Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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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.
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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". I've enjoyed hearing from all of you.
This season would not have happened if not for a discussion I had with Clive, who is generous enough to cohost this story on his site. Stop and tell him hello at www.authorclive.co.uk.
That said, back to the show.
Justin
"I can't believe you guys have been awake and haven't fixed any breakfast yet," Britney said from the stove, where she was frying some eggs in one pan and some bacon in the other. I realized after she opened the refrigerator that my housekeeper must have stocked up the kitchen, knowing I'd be back. "Josh, how do you want your eggs?"
Josh and I were sitting at the table, staring at her back, both of us still surprised to just open the door and find her on the step. I couldn't believe that after I had explained to her on the phone how upset Josh was, and how I was trying really hard to be there for him, she had just shown up, and thrown herself in the middle. She hadn't been here twenty minutes yet, and she was already pushing Josh out of the way as she went for things in the fridge, or stepping around him to kiss me on the cheek every time she went by. I wanted Josh to feel comfortable here, not like a third wheel.
"I don't want any," Josh answered quietly, belatedly adding, "Thanks."
Britney turned around, spatula in hand, and stared at him.
"What was that? I didn't catch it," she asked. I couldn't tell by her tone if she really hadn't heard or not, but she better not have been just pushing him for no reason.
"I don't want any eggs," Josh repeated, looking at his hands, not raising his voice one decibel higher. "Sorry."
Britney glared at him, at his rejection of her eggs, but Josh wasn't looking at her, and didn't seem to notice. He looked miserable sitting there in his pajamas, the baggy black silk hanging on his firm shoulders and showing off a wedge of his tanned chest. Britney has a domestic streak, oddly enough, ground in there by her mom during the lean years. Brit is also, again like her mom, rather pushy, and when the two traits collide, it's not pretty. When Brit cooks, she expects you to eat it, and sees rejection of the food as personal rejection of her. I remembered that time in L.A. when she made all those dozens of cookies, and how I eventually gave them to Jackie to take to her friends at the retirement home while Britney wasn't looking. Do you know how many hours I'd have to work out to burn off six dozen cookies?
Britney crossed her arms, spatula in hand, and waited for Josh to recognize his error and correct it. Josh, on the other hand, stared at the sugar bowl, or at least stared toward it. Britney's face began to twist into an angry sneer, another of the many traits she shared with her mom. Don't get me wrong, I love Brit, and I like her mom, kind of, but honestly, can you say, "Stage mother"? My mom had always supported me while letting me go after what I wanted, and Josh's parents had more or less given him free reign and a checkbook to go find himself, but Brit's mom had raised her with this horrible idea that she was the center of the world, and that everyone needed to pay attention to her all the time, and then she had pushed Brit to go out and be a star. She'd pushed her onto "Star Search", pushed her into working for The Mouse, and kept pushing her until she got a record contract. Now she was pushing her toward the movies, and she pushed me, too, mentioning grandkids all the time and how in her day as a teenager kids didn't wait so long to propose. I watched Britney slowly turning into her mother in my kitchen and realized I needed to head this off.
"Don't be sorry, Josh," I said softly. Josh looked up at me slowly, but Brit's head snapped toward me, her eyes flashing. "There's nothing wrong with not wanting any eggs. Do you want some cereal?"
"Justin, I'm not really hungry," Josh began, and I tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. We hadn't had dinner yesterday, and he'd skipped the snack on the plane, too.
"I have Apple Jacks, though," I said brightly, smiling at him. "Come on, I'll get you some, and I'll have a bowl, too. It'll be fun!"
I know what you're thinking. You're going, "Oh yeah, Apple Jacks. Loads of fun there, Justin." I know it was lame, and actually kind of corny, but I was hoping that acting chipper might perk Josh up a little, and he was a sucker for lame cornball stuff. He gave me a weak smile, his lips barely moving, but I felt rewarded. I jumped up to get the bowls and cereal and saw the look on Britney's face. As she glared at me, I realized that I'd not only taken Josh's side, but I was now also rejecting her eggs, in favor of Josh's Apple Jacks. Could my kitchen get any less mature?
"Your eggs are almost ready," Britney hissed, brandishing the spatula at me as I pulled out two cereal bowls.
"I know," I answered innocently. "Can you put them on toast for me?"
"Sure," Brit answered, somewhat mollified.
This was going to be the visit from Hell.
As soon as we were all seated and eating, she started up again.
"So, baby, what are we gonna do today?" she asked me, ignoring Josh.
"I don't know," I answered. "I mean, I didn't know you were coming, since you didn't say anything when I talked to you last night, so I didn't really plan on doing anything. Josh, was there anything you wanted to do?"
