Jcs Hitchhiker

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1. If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.

2. I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". This is my first attempt at this sort of writing, so the feedback is appreciated.

And now, back to our story in progress.

JC's Hitchhiker - Part 3

All the shades in my apartment were drawn, and the curtains closed. Some sort of soothing ocean noise, with lots of waves crashing and rushing sounds, was playing softly on the stereo, and there were candles everywhere. There were so many candles on the shelves, tables, and floor that it looked like someone had cleaned out the entire aisle at several nearby stores. A palpable wave of vanilla scent rolled over me, and I wondered for a second if the set designer from "Days of Our Lives" had broken in and redecorated while I was at work.

The apartment door closed behind me, and I spun around to see Josh standing next to it. He was barefoot, with his toned calves, lightly dusted with dark hair, peeking out from under a loosely belted black robe. It hung open enough at the top to give the slightest glimpse of the top of his abs, and the valley between his pecs. I was immediately hard.

"Jesus!" I blurted. "Were you hiding behind the door?"

"Shhh," he said, putting a finger over my lips.

Josh took my bag and set it down by the door, and then took my hand and began to lead me across the apartment.

"Where are we going? I asked impishly, smirking. "Out to Target to buy more candles?"

Grinning, he put that finger over my lips again.

"Shhhh," he said. "I mean it."

He began leading me by hand across the living room again. His hands, as always, were smooth, and I squeezed, feeling him squeeze back.

"Josh, seriously, at least tell me you took the batteries out of the smoke detectors," I said practically.

"Don't make me gag you," he chuckled.

I was about to turn that into a really horrific pun, but he seemed determined to carry out some sort of scenario, so I decided to remain quiet. We passed my dining room table, and I saw that it was set for two, with plates and wineglasses that I know I didn't own yesterday and several tall candles in simple glass holders. Josh slid the stereo remote out of a pocket in his robe and turned it up a little as we walked past, and then he led me into the bedroom.

If I'd thought that the living room was overcandled, the bedroom made me want to buy stock in a wick company. Candles of all sizes, from pillar to votive, lined every available space. Instead of the heady scent of vanilla that had almost been on the verge of overpowering in the living room, the scent in the bedroom was lighter, almost floral, but also citrus. The lights in here were also off, and all the curtains were closed, and the bed was casually made up with black satin sheets, which I also hadn't owned yesterday. On one hand, it seemed crushingly romantic, if almost over the top. It was obvious that he spent the whole day putting in a lot of effort on this, which touched me more than a thousand candles ever would.

Josh stood me in front of the bed, and then started to undo my tie.

"Ooooh," I said, giggling. "What are we about to do?"

"Not what you think," he answered. "At least, not right away. Now be quiet."

He pulled my tie off, and the wrapped it around my head, tying it in the back.

"Is that too tight?" he asked. I shook my head. "Jack, do you trust me?"

"Yes, Josh, I do," I answered, wishing I could see him.

"Then I want you to just let go, and enjoy this," he said, taking my head in both his hands. "OK?"

"Sure," I said, suddenly feeling his breath on my cheeks.

Josh kissed me, softly, on the mouth.

"No more words," he whispered, his cheek scraping mine as his tongue flicked my ear.

His hands returned to my collar, and began undoing the buttons. Gently he worked his way down to my waist, and then his hands slid inside my shirt. Feather-light and smooth, I felt his hands slide across my chest. A thumb flicked over each of my nipples, just once, as his hands rolled over my shoulders, pushing the shirt off. Tugging gently, he pulled it out of my pants, and I heard a crumpling fall as it landed over on the floor somewhere, hopefully not in a candle.

He was quiet for a second, and then I felt his hands at my belt, quickly undoing it and sliding it out of my pants. It also fell to the floor with a tinkling of the buckle, and then I felt his hands sliding down my left leg. I guessed that he was taking off my shoe, and was proven right when he gripped my calf lightly, and lifted. I lifted, and he pulled off my shoe, and then my sock. I had to lean down and put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, as he repeated the process on my right leg. Touching his smooth skin, and feeling the muscles moving gently beneath, I realized that he'd lost the robe at some point.

