Tangle

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.

This story has nothing to do with "JC's Hitchhiker", "Brian and Tommy", or "Thieves."

The lights out on the dance floor were flashing, but the ones around the edges were darker. There were hanging lights above the tables, but they didn't do much to lighten the atmosphere, and everything had just a touch of smoky haze to it from the cigarettes. The music was pounding, loud and fast, and the dance floor was completely full, people packed in everywhere. Up at the bar there was a little more room, but the place was just crowded. If you came with friends, you had to stay close to them, or you might lose them in the melee. If you came by yourself, you were guaranteed to meet someone, anyone, because you were going to be squashed against everyone in the room at some point.

"So, what do you think?" JC asked, leaning back against the bar, his sleeveless shirt showing off his arms.

"What do I think about what?" Chris asked, sipping his beer. JC wasn't drinking, but Chris figured just one wouldn't hurt.

"What do you think?" JC asked again, nodding toward the dance floor. Chris swallowed thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"I don't think I'm going to have any problems," he said. "The little blond over there in the red dress, she's been looking all night. Her friend keeps telling her to stop, but every time I look up, she's looking at me. I got her, and if I play it right, maybe her friend, too."

"Two at once?" JC asked, smiling. "You're getting kind of cocky in your old age."

"I didn't think you had a problem with cock," Chris giggled.

"No, I don't think I do," JC said. He nodded toward the crowd again. "Sleeveless button down, black pants, black hair at two o'clock."

Chris looked, trying not to be obvious about it, and smirked.

"Strike out, JC," Chris said finally, sipping his beer. "That boy's straight."

"He thinks he is," JC agreed, "but he's been watching me all night. He's not half as straight as he thinks he is. He wants it, Chris."

"You're dreaming," Chris said.

"He's looking right now," JC said, throwing the boy a smile. The boy quickly looked away, dancing closer to his female friend. If it had been brighter, they would have seen him blush.

"He's probably looking because he's trying to figure out why you're staring at him," Chris said. "You're way off on this one."

"Have I ever been wrong before?" JC asked, thinking, plotting, trying to figure out how he was going to get this gorgeous creature back to the hotel and on his knees. "A hundred bucks says I can nail him."

"I can't believe you," Chris said, shaking his head.

"Two hundred," JC said, and Chris shook his hand.

"Easiest two hundred I ever made," JC said, finishing his water. "I'm going to go talk to him, then I'm going to leave with him, and then I'm going to take him back to the hotel and I'm going to fuck him. Good luck with your blond."

"Wait, JC," Chris said, touching his arm. "I don't think the others are ready to go yet."

"Good for them," JC said absently, already moving away, focusing on his goal. Chris watched him go, shaking his head, and wondered again what had happened to his friend.

JC threaded his way through the crowd, smiling, nodding at people, and began to dance near the black haired boy. He wasn't too close at first, and he wasn't full out dancing as well as he could. He was doing ok, grinding with the first willing girl who appeared near him, and there was never a shortage of those. The music was still throbbing, and JC rode with it, throwing his hips into the beat, glancing over pointedly to see if the black haired boy was watching. He still was, and JC caught his eyes several times, knowing that his blue green ones would stand out in these lights, fixing them on the black haired boy's darker eyes. The music shifted, sliding into another song, and JC did, too, moving around. Suddenly he was dancing on the black haired boy's other side now, closer, but still a few people away, with a different girl. She was dancing back into him, grinding her ass against him, and JC let his hands trail across her hips, pulling at her, guiding her a little as he made it more sexual, but the whole time he was watching the black haired boy, making sure he was watching them.

The black haired boy was named Tim, and JC was right. Tim wasn't quite as straight as he thought he was. He dated a lot of girls, and it was rather easy for him to, with the way he looked, but he also had these feelings for guys, too. Not full out, wanted to kiss them type of feelings, but warm, stirring in his gut sort of feelings. Sometimes when he saw a guy, a really hot guy, he felt kind of fluttery, a little lightheaded, and he never knew for sure what it meant. He thought about what it could mean, but he always pushed that thought away. Now, here he was, out clubbing with his college friends, hopping from bar to bar, drinking a little even though he was a year below age, and Nsync was here, dancing right near them. They saw a lot of celebrities when they came out, and they always watched them even though they knew they weren't supposed to, but tonight it seemed to Tim that JC might be staring back. He wasn't sure at first, but now that JC was dancing closer, he could tell that JC knew he was watching and was watching him back, and he felt all fluttery inside again.

JC was a fantastic dancer, and Tim couldn't help but watch, feeling as if he was almost spellbound. JC's legs moved to the beat, flexing, sliding around gracefully, his thighs bulging and shifting beneath his pants. Tim figured that JC kind of had to be a good dancer, considering what he did for a living, but that wasn't all of it. After all, Lance did the same thing, and Tim had seen him earlier, on the dance floor upstairs. Lance didn't have it, not what JC had, that style, that movement. JC was married to the music. It seemed to flow through him, through his swinging hips and toned arms, his long fingers brushing the sides of the girl he was dancing with, maybe, just maybe, thumbing a nipple. Wait, boyband guys didn't do stuff like that. They were good boys, and they didn't touch girls that way, not where people could see, especially not strange girls they didn't know. When Tim glanced up again, though, looking away from JC's hands, the thoughts he saw in JC's eyes were anything but wholesome.

The music shifted again, the lights flashing, and Tim lost track of JC. He glanced around, but suddenly he felt him sliding up behind him, dancing against him. Tim was still dancing with his friend, who shook her hips, unaware, in front of him, but JC was behind him now, right up against him. Tim could smell his cologne, could feel his breath on the back of his neck, and he almost passed out. JC's chest brushed against his back, pecs sliding over his shoulder blades, and he felt JC's hands press against the sides of his hips, guiding him, for just a second. He was lucky it was just a second, because his knees felt weak suddenly, and he was trembling all over. JC was dancing so close to him, his arms brushing Tim's, bare skin against bare skin, and JC's skin was hot, so hot. He bumped back, and felt JC's cock against his ass, and realized JC was hard.

Oh my God.

JC leaned forward, whispering in Tim's ear, his lips brushing the outer curve, so soft, like feathers.

"Let's go get to know each other better," JC suggested, pushing his crotch against Tim again.

Tim felt hot and cold inside at the same time, dizzy and confused. He knew the word he should be thinking of, the word he should be whispering back. It was "No," of course, but somehow he heard himself saying, "OK," as goosebumps flashed up along his arms. Straight boys didn't say ok, didn't get weak kneed, didn't feel themselves shivering inside while sweat broke out on their foreheads. They didn't notice things like how tight someone's body was, or the muscles in his bare arms, or those eyes, those blue green eyes with all those colors swirling inside them.

"I'm going out to a limo out front," JC whispered, his breath caressing Tim's ear. "I leave in five minutes, with you or without you. Do me a favor, and don't tell anyone you're coming with me. You know, we have to be careful, and the press reads all kinds of things into everything, even if I'm just going to talk to someone, or, you know, whatever."

JC stepped away as the song ended, his voice putting just enough weight on the "whatever" to let Tim know he wasn't completely thinking about just talking. He said he wanted to get to know him better, but Tim had a feeling that by the time tonight was over, he would know JC extremely well, all of him, and JC would know him, too. The idea left him excited, but scared, and he almost turned away. He glanced toward the door, though, where JC had stopped to talk to his friend, Chris. A light above the bar shined through his hair, outlining him, setting every curve of his silhouette aglow and every strand of hair on his head aflame. He looked so perfect, so friendly, and so sexual, too. Tim knew that he shouldn't think that, but JC looked back at him, and Tim was like a moth, drifting too close to a fire but unable to turn away.