"No," Josh answered quietly, staring at his cereal as he slowly, mechanically, moved the spoon to his mouth. He was eating his Apple Jacks one loop at a time, as if to force himself not to enjoy them.
"Well we can't just stay in the house all day!" Brit whined. "We need to get out and have some fun, and get you perked up."
Josh blinked at her.
"I don't want to go out right now," he said quietly, shaking his head.
"Oh, come on," she said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. Josh shied away from her, and I wondered how she could fail to notice that everything she was doing was wrong. Maybe it was hard for her to see him through all the mascara she was wearing. Mascara, at breakfast. "Maybe we could take you and get you a haircut, get this little beard thing shaved off, you know. We could give you a makeover!"
"Brit," I said carefully, trying to catch her attention.
"I don't want a makeover," Josh said, shaking his head. Was she Jenny Jones? A makeover wasn't the answer to every problem.
"But Josh, how else are we gonna get you a new boyfriend?" she asked, and I almost fell off my chair. What the hell was she thinking? Josh blinked at her, his face going white again. An Apple Jack fell out of his mouth, plopping onto the table, but she continued, oblivious. "You know what? The guy who does my hair is gay, and he's really cute, too. We could fix you two up! You'll love him."
"What?" Josh asked, his voice barely a squeak.
"Josh, when you fall off the horse, you gotta get right back on," Brit said, smiling. Wow, I guess it was going to be really easy for her to get over me when I dumped her on her ass for being this stupid. "I mean, how else are you going to get over Jack? Besides, I never said this, because, you know, you guys were in love, but you could have done a lot better than him, Josh. He was all wrong for you. I mean, he was cute and all, but really, that whole, 'I don't care if you're a celebrity or not, because I love you for who you are' thing, did anyone really believe that? I mean, honestly?"
I kicked her under the table, and she shut up suddenly, but the damage was done. Josh stood quickly, dropping his spoon into the half eaten bowl of cereal, and tossed the whole thing into the sink. Milk and Apple Jacks splashed up onto the counter, but Josh seemed not to notice.
"I'm done with breakfast," Josh said to me, his eyes watering. "Excuse me."
He walked quickly out of the room, almost running for the stairs, and I glared at Britney.
"You hurt my leg," she whined, rubbing it under the table.
"Shut the fuck up," I said, gathering up my dishes and carrying them to the sink.
"What?" she yelped behind me.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, wiping up the milk from Josh's overflow with a paper towel. "How could you say that?"
"What? I'm just trying to cheer him up," she said, crossing her arms.
"How can you be so stupid?" I snapped at her, and saw her eyes tearing up, too. Great. Now everyone in the house was crying except me. I dropped down to my knees beside her, and took one of her hands as she sniffled. A black tear slid down her cheek. "Brit, I'm sorry, and I know you're just trying to help, but they just broke up yesterday, you know? This isn't like when we get in a fight, and go sleep with somebody else so we feel better. Josh loved Jack, and he still does. I don't think he's ready to think about dating someone else right now, and he might not be for a while."
"I was just trying to help," she said stubbornly.
"I know," I said, kissing her on the cheek. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you. Tell you what. Why don't you go upstairs, and get my gold card out of my wallet, and go buy yourself something pretty, ok?"
"OK!" she answered, all tears forgotten.
She jumped up and ran upstairs, leaving me to clean up the breakfast dishes. I scraped everything into the garbage, and then threw the dishes in the dishwasher. Britney raced back down the stairs with my gold card and my car keys, and kissed me before flying out the door. With one problem solved, at least for the moment, I walked up the stairs to go check on Josh, praying the whole way that Brit wouldn't buy a new SUV or the Hope Diamond. I knocked on Josh's bedroom door.
"Josh, it's Justin," I said, listening through the door. I could hear him moving around in there, but couldn't tell what he was doing. "Can I come in?"
There was a pause, and then he said, "Sure."
I pushed open the door slowly, not sure if he was behind it. I didn't want to hit him with it, after all. He had his suitcases laid out on the bed, and was very carefully folding his clothes up and packing them. His eyes were red, and his face was blotchy, so I could tell he'd been crying again, but he had apparently finished up for the moment.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Packing," Josh answered, not looking at me. "Justin, I appreciate you inviting me to stay here, but I don't want to be in your way, and I don't think that, you know, Brit really wants me around."
"Josh, you could never be in my way," I said, shaking my head. "Please, Josh, please don't leave."
"Justin," he began, but I took his hand and sat down on the end of the bed with him.
