Justin finally really got offended when Chris fell off the couch laughing. He could so kiss. Britney had squirmed nicely against him and called him “baby” in a breathy voice before bouncing away, and what did Chris know anyway? It wasn’t like anyone ever saw him kissing anyone and making them squirm. Fucker.
“I thought you did a fine job, J,” JC drawled from his puddle of arms and legs on the couch. He was stoned out of his mind, boneless and dreamy, but still able to watch the proceedings with great interest. He was also a fucker, in Justin’s opinion.
“Great, thanks,” Justin said, glaring at him.
“No, seriously,” JC said. “Britney didn’t seem to mind at all.” He made a peculiar sound like popping corn and squinched his eyes shut, and Chris rolled over on the floor and clutched his ribs, gasping for air, and that was it.
“Like you lame-ass fuckers even know how to kiss! I’ve seen you, JC! All open mouth like you’re trying to do CPR, ewww, and who knows if you’ve ever even kissed a girl, Chris. I am through here.”
Justin swept his coat off the back of his chair in a grand snit, intending to storm out, but Chris sat up suddenly and grabbed his pant leg. Justin tried the Look of Death, but apparently frequent exposure had left Chris immune. He pulled Justin’s pant leg back and forth until Justin lurched sideways and fell into the chair, and then climbed to his feet and loomed over Justin with a dark expression on his face. JC made an interesting “hmm!” sound from his couch, but Justin couldn’t look away from Chris, all of a sudden.
“Uh-uh, boy. Nope. No way do you get to throw down like that and then leave. You called it, you got it.”
“Chris,” Justin said, heart in his throat, but Chris just poked a finger into his chest and turned to the couch.
“Okay, come on, JC.”
He climbed onto the couch next to JC, whose hazy look transformed into something filled with alarm. Justin grabbed the arms of the chair, no way, no way.
“Oh, hey, Chris–”
“Zip it, JC,” Chris said. “There’s honor at stake here.” He leaned in, and JC leaned back.
“Okay, I, uh, no. My honor is fine, Chris. My honor is totally cool. I have no problems with my honor, in fact, I’m not even sure I have any honor, because, you know–” he meeped and fell silent as Chris leaned closer still.
“JC?”
JC made another faint noise, wide eyes looking up from Chris’s mouth briefly.
“Shut up.”
“Oh,” JC said, and then Chris was right there. He touched his lips to JC’s gently, and it really wasn’t all that, not so much at all, and if Justin felt kind of lightheaded suddenly, well, who wouldn’t? He was a guy, people were kissing in front of him. True, he had never imagined Chris and JC together, not too often anyway, and anyway it was nothing like he would have guessed. JC didn’t open up wide right away, and it was nothing like CPR, and who’d have thought Chris could move that slowly.
It was pretty cute, actually. JC had one hand sort of fluttering in midair over Chris’s shoulder as Chris kissed him, as though he’d forgotten it there, and Justin tried to make a mental note to mock him later, but Chris was sliding his mouth over JC’s, just sort of saying hi maybe, and Justin saw a little flash of tongue-tip. Every thought left his head except whoa. Justin felt the need to stretch a little in his chair then, and the tops of his thighs were itchy or something, so he scratched them gently as he watched.
Chris settled in like he meant business and JC opened his mouth, yeah, and whoa was so entirely inadequate, Justin was left with nothing. JC made another noise, not at all faint, and Justin found himself clutching his thighs because he knew what that noise meant, it meant JC was feeling it. Feeling it all over, apparently, feeling it good, because the hand in midair clamped down suddenly on Chris’s ass and JC’s hips lifted from the couch. Justin sat up, shocked, and JC froze, and Chris opened his eyes and pulled his mouth away.
“Yeah, that’s,” he said in a husky, distracted voice, and lowered his head again.
Justin flopped back in his chair, trying to breathe, trying not to squirm, but it was hopeless. JC and Chris kissing each other like the whole world was gone, locked together on the couch… hottest thing Justin had ever seen, he had to admit it. Had ever heard, too, the wet sounds as their mouths slid together and came apart, JC’s intimate, rhythmic groaning as Chris licked and bit his swollen lips and his neck and the tense muscles of his shoulders, his occasional whispered “Fuck” or “Yeah” or “Come on,” as Chris slid over on top of him and tucked a hand under JC’s leg, just below his ass. Justin realized he was whimpering or something, unable to prevent the strained noise from pushing out through his own tight throat.
When Chris pushed up onto his elbows, looking down into JC’s open, twisted face as he jerked his hips gently, Justin brought a knee up to his chin as best he could and tried to think about ice, about stillness, about anything else at all, but yeah, no, hopeless. Hopeless, because Chris kissed JC again, settled back down and guided JC’s mouth to his with a hand on his face, and JC moaned eagerly and rose to meet him, and lord, it was, Justin didn’t know whether to hide his eyes or touch himself, or both.
Finally Chris stopped, just sat up suddenly and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked JC up and down. JC was a panting, heaving, moaning, gorgeous wreck, opened up on the couch like a flower, hard-on pushing angrily against the fabric of his jeans, and Chris was the man, clearly, Justin could never doubt it again. But Justin was about to crawl out of his skin, and Chris’s eyes, fuck.
“I think I have to go now,” Justin said with dignity.
“Mmm,” Chris said, sliding a hand up JC’s thigh. “Well. You could stay.” JC opened his eyes and bit his lip, looking at Chris.
“Yeah?” Chris said. Justin wasn’t sure who he was talking to.
JC said, “Fuck,” and closed his eyes again, so Justin said “Oh, man, I don’t–” uneasily and stirred in his chair, but then JC turned his head and caught Justin dead on, a point-blank, meaningful stare.
“He could stand a lesson, I suppose.”
“JC!”
Justin glared but it did no good as usual. Chris cackled evilly and patted JC’s abdomen, and JC had a dreamy, self-satisfied smile as he arched his back and stretched on the couch, and goddamn but Justin was going to have to settle this somehow, shut them both the hell up. But right then Chris scratched his nails down JC’s stomach, and JC threw his head back and swallowed, adam’s apple sliding under the thin skin of his throat, so Justin settled back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest to watch. Later, he would just have to show them later.
lost rooms 