He turned to his friends to let them know he was leaving, and completely missed Chris pressing a few bills into JC's hand as he shook his head.

"I can't believe you," Chris said, wanting to curse again. "What is he? Like eighteen?"

"Just the way I like them," JC said, shrugging as he grinned at Chris. "Young, dumb, and hopefully hung."

"Not that he'll get to use it," Chris said, shaking his head again. This is how it was with JC, all the time. Another day, another victim. If Chris weren't doing the same thing, with girls, he'd be a little offended. As it was, it served to make them better friends, in a weird way.

"I'm nobody's bottom," JC agreed. "Have a good night, Kirkpatrick."

"Enjoy your fratboy," Chris said, waving. He turned back to the crowd, picking out the blond girl from earlier. She was looking back, which meant things were looking up.

JC didn't bother looking for any of the others before he left. Joey would be talking somewhere, because that's what he did. He might not be married to Kelly, but he never cheated on her. He might dance with someone, but that was as far as it ever went. Lance and Justin were in there somewhere, too, but JC didn't really care what they were doing, or who they might be with. They didn't register on his priority list, but tonight, for now, this black haired dancing boy in the bar certainly did. JC settled into the limo, not glancing at his watch, knowing that it wouldn't be worth it because the boy would be out here long before the five minute cut off. Sure enough, he came bursting out of the front door of the club, looking around wildly, and JC rolled the window down halfway.

"Hey," he said softly, and Tim's head snapped toward him. Tim didn't smile, but his eyes lit up. He looked kind of dazed, but still cute, and he walked over and opened the door.

"Hi," Tim said, sitting down on the seat next to JC. He didn't sit too close, a little unsure, and JC flicked the switch to roll the window up before pressing the button to speak to the driver, invisible behind the tinted divider.

"Back to the hotel, please?" he said quietly. "Thanks."

The two of them stared at each other, JC smiling slyly, Tim just watching him, trying to catch his breath. What was he doing here? He felt very confused, and unsure of himself. He was also a little tipsy, having been drinking, and every time he looked over at JC, meeting those eyes that were so steadily watching him, he felt even more baffled by the feelings surging up inside of him. Up close, in the confines of the car, JC was even more gorgeous, and there was so much more, too, the way he smelled, and just this tremendous sense of him, the force of his personality, and the expectation of what he wanted. Tim could feel it radiating off of him like waves, and he slowly admitted that maybe it was something he wanted, too. He wasn't completely sure, but every time he looked up and collided with JC's gaze, he felt himself slipping a little more.

"So, what's your name?" JC asked, breaking the silence finally. He mentally reviewed how close they were to the hotel. The boy swallowed thickly.

"T, Tim," he stuttered. Was JC leaning closer?

"And how old are you?" JC asked. He figured the boy had to at least have a really good fake ID, to get into clubs, or he might actually be of age.

"Twenty," Tim answered, blushing a little.

"Twenty?" JC asked, grinning, his thin eyebrows rising a little. He leaned in a little more. "But you've been drinking, Tim. That's kind of illegal. Maybe we should swing by the police station, rather than the hotel."

As he said this, one of his hands settled onto Tim's leg, just above his knee. He didn't really do anything, just resting it there, other than squeezing gently, but Tim shivered at the contact, and swallowed again.

"I don't think," he began, looking down at JC's hand, with those long, nimble fingers as they gently began to knead his leg, just a little. What else might that hand be able to do? "I don't think we need to call the police."

"I won't tell if you won't," JC said, smiling wider now. He could see Tim getting a little uncomfortable, but could also tell that he was getting a little worked up. He leaned in a little more. They were practically touching now. "So, Tim, what do you do?"

"I go to college," Tim answered, his voice low. "I'm a phys ed major."

"Really? I thought you might be," JC answered, raising his hand from Tim's leg to brush his bare arm. Tim practically jumped at the contact as JC traced the curve of his bicep with one fingertip. "You have great arms."

"I, uh, I work out," Tim said, shifting a little. "I wrestle, too."

"Oh, that's interesting," JC answered absently, moving his hand again, dropping his finger to the hollow of Tim's throat. Tim sucked in a shaking breath, his heart hammering, and followed JC's hand with his eyes, watching as it slid down, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. "You have a great chest, too."

Neither of them spoke as JC deftly undid the top two buttons of Tim's tight shirt, running his fingertip down the center of Tim's chest. Tim watched the finger, and JC watched Tim, listening to his breath quicken, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Sweat broke out on Tim's forehead as JC traced his finger around the bottom of Tim's curved, well developed chest, sliding it along until he reached Tim's hard, round nipple. He traced his finger around it, feeling it stiffen and harden even more, and then passed his fingertip right over the top, over the pointed tip, and heard Tim gasp. JC immediately pulled back.

"Oh, look, here's the hotel," he said, sliding over to the door. "Come on, Tim. I think I might want to wrestle."

JC hopped out of the car, leaving Tim to try to catch his breath. He hastily rebuttoned his shirt and tried to think about what just happened. His chest was tingling, and his whole body seemed to be on fire when JC had touched him. For just a second it seemed like every inch of him had been reaching back to JC, like every part of his body wanted to be under that one moving finger, and he hastily rearranged his pants as he realized that he was hard, steely hard, more than he ever had been. He followed JC out of the car, walking quickly with his hands clasped in front of him to try to cover the bulge, but no one in the hotel even seemed to look at him as they walked inside. Tim followed JC to the elevator, and JC watched him the whole way up, keeping a steady gaze as Tim met his eyes and glanced away, before meeting his eyes again. When they got to the suite, JC opened the door, and Tim walked inside, looking around, unsure of what he should do. He walked over to the windows, looking out, and heard JC closing the door behind him.

"Hey Tim?" JC asked quietly, walking toward him.

"Yeah?" Tim answered, still looking out.

"Hold that pose," JC growled, slamming up against him.

All Tim could do was groan as he felt JC press him against the glass, JC's hands all over him. He pressed Tim's hands to the glass, arms raised, and buried his mouth against Tim's neck, sucking and biting. Tim's head rolled back, his eyes closed, and he felt JC's hands clawing his shirt open and then peeling it off of him. JC's fingers danced greedily over his chest, caressing him, grabbing at him, rubbing his skin and twisting his nipples, and Tim felt like he would pass out. His balls were drawn up tight, and he thought if JC did so much as drop a hand down to his lap he would cum, right there and then. He almost did anyway when he heard a zipper opening, and JC grabbed his hand.

"Touch me," he growled, pulling Tim's hand back as he thrust his cock into it, still grinding against him, the glass cold against his bare chest and the buttons on JC's shirt rubbing up and down his back. He felt JC's cock in his hand, throbbing, stiff and hard, but soft on the outside, as JC pumped his hips.

"I don't," Tim began, hearing how tight his own voice was, how close to a whimper. He felt raw, exposed, but also hot, more worked up than he'd ever been in his life. "I've never."

"You know what to do," JC purred, sucking at his neck, reaching around to twist his nipple again. Shivers raced through his body. "Stop pretending."

Tim turned a little, meaning to argue, or at least to slow things down, but then JC attacked his front with his mouth and hands. JC's lips crawled under his chin, nibbling, biting, and sucking at him, coating him with saliva as his hands squeezed and groped at his pecks. JC's face was twisted with lust, his hair messed, his eyes drinking Tim in. Tim glanced down, tearing his gaze away from JC's face, and saw his fingers wrapped around JC's jutting cock, which sprang out from his opened pants like a spike. Without thinking, he began to pump it, squeezing, jacking JC off. JC was right, of course, he did know what to do, even if he'd never admitted it. JC's hands slid up to his shoulders, and Tim felt him gently pressing as he continued to work his hand up and down JC's shaft.