"Josh, if I let you go home, you're just going to see all those boxes, and you're going to spend all your time thinking about him," I began, not sure if I was going to say this the right way or not. Then again, I'd already made Brit cry, so why not Josh, too? "And you're just going to get more and more unhappy, and then you'll lock yourself in your house, and I won't see you again. You'll just get paler and paler, and you'll start wearing pajamas all the time, and your hair'll get really long, and your beard, and then you'll start wearing tissue boxes on your feet, and muttering about germs, and really, Josh, nobody wants that."
Josh smiled at me, despite himself, and I chalked up a point on my mental scorecard.
"So you're telling me I'll turn into Howard Hughes unless I stay here with you?" he asked, squeezing my hand.
"Well, I'm not guaranteeing it, but the odds are good," I answered. Josh sighed, and then leaned over and gave me a hug.
"Thanks, Justin," he said. He pulled back, and I saw that he was still upset. "Justin, what about the rest of it? What Brit said? Is that what you guys really think? Is that what everyone really thought about Jack?"
"Josh, don't listen to what Brit says," I said, hugging him again. "She means well, but, you know, she was being Brit. Nobody who really knew you guys thought that. Brit probably just thought that since you broke up, she was supposed to trash talk him or something. You know how she is."
"I guess," Josh said, wiping at his eyes again. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"
"Josh, I told you, I don't want you to be alone, and I like having you here," I said, hugging him again. "Now let's get these clothes put away."
"Thanks, Justin," Josh said, squeezing my hand again.
"Nothing to thank me for," I said, standing. He stood with me, and we began returning his clothes to the dresser and the closet. "So, what are we going to do now?"
"I don't know," Josh answered, shrugging. "I don't really want to do anything."
"I have this idea," I said, ignoring his statement. "Remember all those times you wanted me to play chess with you, but I didn't know how? Let's play, right now. I have a set in the closet."
"But you don't know how," Josh said, cocking his head quizzically to one side.
"But I will, because you're going to teach me," I said, grinning at him. Before he could think to protest I grabbed his hand and led him to the closet, skipping through the hallway as I jerked him along behind me. I grabbed the box and led him downstairs to the living room. Sitting down, cross-legged, on the carpet, I opened the board and began to separate the pieces. "How do we set up the board?"
"Pick a color," Josh said, lowering himself to the floor.
Picking up the stereo remote, I clicked it on, and softly muted jazz began to filter smokily through the room, rolling out of the surround sound speakers like fog. I hated jazz, but Josh loved it, and I smiled when I saw his lips twitch a little. Maybe today would be a good day after all, or at least not such a bad one. We played until well after lunch, just sitting across from each other quietly as Josh taught me the rules and tried to teach me the names of the pieces.
"It's not a horsey thing, Justin," Josh sighed. "And that one's not a castle."
"Can I call it a castle anyway?" I asked, grinning.
"No," Josh answered, smiling back. "And if you call it that again, I'm going to slide right through that big hole you just left, and take your castle away."
"You're mean," I whined playfully.
"Sometimes learning is painful, young grasshopper," Josh said, slipping into his fake "Kung Fu" voice.
After a while we broke for a late lunch, just a quick little batch of sandwiches, and then decided that maybe we should shower. Sometimes in the old days, when we still shared hotel rooms to save money, we'd not only shared the bathroom, but had shared the shower if we were running late. I found myself thinking of those days while I was in the shower, washing myself off, thinking about the fact that Josh was across the hall in the bathroom attached to the guest room, doing the same thing. I immediately tried to think of Brit, but once the image of Josh, wet and soapy, had crawled into my head again, it was hard to push it away. I was hard, too, imagining all the times that Josh, shy, bashful Josh, had soaped up next to me, not speaking, keeping his eyes turned away. I wondered, for the first time, what might have happened if, just once, one of us had actually reached out to the other, or even just spoken, rather than just pretending we were in gym class or something. I sighed and twisted the shower over to cold.
After we showered, I asked Josh if he wanted to do anything, or play more chess, but he didn't seem really interested. I wanted to go out to the backyard, and hit a couple balls with my new putting iron, because it was too nice outside to waste the whole day on the living room floor, even if we were having a good time.
"Josh, are you sure?" I asked again. "You can borrow one of mine if you just want to hit a couple balls around."
"I have something I want to work on," he said quietly, shrugging as he fidgeted uncomfortably with his plain black t-shirt. He lifted a hand to run it through his hair, and the bottom of the shirt lifted up a little from his jeans, giving me a little flash of tanned abs and happy trail.