He slid sinuously up my body as my hands slid down his. I cupped his ass, and began to slide my hands around to the front, but he gently took my hands and held them. Whatever he was planning, I wasn't going to be touching until he was ready for me to. Letting go of my hands, he moved his back to my waist, undoing the button and zipper on my pants. Pulling them open, he let them drop to the floor. One of his hands, quickly but firmly, slid over my throbbing cock, squeezing gently, just once.

I almost came right then.

Barely touching my skin, his hands again slid up my chest, stopping again to flick both nipples, before settling on my shoulders and pushing me gently backwards toward the bed. When I felt the mattress hit the back of my legs, I sat on the end, and felt Josh's hair, that lush brown and blonde streaked mop, brush my knees as he knelt to pull my pants off. I felt his hands at my waist again, gently tugging at my boxers, and I lifted my ass so that he could slide those off as well. Sitting naked on the end of the bed, I could feel myself leaking like a faucet, and I gasped as I felt his tongue flick out over the head of my cock, just once. My hips lurched involuntarily, and I heard him chuckle.

"Jack, slide up the bed, please," he whispered.

His voice was low and husky, tinged with lust. You don't hear it that way on a CD or the radio, and it was turning me on even more. Blindfolded, I felt like all of my other sense were running on overtime, and I was hyper aware of the feeling of the satin sheets caressing my body as I slid up the bed until I felt my head land on the pillows. I felt his hand on one of my shoulders, holding and caressing it.

"Jack, roll over, please," he whispered again.

I rolled over, and he lifted my arms and placed them, folded, under my chin, so that my head was resting on them. I felt the bed shifting a little as he climbed on, and I wondered what was coming next. I couldn't picture exactly how he was sitting, because I couldn't feel him anywhere, and I jumped a little as I felt his hands on either side of my neck.

"Shhhhh," he hissed, the sound blending into the relaxing sounds of the ocean waves on the stereo.

Carefully, but firmly, I felt his strong hands begin to massage my neck. I began to settle into the bed, feeling the tension drain out of me, hugged by those silken sheets, breathing in the soft scent of the candles, listening to the soothing crash of waves on some distant and probably non-existent beach, as his hands moved from my neck to one shoulder, and then to the other. I don't know where he learned to give massages like a pro, but I was melting like butter under his touch, light but gentle, firm but not forceful. Still, I could only feel his hands, and tried to imagine how he was pulling that off.

He stopped for a second, and I heard glass sliding over something, and suddenly felt something cool, but not uncomfortably cold, drip into the middle of my back, just between the wings of my shoulder blades. He set the bottle down again, with a clink of glass on my nightstand, and then ran his hands through the small pool of oil on my back. It immediately began to warm, and his hands, smooth before, now glided like silk over my skin. He started with my neck again, repeating the entire massage he's just given me, but now it was even more exquisite. I heard myself groan a few times, and I sighed deeply as he worked over my shoulders again. By the time he was done, I wasn't thinking about anything at all. I was lost in the feeling of his touch, and then I felt his breath next to my ear.

"Turn over," he whispered, tugging at my earlobe with his teeth.

I rolled over slowly, tantalized by the sheets now that they were sliding over my hypersensitive oiled skin. Unsure of what to do with my arms, I kept them at my sides, but not rigidly.

Josh kissed me again, but not quickly this time. It was one of the long, deep kisses he was so good at, the kind you could get lost in. My hands came up to his head, and I felt his hands slide over them, holding them.

"Jack, do you trust me?" he asked again.

"Yes," I answered again.

He took my left hand, and pulled it above my head. I felt silk slide over my wrist, and realized that he was using another tie to attach my hand to the bedpost.

"Too tight?" he asked.

I shook my head, and felt him do the same to the right hand.

I've never really been one for being tied up, but I trusted him implicitly.

My cock was so hard it hurt.