"Suck it," JC whispered, catching his eyes. He felt himself falling into them, lost, and began to sink to his knees. "Suck me."

Tim's mouth dropped open, and he reached out with his tongue, swiping it over the head of JC's cock. It was salty, not as hard as the rest of the shaft, but before he could get more than the slightest taste, JC was pushing it into his mouth. JC looked down, moaning, as he watched his shaft disappear between this beautiful college wrestler's lips, watching his eyes bulge and his mouth drop open. One of JC's hands was caressing the side of his face, brushing over his forehead and stroking his cheek, but the other reached around to twine into his hair, grabbing a big handful of the wavy black curls. JC's arm bulged, pulling Tim toward him, as he pushed his hips forward, pressing until he felt Tim's nose brushing his brown pubes. He pulled back, watching his wet shaft slide out, and heard Tim gasp for breath before JC rammed forward again, burying his cock in the wet cavern of Tim's mouth.

Tim was completely lost in the feelings running through him. Here he was, on the floor, with the cock of a gorgeous celebrity in his mouth, sliding in and out past his lips, and JC wanted him. Out of the entire bar, JC had picked him, and he was so beautiful, and so perfect. Everything he did made Tim hot, and now he was reaching up with his other hand, still holding Tim's hair, and began to unbutton his shirt. As Tim glanced up at him, unable to raise his head very high because of the angle, he saw JC's rippled abs sliding into view, and the curves of his chest. His brown nipples were pointed and hard, and the smattering of fine brown hairs on his chest glistened with sweat. With his pants already down around his ankles JC was practically naked, and even hotter than he had looked before. He stared down at Tim with burning intensity, his eyes pinning Tim to the floor, and Tim was helpless before him. Nobody had ever treated him like this, had ever taken control this way, and Tim was powerless before it.

JC grinned down at him, his arm flexing, hips pumping. He was right about this one after all. He wanted it, wanted it bad, and he was just about to get it all.

"You like that?" JC panted. "Yeah, I know you do. Guess what? Here it comes."

Tim knew what he meant, and started to pull back, but JC's arm was rigid as his cock stabbed Tim's face, drilling its way into his throat. He looked up into JC's eyes, those burning blue circles above him, and he slumped bonelessly, surrendering completely. JC smiled wider, and hot blasts of scalding cum surged into Tim's mouth. His throat worked around JC's cock as he worked to swallow it all, and JC finally pulled out of him, pulling him up from the floor, both of his hands working at the front of Tim's pants as Tim tried to catch his breath. The only sounds Tim seemed to be able to make were whimpers and moans, and he practically bellowed when JC's hands wrapped around his cock and began to jerk him off, squeezing tightly with one hand as the other massaged his balls.

"You're so fucking hot," JC purred again, as he pulled Tim's pants down. Tim stepped out of them, slumping backward, sitting hard on the arm of the couch as JC continued to stroke him. "Look at you. So fucking hot."

Just hearing him say it sent Tim over the edge. Before he could even warn him cum was shooting out of his cock, spurting into JC's waiting hands, and his whole world seemed to gray out for a second. This was so unbelievable. No one had ever made him feel like this, ever. Before he knew what was happening, JC's hands were turning him, rolling him over on the side of the couch, and then he felt JC's cum-slick finger pop into his ass. He cried out, and JC was above him, rubbing his whole body against his, his mouth chewing at the side of Tim's neck as his finger pushed in and out.

"I've never," he began again, finally finding the voice to speak, and then yelped in mixed pain and pleasure as JC's popped a second finger inside of him.

"Shhh," JC whispered, his breath a hot feather on Tim's cheek. "I just want to make you feel good. I want you, I want you so bad."

Tim's answer was a whimper as he felt JC find something inside him, some place he'd never imagined or touched before. Pleasure surged through him, a crushing wave of it that left him trembling. Before he could catch his breath, JC hit whatever it was again, and then again, sliding a third finger inside, and Tim just moaned as he slumped bonelessly across the couch. He'd played with his own ass a few times in the shower, but never like this, and he'd never known it could feel so good. He was so lost in the feelings that he barely noticed JC reaching into his pants, picking them up off of the floor, and pulling a condom out of the pocket. Still working Tim over with one hand, he tore the condom open carefully with his teeth, and began rolling it down his throbbing shaft. This boy was hot, really hot, and he was ready to go. More importantly, JC was ready to go again as well, and he shifted behind Tim, gripping his cock with one hand and getting ready to slide it inside. It would be a little hard, since there wasn't much lubrication there, but it would be so worth it.

"Do you like the way that feels?" JC asked, leaning down again, pressing his body against Tim's. Tim groaned, nodding, as JC continued to fuck him with his hand, working it in and out, opening him up. Even though he'd just cum, Tim's cock was throbbing, trapped between his abs and the couch, rubbing maddeningly on the soft fabric of the arm. "You don't have to answer. I can tell you like it. You want more?"

Tim groaned again, and JC sucked at his neck, nibbling, scraping his teeth over Tim's hot skin.

"I said," JC began again, stabbing his fingers forward particularly hard. Tim's back arched, throwing him back against JC. "Do you want more?"

"Yes," Tim whined.

No one had ever told him he could feel this way. In the back of his mind, he knew what was coming, what JC was asking for, but he didn't want to face it, not completely. He gasped again, and winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness as JC's fingers slid out of him. Before he could say anything to protest, he felt something else pressing against him, something hard, and he realized what it was. JC seemed impossibly large, impossibly male as he pressed against Tim's ass, and they both sighed as JC's cockhead popped inside. JC's hands slid around Tim's front, pinching a nipple, the other dropping down to fondle his cock, distracting him, as he began a slow pump, pushing a little bit more of himself in on each thrust. Tim arched and moaned below him, sweat pouring off of both of them, as JC slowly worked his way inside. When he finally pushed all the way in, his pubes resting against Tim's flexing ass, he paused for a second, holding himself in place, watching Tim pant below him. Tim's eyes had been squeezed closed, and as JC began to thrust into him again, impaling him, stabbing deep into him, he pulled Tim's head up by the hair.

"Look," JC whispered, sucking at Tim's ear. "Look at that."

Tim opened his eyes and saw them in the mirror by the door. It was a large, ornate mirror, gold trimmed, extra fancy like everything else in the suite, and as Tim watched, he saw JC flexing above him. They were both covered with sweat, both straining, as they sprawled across the couch, and Tim thought, just for a second, that they looked beautiful. More than that, though, they looked hot, really hot, and just watching, catching the look on his own face as he adjusted to this burning pleasure, watching the look of tight urgency as JC's eyes met his in the mirror, Tim felt himself giving in to this, surrendering completely, throwing himself back as JC thrust into him. It seemed to go on forever, the two of them sweating and straining, both of their muscled and conditioned bodies driving them forward, but it couldn't really have been that long. JC's hands continued to play over him, stopping sometimes to grip at him, to hold him or pull him in a certain direction, as JC's hard cock relentlessly stabbed into him.

Finally JC, grunting loudly, stabbed into him, his hips thrusting even harder, and Tim could tell that JC was cumming again. JC lay atop him for a second, catching his breath, and Tim realized that his own cock was still hard, that he wanted to cum a second time as well, but JC slid off of him without touching him, without giving him any relief. Tim caught his breath as well, still leaning over the couch, as JC walked to the bathroom and disposed of the condom, flushing it away. He flicked on the shower, and walked lazily back into the main room, brazenly naked, stopping to pull his socks off. Tim rolled over, facing him, naked as well, but the look on JC's face had changed. He no longer had that look of interest, that seeking gaze. Now he just looked a little bored as he stood at the doorframe, smiling absently at Tim.

