Copyright October 4, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: JC Chasez/Brian Littrell
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys and *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 JC walks, runs, and paces.
Notice: Sure hope you read the rest of the series. Today, I read
The World According to Garp. A Prayer for Owen Meany
is better, but Garp is redeemed by Duncan's transsexual wife.
(Jenny May is a real name of a real person from real life. I didn't
like her, but that's beside the point.)
Brian was coming.
"You want me to pick you up at the-"
"No, AJ's dropping me off."
"AJ?"
"Yes, AJ." Brian had sounded amused by JC's disbelieving tone. "I should get there after eight."
"Eight. Great." It was an unintended rhyme, and JC winced when the syllables echoed. "I'll...wait." He almost groaned, but he hadn't been able to find another word.
"I'll try not to be late," Brian said, teasing him but trying to sound innocent. "Unless you have a date?"
JC hadn't been able to think of any good rhymes. Except "bait." Which reminded him of prey. He wasn't prey. He wished that he were. He wanted Brian to prey upon him... And "mate." Which brought sex to mind. Sex was almost always on JC's mind, whenever he talked with Brian.
Now, Brian was coming. Brian would be here in person. He could look at Brian.
JC enjoyed looking at Brian, for several reasons. One, was the pure aesthetic value. Brian was very attractive, and not in a cookie-cutter fashion. His features fascinated JC's gaze. Also, looking at Brian meant that Brian was present, to be seen, which always made JC happy, flustered, and confusedly aroused.
Lately, JC always threw a rod whenever he and Brian spoke on the phone. Catching glimpses of Brian on TV had the same effect. He didn't look forward to explaining this phenomenon when Brian was there in person.
Maybe Brian wouldn't notice.
That would be the final insult.
What if Brian did notice?
What if Brian felt sorry for him?
What if Brian misunderstood?
JC didn't understand it himself, so he wasn't sure how Brian could misunderstand. But he was afraid of having his body's gesture interpreted. He didn't want to know what it might mean.
The most obvious interpretation was: JC wanted Brian.
That interpretation, however, did not satisfy JC. It didn't strike the right tone. Perhaps, more accurately: Brian aroused JC. It was Brian's action, and JC's response. Brian turned him on. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, and, yes, sexually. Brian aroused him.
Now Brian was on his way over to arouse JC in person.
"No date," JC said. "They're all worn out from last night." He didn't know what possessed him to say it.
Brian laughed, surprised and amused. "What'd you do to them last night?"
"Oh, the usual," JC said, deliberately sounding off-hand about the whole thing. As though his sex life consisted of streams of women (and men?) who lived only to be exhausted by his sexual escapades. As though his sex life consisted of more than his right hand and fantasies of Brian in his bed.
He did fantasize about Brian. Sexually. Brian's soft lips, silky hair, friendly eyes...unashamed affection, undimmed love...the smooth, unblemished skin of Brian's abdomen...the sensuous, round head of Brian's cock...
JC wondered if Brian ever thought about him. Sexually. Did Brian still want him? Would Brian still want him?
"The usual," Brian repeated, and JC heard the laughter in his tone. "You make sure you send them packing. If they wear out that easy, they're not worth it. You just tell them I'm coming to town."
Brian was coming.
He couldn't take it. He'd wait in the lobby.
JC took the stairs, running down them quickly, carelessly. There was an outside chance that Brian would arrive while he was in the stairwell, and try to buzz his place, and think he wasn't home, and... JC didn't exactly burst into the lobby, but he had more restless energy than mature adults exhibited in public. Brian wasn't there.
Not yet.
Brian was coming.
JC jittered and paced by the front doors, looking out, barely keeping himself from asking the doorman if Brian had come by without JC noticing.
A sporty red Mercedes-Benz convertible pulled up before the building. JC held still, externally at least. Brian got out of the car, got his bags, and came around to the driver's side. Handshake, embrace, kiss, wave; AJ was gone, and Brian was walking toward JC's building.
JC barely contained himself. He should run upstairs to his apartment. He should look like he'd just stepped from the elevator. He should sit, as though he'd been relaxing in the lobby-
Brian was in the building, in the lobby, headed straight for JC.
"How long can you stay?" JC asked.
"A day or two. A week or two. A month or two. A year or two. My clothes will get ragged at some point, but I can buy more."
"Maybe I need to buy more food," JC said.
"And a better TV," Brian said.
"If you're staying that long, maybe I should... You won't want to sleep on the couch all of that time."
"I'll sleep wherever you put me," Brian said.
He'd sleep wherever JC put him.
On the sofa, alone.
In JC's bed...not alone.
Brian dropped one of his bags and embraced JC.
JC winced, ashamed, when his hard-on touched Brian.
Brian gave him an extra squeeze and said, "It's good to see you, JC."
"You, too." He meant it.
Brian stepped back and picked up his bag, handing it to JC. JC avoided looking at anyone, trying to walk gracefully to the elevators.
In the elevator, Brian leaned against the handrail and fondled JC's hair.
JC tried not to shiver at Brian's touch. "How's AJ?"
"AJ is priceless," Brian said. "When they say 'one-of-a-kind,' he's what they mean."
JC had to agree with Brian's assessment.
"I didn't tell you - - I wrote some lyrics. I want you to look over them."
