Copyright October 25, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairing: JC Chasez/Chris Kirkpatrick (for Thian), JC Chasez/Justin Timberlake (for me)

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.  For Justin - - I promise I'll return him when Chris is finished with him!  Stop pouting!  And for Jillian and Thian, who told me that they liked "Rim Shot."

Wherein there is blood, and semen, but no tears.

Notice: "Rim Shot" was supposed to be a one-shot.  Then I realized that I'd written a tiny piece from a larger world.  I decided to visit the rest of that world, and I returned with this...

---

Diamond

        Bleeding from the heart, maybe.

        Not that he disliked Justin.  He loved Justin.  Justin was one of his closest friends in the world  And now that he'd been all over the world, he had a right to say that.  He just hated Justin with JC.  He really, really hated Justin with JC.  Enough that sometimes he thought that he might have to smack that boy right across the face, watch Justin's head snap back, maybe draw a little blood.  Blood from the nose, maybe, or a little at the corner of those soft red lips.  The lips that JC liked to kiss.  JC didn't kiss him anymore.  JC wasn't his anymore.

        He'd been JC's first male lover.  JC hadn't been his first, but a lot of the time it seemed like JC was the only one he'd ever had.  Anyone else was a vague blur in his memory; JC was crystal clear.  He could remember making love with JC, and running around foreign cities with JC, and sitting in the back of the bus making out with JC while the others slept one long, rainy day.

        He'd had JC first.  Been the first man ever to touch JC, to kiss JC, to feel JC's hands on him.  He'd given JC things that no one else ever had.

        And what did he get in return?  JC left him.  And within twenty-four hours JC was in Justin's bed.

        Oh, that's right, JC and Justin were in love.  It was wonderful and romantic, finding your very own soulmate like that.  Chris wanted to drive an icepick into their - - where?  Their hearts?  Their eyes?  Hell, he'd pick up half-a-dozen icepicks and drive them into as much soft flesh as he wanted.

        JC...flesh...oh, JC was masculine, strong, hard, but JC had such smooth skin, it was like silk.  Chris loved to run his hands over it, to touch JC anywhere, everywhere.  And where Chris's hands went, his mouth was sure to follow.

        Anywhere.

        Justin, of course, was young.  And had grown up in a heterosexual world.  So Justin didn't do things like rim jobs.  Justin needed to wake up and smell the homosexuality.  Chris loved licking JC absolutely anywhere, including JC's tight ass.  And he knew that JC loved it, too.

        JC had used to love everything that Chris did.  In bed or out of it.  Especially in it.

        So, three months after JC left him and shacked up with everybody's favorite blonde child, JC was back.  For one night.  Pleading with pretty blue eyes.  Justin was going out with Lance and Joey, and JC had stayed behind to creep over to Chris's room.  Because JC missed Chris, wanted what only Chris could give him.

        So for one more night, Chris got JC in his bed, under his body, arching beneath his hands, quivering around his tongue, clamping down on his dick, coming against his skin.

        When it was over, he expected JC to get up and shower and go back before Justin returned.  But JC stayed.  Made out with him, kissing him deep and slow like before, running clever hands over his body until he forgot JC had ever stopped touching him, rubbing up against him.  And then JC's long fingers were pushing into his body, and then JC's beautiful cock was in him, and he just clutched the headboard and tried to remember why his heart was bleeding while the rest of his body felt so...fucking...good.

        Then they were lying there, in his bed, and JC was asleep, and he was running his fingers over JC's spine, and JC was moving closer and closer in sleep - - JC always was a cuddler.  He used to wake up all of the time with JC wrapped all around him.

        And someone knocked on the door.

        Chris froze.  He was swamped with guilt - - what had he just done?! - - and he was angry, angry, angry at JC for doing this, angry at Justin for having JC, angry at Justin for not taking care of JC, angry at himself for letting JC do this, angry at himself for - - and the knock came again, and he knew that it was Justin.  He shook JC's shoulder and whispered, "JC!  JC, get up, Justin's back!"

        JC rolled over, stretching.  While Chris scrambled for clothes, JC pulled on boxers and jeans, picked up everything else, and headed for the door.  Chris pulled on his T-shirt and reached for JC but JC was already opening the door.

        Justin stared.  At JC.  Past JC to Chris.  Back to JC.  One hand on JC's elbow, he yanked JC into the hallway, then stepped into the room.  Glared at Chris with hatred, anger, betrayal.  "Never again," he said, voice shaking with emotion.  "Don't you ever touch him."

        "He came to me," Chris said.  He sounded pathetic and he knew it.  He should have sounded triumphant - -see, he still wants me, I can make him happy and you can't satisfy him - - but he just sounded desperate.

        "I don't care if he walked in here naked, horny, and begging!  You can't have him!"

        "Why not?"  That response startled even Chris.

        "He's my boyfriend!"

        That little shit!  "He used to be mine!  Before you-"

        "Before I what?!  JC dumped you.  He loves me."

        "You can't even keep him satisfied."  Low blow, but true.

        Justin's eyes narrowed.  "I'm fucking well going to from now on."

        He meant it, too.  Justin would tie JC to the bed and tongue-fuck JC for hours if it meant keeping JC.  And Chris saw, knew, understood suddenly that that was what JC wanted.  JC hadn't come here to be with Chris; JC had come here to upset Justin.

        "Good," Chris said.  He was going to break JC's neck.  Or cry.  Or kill Justin.  "Take him.  I don't need a cheating whore in my bed."

        But he did, he did, he needed JC, he loved JC.

        Justin left.  The door slammed.

        And that was it.  It was over now.  Really and truly over.  Justin and JC were together, for real, for good.

        Had JC been that manipulative with Chris?  No.  No, with Chris, JC had been JC, fun and smart and creative and energetic and, okay, a little arrogant, but wouldn't you be arrogant if you were JC?  JC had been just JC, just perfect.

        Maybe he'd given JC everything that JC needed, so JC hadn't needed to be a bitch with him.

        Or maybe JC hadn't loved him enough for it to matter.  Maybe JC loved Justin so much that acting stupid and cruel and cheap to get Justin's attention made sense.

        Chris still hated Justin.  He was starting to hate JC, too.  For using him.  For making him think, for a few hours one night, that he might still matter.  For giving him heaven and then stabbing him in the heart.

        JC had been the one holding the icepick all along.