I Drive Myself Crazy
by Allen Sama

~..~

Joey figured it had to be his dumb fucking luck that he was beating off when Justin pushed the hotel door open and walked in. Justin did it with his usual lack of ceremony, banging open the door and even as Joey was sitting up and yanking at the sheets, cursing himself for not having the foresight to lock the door, Justin let out a yelp of shock and stumbled backwards.

"Fucking-Jesus Christ, Joey!" he shouted.

Joey got the sheet over his hips and glared at Justin. "Didn't anyone ever fuckin' teach you to knock?" Justin was leaning against the wall, his hand over his eyes; Joey sank back against the pillows with a groan. He'd been about six strokes from coming, and a dark spot of pre-come dampened the sheet tented above his groin. "What - what is it?" he asked, forcing himself to speak calmly. It wasn't Justin's fault, after all.

"Chris wants to go out, clubbing or something," Justin said, hand still protecting his eyes. Joey had to snort - Justin had seen far worse in the past three years; he was just being melodramatic now. "You want to c-I mean, go with us?"

"Yeah, give me fifteen minutes," Joey said, and Justin backed out, groping for the door handle. Beneath his hand, his cheeks were bright red. Joey smiled to himself and then closed his eyes, kicking the sheet back to finish what he'd begun.

Justin couldn't get the image out of his head; it settled in, made residence, wouldn't go away, no matter how much he tried to focus on images of Britney or random girls or - anyone, anything, besides naked Joey with his hand on his swollen cock. It slipped into his thoughts at the worst times: when they were performing, when he was alone in the shower.

One night he let himself visualize it while he was in his bunk. Chris and JC were both sound asleep - he could hear JC's faint steady breathing, and Chris's louder snores - so he let his hand drift down, push into the waistband of his boxers, covered his already quickening erection with a sweating palm.

They all did this. He was as familiar with the sounds of JC when he came as he was with his own. JC would always do his best to stay quiet, but his breathing would hitch and roll, and Justin would hear the tiny whimpers and mewls escaping from JC's bunk. It was, in its way, hot. Chris, now, Chris was very quiet, and that in itself was the signal; Chris made noise in everything he did, so the fact that he would go suddenly silent for several minutes was all Justin needed to know.

He wondered what sounds Joey made while he masturbated. The image conjured itself almost effortlessly, then, expanding on the momentary glimpse he'd had before freaking out. Joey was naked, his body seeming somehow bigger, lusher, more, in its splendid nudity; his tensed thighs had been parted a little, his eyes closed, head pressing back into the pillows. One hand was gliding over the thick stem of his erection, glistening wetly with pre-come; the other had been cupping his balls, fingers flexing on the sensitive scrotum.

Remembering it now, Justin bit his lip to contain his own gasp; he had hardened all at once, and his fist moved steadily on his shaft, sending sparks of sensation racing up and down his spine. He thought about whether Joey might pant and grunt in a voice an octave lower than normal, or whether he'd just bite his lip, eyes closed, face gone red-

Justin's hand flew over his erection, and at the vision of Joey's eyes dark with desire, he gasped and came in a sudden rush. Panting, he fell back against the pillow, stunned at the intensity of his orgasm.

He found himself blushing every time he saw Joey the next day. Chris noticed it the first time it happened, and raised an eyebrow at him; the second time, while they were getting ready for a photo shoot, he draped himself over Justin's shoulders and whispered, "Someone's got a cru-ush."

"Shut up." Justin shoved Chris away, but Chris clung like a leech.

"What is it, Juppy? What's gettin' you all hot and bothered whenever you look at Joooo-ey?"

He finally managed to get Chris to shut up, but only after he'd turned red again and promised to spill it all later. He was hoping Chris would forget - with his usual attention span and the fact that there was sugar on the Crafts & Services table, there was a good chance that Chris would be sufficiently distracted.

His hope ran out, however, when Chris cornered him in the back lounge of their bus after the show. Justin threw a controller at him and put in Madden 2001, and as Chris sat down in his usual spot, he commented, "So, gonna tell me what's up with Joey?"

"Nothing's up with Joey." Justin squinted at the screen, lower lip between his teeth.

"No? No crush? No declarations of undying love?" Chris bumped Justin's shoulder, grinning. "Come on, J. You promised."

Fuck. Justin had a feeling if he didn't say something, Chris would start whining. "It was. When we went out clubbing last week? When I went to go get him, he was beating off."

Chris crowed and threw an arm around Justin's neck. "You saw Joey's dick! No wonder you're-But that was last week," he corrected himself, pulling back to look at Justin. "You do something with him last night?"

"No," Justin said sullenly, attempting to focus on the game.

"You... did something without him last night." Chris's grin grew when Justin didn't respond. "Oh-ho. Well, it's not like I blame you, man."

"What do you mean?" Pausing the game, Justin glanced suspiciously at Chris, who shrugged.

"Joey's hot. I caught him once in the shower, at some arena? Damn, man. He's hot. It's an image that's kept me warm many a cool night."

Justin was staring at Chris as if he'd grown another head. Chris blinked back at Justin, then reached over and pushed his jaw closed. "You'll catch flies, J," he observed.

"You - you're into Joe?" Justin said, sounding stunned.

Chris shrugged. "If I thought I had a chance with him, I would be. But you know him. Girls."

