Rebound

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". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.

That said, we now continue.

Sweat broke out on Justin's forehead, which looked waxy and pale under the lights in the kitchen. I grabbed his shoulders, dropping down as well, and his eyes rolled up in his head as he started to pass out. Unsure of what else to do, I slapped him across the face.

"Justin! Stay with me!" I snapped, pulling at his hand. He was about to pass out, but his eyes had fluttered a little when I slapped him, and I debated doing it again. "Justin! Show me!"

He hadn't stabbed himself in the stomach, which is what I'd thought over by the stereo, but his hand was laid open right across the palm. The knife must have slipped off of the cucumber while he was slicing. I wasn't sure how deep the cut was, but Justin was about to pass out, and I thought he might be in shock. My own heart was hammering in my chest, and I could barely catch my breath as I tried to figure out what to do. Justin made a small whimpering noise as we looked at the cut, and I grabbed a dishtowel, wrapping it tightly around his hand. There was a lot of blood, and I knew we couldn't take care of this ourselves.

"Justin, hold that on there, tight," I said, pulling him to his feet as I fastened his free hand over the towel. I squeezed his fingers tight around it, and he seemed to get it. I began to pull him to the phone table, and he shuffled along, making a little whimpering noise. He seemed to be on the verge of graying out on me again. "Justin! Come on, we have to call someone!"

"No," he said, shaking his head. His voice was weak, and I saw that the towel was starting to turn red around the edges of his hand. "No ambulance. They'll call."

"Then I'm driving you," I said, grabbing my keys. Somehow I got him down the stairs, all three flights, and as I burst into the storeroom with him I realized that I probably shouldn't drag him, bleeding, through the store. "Julie!"

"Chris?" she asked, hurrying over. When she saw Justin, leaning on the wall and covered with blood while I propped him up, she blanched. "Oh, God."

"Justin cut himself," I explained quickly, letting her take him. Julie hugged him tightly around the shoulders, smoothing a hand over his forehead. "I have to go get my car. Stay with him, ok?"

Justin's eyes fluttered open as I stepped away, bright and panicked.

"Chris," he panted. I could see that he was terrified. "Don't, please don't leave me."

"I'll be right back, Justin, I swear," I said, hugging him quickly.

He was shaking, and his skin felt cold. His t-shirt was drenched with sweat. It hurt me to walk away when he needed me, but I had to get him to the hospital. I left him with Julie and ran across the street to get to the car. Pulling in at the loading dock, I opened his door and hurried toward the building as Julie walked him out, whispering to him that he'd be ok. Justin was still holding the towel tightly to his hand, but I was really scared for him. We got him into the car and buckled him in, and Julie followed me around to the driver's door.

"Call us!" she yelled. I nodded, not answering, as I peeled out of the parking lot.

I knew where the nearest hospital was through bitter experience, even if I hadn't been there since the night Matthew died. I tried to block it out, tried not to think about it, but walking into the hospital it rolled over me again like I was back there. I fought against it, focusing on Justin, knowing that he needed me as we raced into the emergency room and the nurse checked him in, but once they took him into the back and I was there alone, it began to close in on me. It was all so vivid, and so familiar. The lights, the sounds, having someone I cared about in the back and not knowing what was going on with them. I put my head down and tried to shut it out, but it was too much. I was here with Justin, now, but I was there, too.

The day it happened was like any other day. I was misled by years of television to believe that omens marked such things, or that everyone would just kind of feel something. I always thought that there would be some kind of warning, but I also always thought that it wouldn't happen for years, and that if something did happen, that we would go together. It would be too cruel for one of us to go before the other, for one of us to leave the other alone. Besides, even if something did happen to one of us, it wouldn't happen until we were old, until we'd lived our whole lives, and had no regrets. We wouldn't have to let go of each other until we were ready to, and we were young. We would live forever.

Matthew was going to the store over on the next block. It was right before dinner, and I was working the register while Michelle worked the counter. Matt and I were going to go upstairs and have dinner later, after Pete came in to help Michelle close, and Matt wanted ice cream for dessert. We were out, and he was just going to run down the street to get another container.

