effect on Chris, but it was starting to make Justin wild. He kept asking Chris if he knew what he wanted yet, but Chris just ran a thumb over Justin's lips and said, "Still thinking. But you'll be the first to know." It seemed like every time he looked up, Chris' eyes were on him, and something about that speculative gaze made Justin squirm in his seat.
Finally, two days before Chris' birthday, Justin turned to him in bed and said, "You decided yet?"
"Oh yeah," Chris said, and smiled.
"Well, what is it?" Justin propped himself up on his elbow.
"Not telling until my birthday."
"Come on," Justin whined.
"Hey, it's my birthday. You said anything I want, and I want it to be a surprise for you."
"If I guess, will you tell me if I'm right?"
"You won't guess, but yes."
"Is it. Is it something with food? Do you want to cover me in chocolate and lick it off?"
"A sweet thought, although kind of tame. But no."
"Do you want to do it somewhere weird? Like, in Johnny's office, or outside, or in Lance's bed?"
"J, have you been reading Cosmo?" Justin punched him on the shoulder. "Again, sweet ideas, still a little on the tame side, and not right."
Justin thought for a minute. He'd have to try something kinkier. "Is it. Um. Did you want to spank me?"
"An even better idea, but still wrong." Chris grinned and squeezed Justin's ass. "You know, a suspicious person might think these are all things you secretly want me to do to you."
"What? No, no." Justin blushed and hid his face in Chris' neck.
"Whatever you say." Justin could hear Chris laughing. He wasn't going to guess anymore.
The morning of Chris' birthday Justin crawled beneath the covers to wake him up with a blowjob, using all his newly learned skill. He was pretty proud of the results, so it surprised him when Chris kissed him casually, ruffled his hair, and headed for the shower.
"Where are you going?" Justin asked when Chris returned, dressed, hair still wet.
"I've got some secret birthday things to take care of."
"Can I come?"
"Now if you came, they wouldn't be secret, would they?" Chris kissed him again and left.
Justin spent the day in an odd state of agitation. The guys were planning a party for Chris, and everywhere he went it seemed like someone was talking about birthdays or presents. He felt something in the pit of his stomach, not fear but sharper and tighter than the anticipation he'd known earlier.
Chris' party was loud, fun and interminable. Everyone had presents for Chris, jokes and serious gifts, and it occurred to Justin that he should have picked up something to give Chris for show when Joey said, "Where's yours, Jup?" He stuttered for a minute and then Chris said, low, "J's giving me his present later." Joey said, "Oh. Ohhh," and punched Chris lightly on the arm. Chris grinned at him, and Justin flushed and stared at the floor.
He was having a hard time just being in the same room with Chris, who aside from that one remark gave no indication that he was even thinking about the rest of the night. Justin couldn't sit still, but when he got up he wanted to sit back down. He was trying not to think, but he couldn't seem to follow any conversation he tried to lose himself in. That strange sensation, not fear, not anticipation, grew every time he felt Chris' eyes on him. He looked longingly at the bar. He knew Joey would give him something, but Chris was standing there, and he didn't want to go over. Chris caught his eye and walked over to him with a beer in his hand. "Here," he said, and handed it to Justin. "But make it last, because that's all you're getting tonight."
Finally, finally, everyone was ready to leave. As JC headed for the door, he picked up a flat brown box that was sitting neglected on a side table. "Hey, Chris," he said, "looks like you forgot one." Chris took it from him and handed it to Justin.
"It's not for me," Chris said, and Justin barely heard Joey telling them to have fun as Chris closed the door.
Chris headed back into the room and Justin followed, holding the box in both hands. Chris turned, so abruptly that Justin almost stumbled, and said, "Anything I want, right?"
"Yeah," Justin said. "Yeah."
"What I want," Chris said slowly, "is for you to go put on what's in that box and then come back here." Justin walked toward the connecting door to his room. His hand was on the doorknob when he felt Chris' hand on his shoulder, turning him to stand with his back to the door. Chris kissed him. "Listen," Chris said, "if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. No, shh, listen a minute. And if you want to stop, any time you want to stop, tell me and I won't be mad. Promise you'll tell me, all right?"
Justin nodded. "Knock before you come in," Chris said, and walked away.
Justin hadn't been scared until Chris told him he could stop.
When he saw what was in the box, he wanted to laugh, but his mouth was suddenly dry. A pair of black leather pants, and Justin didn't know why Chris had bothered buying new ones. Justin already owned three pairs. And these weren't even nice ones, but cheap, the kind you'd get at the Gap, the leather stiff and slightly shiny. There was a baby blue T-shirt, hacked off halfway but he could still read the faded number printed on it. It was 69. There was a black bandanna stolen from his own drawer, and a black thong.