"So, um," JC began.

"Yeah," Tim said, sitting up, feeling oddly exposed under JC's gaze. "That was, wow, that was pretty amazing."

"Yeah," JC answered, shrugging. "Fucking hot, Tom."

"Tim," he corrected weakly. JC didn't even know his name? "What, um, now what?"

"Well, I'm going to take a shower," JC answered, cocking his head toward the bathroom. "I have to be up in the morning. Are you ok to get home? I can get you a cab if you need one."

"Wait, what?" Tim asked. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he'd gotten the feeling that maybe this could mean something, that maybe JC was really interested in him. He'd never even been with a guy before, and never thought that it could feel like that. He didn't just want more, he wanted more of JC, wanted JC to look at him that way again, but he felt something sinking inside of him as he realized that he'd played this scene before, with girls. He'd just been used, and now he felt a little angry, and a lot hurt. "This wasn't anything to you, was it?"

"What? The fucking?" JC asked, handing Tim his boxers and pants from the floor. He sounded a little bored, not even bothered. "Not really, no. I mean, we're both adults. I thought you were hot, I wanted to fuck, and I guess you did, too. Like I said, you were great, but, you know, let's not pretend something else was going on."

Even though he'd thought that was the answer, it still hurt to hear JC say it like that, so bluntly. Tim felt his eyes stinging, and looked away quickly, not wanting JC to see.

"I just thought," Tim began, stopping himself. He sounded so pathetic, so girly. "I mean, I've never been with a guy, and I kind of thought."

"I guess it wasn't what you thought, then," JC said coldly, handing him his shirt. "Look, you seem like a really nice guy, and you're a hell of a good fuck. I'm sure you'll make some guy, or girl, or whatever you're into, really happy. But you and me? That's kind of a joke, you know?"

He might as well have stabbed him. Tim slumped, grabbing his shirt out of JC's hands.

"Look, Tom," JC began again.

"It's Tim!" Tim hissed, spinning. "My name is Tim. Maybe this didn't mean anything to you, but at least you could pretend to care who I was. You could pretend like it meant something, anything, rather than being such a dick. I can't believe you. Everyone always talks about what nice guys you are, and how sweet you are, and I thought maybe you were, I don't know, I guess I thought maybe you were really like that, but you're not. You're just a user, and you're an asshole."

JC didn't even blink in the face of that outburst, didn't look upset in the least, and Tim realized nothing he'd say would make any difference. He hastily buttoned his shirt, glaring at JC as JC watched him as dispassionately as he might watch the local news on television. Finally, JC spoke.

"So, do you want me to call you that cab or not?"

"I'll get my own fucking cab," Tim said, stalking toward the door. He slammed it behind him, not caring who heard, and stomped off toward the stairwell. Before he got there, the actuality of his situation hit him. He was in a strange hotel, alone, with a sore ass, and he'd just been used for sex by someone who couldn't even remember his name. He felt so dirty all of a sudden, so sleazy and trashy, and he slumped against the wall, wiping at his eyes again, cursing himself for being so stupid, when he heard someone walk up to him. He figured it was a security guard, someone called by JC to make sure he left the building, and he began walking toward the door without looking.

"I'm leaving, ok?" he snapped, not turning around.

"I'm sorry he did that to you," someone said quietly behind him. "I'm sorry you feel stupid right now, and dirty, and used, I really am."

Tim stopped, feeling all that sadness rushing up in him again, and turned. Standing in front of him, hands folded nervously in front of his chest, looking very sad under the hallway lights, was Justin Timberlake, JC's bandmate, and alleged best friend. Tim saw the concern in his blue eyes, the way his face winced a little when he saw the tears on Tim's cheeks, and Tim felt fresh tears gushing from his eyes. He didn't know why, didn't know where they came from, but suddenly he just felt so dumb, like a little kid, and he felt Justin's hand on his shoulder.

"How can I help?" Justin asked quietly. "What can I do to help you?"

"Why is he like that?" Tim asked, looking up at Justin again. "Why is he such an asshole?"

"Come on," Justin said, taking his arm. "The hallway isn't really the place for this. Do you want to go to my suite? You could take a shower if you want."

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. He didn't know what Justin wanted, but for all he did know, they could all be gay, and Justin might just be sniffing around for sloppy seconds. He wondered again how he could have been so stupid. Did he think this was like a slashy porno story or something? Bigtime popstar picks him up in a club, and they fall in love and live happily ever after? He was an idiot, and he wasn't about to get taken twice. "I just want to go home. I'm sorry I bothered you."

"What's your name?" Justin asked. Tim stopped.

"Why?" he asked warily.

"Because I want to know who I'm talking to," Justin said, shrugging. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry you feel hurt right now, and I'd take it away if I could. Do you want to go downstairs and get some coffee? I can't really leave the hotel, but I want to help, if I can."

Tim looked at Justin again. Justin was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, his short hair a little messy, and Tim wondered how he happened to be here in the hallway. Not only that, but how did he know exactly what was going on? His face looked genuinely concerned, and Tim was curious. Besides, how much trouble could they get into over coffee? Tim allowed Justin to lead him to the elevator, closing his eyes as he thought about riding up in this same elevator earlier. It hadn't been that long, but it could have been another lifetime ago.

"My name is Tim," he said finally as they stepped inside. "And I guess, I don't know, I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee, or something."

"I'm Justin."

"I know who you are," Tim said, smiling a little.

"Sort of," Justin agreed, shaking his hand.

The two of them were the only ones in the little hotel restaurant, and they both asked for coffee, Justin for decaf. Tim waited to see what Justin would say, but Justin was apparently waiting for him.

"Why is he like that?" Tim asked finally. Justin sighed. "Why does he treat people that way?"

"It's kind of complicated," Justin answered, stirring his coffee. He liked it with lots of cream. "He, well, he wasn't always like that. He used to be a totally different person, but someone hurt him. JC was in love with someone, and they broke his heart."

"That's not an excuse," Tim said. "I mean, he made me feel, I don't know. I've never been with a guy before, you know? It probably doesn't mean anything to him, but I, I don't know. I just feel so stupid."

"I know it's not an excuse," Justin said, watching Tim sip his coffee. "I'm not trying to excuse him. What he does, the way he treats guys, it's not right. I know it, and I'm sure he does, too."

"Why are you doing this?" Tim asked. "Isn't he your friend?"

"We're not that close anymore," Justin said, looking down. He sighed. "I guess I'm here because, you know, like I said, I want to help you. I saw you guys leaving the club, and I knew what would happen. I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"Then he does this all the time?" Tim asked bitterly. Like the things JC had said, it hurt to hear even if he kind of knew it was true already.

"Do you want me to lie?" Justin asked, looking up at him. "Would you rather I tell you this is the first time he's ever done anything like this? Would that make you feel better?"

"I don't know," Tim answered. "I just, for a little while, I thought I was something special, you know? I felt like I was important."

"I bet you are something special, Tim," Justin said. "I bet you're a nice guy, and you will be after this, too. I know it hurts a little to think about it. I bet he looked at you with those eyes, and gave you that smile."

"Yeah, he did," Tim said, looking away again.

"It's ok that you felt that way," Justin said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Tim looked up in surprise, and Justin smiled a little. "I'm not going to give you a big speech about how it's ok that you slept with a guy, and being gay is so great. That's not my business. I guess I just wanted to tell you that what happened isn't really your fault. You didn't know any better, and he took advantage of you."