"OK," I said, realizing that I probably shouldn't be right in his face trying to cheer him up all the time. I had to give him a little space, too, and let him reach out to me when he needed a friend. "I'll be right out back if you want to come work out there."
"Thanks, Justin," Josh said. He looked uncomfortable for a second, and then hugged me, hard, and when he spoke again his voice was close to tears. "Thank you, for everything."
"We'll get through this, Josh," I said, holding him tightly. I squeezed, and then let go, and he started to step away. "I'm here for you, right here. I'll be outside if you need me, ok?"
"Yeah, ok," Josh said, wiping at his eyes to clear the tears standing in them unshed.
He turned away, heading back to his room, and I sighed and walked down to the backyard. I was outside for a while, just tapping the balls around, trying to get a feel for the club. Chris and I were somehow becoming avid golfers, although he was much more obsessed than I was. We both figured that next time we went on tour, though, we'd be able to hit a lot of different courses, almost like being on our own little PGA. I heard a door open, and looked up to see Josh carrying one of his notebooks out to the back table. He squinted in the sun, looking down the yard at me, and I grinned and waved. He raised a hand back, and went back to whatever he was working on. He looked upset, but at least he'd come outside. The fresh air might do him a little good. I kept tapping my balls around the yard, losing a couple in the high grass, but also kept an eye on Josh. He was working pretty hard, writing something, crossing a lot of words out and rubbing at his eyes a lot. I was too far away to tell for sure, but figured he was crying a little. I didn't want to run right over, so I just kept hitting the ball and letting him work, figuring he'd wave or come over if he needed me.
Eventually I got bored, and realized it was time to get started on dinner, so I started walking back up the yard. I stopped to put a hand on Josh's shoulder, because he had his face buried in his hands. He wasn't crying, but I could tell he was fighting not to, concentrating on keeping his breathing level. He had closed the notebook, so I couldn't tell what he was working on, but when he felt my hand he reached up and took it in one of his.
"Josh?" I asked, not moving. "I was going to start on dinner."
"Yeah, ok," he said quietly. "I'll come in a little bit."
I walked away after he let go of my hand. As I was opening the door, I heard him behind me, and I turned, but he was looking at the ground.
"Justin, why didn't he love me?" Josh asked softly, his voice quivering. "Why didn't he love me enough to stay with me? Why did he leave?"
"I don't know, Josh," I answered, feeling something wrench inside me again. I didn't know how Jack could have walked away from him, how he could have left him like this. None of this added up, but I couldn't force Josh to face that, not until he was ready. "Do you need me? Can I do anything, Josh?"
"I don't know," he answered, holding his face in his hands again. "Why don't you go get started on dinner, ok?"
Brit came back just as I was setting the table, while Josh was upstairs washing his face and putting his notebook away. He didn't say anything when he came in, just nodded at me and went upstairs as I told him dinner would be ready in five to ten. Brit's arms were weighted heavily with clothing store bags, and I assumed I was forgiven as she kissed me hello, sliding my gold card into my back pocket as she did so, spreading her fingers so that she was cupping my ass at the same time.
"Hi there," I said, kissing her again. "Go put those down. Dinner in five."
"OK," she said, turning away. She giggled and pointed at my face. "You have lipstick on your cheek."
"Thanks," I said, smiling. "Wonder where that came from?"
The three of us had a comfortable dinner. Brit gushed on and on about what she had done today, where she had shopped, and who she had seen. She had brought me a couple shirts, although I'd be hard pressed to call them presents knowing that I paid for them, and she brought Josh a belt made of rubber, with vintage soda bottle caps fastened all the way around it. It was kitschy, kind of ugly, and just the kind of thing that Josh would show up at an awards show or a photo shoot with. He thanked her and put it on right there at the table. I smiled, glad to see that the tension between them this morning seemed to be gone.
After dinner we settled in for some television time, Josh by himself in a chair and Britney and I sharing a couch. Things were going well, at first, but Brit kept trying to tickle me, or fool around, or whatever, and I didn't feel right doing that in front of Josh. He sat with his bowl of popcorn, appearing to watch the television, but I started to worry. After all, he'd just lost his boyfriend, just been painfully dumped. It must have bothered him to see us being so happy, to see Brit being so touchy feely with me, because it must have reminded him of what he'd lost such a short time ago. I kept trying to settle Brit down, and kept trying to engage Josh in discussion about what was on, or the stuff on the commercials, but as the evening wore on he just got more and more quiet. Eventually he got up and bid us goodnight, walking up the stairs with his shoulders down again.