Justin got dressed and walked into the bathroom to look at himself. The shirt was cut off a few inches below his nipples, and his exposed torso looked long and lean. The pants were tight and because they were off the rack, they didn't fit quite right, pulling a little in inconvenient places. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he knew why Chris had bought the pants. If he'd been wearing a pair of his own, soft, custom-fit, and expensive, he'd look like he was slumming, a rock star playing whore. In these, he looked like a whore trying to play rock star. He saw the difference. He pulled the strap of the thong up over his right hip to peek over the waistband of his pants.
He had the door half open before he remembered. He eased it closed and knocked twice. Chris called, "Come in." The lights were dim, and Chris was sitting in an armchair drinking a beer. "Shut the door behind you," Chris said, and Justin did.
He walked over and stood in front of Chris. Chris looked him up and down for a moment, and smiled. "How long do I have you for?" he said.
Justin was confused for a second before he caught on. "All night."
"What do you do?"
Justin licked his lips. "Anything you want."
"Turn around," Chris said. "Let me take a look at you." Justin turned around slowly. "You look a little trashier than I expected, for the money." He spread his legs and leaned forward, tracing the triangle of skin between the leather pants and the strap of the thong. He hooked a finger in the strap and pulled Justin in.
"Well, if you'll be here all night, I better take the edge off," he said, and he pushed Justin to his knees. Justin opened Chris' pants eagerly and took his cock out. He curled a hand around the base and started to lean in. Chris tapped his cheek, not hard but hard enough to sting. Justin looked up in surprise, his lips still parted.
"I ain't paying you to use your hands," Chris said.
Justin bit his lip for a minute. He'd never done it this way. He put his hands on Chris' thighs and looked up at him. Chris shot him a quick encouraging grin and sat back, closing his eyes. Don't be stupid, Justin told himself. It's the same. He ran his tongue slowly along the underside of Chris' cock, then took the tip in his mouth. Chris sighed and shifted a little, and Justin settled into a familiar rhythm.
He felt Chris pull his bandanna off, twist a hand into his curls and tug. Chris was always careful with him, a little too careful Justin sometimes thought, careful not to pull Justin's hair or buck his hips too roughly. Chris tugged again, and Justin winced and thought maybe he hadn't appreciated careful enough. Chris thrust shallowly into his mouth, and then a little deeper, holding Justin's head in place with both hands. Justin panicked for a minute and dug his fingers into Chris' legs. Chris froze, slackened his hold on Justin's hair, and waited. Justin closed his eyes, held his breath for a minute, then slid his lips down a little further and made a soft encouraging noise. Chris pushed in again, and Justin moved with him, then decided it was easier to just relax and let Chris do the work. It was. Chris gave a high-pitched little cry. Justin wiped his mouth on the side of Chris' thigh and sat back on his heels.
"Come up here," Chris said, and pulled on Justin's hair again. Justin scrambled up into his lap, his legs spread wide over the arms of the chair. Chris kissed him hard. Justin's lips felt oversensitive, swollen, a little sore. He liked it. He wrapped an arm around Chris' neck and pressed in closer. They kissed until Justin was dazed and shuddering.
Chris pushed him away for a minute. "How old are you?" His voice sounded rough and lower than usual.
"Twenty-one?" Justin said, and then thought maybe it shouldn't be a question. "Twenty-one."
"No, really," Chris said.
Justin tried the other way. "Fifteen."
Chris pushed him a little further away. "Okay, that kind of freaks me out," he said, in his normal voice.
"Eighteen," Justin said.
"That's better." Chris slid his hands around Justin's waist. "You can call me Chris."
"Okay. My name's -"
"I really don't need to know," Chris said, and kissed him again. Chris' hands were running up and down Justin's abdomen, and something about his touch made Justin aware of how exposed that part of him was in his cut-off shirt. How naked. Chris' mouth dropped to his neck, sucking and nipping, quick sharp-toothed bites, and Justin squirmed in his lap for a minute before he remembered himself and put a hand in Chris' hair.
"Don't," he said. "Chris. Not above. Not where people can see."
"Anything I want," Chris mumbled, and "shut up," but he dropped his head down to worry at Justin's nipples through his T-shirt. Justin gasped and started to pull his shirt up.
"No," Chris said, and grabbed Justin's arms and pushed them behind his back. He wrapped his left hand loosely around Justin's wrists and put his right hand in Justin's hair.