"If you know he does this, why don't you stop him?" Tim asked. "I mean, I don't know how you would, but maybe he'd listen to you. Maybe he doesn't know it hurts people so much."

"He knows," Justin said, shaking his head again. "I just don't think he cares. He got hurt, and now it's like that's all he can do. I think when he hurts other people, it makes him feel better. Like I said, it's not right, but I think it's all he knows how to do now."

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their coffee. Tim felt a little better, or at least a little calmer.

"How come you were in the hallway?" Tim asked.

"I was waiting," Justin answered. "I guessed how long he would be, and I heard the door slam, so I went to look for you."

"You always do this?" Tim asked, his voice a little sharp. "You spend all your time cleaning up after him?"

"I don't look at it that way," Justin said. "I don't clean up after him, but I try to make sure you guys are ok. I try to take some of the hurt away, if I can, not for him, but for you."

"You don't even know us," Tim said.

"I know enough," Justin answered. "I don't like to see people hurt, especially if it's someone close to me who causes it."

"I'm sorry," Tim said, finishing his coffee. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I guess I just, you know, I don't really understand. He doesn't really deserve to have a friend like you."

"I told you, we're not really close anymore," Justin said. "Can I walk out with you? I want to make sure you get on your way ok."

"Um, sure," Tim said, reaching for his wallet. Justin put a hand on his arm.

"Coffee's on me," he said. "The company pays for it."

Tim just nodded, and they walked outside. He realized that someone was walking behind them, but then guessed that it must be Justin's bodyguard. Justin ignored him, so Tim did, too, and the guy waited way off to the side while they were out at the curb.

"Thanks for everything," Tim said.

"It's just coffee," Justin said, shrugging.

"Not that," Tim said, shaking his head as he paused by the open door of the taxi. "Thanks for talking with me. I guess, I don't know, I feel a little better."

"You won't feel stupid and used forever," Justin said. "Not if you don't want to. You'll be ok, Tim."

Tim smiled. Justin remembered his name. Justin really had listened, and really did understand.

"Justin?" Tim asked. "How do you know so much about this? How did you know exactly how I feel?"

Justin's face fell a little as he put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping. When he answered, his voice was low, bruised, and Tim wished he hadn't asked.

"I was JC's virgin once, too," Justin said finally.

"Oh," Tim said, unsure of what else to say.

He climbed into the cab, and Justin pushed the door closed for a minute. Their eyes met through the glass, and Justin raised his hand in a half wave as it began to pull away. Tim waved back through the rear view, and then the cab was gone, and Justin walked back into the hotel. He rode the elevator back up, and then went back to the suite he slept in, across the hall from JC's. He'd offered to let Tim shower in his suite, but Justin never used his own. He crept back into the darkened bedroom, peeling his clothes back off until he was down to his underwear, and slid back under the covers, trying very hard not to wake the man next to him. He jumped a little as he felt Lance's hand slide around him.

"You ok, baby?" Lance slurred in the darkness, half awake. He pulled Justin back against him, and Justin nuzzled in, letting Lance spoon against him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Justin lied, whispering in the dark. "Go back to sleep, ok?"

"OK," Lance said, kissing the back of his neck. "Love you."

"I love you, too," Justin whispered, feeling Lance sigh against his neck.

He did love Lance, too, but it was a gentle, quiet love. It was slow, and tender, and Lance was always careful with him. Lance had always been there for him, always been a friend to him. The two of them had been close by being the youngest guys, and by having both their moms come to Germany back in the early days. Their moms palled around together, and since they both loved their moms, they palled around together, too. They used to talk, and hang out, and Justin had even told Lance once, before, that he thought he might love JC, that he might be gay, and Lance hadn't pushed him away. Justin loved him for that, and he loved him now, too, for the way Lance treated him and loved him, like he was something special. Maybe it wasn't the same kind of love Justin once had for JC, that burning love that made Justin feel out of breath and punched in the stomach sometimes, but he also knew that Lance would never hurt him like JC had.

Justin still remembered that day, when JC had taken everything inside of him and broken it, the day when he thought JC felt the same way, when he thought JC cared, and then found out that JC didn't care about anything but himself. Justin had always felt closest to JC, back from the first time he met him, before he even knew what other feelings he had, or what they meant. When they had been on the Mickey Mouse Club, JC had been one of the older kids, but quiet, and Justin was a natural extrovert. The two of them had nothing in common, but somehow they ended up as friends, and it was hard for them both when the show was cancelled. They stayed in touch, but it wasn't the same, and Justin felt his friend drifting away as JC pursued his own interests. When Chris and Lou called, though, and asked Justin to join up, Justin immediately thought of JC, and they were together again.

It was good between them, the way they had been before, calling each other, and hanging out, and the work they did getting the group together just enforced that closeness, and made it even tighter. Every time Justin was down, JC was there to pick him up. When Justin needed a partner for basketball, or to play video games, JC always joined up with him. The two of them were like brothers, best friends again, but something was different, too. Something silent was between them, something neither acknowledged. JC was keeping something from Justin, and Justin was keeping something from JC. Justin knew what his half was. As he'd gotten older, and started to figure out his feelings, he realized that he wasn't really into girls. They were nice, and fun to hang out with, but he wasn't really into doing much more than that with them. Like it or not, he was into guys, and more than that, he was into a specific guy. He loved JC like a brother, but he was also in love with JC, and he was afraid to tell him. He wondered if JC sensed that somehow, if that was why they were drifting a little, and finally he had to ask. He had the other guys, Chris, Joey, and he was spending a lot of time with Lance, but the idea that he might be somehow pushing his best friend away was more than he could handle, and he had to ask the question even if he didn't like the answer he might get.

"What?" JC asked, blinking at him, flashing those blue green eyes. "Am I mad at you? Justin, why would I be mad at you?"

The two of them were out on the beach, on a rare day off. Justin had balled up his shirt and left it next to his towel, but JC, always a little more demure, had his sleeveless top on, denying Justin the sight of his torso in the sun. His long legs were stretched out in the sand, though, and Justin tried to keep his eyes from running up and down them. Justin had asked JC to come out with him, bringing him to a secluded beach that he knew no one else would be on, so that he could talk to him, alone, without the other guys around. JC asked what Justin needed, and Justin had blurted out his question before he lost his nerve.

"I just, I don't know," Justin said, sitting down. "But we don't hang out as much anymore. We don't do all the stuff we used to, and we don't talk anymore."

"We're talking now," JC said calmly. It was maddening to see him so neutral, when Justin could barely speak.

"But it's not the same," Justin said, shaking his head. "I feel like I'm losing you, ok? I feel like I'm losing my best friend, and I don't know what I did. I don't know why, but I can feel you drifting away from me, and it hurts, JC."

Justin realized that his eyes were stinging, and that he was starting to cry a little. God, he felt so stupid, like such a girl, crying like this. JC didn't know he was gay, but he'd be able to guess it now. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he turned, JC was there, right next to him, and he wrapped Justin up in a hug.

"JC, I'm sorry," Justin said, trying not to cry. "I'm sorry I'm being such a baby, but I just, I feel like you don't like me anymore, like you don't want to be around me, and I don't know what I did to make you feel that way. I just don't understand, and it hurts."

"I'm sorry, Justin," JC said, holding onto him. His hands brushed in lazy circles on the bare skin of Justin's back. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that."

"What?" Justin asked, confused. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because you're right," JC said, pulling back a little. The two of them were now facing each other on their towels, and JC held Justin's hands tightly. "I have been pulling away, but it wasn't anything you did, Justin, it was because of me."