"I'll be right back, ok?" he said, smiling, as I rang someone up. The sunlight was streaming through the door behind him, lighting him up like an angel. Should I have seen something then?

"OK," I said, nodding.

"I love you," he said, stepping out the door.

"I love you, too," I said absently, putting the customer's books in a bag. Later, when I looked back, at least I would have that. At least we'd gotten to say goodbye to each other, even if we didn't know it was permanent. I would get to have that last memory of him, framed by the sun, smiling. It wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough, but it was something.

We got hit with a rush of customers after that, and I didn't really notice that Matt was taking a really long time just to go get ice cream. I looked up when the door jingled, as Pete came breezing in for his shift, and I realized we could hear sirens down the street. Pete saw me looking out the front windows and glanced back over his shoulder.

"There's an accident or something down at the corner," Pete said. The store was mostly empty. "You want to go look?"

"I think Matt's down there," I said, glancing at the clock, not realizing. "Michelle, are you ok if we run down for a second?"

"Go," she said, waving a hand. "He's probably standing there letting your ice cream melt, anyway. You might as well go collect him."

"Be right back," I said, smiling.

"Come on," Pete said, tugging at my arm.

When we got to the corner, there were a lot of people standing around, and someone was being loaded into the ambulance. There was a car partially blocking the street, the windshield shattered, but it appeared to be empty. I recognized the woman who worked at the craft store on the corner and walked over. We all knew each other, all the store owners and workers on the street, the same way people who work at the mall get to know each other.

"Bev, what's going on?" I asked, and when she turned toward me I knew. I felt all the blood draining out of me before she said anything, because the look on her face said it all.

"Oh, Chris, oh my God," she said, her face white.

"Chris Vanderhall?" a nurse called, and I looked up, startled. "Your friend is with the doctor now. They're stitching up his hand, but it isn't bad."

"There was so much blood," I said, hearing the tremor in my own voice.

"Lot of blood vessels in your hand," she said absently. "He asked if I would come out and check on you."

"Can I see him?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, it's family only," she answered. "He'll be out soon."

It was family only the last time, too. I remembered sitting in this same waiting area, part of this same emergency room, calling Matt's parents on my cell phone, not wanting to call April directly. They got in the car and started driving immediately, even though they were over an hour away, and they called April to come meet me at the hospital. I was in tears, and Michelle had tried to explain several times to the staff that I was Matt's lover, but their policy was very firm. Family only. Michelle had closed the store, and Pete was calling Julie and Meg from outside, since you weren't supposed to use a cell phone inside the hospital. They wouldn't even give us an update on Matt's condition, so I had nothing to tell April when she came bursting through the doors.

"Chris?" she practically screamed, looking around for me. Her eyes were red, her face streaked with tears. "Where's Matt? What's happening?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head, the air rushing out of me as she collided with my chest. I held her tightly, feeling my own eyes watering again. "They won't tell me anything."

"What happened?" she asked, as Michelle went to go get the doctor or a nurse, to tell them that a family member was here.

"Matt went to the store," I whispered. I would tell this story over and over as the next few days went by. "He went to get ice cream, and on his way back, this guy, this drunk guy, blew through the light, and he hit Matt. He hit Matt."

I was crying by the end, and April, clinging to me, was sobbing as well, but we were interrupted by a doctor.

"Chris?" Justin asked, startling me again. I didn't realize my eyes were leaking until he scooped a fingertip across my cheek, swiping the tears away. Justin's voice was tender, and he sat down beside me, still brushing the side of my face, feather light. "Hey, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. I couldn't tell Justin what was wrong, because I couldn't speak at all. My tongue was frozen, as it had been then, when we were all upstairs, outside the operating room in the waiting area. The emergency room staff had taken Matt up to surgery what seemed like hours before. April was sitting with her parents, who had arrived, the three of them sharing a couch. I sat across from them, Julie and Michelle sitting on one side of me, and Pete holding Meg's hand on the other. We were all waiting for someone to come out and tell us that Matt would be ok. After all, if they kept working on him, there must still be hope, right? The doctor in the emergency room had told April and I that it was serious, but it couldn't be too serious, it just couldn't. I was sure that Matt would be ok, but he wasn't.

