Diamond
Copyright October 24, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex
Pairing: JC Chasez/Chris Kirkpatrick
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 my poor neglected Justin muse. Also for the people on Thian's list who liked it and told me so.
Wherein the reader finds Chris's thoughts, JC's words, and an absent presence.
Notice: I belong to a slash list for JC/Chris, but I've never written JC/Chris myself. On Serge Asylum, everyone's been talking about rimming. So I issued myself a little challenge. Congratulations on hitting 99, Thian.
Kisses over JC's shoulders. Long, slow strokes of tongue down JC's spine, Chris taking his time. There was no rush here. JC was to be savored, and Chris lingered over every last inch.
Gentle brushes of his lips over JC's ass, slow licks where the sweet curves met JC's thighs.
JC's thighs spread. Chris smiled but chose not to comment. Instead, he gave JC what JC wanted. Delicate licks at first, fluttering his tongue until JC hissed. He traced the pucker, waiting. JC's shoulders dropped, hips rising, slow hiss coming from JC again. Chris gave a few more delicate licks before pushing in, breaching JC's body. JC moaned his name. Now that was a gratifying sound. He probed deeper, licking into JC, no longer feeling his cock throbbing, no longer hearing JC moaning his name, his entire world narrowed to this act, this point of entry, the heat and feel of JC. Lost, he was lost, fucking JC with his tongue.
And JC was pushing back against him, encouraging him. And then - - that little slut - - was spasming and contracting around his tongue. He knew where JC'd learned that trick. He backed up, pushing JC away from himself. JC rolled over, knees bent, thighs spread, cock full and flushed dark. "Don't stop."
He'd already stopped - - stopped breathing, stopped having a pulse. God. JC was beautiful, beautiful, slender and spread before him, ready for him, wanting him.
JC's back arched. "Come on, Chris."
His heart skipped back into rhythm; his breath hitched and caught and choked him. Blindly he reached for the condoms on the bedside table. JC, flexible as always, hooked knees over his shoulders when he leaned in for contact. He wanted to give JC a perfunctory lube job - - it wasn't his job to tease and please JC anymore, after all. But once his fingers were sucked into that tight heat, he couldn't help but stroke and massage with the same attention as always. How could he not? JC getting stroked up was gorgeous - - writhing ever so slowly, panting unevenly, pushing onto his fingers for more.
He had to pull his fingers free or he'd come on the spot.
His cock, check. JC's ass, check. Lube, check. Condom, check. Ready to go.
"Please, Chris." JC's blue eyes were dark with lust. Lust for him. JC wanted him.
He closed his own eyes - - he couldn't look, couldn't see. JC wasn't his anymore. He didn't need any more memories to torment him when he was alone in the dark of the night. Slowly he thrust his way into JC's body. JC twisted up into him, onto him, and he heard that sound JC used to make for him, that breathless scream. He thrust his way right to JC's prostate like he'd never left it.
JC was gasping and shuddering and trying to rock up into his hips. He tried to hold on and keep his balance and stifle the scream that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. JC was so hot, so so hot, and so so tight, how could JC still be this tight? JC's gasps included his name, now, and he thrust harder, making JC say his name again, louder, again. He wanted JC to remember that he was the one here, he was the one fucking JC, it was he, Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick. JC went tense all over and gave another breathless scream and came, spurting hot white between their bodies. Then JC's muscles clamped and fluttered over Chris's cock, which was just what he needed to make him come, too.
He tried to catch his breath. JC's pants were evening. He opened his eyes, finally, but averted his gaze, unsealing their bodies with a low pop. JC's fingers crept through his hair, guided him down to JC's mouth for a kiss.
"Thank you," JC said.