I was watching him go, wondering if I should go after him, or if he needed to talk, but suddenly Brit was on top of me, straddling me. She began to gyrate her hips against me, and pressed her chest against mine. I could feel her hard nipples poking at me through her shirt, and her crotch was rubbing firmly against mine as she ran her hands over the top of my head. Despite the fact that I was still worried about Josh, I felt my body responding to her, felt myself getting hard beneath her. After all, I'm young, and it is a penis. If you play with it enough, it gets hard, even if you're not in the mood. Brit jammed her tongue into my mouth, practically smothering me and she pressed herself all over me on the couch, grinding me back into the cushions.
"I thought he'd never leave," Brit purred, grabbing her shirt and tugging it off over her head, so that she was astride me in her bra.
"What?" I asked, not moving, staring up at her as she grabbed my shirt and pulled it off, too.
"I thought Josh would never leave," she sighed, sucking at my neck as her skin slid over mine and her hands roamed all over my body. "I've been waiting all day for this, Justin. I want you so bad."
Her hands dropped into my crotch, kneading my hard cock and squeezing my balls, and then she was undoing my pants. I still hadn't move, hadn't responded to her, but she didn't seem to notice as she continued to throw herself at me. She slid down my body, trailing her hair across my chest, as she jerked my pants and briefs down to my knees. She breathed on my cock, smiling, and then opened her mouth and swallowed me, gobbling my cock like she was starving for it. I groaned, my hips jerking up toward her, and she opened her throat and sucked me into her hot, wet mouth.
I closed my eyes, tossing my head back, and tried to enjoy myself, tried to lose myself in the sensations rolling over me, the feeling of her tongue sliding over my cock as her lips pressed around it. After all, who doesn't like a blowjob? How could I not enjoy the practiced skills of someone who had given so many? But I wasn't enjoying it. I was too busy trying to stifle my moans, too worried that Josh would hear us. Britney and I had never been able to keep it quiet, and I was worried suddenly that Josh would hear us and get even more upset. If he missed cuddling with Jack, he must really miss the sex. He didn't need to hear Brit and I fucking in the middle of the living room.
And I didn't want it.
It was a shock to realize it, but I didn't want to have sex with Brit. I was too worried about Josh, too concerned about what hearing us might do to him. That wasn't the only problem, though. With my eyes closed, I couldn't see Brit, couldn't see that it was her mouth my hard prick was pushing in and out of. With my eyes closed, I could remember the time Josh had blown me, could remember the peaceful way his face had looked, the mix of happiness and raw lust. I could remember the feel of his tongue, the softness of his lips, the way his little strip of beard had tickled against my balls. My eyes popped open as I realized that I was getting a blowjob from my girlfriend but pretending it was from my best friend. What the fuck was going on in my head?
I grabbed Brit's hair and pulled her off of me, my cock sliding out of her surprised mouth and smacking my stomach.
"Justin?" she asked, blinking her heavily shadowed eyes at me.
"Brit, we can't do this," I said, pushing her away.
"What?" she asked, her mouth hanging open. If I changed my mind, I could slide right back in. "You don't want to? You don't want me?"
"I do want to Brit," I lied, not wanting to make this worse. "I'm just, you know, I don't want Josh to hear us. It might upset him or something. You understand, right?"
"You don't want to have sex because it'll upset Josh?" she asked, standing, her mouth set in a grim line. I nodded. "OK, Justin. Fine. Do whatever you want, Justin. I'm going out to the pool, unless, you know, you think that'll bother Josh."
She turned on her heel and began stalking away toward the backyard.
"Brit!" I called after her. "Please don't be mad!"
"Fuck you, Justin!" she answered. "Oh, wait, Josh might hear it!"
"Shit," I sighed, looking down at myself.
I was sitting topless on the couch with my pants down around my ankles, my hard cock pointing up at the ceiling. I suppose I could have handled that better, but maybe she shouldn't have just jumped on without asking me first. Sure, she was pissed, but she was also being selfish, damn it. I couldn't just be all for her all the time, not when Josh needed me. I reached for a tissue as I noticed a ring of red lipstick around my dick. Jesus. Why did she have to wear so much makeup all the time, and why couldn't she just wear the smudgeproof kind? I cleaned myself off and pulled my pants up. Picking up my shirt, I didn't bother to put it back on as I trudged up the stairs.
Passing Josh's door, I heard a low, whimpering sound. Afraid that he might be having a nightmare of some kind, or crying again alone in his room because he didn't want to bother me, I tapped at his door. He didn't answer, so I twisted the knob open and slowly pushed open the door. I gasped, and froze in the doorway, transfixed by the sight before me. Eyes closed, head tossed back, Josh was sprawled naked on the bed as he fisted his hard cock.
Uh oh. More to come soon.