When the doctor came out, I knew. I knew from his face, and I think Michelle did, too, because she was shaking her head before he even started to speak. I barely heard the words. Even now, even if I tried to remember them, I couldn't summon them, not exactly. I know he said he was sorry, and I know he said they worked very hard, but there was nothing they could do in the end. There was too much damage. He said that Matt had fought, that he had struggled, and I think he meant it to be comforting, but it wasn't. If Matt had to die, I wanted to think of it being quick. I didn't want to know that Matt had been in pain, that he had been aware and fighting. I knew he was fighting to stay with me, that he was fighting for us, but I wanted him to be at peace.

Most of all, though, I remember suddenly feeling empty. I know that April and her mother cried, holding onto each other. I remember that Matt's father got up and hugged me tightly. He cried a little, something I'd never seen him do, and I remember being even more surprised, in a dull, numb kind of way, that Michelle was crying softly as well, black mascara running down her cheeks. Everyone was talking, and I couldn't say anything. I couldn't find any words. Matt was gone. What else was there to say? Nothing that came out of my mouth would change that one huge, immutable fact. Words wouldn't come because they couldn't take that away, and I just swallowed as the tears ran down my cheeks.

I couldn't tell Justin now, either. It hurt too much. He looked at me in confusion.

"Chris, I'm ok," he said, holding up his hand. There was white medical tape wrapped around it. "I'm fine now. Please, please don't cry. Please tell me what's wrong."

I swallowed thickly, carefully removing his hand from the side of my face. I squeezed it tightly, and tried to meet his eyes.

"Can we go, please?" I asked, my voice low. I felt hollow again, empty and alone. "If you're done, can we leave?"

"Yeah, of course," Justin said, standing. He held out his hand, but I stood without it, trying to collect myself. On our way to the car Justin asked for Julie's number, so he could tell her he was ok, and I handed him my phone, but besides that, we didn't speak until we got to the loft. Justin turned to me as I shut the door. "Chris, can I do anything?"

"No, I'm fine," I said quickly, hoping he would fall for it again. He wouldn't buy my standard excuse twice, though.

"No, you're not," he said simply. "Is it because you were worried about me? I'm ok, Chris. The doctor gave me a couple of stitches, and I'll be fine. It's not your fault, ok?"

"I know," I said quietly. "I, you scared me, Justin. When I saw you, and you were so pale, and there was so much blood."

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down at his hand.

"Justin, don't be sorry," I said, shaking my head. "It's called an accident for a reason. I'm glad you're ok."

"I'm kind of tired, though," Justin said. He still looked confused and concerned, but appeared willing to let it go. "Is it ok if I go to bed?"

"Sure," I answered, trying to smile.

I turned and walked toward the bedroom. Behind me, Justin started to shut off the lights in the loft, both of us ignoring the mess that was dinner. We weren't doing well at actually eating a meal in the loft. As I stood in my doorway, my back to him, I thought about being alone, and the way I felt right now. I didn't want to feel this way by myself, and Justin deserved a better answer than, "I'm fine." When I turned back, he had pulled his shirt off, the shadows in the loft catching the muscles of his chest, but that was pretty far from my mind.

"Justin?" I asked, my voice thick. It was so hard to talk about this, to feel this way, but I had to let it out. He turned, walking toward me. "Matt died in that hospital."

"Oh, Chris," Justin said, rushing toward me. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing me to his warm, bare chest. He held me against him, and started to pull me toward the bed to sit down.

"He died, Justin," I repeated, my eyes tearing up. We sat on the bed, and Justin held me with one arm while he rubbed my back with the other, trying to soothe me. "Out in the street, there was a, a drunk driver hit him. They took him to the hospital, we all went, but they couldn't, there wasn't anything they could do. They tried and tried, but they couldn't help him, and he, he couldn't fight, anymore."

My walls let go suddenly, my eyes tearing, and I slumped against Justin. He held me tightly, smoothing my hair back.

"It's ok," Justin whispered. "Please don't cry."

"He left me alone," I whispered, holding him tightly, feeling his heart thump under the warm silk of his chest.

"You're not alone," Justin whispered, but I was. I felt it inside. I was empty. I was alone. There was a space inside of me that nothing could fill, a yearning. My heart was reaching out for something I missed, something absent, a feeling that I missed. "Please don't cry."