I heard the bottle again, and felt another dollop of oil land in the middle of my chest. The cold was surprising, and I twisted against the ties at the top of the bed. My cock throbbed, and then I felt Josh's hands sliding over my chest, pushing and kneading. He worked his way up to my shoulders, and around my neck, thumbs flicking over my jawline. I felt his teeth, quickly again, take the smallest bite at my earlobe as his hands went to work on both my nipples, tugging and twisting, pinching softly, but firmly enough that my head tossed against the pillows and I groaned again, unable to stop myself. His hands flowed down my abdomen, playing over my abs. My hips lurched upward in anticipation, feeling for the hands that weren't yet there, and then I felt him let go.

I almost came again when I felt a quick streak of oil run the length of my throbbing cock. I could feel the blood pounding in time to my racing pulse. My whole body felt like it was focused on my cock. My nerves were on fire, burning, waiting for Josh's touch, and then I felt it, like he had a hundred hands at once. His hands slid in tandem up my pole, tugging and stroking. A palm rolled over my head as another kneaded and tugged at my balls, cupping them in one hand as he began to jerk me off with the other. My back arched as my hips jerked off the bed, and I was tossing my head from side to side as I moaned and grunted, my arms twisting and pulling above me as Josh pulled faster and faster.

"Josh, Jesus, Josh," I yelped, almost there.

I felt it building, and then, just as I was on the brink, I felt Josh's lips slide over the head of my cock, and I was completely over the edge. I shot and shot again into his mouth, screaming his name, every muscle in my body taught as my entire being strained into the most explosive orgasm I'd ever experienced. Josh swallowed, and continued swallowing, moaning around my cock as the humming vibration pushed me to shoot again.

Completely spent, I collapsed back into the bed, trying to catch my breath. Josh untied one hand, and then the other, and I just let them drop above my head on the pillows. I felt his breath on my face again as his hands reached behind my head to untie the blindfold. The first thing I saw, opening my eyes as I felt it slide off, was his face above mine. His eyes, sparkling in the candlelight, were locked on mine, and I felt myself falling into him.

"Oh, Josh," I panted, unsure of what to say.

"Jack," he answered, smiling. "Let's get you into the shower."

He took my hand and pulled me off the bed, and I followed him into the bathroom. He didn't turn on the bathroom lights, but there wasn't a need for them, as every available surface was covered in candles here as well. I hoped neither one of us had to pee, since we'd have to blow out the ten candles on the toilet lid. Josh's flawless skin was golden in the candlelight, and the shadows streaked enticingly across his abs and pecs as he drew the curtain aside and turned on the water. The water cascaded over him, and I couldn't help but notice that a stream of it was coursing off of his jutting prick as he held out an arm to me. I followed him into the shower and felt the warm water wash over me.

Josh lathered up a washcloth and began to wash my chest, and arms. Tenderly he knelt in the shower, and swiped the washcloth over both my legs, before turning me around to do my back. When he finished, I took the washcloth from him and did his back, and then worked over his front. I lingered on his chest and neck, and carefully washed over his cock, stopping just short of jerking him off with the washcloth as I watched him shudder, leaning against the wall of the shower with his eyes closed.

"Josh, duck your head under," I sighed.

He closed his eyes and ducked his head under the nozzle as I poured a little shampoo into my palm. When his hair was wet, I began to gently rub it into his hair, careful not to tangle it or get any in his eyes. I've always enjoyed having someone stroke my hair, massaging my scalp, and a shampoo is just an extension of that. Josh's toes were practically curling as I rubbed my hands gently over his head, building up the lather.

"OK, rinse," I said.

As he leaned over under the spray again, I dropped to my knees, and, careful not to get any shampoo suds on my tongue, took him completely into my mouth and down my throat in one swallow. His hands dropped to my shoulders, gripping them, as I suckled on him, tasting the water and, under it, his slightly salty flavor. Eager to please him, I went quickly, sucking hard and lashing his cock with my tongue. My hands roamed over his legs, feeling the dusting of hair on his calves, and the strength of his thighs. I cupped his ass, feeling the strength there, as well, and just as I brushed a finger over his hole I pulled him deep into my throat, swallowing his head, and heard him yelp, just once, as he shot quickly down my throat.