"But why?" Justin asked, his bright blue eyes locked on JC's more textured ones. "JC, whatever it is, I'm your friend. You can tell me, and I won't care. I just, we can't keep doing this. It's killing me, JC. I feel like I'm dying inside. Please, please just tell me what it is."

"OK, Justin, OK," JC said, still holding his hands. "Please, just calm down, ok? I don't like to see you all upset like this. I promise, I'll tell you what's going on. I promise, but I want you to take a deep breath, and calm down."

"OK, I'm fine," Justin said. JC waited, and Justin wiped at his eyes, sitting expectantly across from JC, his hands folded in his lap as he gave JC his full attention. "Please tell me?"

"I will," JC said, grinning. Justin was always so enthusiastic. "I was just trying to think of the right way. It's a little, I don't know, it's kind of complicated, Justin. I guess you've noticed for the past month or so I've been a little withdrawn from you."

"Not just me," Justin said. "You haven't really been around any of us. You just disappear, and no one knows where you're going."

"I know," JC said. "I didn't mean to worry anyone, and I wouldn't have if I knew you'd get this upset, but it's personal, Justin. I probably should have told you sooner, but it's been really hard for me, and I didn't want things between us to change."

"But they are changing," Justin said emphatically.

"I know, Justin, I know," JC said, soothing him. "And that's why I'm telling you this. I know things are changing, and I want you to understand why. I haven't been spending a lot of time around you because I've been spending it with someone else. I met someone, Justin, and I think I'm in love. Real love this time."

Justin smiled. He had accepted a while ago that, while he cared about JC, JC would never feel that way about him. He'd watched a parade of girls come in and out of JC's life, none of them ever staying for very long, and had decided that his role in all of it would be just to be JC's friend. It wasn't a perfect life, and it wasn't always easy, but he couldn't waste his energy hoping for something that wouldn't ever be possible. He couldn't waste his time dreaming about JC, and praying for something that wouldn't come true. So, if JC was happy, Justin wanted to be happy for him, because that's what friends did.

"Tell me!" Justin said, clapping his hands. "Where did you meet her? What's her name? When do we get to meet her? Is she pretty?"

"Calm down," JC repeated, smiling as well. "It's a little bit more complicated, Justin."

"I don't understand," Justin said. A girlfriend was happy news, right?

"It's, um, there's something else, Justin," JC said, swallowing. "Something else I didn't tell you, and I didn't keep it from you on purpose. I just, it took me a really long time to realize it, and to understand what it meant, and the two of them are kind of related. See, I, um, you haven't gotten to meet my girlfriend because I don't have one."

"But you said you," Justin began, and then cut himself off. No. No, not that. JC couldn't be telling him that, not now, not when Justin had lain awake in bed so many nights, when he'd thought so much about it. He looked up at JC again, and JC nodded. "Oh."

"Justin?" JC asked, alarmed.

Justin's face had gone blank, slack, and then he stood up and turned away, walking a few steps toward the water. He watched the waves, but inside he felt something withering. JC couldn't be gay, not now. He couldn't be gay and in love with someone, because Justin loved him. If JC was going to be gay, he belonged to Justin, not to someone else, not to some other guy who was taking him away from his friends. How could Justin have missed it? How could JC be gay? That wasn't all that Justin had missed, either. He had missed his chance. If he had told JC the truth, maybe he would be JC's boyfriend right now. Maybe he would be the one JC loved.

"Justin?" JC asked from behind him, and Justin heard JC's voice shaking a little. "Justin, please say something, please. I know I never told you I was gay, but I didn't think it would matter. I was scared it would change things between us, and I didn't want that, so I didn't say anything. Justin, you're my best friend. Please tell me this is ok."

Justin turned slowly, and saw the look on JC's face. He heard what JC said, and heard the fear of rejection in his voice, the fear that Justin was walking away because he wouldn't accept him. Justin realized that their friendship was just as important to JC, and that JC was terrified of losing it, of losing him. Maybe Justin had blown his chance, but he still had his friend, unless he threw that away, too. He had a choice to make, right now, here on the beach, as JC stood shaking before him, suffering inside and reaching out. He could be angry, could be mad at not being told and mad that JC didn't love him the way Justin wanted him to, or he could be happy for his friend. He could be happy that JC was happy, the way he had been so many times before.

"Of course it's ok," Justin said, swallowing his own feelings behind a wide grin. "You just surprised me, that's all. Am I still allowed to hug you?"

"Yes," JC choked, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Justin. Thank you for understanding."

"Of course I understand," Justin said. "You're my best friend, too, and I love you."

They stepped apart, staring out at the waves.

"Tell me about him," Justin said quietly. "What's he like? Can I meet him?"

"He's amazing, Justin," JC answered, smiling. They sat again, their bare feet in the water now. "He makes me feel so special, Justin, like I'm the only thing in the world. And he's beautiful, Justin. He's so beautiful, and kind, and he's beautiful inside, too. And he loves me."

"He sounds wonderful," Justin said. "What's his name?"

JC looked away, and Justin's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I can't tell you," JC said finally. "I wish I could, but he's not out yet, Justin. He's not ready to tell anyone, and I promised him I would respect that. Someday I'll be able to tell you, but right now I just can't. Is that ok?"

"As long as he makes you happy, that's ok," Justin said. They sat in silence for a while, watching the waves, feeling close, both silently deciding that their friendship was repaired again, and that everything was going to be fine. Justin had to ask something else, though. "Are you going to tell the guys?"

"Not yet," JC answered. "For now, I just wanted you to know. I'll tell them when the time is right, ok?"

But the time never was right. JC never told the guys, and as a few months went by, the strain started to bother him. Justin could tell, and tried to talk to him about it, but JC's boyfriend didn't want to tell, didn't want to meet his friends, and JC didn't want to upset him. At the same time, though, something else was going on, and JC wouldn't tell Justin what it was. For a few weeks Justin was scared that maybe JC's boyfriend was hurting him, or wanted him to leave the band, but it was neither of those things. JC finally confessed to Justin that the relationship was having some problems, and that he thought his boyfriend was falling out of love with him. Justin tried to ask more, but JC was too upset, and angrily stormed away, unable to talk to him. After that discussion, Justin was afraid to bring it up again, and he tried to just be nice to JC, and be supportive. He couldn't hide his secret joy, though, at the idea that JC might leave him. He had to tell someone, so he breathlessly spilled the whole thing to Lance.

"He doesn't even know you're gay?" Lance asked. Justin shook his head.

"I didn't want to just blurt it out," Justin said, pacing his room. "I mean, he might think that I was just playing him, that all along I've wanted them to break up or something."

"You're right," Lance said. "You probably shouldn't tell him."

"I don't know," Justin said, shrugging.

He thought about telling JC, but he didn't want to bring it up. JC hadn't talked about his relationship at all since the day he had stormed out on Justin, and Justin didn't want to do anything to upset the perilous boundary of their friendship, not after he'd almost lost it. In the end, though, it hadn't mattered. He had gone to JC's house one day, not hearing from him all day, and found JC in his bedroom, curled up on his side in bed. The sheet was pulled up to his shoulders, and he was facing away from Justin. Justin used his spare key to get in, but then didn't know what to do once he got to the bedroom.

"JC?" he asked softly. "JC, it's Justin. You haven't answered the phone all day. Are you ok?"

"He cheated on me, Justin," JC said quietly. "He told me yesterday he was sick, so I went to his house last night, to bring him soup, to make him feel better, and I found him there with someone else, with some other guy. He never loved me. All along he was in love with another guy, and he just wanted to use me to get closer to him."

"I don't understand," Justin said, shaking his head. "Who is it, JC? How did he use you?"