Justin, so warm and near.

"Please, don't cry," he whispered again, leaning closer. He kissed my forehead.

I needed someone, and Justin was here.

"Please, Chris," Justin whispered, his hands on the sides of my face. He leaned in, and kissed me quickly on the mouth. "Please?"

I wasn't sure what he was asking for anymore, but I had a pretty good idea, and right then I just didn't want to feel so alone. Justin's eyes stared into mine, warm and crackling.

"Please," he whispered again, and I kissed him back.

Justin's mouth was soft, but his lips were firm, and they pressed against mine as he let out a little sigh, pressing himself against me. His eyes closed, and I shut mine, too, not wanting to think too much about what we were doing. Both of us were making little noises, little grunts and sighs, mine low and Justin's high and sharp, as we kissed each other hard, and Justin turned a little. My hands were on his shoulders, kneading the warm skin there, tugging at the firm muscle there, rounded and tight, and his hands were still holding my face as he dipped his tongue into my mouth. I danced my tongue against it, the tip of mine skating across his, and then he suddenly inhaled, sucking my tongue into his mouth. He tasted smoky, sort of like chocolate, but something else, too, and then he shifted again, and he was straddling me, the dense weight of his body pressing me down into the bed. The only sound in the loft was our panting breath and the sloppy wet sounds of us kissing.

My hands were sliding all over Justin's bare chest, caressing and pulling at him. I hadn't realized until he had his shirt off how cut everything was, how defined. His pecs swelled against my open palms each time he took a breath, and his abs, not deeply chiseled like a bodybuilder's, soft and smooth but still impressive, flexed and disappeared as he lay on top of me, twisting and whimpering. His skin was smooth and soft, the skin of a peach or an apricot, and he was warm. Our mouths tried to consume each other, lips pressing bruisingly against each other, tongues dueling, and my hands slid over his chest again, feeling the thinnest scattering of hair. My fingers found his nipples, both of them at once, hard and ready, pressing against my hands, and I pulled at both of them, rolling them away from the curves of his pecs. Justin groaned, a high squeal of urgency, and pressed harder against me. Lower, where his legs stretched over mine, I felt his crotch grinding into mine. We were both hard, and I knew that I was leaking as he dry humped against me. There was too much fabric between us to really feel things, but there was plenty of pressure.

Justin's hands were crawling up and down my arms, and he lifted himself up a little, shifting again. Both of us were still pushing hard against each other, undulating, and his legs slid off of mine as my knees rose on either side of him. Justin was now laying on top of me with my legs cradling him, our hard cocks still sliding against each other, and my hands on his back, running up and down it. I felt his shoulders moving, the muscles dancing under my hands, the bones sliding like wings, as he moved his arms to my shirt, going by feel, not breaking the connection of our mouths, and he began to fight with my buttons, clawing my shirt open. He finally got the buttons undone, jerking the bottom out of my pants so that he could open the sides, but I wouldn't let go of him long enough to get my arms out of the sleeves. Both of us groaned and sighed with renewed urgency as we felt out bare chests slide against each other, the scrape of warm skin against skin, the pointed nubs of our nipples brushing against each other. My hands slid down Justin's back to his ass, clutching it, and his hips jerked forward, pressing mine into the mattress.

"Chris, please," Justin panted again. His high pitched sighs made my name sound so damn sexy.

I squeezed his ass again, crushing his cheeks in my hand, but it was rock hard, trained by years of dancing and God knew what else. I used it to pull him tighter against me, and his back arched, his head finally slipping away from me, I looked up and he was panting above me, his face strained. He was staring down at me with his mouth open a little, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, before his head dropped down, his mouth sucking wetly at my neck. I groaned, my hands sliding up his back again, and tried to push him away, but that just seemed to urge him onward, and he bit and nipped at me even harder. I knew that I would have marks in the morning, little red nicks from his teeth, but neither of us seemed to care. Justin washed over the spots where he bit with his tongue, soothing them, drawing his breath in over the wet parts, sending shivers down my body, and he slid lower, across my chest. Still sighing and letting out those little high pitched whimpers, Justin licked at my chest, his tongue outstretched like a cat's, and my hands continued to crawl, spiderlike, over his shoulders and arms, and I clutched at his head, pressing it against me, wanting his mouth everywhere.