I slid my hands up his body as I stood, feeling his abs flex, concave and then convex, as he panted and caught his breath. I ran my fingers lightly in circles around his hard nipples as I leaned in to nuzzle under his neck. He sighed, and I looked up at his face.

"Josh?" I asked.

His blue eyes slid slowly open, and he smiled.

"Hi there," he sighed.

"Hi," I said, leaning in to kiss him again.

We stood under the spray, just kissing, coming up for air, and kissing again, until we began to feel wrinkly, and then Josh turned the water off. We slid out of the shower together, still kissing, hands sliding over each other, as Josh reached for a towel. He dried me off, gently patting me down, and then held out a robe identical to the black one he'd been wearing earlier. It was a soft velvety cotton, thick and comfortable. After I tied the belt I dried Josh off, being just as careful as he'd been, and then we retrieved his robe from the bedroom, and he slid it on.

After he tied it, I took him in my arms and kissed him yet again. I didn't think I'd get enough of it, ever. His mouth had a sweet taste that I enjoyed, and he could do things with his tongue that an anteater would envy, dipping and sliding through my mouth without being sloppy. Every kiss with Josh was like the first one, or, in our particular case, the second. As his tongue slid over mine, and he gave another of those humming moans, I became acutely conscious of him being in me, penetrating me, and that made me feel even hotter. I began to press even harder against him.

And then heard the oven bell go off in the kitchen.

"Dinner's ready," Josh said, pulling off of me. He took my hand and led me to the table.

"Do you need help?" I asked, trying to stand. He pushed me back down, gently, with a hand on my shoulder.

"Stay in your chair," he said, smiling. "I have everything under control."

Josh appeared from my kitchen bearing a huge tray of lasagna. He set it down in front of me, on potholders, and disappeared into the kitchen again. This time, he returned with a large bowl of salad, and then finally with a bottle of red wine. He poured me a glass, and then finally sat down next to me.

"Josh, this is amazing," I said, spooning out a large chunk of lasagna with the spatula. "And it looks good. You didn't make this with stuff from my kitchen."

"Just the utensils," he agreed, passing the salad. "You don't cook much, do you?"

I sighed.

"I do sometimes," I said, sipping my wine. "Sometimes I'll cook a lot, and put it away in the fridge. It just gets depressing cooking for one person. About the only thing that comes in a one person size is mac and cheese, and that's not the most filling, healthiest dinner."

He looked at me with this warm expression of complete caring and sympathy, and I realized how lonely and depressing this made my life sound.

"I eat out a lot," I added, as if that would help. "This is really good. I didn't know you could cook."

"What, you think we have people to do that?" he asked, laughing.

"Something like that," I agreed. "Sorry."

"Actually, Justin couldn't cook to save his life," Josh said, laughing. "Chris says he probably doesn't even know how to turn a real stove on, and that the only reason he can use a microwave is because it has buttons."

We both laughed.

"You guys really are like a family, aren't you?" I asked. "I mean, they talk about it on TV, but you really seem like brothers."

"We are," he answered. "They're my best friends, and it seems like we've been together forever. We're like a big family, but not just in all the good ways. That's why we take time off after the tours, before we can get really snippy with each other."

"Makes sense," I said. Familiarity could breed contempt, I guess, even in boy bands. "So where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Honestly?" he asked.

"No, I'd rather that you lie," I said, smirking. "Yes, honestly."

"From my gramma," Josh said, looking across the table with a dreamy, faraway expression. "She used to always have something going in her kitchen, all different food, and it was always for at least forty people. She was always stirring, or chopping, or making up plates for the older people who lived around the neighborhood. Her kitchen always smelled like food, and baking, and it always makes me think of her when I smell something cooking."

I realized I was staring at him.

"Too sappy?" he asked.

"No, it's the sweetest thing I've ever heard," I said, taking his hand. "You're a hell of a man, Joshua."

"So are you," he said, squeezing my hand back.

"So," I began, looking around.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Where does one buy this many candles?" I asked.

"Trade secret," he answered, smiling. "I'll never tell."