Justin flushed again and turned back to the television, starting the game back up. Chris noticed the blush, but wisely kept his mouth shut this time.

He was determined not to let himself think about it, but that night, when he could hear the slow breathing of the others and was assured that they were asleep, he let the image of Joey, wet under the shower spray, fill his head.

It didn't take long at all for him to come this time. He pressed his face into the pillow, panting, and then reached for his box of Kleenex to clean up his stomach. When he was arranged in his bunk once more, he curled into himself, imagining now Joey's arms around him, maybe after sex, and thought about how Joey would hold him close and tight and safe. He fell asleep to the imagined susurrance of Joey's breath in his ear.

The problem, of course, was - as Chris had so succinctly stated - that Joey was into girls. Justin watched him the next time they went out clubbing after a show, but it was no use; Joey hung on every girl in the place, regardless of appearance. At least he was equal opportunity, Justin thought, and then stared at his hands on one girl's hips and thought of what it would feel like to have Joey's hands on his own hips, to dance with Joey as intimately, their pelvises grinding together.

He had to jerk off in the bathroom. It only took him a minute; he was already worked up and thinking of Joey pushing him back against the wall and kissing him was all it took.

He was washing his hands when Joey came into the bathroom. He went bright red, but Joey just clapped him on the shoulder and then went past him to the urinals. Justin slunk out and searched for the cars that would take them back to the hotel.

It was inevitable that Joey would ask him why he'd been avoiding him. Justin found himself anticipating the confrontation with a mixture of dread and desire, but he couldn't even bear to be in the same room as him without wanting him, so he was hardly going to say something. Meanwhile, Chris had started making comments about hairy palms and asking Justin if he should start looking into buying a white cane for him. Needless to say, Chris wasn't helping Justin's mood.

But the tour ended and still Joey hadn't said anything. Justin felt a bit disappointed; he'd seen Joey slanting him the occasional odd look, but apparently Joey wasn't all that bothered by it. Justin thought maybe he'd just been building it all up in his mind, which he had been known to do. It was with some relief that Justin returned home, unlocked his door, dropped his bags, and collapsed on the first available horizontal surface, blessedly and blissfully alone.

He had a quiet dinner with his mother and stepfather the next day, just relaxing, and afterwards went home and found Joey sitting on his front porch waiting for him. Joey held up a round cookie tin which had been sitting on his lap, grinning. "I brought food."

Justin skirted him nervously and opened the door. "What's up, Joe?"

"Mom made some of those lemon bar things you liked. I thought I'd bring some over."

"Um. OK. Thanks."

Joey followed Justin into the house; they sat in the kitchen, once Justin had poured mugs of beer for each of them, and helped themselves to lemon bars from the tin placed mid-table.

"So what's up?" Justin said, his voice betraying only a hint of wariness.

"Well, actually, the lemon bars were just a clever ruse for you to let me in," Joey said with a grin.

"I figured." Justin shifted in his seat, reaching for a napkin to wipe his fingers with rather than lick the crumbs. He was afraid to have anything taken in a sexual way.

"What's up, J?" Joey said. "I mean, with the. You not wanting to be in the same room with me for the entire second half of the tour. Did I forget your birthday or something?"

Justin's stomach roiled. He looked down at the table, fidgeting with the edge of a placemat. "Nothing like that," he mumbled. "You probably, no, you really don't want to know."

"Sure I do, man. If you don't tell me, I can't fix it." Joey's voice was soft and utterly rational.

Justin took a deep breath. "I've been fantasizing about you since I walked in on you that one day when you were masturbating and stop laughing at me." His cheeks had gone hot at his first words, and at Joey's breathless laugh, he stood up. "There, happy? I've been too embarrassed to be within five feet of you because I want you."

He hadn't expected himself to say that last part until it came out. Joey, who obviously hadn't expected any of it, raised an eyebrow at Justin, his brown eyes bright with merriment. "You're serious, J? No joke?"

"Please, Joe." Justin stared at the table. "You know, OK? You and Chris can go and make fun of me together. Just. Please."

"Justin," Joey said in a voice gentler than he'd ever heard. "J. Come here." Justin couldn't move, rooted to the spot by shame, so Joey stood up instead and put his arms around his friend. This was worse, Justin thought, because now Joey was touching him, big hands and warm body and oh fuck he was getting hard just thinking about it. He didn't think the situation could possibly get more embarrassing.

"It's OK, J," Joey murmured. "Really."

"No, Joe, it's not. Please," and he tried to break free, but Joey's patented bear-hugs were next to impossible to get out of. A moment later he realized he didn't want to move, because Joey's hand was making slow circles at the base of his spine, and his lips were warm and smooth on Justin's.

Dizzied as he was by the unexpected kiss, he still had the presence of mind to gasp, afterwards, "I thought you didn't. you weren't into."

"I'm not," Joey said. "I'm not interested in boys. I am, however," and he bumped his hips against Justin's, making them both suck in a breath, "interested in you."

Justin shook. "You're. You're not kidding? Please say you're not kidding, Joe, because I've been like fucking dreaming about this and wanting you to touch me-"

Joey kissed him again, and he forgot whatever else he'd been about to say.

As Justin was falling asleep much later, curled into Joey's drowsy warmth, he thought, with a lazy inward smile, that he might just give up masturbation for good.