"It doesn't matter," JC answered, rolling over. His face looked different, his eyes ticking over Justin as he sat up, the sheet falling away from his bare chest. "He lied to me, Justin."

Justin sat down on the bed, leaning over, hugging JC tightly. He felt JC's soft skin under his fingers, all those smooth muscles, and tried to push the thought away, but JC was hugging him so tightly. JC pressed himself against Justin, holding on, and Justin realized that JC was naked under the sheet. He felt his heart fluttering, and tried to pull away, but when he did, he found himself staring into JC's eyes. Suddenly JC's mouth was on his, JC's tongue pressing against his, and Justin was lost. When they pulled back, JC's face was flushed, and he was staring at Justin hungrily.

"Justin," he began, but Justin pressed a hand to JC's lips. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want JC to stop this.

"Show me what to do," Justin whispered. "Show me how to make you happy."

Justin grabbed JC's hair and brought his mouth to JC's again, and felt all the resistance drain out of him. Suddenly JC's hands and mouth were everywhere, and the two of them struggled together to remove Justin's clothes as the sheet fell away, revealing JC in all his glory. Justin had never been with anyone, had never been touched by any hands but his own, and all he wanted to do was make JC happy. JC, for his part, roamed over Justin as if he wanted to consume him, touching him, tugging at him, swallowing him. When he finally buried himself inside Justin, pushing him toward heights he never knew existed, Justin surrendered completely, allowing JC to do whatever he wanted. When it was over, when they had both sweated and strained to their conclusion, they lay on the bed, JC on his back, Justin on his stomach.

"What happens now?" Justin asked. "What happens with us?"

"Well, we're still friends," JC said. "Aren't we?"

"Yeah, but I thought," Justin began, hearing the change in JC's tone. He looked at JC's face, and that burning need, that drive to possess him, was gone. "What we just did, JC, what about us?"

JC smiled, sitting up.

"Justin, don't be so naive," he said, shaking his head. "There is no us, Justin. What we just did, it was great, but, you know. I was down. You made me feel better."

"That's all?" Justin asked, sitting up as well. JC looked so calm.

"Yeah, Justin, that's all," JC said, shrugging. "We're friends, Justin, not boyfriends. That was just sex. It's something that friends do sometimes, that's all. If you're going to be like this about it, maybe you should head home, and think a little."

"Maybe I should," Justin said, grabbing his clothes. He stumbled into the hallway, cut to the core but what JC had just said, and behind him he heard the shower turn on. JC wasn't coming after him. He really didn't care. Justin left, driving fast, trying to clear the tears from his eyes the whole way, and went to Lance's house. He burst through the door, throwing his arms around Lance, sobbing hysterically.

"Justin?" Lance asked, stunned. "Justin, what's wrong?"

"I'm so stupid, Lance, so stupid," JC said, shaking against him. "I loved him, and I thought he loved me, and I let him, I let him make love to me, and it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything, Lance!"

Lance held onto Justin, listening to him cry himself out, and when Justin finally calmed down, Lance walked him upstairs to the bedroom. Settling Justin down on the bed, Lance ran a bath, filling it with bubbles. He set out some fresh towels, and then walked Justin inside. Justin stared numbly at the tub.

"Take a bath, Justin," Lance said, pointing at the tub. "Soak in there for a while, and you'll feel better. I'm going to go downstairs and make us some dinner, and you just come down when you feel ready, ok?"

"OK," Justin said, realizing that he felt not only used and ashamed, but also dirty. Lance was right. The bath would make him feel better. When he was finished, after soaking for a while, and scrubbing himself carefully, he put on one of the robes hanging in the bathroom, and walked downstairs. Lance looked up, smiling at him, from the stove. "Why did he do it, Lance? I love him. Why doesn't he love me?"

"I don't know, Justin," Lance answered, shrugging. He walked over and hugged Justin again. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who will love you completely, Justin, someone who will put you above himself. You need someone to take care of you, someone who cares about you."

Justin looked around the kitchen, looked at the food Lance had made for them. Lance had run him a bath, and had listened to him all the times he needed someone else to talk to, all these past few weeks when JC had been angry and shut off again. Justin realized that Lance had been there all along, quietly looking out for him. Justin had known, but he had been too blinded by JC to notice what was right in front of him.

"Lance?" Justin asked, swallowing. "What are you trying to say?"

"Right now," Lance began, nodding toward the table, "I'm just trying to say that dinner is ready."

And that was all they'd said about it that night. As time went on, Justin spent more time with Lance, and every time he turned around, Lance was there. When they went back to work, and he had to face JC, who stared at him with cold indifference, Lance was always right there beside him, always ready to give him a quick hug and cheer him up. One day Justin kissed him, and the next day Lance kissed him back. They talked about it, told the other guys, and moved in together, and JC never said a word. He never told Justin he was happy for him, and he never talked about what had happened between them. That hurt Justin, more than anything else, but Lance was here for him. Lance took care of him, and Justin tried to take care of the boys that JC hurt, tried to do the same thing for them that Lance had done for him.

Justin snuggled back against Lance, feeling those warm, strong arms around him, and thought about how lucky he was. In his suite, getting out of the shower and sliding into bed, JC thought about Justin, too, and how lucky he was not to know the truth. Justin would never know what Lance had done, because JC would never tell him. He loved Justin too much as a friend to ever make him unhappy, and if Lance made him happy, JC would never spoil that. Maybe Lance had been lying in wait all along, but in the end it had been JC who delivered Justin to him. It had been JC who made Justin happy, even if he had to give up their friendship to do it.

Looking back, JC could never quite tell when he fell in love with Lance. He hadn't even known at first that Lance was gay, and it had taken them forever to admit it to each other. In between, there had been the usual. Long glances when they thought the other wasn't looking, a lot of touching, tapping each other on the shoulder, lingering holding during group hugs. The two of them had drifted closer and closer, becoming better friends with each other through Lance's friendship with Justin, and then, finally, one night Justin hadn't been there, and Lance and JC had found each other. The next morning JC had woken up first, and stared at the young blond sleeping on his bare chest, his breath fluttering out over JC's nipple. He wasn't sure how long he watched Lance sleep, but finally those brilliant green eyes had opened again, so deep and clear, and JC felt himself staring dreamily into them.

From that night, or, rather, that morning, JC never looked back. He never questioned himself again, and he followed his heart straight to Lance. They talked about it, and Lance thought they shouldn't tell the others, because it might upset the chemistry, or the balance of the band, so JC agreed. Lance wanted JC to stay in the closet to their friends, because they would start to ask questions if he was out, so JC agreed to that, too. He tried to do everything Lance wanted, to be there for Lance, but he always felt like whatever he did wasn't enough. There was always something missing, some little need that JC worried he wasn't fulfilling, and he could never find what it was. It nagged at him, and after his talk with Justin on the beach, it nagged at him even more. When he told Lance about it, he thought he saw the answer, but didn't want to say it.

Lance asked too many questions about it. Lance asked too much about what Justin had said, how Justin had reacted, and he had asked it before he asked how JC felt. Once the thought struck him, JC couldn't let it go. Every time he turned around, he saw Lance and Justin together. When he was alone with Lance, Lance asked him how Justin was doing. When they were together as a group, Lance completely ignored JC. When they got changed backstage, Lance watched Justin. JC felt his heart breaking, knowing how much he cared about Lance, but he didn't seem to be able to stop it, couldn't figure out how to make Lance feel the same way. When JC finally mentioned it, things started to go downhill.

"Justin said this was a great movie," Lance said absently, grabbing another handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"So of course we're watching it," JC muttered, shifting a little so he wasn't leaning so closely on Lance.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lance asked, his voice a little tight.