We ate dinner slowly, enjoying the food and the company. Josh talked a little more about his family, and asked about mine.

"I don't really talk to my family," I said, shaking my head. "We just never got along, really. They always paid more attention to my older brother, and I was kind of the kid in the background. And then, you know, they didn't take the gay thing too well, either."

"Was it bad?" Josh asked, his face lined with concern.

"Not the way you're thinking," I said. "There wasn't an ugly scene, or a screaming match. I didn't get disowned. They just became, I don't know, more distant than they already were. We just talked less and less."

"What do you do at holidays?" he asked.

"We send cards, you know, and we call each other, but that's it," I said, shaking my head.

"Hey," he said, lifting my chin with a finger. "It's not your fault."

"Oh, I know," I said, smiling. "But thanks."

Eventually we decided that we were both full, and moved into the living room, carrying the wine and our glasses. We sat across from each other, Josh sprawled across the couch and me slumped in the recliner, just talking. Eventually, Josh ran out of wine.

"I'm empty again," he said, holding up his glass.

"Oh no," I said, holding up the bottle.

He walked over, and I playfully held the bottle out of reach.

"Want some?" I asked, taking a sip off the bottle.

"Sure do," he answered, dropping to his knees.

I took another sip, holding it in my mouth, and he leaned in and kissed me again, drinking it out of my lips. He took the bottle.

"That's good wine," he said, taking another sip.

I kissed him, feeling the wine slide around in my mouth.

"Damn good," I agreed.

He held out the bottle, and poured a drop onto my chin.

"Oh no," he said. "I spilled some."

"Better clean it off," I said, pulling his head down.

His tongue snaked across my chin, and then down my neck. I kept one hand on the back of his head, laced through his hair, and started rubbing his back with the other. He dripped more wine onto my chest, pulling the robe open, and then he undid the belt. Standing up, he schucked his robe to the floor and stood above me, glowing in the candlelight.

I looked from his beautiful face down his neck to his heaving chest. He was breathing heavily, and his nipples stood out like pencil erasers, small and brown and tight. The veins in his arms stood out, and he held the wine bottle loosely in one hand. His abs were tight, and his cock, steely hard, bounced against them like a drum.

"God, you're beautiful," I said, staring at him standing above me, hard and ready.

"You, too," he said, looking down at me. "And I'm still thirsty, too."

He turned the wine bottle over, spilling it over me, and then tossed it aside and fell on me like a desert traveler at an oasis. It felt like his tongue was everywhere at once, crawling over my collarbone, sliding across a nipple, dipping into my navel to scoop out the wine there. I had both my hands laced through his hair, pushing, but not forcing, his head lower, until he was on me, licking and sucking. Unlike the rather quick effort I'd put forth in the shower, he took his time with this one, licking over and over, up and down my length, only briefly taking me into his hot mouth. His hands slid up my legs, caressing my calves as he tried to swallow me. For someone who hadn't been with anyone else, he was a damn good natural.

"Oh, God, Josh," I sighed, feeling his velvety lips roll over my cockhead again. "Oh, God."

Taking this as encouragement, he began to go faster, swirling his tongue around my cock, bobbing and swallowing. I looked down, and saw his lips stretched around me, and knew I was close. He looked up at me, and looking into his eyes I shot down his throat.

"That was fun," he said, crawling back up to kiss me.

"It surely was," I said, kissing him back. "I've seen that in movies, but they never mention how messy it is. This chair is soaked."

He laughed.

"So, Josh," I said, grabbing his cock. I ran my hand over his length, stopping at the head to swirl a little drop of precum over the top as he gasped and smiled. "Are you horny, Josh?"

"Yeah," he panted.

"Really horny?" I asked, stroking a little faster, stopping every couple seconds to give the head a good squeeze, or palm my hand over it.

"Yes," he panted again. "Oh, yeah."

"Good," I said, stopping. He jerked his head up in surprise. "Because now, we're going to go into the bedroom, and lay down on those satin sheets, and you're going to fuck me."

There, sex and a cliffhanger, sort of. Makes up for Part 2.