By Zaen
Your
album was in perpetual limbo, it seemed.
First Jive was ready, and you weren’t.
Then you were ready, Jive wasn’t.
It was frustrating. It was
maddening. And almost as bad, you hardly
ever saw Justin anymore.
“You
have to go soon.”
“No. Not yet.”
Justin kissed you and nuzzled your neck.
He’d been on top of you, cuddling but not sexing you up, for an hour. When he showed up at your house, he said an
hour was all he had before he had to get home.
You thought maybe you’d have a quickie, but all Justin seemed to want to
do was lie there. He didn’t even really
want to talk. You had questions, about
the tour and his friends and who he was hanging with. But Justin seemed content to just stroke your
hair and stare at you. It was
perplexing. And you didn’t want it to
end, even if you were dying for sex.
“Thought
you said you had an appointment.”
“Shit,
man.” Justin looked at his watch,
frowned, and went back to kissing your temple.
“It might be months before we can be together again. And I still haven’t heard any of your tracks. I want to see what you’re up to in the
studio, man.”
“Anytime, J. You know
that.”
“You
have to come see me more often, C.”
Justin sounded a little sad. You
turned his face towards you. “Please,
C?”
“It’s
hard, with you on tour, and with…” You
didn’t want to say and with your fucking
girlfriend with you all the time.
“I
know, C.”
“Do
you…I mean…do you…miss me? At all?” Justin
looked down at his fingers slipping through your chest hair. It turned you on, but this was more
important. “I miss you. I mean, you know, sometimes,” you fibbed. “Do
you ever miss me, Justin? Do you?”
Justin
exhaled loudly and uttered, “No.” It hit
you like a wave knocking you off a surfboard, but you didn’t let it show.
“I
see.”
“I
don’t miss you at all,” he said stubbornly.
“Not your face, or your eyes. Not your mouth or your body. I don’t miss you. I don’t miss you,” murmured Justin into your
ear, as his hand crept down into your lap.
“Oh…J,
you know you have to go soon.”
“I
don’t miss your stomach. And I don’t
miss your silly laugh.” You gasped as
Justin teased you through your clothes.
“I don’t miss your kiss. Or your
long legs wrapped around me when I’m inside you.”
“Fuck. Justin, why can’t you just admit it? Isn’t this good enough to miss?”
“Is
it just the sex that you miss, JC?”
“No.” You kissed Justin deeply and undid your fly for
his hand. “I miss my best friend,
too.”
Justin
harrumphed. “You have other best
friends. Some of whom you also fuck, if
I’m not mistaken.” The bitterness in his
voice surprised you. And it made you
smile.
“Are
you, uh, jealous? Of Car—”
“No!” It tickled you that he never let you talk
about your fuckbuddyness with Carlos. You considered telling Justin that, even
though you kinda-sorta-sometimes lived together, you
and Carlos only fooled around for a few weeks, and you two never fucked. Justin didn’t need to know that you hadn’t
gone farther than third base with anyone in months. You pretended to frown upon Justin’s intense
dislike for Carlos—but you really loved it.
“No. I don’t miss you, JC. No.”
Justin kissed you harder, held you to him, and kept mumbling into your
mouth. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you.” He kissed you harder and rubbed his body
against yours until he moaned in spite of himself. “Oh…JC…I don’t…want you, baby. Don’t…I don’t want you to fuck me.” You slipped your hand inside his pants to
catch him in his obvious lie.
“No…shit…please…JC…fuck me.” You
turned him onto his stomach and ripped the clothes off his body while he
continued begging/demanding you to fuck him.
So you did.
You
came with a scream and collapsed on his back.
Justin purred as he caught his breath.
“Thank you, C.” Justin pushed you
off him a little, and you saw his erection leaking on your bed.
“Let
me,” you cooed as you touched him.
“No,
I’m late. I gotta go.”
“But
you didn’t—”
“It’s
ok, JC. I wanted you. I wanted to…”
Justin blushed and rubbed his ass against your hot groin. “I wanted to…take you with me,” he whispered,
and that made you blush, too.
“But…you’re
going to see her now, aren’t you?”
Justin sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Justin. Don’t give this to her.”
“I
have to give her something,” Justin said forlornly.
“Not
that.” You clutched his cock gently and
growled against his lips, “Not this.
This is mine. Mine, Justin.”
“Baby,
it’ll be alright.”
“I’m serious, J. I can’t…I don’t wanna share that—”
“What?” Justin held your face close. “You wanna stop?”
“No,
J. Forget I said anything.” You were beaten again. You sighed and let Justin get dressed. You’d take it like this, even if it meant a
$20 million actress would get the prize that was rightfully yours.
~~*~~
Justin
finally took a break during the holidays.
You hoped you’d get to see him alone for a few days, but you heard
through a friend of a friend of a friend of Trace’s that Justin was taking his
girlfriend home to
When
you finally saw Justin at a party you weren’t sure you were invited to, he was
particularly aloof, even more so than he usually was to you in public. You had another drink and started to call him
on it, but then you saw his girlfriend across the room—talking to your
girlfriend—or the girl you were screwing around with. You watched Justin watch Cameron talking to
the model or actress or whatever she was.
After a while he disappeared, and you didn’t know whether to be relieved
or disappointed.
Another
drink and you let your model/actress/arm candy lady friend take you up to a
bedroom. It was plain compared to the
rest of the house, with only a four-poster bed and a chair. She kissed you and went into the adjoining
bathroom. That’s when you saw Justin
come out of the shadows.
“J,
what are you doing here?”
“I
was just…looking around up here. I
didn’t know you…I’ll leave you two alone,” he murmured.
“No. I haven’t seen you. I wanted to…talk to you.”
“You’re
busy. With your girlfriend,” he said,
somewhat dryly.
“She’s…it’s
not serious.”
“Oh.” Justin looked at the bathroom door. “She’s very thin.”
“Uh—”
“Look,
I gotta go, C.”
“Fine,
go.” Justin started to leave, but then
he quickly turned to you and leaned in to brush his lips against yours.
“It’s
ok, C. Do her. Here.”
“What?”
“I’ll
lock the door on my way out.” He looked
a little embarrassed, but then he smiled slyly.
“Happy New Year.” He walked back into the shadows. The bedroom door creaked shut just as the
bathroom door flew open.
“Were
you talking to someone, babe?”
“No,”
you huffed, reaching a hand out to her, “not at all.”
You
were licking your fingers, lifting her skirt and fucking her against the wall
before you knew it. She breathed heavily
in your ear the whole time, which was sexy, even if her high heels digging into
your back weren’t. Justin was right—she
must have only weighed 90 pounds. It was
nothing to hold her up. When you were
finished she gave you a pointed look, and you sank to your knees. She laughed as she rode your face to
climax. It was when she was thrashing
around loudly on top of you that you happened to catch a glimpse of movement
out of the corner of your eye. You
started to say something, but Justin held his finger to his lips as he tiptoed
out the door with a wink. Your heart
sank for the missed opportunity. Then it
recuperated when you saw the tent in his pants that he pulled his shirt out to
cover. Then it sank again when you
remembered who was downstairs to take care of that for him.
~~*~~
<<<CHAPTER ONE
Copyright October 25, 2005