"Nothing," JC said. He tried to push the thought away, but he was tired of this, tired of dancing around it. He got up and walked into the kitchen, not wanting to face the fact that his boyfriend only loved him because his first choice wasn't available. Lance paused the movie and followed him.

"What's the matter with you?" Lance asked. "Why are you acting like this?"

"How do you feel about Justin?" JC asked, turning to face him. The question caught Lance completely off guard.

"It's not what you think, JC," Lance began, and JC shoved past him, almost running up the stairs. They were in Lance's house, but JC kept a small set of clothing and toiletries here, just in case. By the time Lance got up the stairs, JC was sweeping his stuff from the bathroom counter into a small trash bag. "JC, stop it."

"Don't tell me to stop it, Lance," JC said, turning on him, face red. "Don't tell me how to feel. I ask how you feel about Justin, and the best you can give me is that it's not what I think? Wrong answer, Lance. Wrong fucking answer."

"You didn't let me answer," Lance said, frowning.

"I didn't have to!" JC snapped, his eyes watering. "You talk about him all the time, Lance. If he's in the room, it's like I'm not even alive. Even when I'm alone with you, it's still about Justin. You still bring him up."

"He's my friend," Lance began, irritated.

"I'm your boyfriend!" JC said, shaking his head. "I love you, and you're ashamed of me. You're just using me until something better comes along."

"That's not true," Lance sighed, wondering why JC had picked now to queen out on him. He'd really been enjoying the movie.

"Then why can't I tell Justin we're together?" JC asked, standing firmly in front of Lance. "Why can't I tell Justin I'm with you, and you're the secret boyfriend I haven't let him meet yet?"

"I told you, it'll upset the chemistry of the group," Lance said, shrugging.

"Bullshit!" JC snapped. "You don't want to tell him you're with me because you know he'd never touch you if he thought you were mine."

"You're being stupid," Lance said. "And paranoid. You don't even know if he's gay."

"And you haven't denied a single thing I've said," JC said, stuffing his clothes into another bag. "You don't know what it's like, Lance, being the second guy. Everything is always Justin, all the time, and I work just as hard as he does. I want it just as badly, and I don't want to hear it from you, too. I love you, Lance, and you think he's better than me, too."

"Maybe he is," Lance said coldly. JC wanted to say Lance didn't know how it felt? At least JC was the second guy. Lance wanted to hurt him, suddenly, to hurt him badly. "I mean, look at you, JC. You're about cry your eyes out over someone who cares more about your best friend than he does about you. Yeah, you heard me. Everything you said is true, and you know what else? Everything everyone else says is true, too. You'll never be Justin."

JC walked out of Lance's house, swearing never to come back, hating Lance for saying it, and hating himself for letting it be said. He hated himself even more when he went back to Lance, when he went back to the man he loved, knowing Lance didn't love him the same way. Things changed between them, then. They didn't make love any more. Now they just fucked. It was angry, and raw, and there wasn't a lot of feeling involved. It started to wear on JC, this feeling of just being Lance's toy, of being a warm body. If he pressed Lance, Lance would say that he cared about him, but he didn't care the same way JC cared about him. Justin noticed the strain on JC, and JC could tell he was concerned, but he couldn't talk to him, either. When he looked at Justin, he still saw his friend, but he also saw the man Lance wanted. He knew that wasn't Justin's fault, and he tried not to take it out on him, but when Justin asked him about it, he just snapped.

"How could he be in love with someone else?" Justin asked. "I mean, you're perfect. How could he love someone else more than he loves you?"

JC stared at Justin, feeling the anger welling up in him, and wanted to scream, "Because he loves you!" He left the room, slamming the door behind him, and Justin never brought it up again. Lance did, though, that night while JC was getting dressed to go home, and Lance was laying naked on the bed, lazily running a hand up and down his chest.

"I had the most fascinating conversation with Justin today," Lance said, toying with his nipple.

"Good for you," JC said, feeling that knife stab into him again. Since he'd come back, Lance didn't even pretend not to be interested in Justin. He was practically rubbing JC's nose in it, every chance he got.

"Did you know he's gay, and secretly in love with you?" Lance asked, smirking. JC felt everything inside of him freeze.

"What?" JC asked, turning.

"Oh, don't worry," Lance said. "I convinced him it would be a bad idea to tell you. Said it would destroy your friendship, and all that."

JC's mouth filled with ash, dry and foul.

"I hate you," he whispered, turning to leave.

"You still keep coming back, though," Lance called after him. His laughter followed JC to the door.

It should have been over then, too. That should have been the final straw, but again, JC came back. He had nowhere to go, now, no one to go to. He'd pushed Justin away again, unable to keep seeing him and knowing how Lance felt about him, and he couldn't explain it to the others, not this late in the game. Lance was even crueler this time, making fun of JC, enjoying seeing him humiliate himself by submitting to Lance's every whim, but JC couldn't help it. He still loved Lance, still wanted to make him happy, and it's not like Lance was hurting him. Sure, he treated JC like a whore, but he didn't hit him. He hurt him in other ways, though, and when the end finally came, it was because JC caught Lance with someone else. He never knew the boy's name, but when he climbed the stairs and saw them in Lance's bed, saw the boy's blue eyes and curly blonde hair, and the way Lance just grinned at him and laughed, he decided he finally had enough.

JC spent the next day in bed, not getting dressed, not wanting to do anything. He felt so ashamed of himself, trying to figure out what kind of a person he was for going back to someone who just hurt him, over and over. He tried to figure out why he still loved Lance, and what he'd seen in him, but mostly all he wanted was to hurt him. He'd had enough, and wanted to hurt Lance back. He wanted to take something from Lance, the way Lance had taken so much from him. He wanted to lash out, to strike back, and suddenly there was Justin, the one that Lance loved. There was Lance's pure, idealized virgin prince, and without thinking of the consequences, JC took him. JC reveled in destroying Justin's purity, did everything he could think of to Justin, and taught Justin to do the same to him. Justin followed eagerly, hungry for JC, wanting only to please him, and at that moment, JC only wanted revenge, only wanted to defile Lance's vision of perfection. He used Justin's mouth, and Justin's ass, not caring that Justin trusted him completely, and would do anything JC asked of him.

When it was over, JC realized what he'd done, and felt sick inside. He had used his best friend. He had taken Justin's innocence, and he had done it for twisted, useless reasons. He would never be able to give it back, and now, when he looked at Justin, he was horrified to see that his vision had changed. He no longer saw the boy Lance wanted, the perfect boy he would never be. Instead, JC looked at Justin and saw what he had just done. He looked at Justin and saw what he had become, what Lance had driven him to, and he felt sick. He had to look away, and he had to drive Justin away. Justin deserved a better friend than him, deserved to be with someone who cared about him, who wouldn't use him. Justin deserved someone who would love him, and would only ever touch him out of kindness, caring, and affection, not someone who would use him without any regard for how Justin felt.

And so he had driven Justin to Lance, knowing that, if he said those things, Justin would go to his other friend. He also knew that Lance would take him with open arms, would scoop Justin up without a second thought. Lance would love him, and would treat Justin the way he deserved to be treated. JC allowed himself to be cast as the villain, because he couldn't think of another way to make it up to Justin. If he let Justin love him, Lance would always be there, waiting, watching, undermining them from within. If he went back to Lance again, Lance would continue to crush him slowly, to punish him for being better than Lance was. This way, Justin, his best friend that he could never be best friends with again, and Lance, the man he loved who never really loved him back, could both be happy.

And JC would spend the rest of his life trying to forget what it was like to love them both.

End