JC was surprised. They were professional rivals, after all. But Brian trusted him. He was flattered. "That'd be great." Brian's touch grazed his earlobe, and he did shiver, then.
In JC's apartment, they talked, ate, watched TV, talked some more... The sun was rising when Brian pulled wrinkled papers from his bag for JC to read.
The lyrics were well-written, in a style that showed Brian's poetic ear. They were emotionally engaging, too; what was more, they perked JC's sexual interests. It struck JC as new for a potential Backstreet Boys song: the love interest wasn't a nameless "she." It was Cara Jean.
In one line, in the final verse, she was called "CJ."
CJ.
JC decided not to jump to any conclusions and make a fool of himself.
"I'm going to have to change it," Brian said. He offered a gentle, if self-mocking, smile when JC looked over at him. "It's too obvious."
"Is it?" JC asked, hedging his bets.
"Help me to name her," Brian said. So they spent a while tossing names back and forth. JC kept bringing up Christina, Justine, and Josephine, but Brian started to flick his ear every time those names were mentioned. Cara Jean sort of sucked as a name, in JC's opinion, and Brian agreed. They settled on Jenny May.
JC could picture the poor girl out on dates. Guys would try to slide a hand up her thigh. "Jenny, may I?" He told Brian, who laughed.
They fell asleep on the sofa.
JC dreamt of Brian, sitting with him in the backseat of a classic car, like a scene from a movie. Brian kissed him and cupped his hard-on, whispering against his mouth, "JC, may I?"
JC came in Brian's hand, in his dream; and in his jeans, on the sofa.
When JC wakened, he realized what had happened. Besides the mess in his shorts, he had a crink in his neck, and his hand started to do that pins-and-needles thing. One of his feet was wedged under Brian; he pulled it free with care. He had to pee. He watched Brian sleep. Brian looked very...touchable. Maybe it was the sunlight. Maybe it was JC's wishful thinking.
He noticed Brian's erection, thick inside Brian's jeans.
The phone rang.
JC would have stayed there, looking at Brian, except that the ringing phone might have wakened Brian. He got up, told Joey to get a life, took a shower - - and by the time he was out of the shower, Brian was awake and moving around the apartment.
JC went to his room and dressed.
It was only when JC was in the kitchen and Brian was in the shower that JC remembered something.
He'd left his underwear in the bathroom.
The bathroom where Brian was right now.
The underwear that he'd ejaculated in.
He'd come in his pants and left it there for Brian to see.
He hadn't done it on purpose, but what was Brian going to think? Did it seem to be a promise? Did it look like a taunt?
What if he had done it on purpose? What if his subconscious was trying to send a message? What message would that be?
He couldn't say anything to Brian. To look innocent - - which he was - - he'd have to stay quiet. As though he had no idea he'd left his semen-stained underwear out in the open for Brian to find.
The rest of his clothes were there, too. Weren't they? His jeans were. They must have made a great still life, dirty cum-splattered clothes on the cold tile floor. Right there for Brian to see.
What if Brian hadn't even noticed?
That would be both a relief and a humiliation.
Brian didn't say a word about whatever he had seen, or had not seen, in the bathroom. JC drove himself nuts trying to read Brian's expression, trying to guess Brian's suspicions.
At first that day, JC was too nervous to have his usual response to Brian's presence. Soon, however, his body began to assert itself, and he found himself growing sexually aroused. Again. He tried to hide his state, tried to pretend that nothing was happening, but then he seemed aroused and awkward to boot.
At least Brian had the decency not to look at it, mention it, or make any sign of noticing.
Maybe it wasn't noticeable. Maybe Brian had no idea. Maybe - - maybe pigs flew. JC was turned on, and his cock was trying to show the world.
If Brian knew that JC was aroused, and didn't seem to care... What did that mean?
Brian didn't want him anymore.
Brian wasn't even interested enough to be embarrassed.
JC wanted to excuse himself and take care of business in the bathroom, but there was no good way to do it. "I'll be right back; I have to jack off so I won't have this hard-on in front of you." "Hold on for a minute while I masturbate." "Well, it's two-thirty, time for my daily jerk-off session..."
He wondered if some people did have a daily jerk-off session.
He wondered how often Brian did it.
He wondered what Brian thought about while doing it.
He wondered whether Brian ever thought about him.
Maybe Brian had, once. Before. That idea brought both warmth and pain.
They went to the kitchen. Brian carried food back to the living room, and JC followed with drinks. Brian had gotten a head start, so that JC had to walk into the room, and across the room, alone, bearing an erection, while Brian watched. He tried to walk naturally, but was so conscious of his own embarrassment that there was nothing natural about his movements. He kept his eyes on the ice cube in the glass in his right hand, so that he wouldn't know whether Brian was watching him or not. He didn't want to know, either way.
When he sat, he tried to adjust himself without being obvious. He didn't know why he bothered.
Brian had the grace to say something before JC's embarrassment and confusion became overwhelming and ruined their day. He put a hand on JC's arm and said, "JC, what is this about?"
"You." JC met Brian's eyes.
Brian let that answer sink in. Then he took a drink and handed JC the pretzels. They continued on with their afternoon.
They made love that night, in JC's bed.
Brian stayed with JC the
entire time before their jobs separated them again.