Alla
Copyright May 25, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: JC Chasez/Justin Timberlake
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise *NSYNC are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and the Savage Garden slashwriters.
Wherein you will find Big Ben, bad innuendo, and a lack of robot sex.
Notice: I can't stay away from cheesy plots. The Backstreet Boys play "Truth or Dare!" A guy spills his secrets to an on-line friend, not realizing that it's the very guy with whom he's in love! And now, Sweet Uncleanness presents Cheesy Plot #305.
"You spotting porn sites?" JC asked, taking a seat beside Justin on the sofa.
"Look at this," Justin said, angling his laptop.
"Hey, I know those guys," JC said.
"Yeah, they do look kinda familiar," Justin said, and made a face at JC's idiocy.
"Why aren't there pictures of us?" JC asked.
Justin coughed.
"Or Chris," JC added.
Nice recovery. "The site's all about Lance and Joey. Joey and Lance."
"What's the difference?"
"No, you gotta put it in that order. Joey and Lance. They call it JoLa."
"JoLa?" JC asked. "What's wrong with LaJo? Or, I don't know, their real names?"
"If you're going to be having a problem with every little thing-"
"I'm just saying, you like the guy so much, remember his name. Or is this one of those anti-us sites?"
"No," Justin said. "They're very pro-us. Pro-JoLa."
JC reached over into Justin's lap and started scrolling down the page. "What's that?"
"Learn to read, JC."
"Stories? Justin, don't even tell me you're reading that stuff."
"That stuff?"
"You know. Joey meets some fan and after the concert the bus breaks down and we end up at her house and Joey does her while we get it on with her best friend."
"This is different."
"Thank you. That stuff scares me."
"It's just fantasy, JC."
"It scares you, too."
"Yeah, but Chris told me not to worry about it."
"Well, if Chris says..."
"That's right."
"How is this different? We're not having sex?"
"JC, we're not having sex."
"You know what I'm talking about, funny child."
"Lance and Joey are having sex."
"They are?"
"In the stories, JC."
"In the..."
Justin watched blue eyes go wide and pretty.
"People are writing about Lance and Joey doing it?!"
"Could you sound a little more kindergarten, JC?"
"People are writing about... Lance and Joey? Lance and Joey?"
"What? You like Lance and Joey."
"Not together. Not like that. Joey isn't really Lance's type."
"You are?"
"Well..."
Justin smacked JC's leg.
"You're reading this stuff?"
"Browsing."
"Reading."
"I want to see what else they have."
"Maybe they have ChriLa...oh..."
"What? JC. What?"
"Maybe it's. JoLa. Or LaJo. Depending."
"Depending on what? Why does it matter which one comes first?"
JC snickered.
"JC!" Justin rolled his eyes as JC laughed on his shoulder. "JC, grow up."
"Which one comes first."
Justin patted JC's back. "It's okay. You'll get your mind out of the gutter someday."
JC pulled himself together enough to explain his revelation. "No, I meant, JoLa or LaJo depending on which one's. The."
"Oh." Justin thought about that. Then he tried not to think about that. "Maybe." He didn't want to think about that. He scrolled down some more.
"Why would people write about Joey having sex?"
"Joey has sex."
"That's not the point."
"Don't worry, JC. Someday you'll get laid, too. At least in fiction."
"I'm not-"
"You are. You're a bitter, jealous old man because Lance is getting some and you aren't. Maybe someone is writing about you, too."
"I hope not."
"Liar."
"I don't want to have sex with Joey!"
"There go my plans for Friday night," Joey's voice called. JC hit Justin. Justin hit JC.
"Oh, here we go," Justin said. "More links. Lots of links. Where to click first."
"Do they have an exit, back to sanity link?" JC asked.
"I don't see one."
"Where are we going?"
"It said JuJu in the description."
"JuJu?"
"Why are you laughing, fool?"
"If JoLa is Joey and Lance, JuJu must be Justin and Justin. You getting it on with yourself."
"I should be so lucky."
"Yeah, only you can keep up with your dynamite self in bed."
"That's what I'm saying, yo. Stop laughing, you whack fool. You know I got the rhythm."
"You got the something," JC said.
"Pictures of me! Aren't I pretty."
"Do I have to give an honest answer?"
"Whoa, JC. Look at you. Ten kinds of skinny."
"I don't remember that shirt."
"Wait. Hold up. Back it to the front. They have pictures of Lance and Joey, they have stories about Lance and Joey."
"They have pictures of us," JC said.
"They have stories about..."
They looked at each other.
Justin lifted his hands. "I'm not clicking anywhere now."
"It's probably just a fan site."
"I do not want to know."
"You're a coward."
"You weren't sitting here reading about Joey's woo-hoo."
"You were?"
"What? One story. One paragraph. One sentence. I was bored. Stop looking at me."
JC pulled the laptop from Justin's lap to his.
"Tell you one thing."
"What?" JC asked.
"They think up strange things to call Big Ben."
"Really?"
"Hey, JC. We're talkin' 'bout his velveteen sword, his throbbing sensual manhood, his-"
"Whoa. Enough, enough, stop, time out."
"Want to hear what they call Lance's?"
"Tiny Tim?"
Justin doubled up, laughing, clapping. "Lance! Lance!"
JC, laughing and trying not to dump the computer, silenced Justin with a hand over his mouth. "Never mind!"
"Don't make me come in there!" Chris called.
"Justin, sshh," JC said, laughing just as hard. "You're going to get me in trouble."
"Tiny Tim," Justin said.
"Why does Joey call his Big Ben, anyway?"
"You don't remember?"
"Am I supposed to?"
"Chris named it that. JC. Stop looking at me like that."
"We need new friends."
"I sure do," Justin agreed.
JC whapped him and turned back to the laptop.
Justin pretended not to care what JC was doing.
JC got very quiet.
Justin picked at a fingernail.
JC wasn't saying anything.
"What?!" Justin demanded.
Staring at the screen, JC said, "Did you know that you have a ten-inch meaty rod?"
"I have a what?!" Justin grabbed the laptop.
"It is not ten inches."
"It is so."
"Justin. I've seen it. It's not ten inches."
"It looks different in bad lighting."
"I've seen it in fine lighting."
"What are you doing staring at my...meaty rod? What is that?"
"Well, Justin, there comes a time when-"
"Shut up. Whoa. You're in here. You've never done that to me."
"Not that I remember, no."
"You don't even know how to do that."
"Neither do you."
"Oh, that's nasty, JC. That's nasty sick gross."
"Which part?"
"That!"
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"What?"
"JC. You ever do that to me, I am calling your mother."
"It's not that bad."
"And how would you know?"
"Think about it, Justin."
"I don't... Not with you."
"What's wrong with me?"
"A lot, from what I'm hearing."
"Justin. It's oral sex."
"You put your fingers up my-"
"I did not!"
"In the story."
"It's just a story."
"I don't need you touching me there."
"But it's okay if I give you a blowjob? As long as I don't-"
"No! That's not - - shut up. And stop smiling at me. Pervert."
"I'm the pervert? You're the one begging me for it."
"I am not!"
"'Give it to me, give it to me, you-'"
"You're not even saying it right."
"I'm what?"
"You can't say it flat like that. It's not robot sex."
"How would you say it?"
Justin turned bright red.
JC smiled. "Come on. How would you say it?"
Justin's eyes darted.
"Say it for me."
Justin's lips parted.