Chris was licking and biting at his nipples again, through the T-shirt, pushing the cloth up with his nose, his lips on Justin's skin, and then letting the cloth fall again, warm and damp from his mouth. Justin rocked in his lap, hissing and moaning, his wrists pinned behind his back, Chris' hand tugging sharply on his curls every time he rocked too far away. Justin whimpered a little, rocked closer, trying to get more of Chris' tongue. He could break Chris' grip, he thought, and moved his wrists apart a little. Chris bit down hard and yanked his hair. Justin yelped and thought maybe he couldn't after all.
Chris let go of Justin and sat back, panting a little, and Justin followed, putting his head on Chris' shoulder and licking his neck. Chris slipped a hand between them, ran the heel of his hand hard over Justin's crotch, and Justin shivered and moaned.
"You want to get off?" Justin looked at him, hoping his look conveyed just how stupid a question that was. "Yeah, I want you to get off too." He shoved until Justin got the idea and stood up. "Go sit over there," Chris said, pointing at an armchair across from his. Justin sat down and waited.
"I want to watch you get yourself off," Chris said. Justin smiled, opened his pants, licked his palm lewdly.
"Not like that," Chris said, and Justin stared at him for a solid minute before he figured out what Chris meant. The second he got it he blushed, instantly, his face burning. Chris chuckled. "Yeah, like that," he said.
"Um. I'm going to have to. The pants," Justin said. Chris nodded. "Don't stand up," he said. Justin lifted his hips, pushed his pants down and shimmied out of them. He started to take off the thong, and then paused. He could probably - "Yeah, take it off too," Chris said.
Justin slouched down in the chair and slung his legs over the arms. He was still blushing so hard he was sure he must be glowing in the dim light. He had never touched himself there. Before Chris, it hadn't occurred to him, and after, well, he had Chris. He was still a little embarrassed sometimes when Chris did it.
"Here," Chris said, and something struck Justin's leg and fell onto the chair. Justin picked it up. Lube. He looked over and Chris was watching him, an amused smile on his face. Justin looked down and watched himself squeeze lube into his hand. He bit his lip. His hand moved down, down. He closed his eyes. "Open them," Chris said, and Justin did.
His eyes darted to the floor, to the ceiling, searching for anything to look at besides Chris' smug expression and the sight of his own finger breaching his body. His lips parted as his finger slid home, and he let out a little high-pitched noise. He heard an echo of it from Chris' chair.
It felt so strange, slick and hot and tight around his finger, and he squirmed a little and made himself gasp. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it wasn't comfortable either, and he was still for a minute, letting himself get used to it and trying not to think. He moved his finger a little, and a tiny wisp of pleasure flickered. He thought about what Chris did, and slid his finger out and in again, slowly then a little faster. The pleasure flickered again, hot and silver, and his hips twitched. He did it again.
He pushed a second finger inside slowly and groaned. It was still tight, and hot hot, and his hips were moving, rolling in small circles. He felt so open, split apart, his legs spread so wide he could feel his muscles straining, his arm stretched down across his body. He jerked his fingers sharply and a splinter of pain flared out suddenly into blazing shimmering silver. He tossed his head and felt his mouth fall open. He was simultaneously terrified and thrilled. If he could do this, how far wouldn't he go? His fingers twisted again, and he heard his own voice cry out, jagged and needy, and he wanted to die of shame and bliss.
Justin's fingers pushed in a little further, and suddenly it was too much. He was overwhelmed. He needed to stop. He looked up, half afraid to meet Chris' eyes.
Chris was leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, his hands fisted. He was watching Justin intently, his glare only half masking a dark and desperate need. His face was gleaming beneath a fine sheen of sweat. Justin met his gaze, and saw something wild leap in Chris' half-lidded eyes.
Justin took a deep breath, and without dropping his eyes from Chris', he slid a third finger in. Chris moaned aloud. Justin closed his eyes. It hurt, and he had to concentrate, pushing slowly inch by inch, breathing hard and ragged through his mouth. He pulled one leg up higher, resting his heel on the seat of the chair, and the angle brought tears to his eyes and made him bang his head against the chair's padded back. He heard a short choked sound and wasn't sure if it came from him or from Chris. He turned his fingers slowly, and pain and pleasure rippled through his pelvis like electricity. He moaned, "Chris."
Suddenly Chris was standing in front of him, yanking his arm away, pulling him up by the shoulders. He stood in front of Chris, nearly but not touching, both of them panting. Chris leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed, their bodies still separated by the barest breath.