Justin turned his head, catching one of my hands in his, and brought his mouth to my wrist. I'd never felt anyone do that before, but he sucked at it, nibbling like he had along my neck, and brought his mouth up over the heel of my hand, kissing, sucking, and licking. My fingers danced along his lips, and he sucked one, and then two, inside, gently chewing them as I pushed them against his tongue, probing his soft mouth, feeling it vibrate around my invading fingers as he continued to mew and whimper. His eyes were closed again, and I felt him shifting on top of me again. I realized that he was undoing his pants as he pulled my arm down from his mouth and jammed my hand down the open front of his khakis. He was wearing briefs, tighty whities that made him seem even younger, although what I was feeling under them, cupping my hand against his hard cock, definitely betrayed any notion of innocence. Justin's hips jerked forward, and he thrust against my hand as he smashed his mouth down onto mine again.

The front of his briefs were wet and sticky, and I thought I could almost smell the alkaline, salty scent, but I wasn't sure, and there was also the natural, musky yet somehow fresh scent of Justin, too. He was hot, and so was I, and he continued to thrust against my hand as I cupped and caressed his cock. His lips fought against mine, seeking something, and then I slid my fingers under the waistband of his briefs. I pushed my fingers through his curled, soft pubic hair, and he groaned so loudly as my fingers finally came into contact with his hot spike that I thought the neighbors would hear him. I had both hands in the front of his underwear now, tugging them and his pants down, pushing them past the curves of his ass, and I glanced down to see the goods as I stroked him with one hand and rolled his balls in the other. Justin's cock, like the rest of him, was pretty, cute, and plenty firm once you got your hands on it. He was leaking heavily, and I could tell he was close to cumming. I smoothed my thumb over the dark pink, almost red, head, and he shuddered, groaning again, a loud bellow with a sharp whine at the end.

"Chris," he panted again, thrusting into my hand. He kissed me again and again, brusing my lips with his, smashing them together. "Please, Chris, please!"

I stroked him with both hands, jerking him off, letting his cock slide between my palms. His whole body was shaking now as his hips jerked and rocked, faster and faster, bringing him closer and closer as he fucked my warm, tight grip on him. His hard cock slid easily through my hands, lubing its way forward, and his whimpers took on a note of urgency and strain that hadn't been there before. His mouth slid off of mine, and he buried his face in the cleft between my head and shoulder, muffling himself in the crook of my neck. He was like steel in my hands, his body taut and tight as it slid against mine, and I turned my head a little, catching his earlobe in my teeth. I nibbled it just a little, barely sucking at it, and his whole body locked above me.

"Chris!" he yelped, tossing his head back, his eyes squeezed closed.

I almost thought he was having a seizure. He sucked in air between clenched teeth, the cords in his neck standing out. His arms were rigid on either side of me, and his fat cockhead burst from between my hands. Thick ropes and splatters of cum hit my abs and chest as he grunted and convulsed, and when I gave his low hanging balls a light squeeze he yelped, and shot out another glistening stream. My fingers were wet and sticky, and sweat glistened on his forehead and at his temples. Still holding himself above me, his arms hard like stone, he grabbed one of my hands and fastened his mouth to it again, sucking his own cum off. I groaned a little as he licked it clean, and then he grabbed the other one, too. When he was finished, he dropped them at my sides and kissed me again, his tongue sliding over mine, his mouth faintly salty, and then he dropped down to my chest. His tongue slid over one of my nipples again, following one of his splatters, and he began to lick me clean as I gasped and sighed beneath him.