Chris broke off the kiss and grabbed his arm, dragging Justin behind him. Justin could barely stay on his feet and he could see Chris swaying. Chris stopped abruptly and Justin swung around him, the room spinning. Chris pushed him down over the back of the couch, running a surprisingly gentle hand over his back. Justin spread his legs and waited.
He felt Chris' hand touch his hip, and then three fingers were shoved roughly inside him. Justin squeaked in surprise, and Chris growled. It didn't hurt, not really, he was so open already, but this was all so unlike Chris, so unlike himself, that he had to do something. He had to check, make sure Chris was still there somewhere in this desperate rough stranger, find himself inside this body that moved and moaned with lewd abandon.
Justin flinched, whimpered, said "ow" in a small voice. And Chris' hand was back on his hip, rubbing lightly, and Chris bent down over him and said in his ear, "Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?"
Justin shook his head, a wave of relief breaking in him, and Chris put a finger under his chin, turning his head to Chris'. "I need you to tell me," he said, studying Justin's face, and Justin whispered, "It's not. It's okay."
Chris looked at him for another moment and then said, "Was that a test?" Justin's lips curved up into a smile. Chris stood up again, ran his hand over Justin's ass and said, "Were you playing me? You're going to wish you didn't do that."
Justin shivered a little and looked over his shoulder. Chris bent back over him, wrapped a hand in his curls. Justin could feel him deliberately not pulling. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he whispered, and Justin thought of everything he'd done that night, and shook his head. He knew how far he wouldn't, couldn't, go.
"Oh yeah," Chris said. He trailed his fingers along Justin's back as he stood, and Justin arched up like Chris was pulling a wire strung through his vertebrae. "Oh yeah," Chris said again. "Look how close you are."
Chris' hand dipped over his ass again, fingers tracing the curve just above his thigh, and Justin pushed back into his hand, rocking his hips and cursing himself because he just. couldn't. stop. Chris' fingers moved lightly, teasingly, and Justin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something, anything that would make Chris stop playing around and get inside him. He remembered how much Chris liked hearing him moan, how Chris would spend hours coaxing soft urgent sounds from him, and opened his mouth. He was gasping, groaning, keening a little, nothing faked, every sound real and torn from him. He knew the one thing that might move Chris was the authentic urgency in his voice.
"It's nice you enjoy your work so much," Chris said, but he was breathing a little hard himself. "Don't you think I can wait you out?" Justin felt Chris' hand tighten when Justin moaned, and he thought Chris might just be wrong about that. Then Chris slipped the tip of his finger just inside, and Justin opened his eyes and his mouth wide at the sudden silvery jolt, not enough, not enough. Justin thought, Fuck it, Fuck it, and said, "Please, Chris, please, do it, now, please, you can do it for free, I'll do anything you want, just please now please -"
Chris slammed inside and Justin howled. Chris' hands were gripping Justin's hips, and he was thrusting hard and selfish, pulling almost all the way out and crashing back in, and Justin was rolling his hips and fighting for the right angle, thinking that if he weren't already so close there was no way he could come from this, no way, and then Chris slammed into him again and ground down, whispering nastily in his ear, "You love this," and Justin came in a blaze of silver sparks.
Justin stayed bent over the couch, his mind spinning groggily up through the silvery slow haze that enveloped him. He felt Chris' hands on his waist, pulling him up, but he resisted, not struggling but just not cooperating. Chris slid his hand down his back and then walked away, dropping onto the couch and saying ruefully, "I'm an old old man. I can't take this shit anymore."
Justin rolled over the back of the couch, falling heavily next to Chris and putting his head on Chris' thigh. He kept his face carefully turned away. He was feeling a little shy. He felt Chris card gentle fingers through his curls. "That was. God," he heard Chris mumble, and he smiled a little, and pressed his lips to Chris' thigh.
"Sit up a minute," Chris said, "come on, J," and Justin sat up. Chris pulled him into his lap and he went willingly, burying his face in Chris' shoulder. "Look at me," Chris said, and put a finger under Justin's chin and turned his face up. "That was. God. You. God," he said again, and Justin smiled.
"You did love that, though," Chris whispered, and Justin shook his head.
"It's my job to make the customer think I liked it."
"You ain't that good an actor, Timberlake," Chris said. Justin would have protested if he hadn't been so exhausted. Instead he just bit Chris' shoulder softly. "I don't love you for your acting talent," Chris said, and kissed Justin's forehead, and his lips. Justin tucked his head under Chris' chin, closed his eyes, and thought about sleep.
"Happy birthday to me," Chris said.