I wanted to tell him to stop, that we'd already gone too far and shouldn't do this, but the most I got out was his name, gasped as he licked and sucked at my chest and abs. Dropping down, he circled my navel with his tongue, still licking, even though he'd sucked up his own cum already. He pushed the tip of his tongue into my navel, pressing, almost seeming to fuck me with it, and my hands were running over his short hair, just starting to grow back in from his buzz cut. I tried to push his head away as his hands fought with my pants, undoing them, jerking them and my boxers down together. My brain said I was trying to push him off, but my hands were just pushing him lower, and I gasped as he pushed my legs apart and I felt his tongue on my balls. He lapped at them for a second before he licked his way up my shaft, which bounced and throbbed against him. Reaching the head, he licked all around and over it without taking it into his mouth, and I finally looked down to see him staring up at me, those eyes so wide and blue and somehow smoky.

"Chris," he whispered huskily, as if to make sure I was paying attention. Once he saw that I was looking he leaned forward, and folded his lips around my head, sucking on it lightly as his tongue washed over it.

"Oh, God," I groaned, my hips jerking off the bed as my hands clamped down on him, pushing him down on me as I surged forward into his mouth.

If he hadn't been ready, I probably would have gagged him, but someone, apparently JC, had trained Justin rather well. I stared down at him, unable to speak at all, gasping for air, as he bobbed up and down on me, his lips tight around my shaft, which slid between them, glistening with his saliva. He held my legs apart with his hands, keeping them from clamping around his head. I wasn't trying to crush him, really, but it had been so long since I was with anyone that my body was jerking wildly, clenching and unclenching like one muscle each time he swallowed me again. His mouth was a hot, wet pocket, and his tongue caressed me each time I slid over it, and I knew I wouldn't last long. He was too good at it, and I was too worked up already. My fingers dug into his shoulders, trying to pull him off again, but Justin had other ideas, and ignored them. I heard him take a deep breath through his nose, and then he pressed all the way forward, swallowing me, and I felt the end of my cock slide into his throat.

"Justin," I panted, my voice high and tight, wanting to warn him.

He probably didn't need the warning, as it would have been obvious to even the most casual observer that I was about to blow. Sweat glistened on both of us, and my whole body was tight, the only things moving my jerking hips and gasping lungs. One of Justin's hands wrapped carefully around my balls, squeezing them, but not painfully, and I felt the other hand sliding up my thighs, between my legs.

"No, Justin," I groaned, losing it.

His only response was a moan around my shaft as he pulled back and then slid forward to swallow me again. His finger, firmly insistent, pushed at my hole, fluttering over it, and then he jammed it inside, stabbing it toward my prostate as I clenched around him. My hips jerked up, trying to escape, jamming my pubes against his face, and I felt myself jerk, realizing that I was cumming in Justin's mouth. The thought, like a catalyst, set off another spasm in me, and then another. Justin swallowed hard, sucking it out of me, moaning himself and ignoring my fingers digging roughly into his shoulders. When it was finally done he let my cock slide out of his mouth, and he began kissing it softly as it lay across my hip, slowly deflating. He finished pulling my pants and boxers off, and tugged off my socks, before sliding back up my body slowly, stopping to kiss along the way as his smooth skin slid over mine, and then his face was above me. I lay beneath him, still trying to catch my breath, and realized as I felt him half hard against me that he'd finished shucking his pants and briefs at some point, too.

"Thanks," he whispered, dropping down to kiss me again.

The boy was a hell of a kisser, and I could tell, too, that on a regular night, when he hadn't had a trip to the emergency room to tire him out, that this would probably just have been a warm up for him. He was, after all, twenty, at the height of his prime, and sexy as hell. My head was spinning, though, as I lay under him, letting him kiss me. What had we done? What had I been thinking? Actually, I knew, I wasn't thinking at all, which is how we'd ended up like this, naked in bed, limbs entwined. Justin's hands were at my sides, pulling me up.

"Let's get rid of that," he said simply, finishing pulling my shirt off.

He pressed me back down onto the mattress with one hand as he pulled the sheets up with the other, and he snuggled tightly against me like an octopus, somehow seeming to latch on with all his limbs at once. He kissed my chest once before he laid his head against it, and I cradled him to me, feeling drowsy myself. I'd forgotten what it was like to have another warm body in the bed, to have all that skin against mine. Hell, on another night, this would have been a warm up for me, too, with someone else.

"I love you," Justin whispered, his eyes closed.

I was instantly fully awake, staring at the ceiling, and it was hours before I finally fell asleep.

"I love you."

Oh shit.

To be continued.