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Well, I should have come and posted last night at three AM when the words were flowing through my mind faster than I can type, but. No. I didn't. Because...no.
So I got sleep, and my art suffered for me.
So, a little remained, and I sort of. typed it up.
So here you go.
~
The Touching Thing
by stungunbilly
(oh, and i blame the sandys and bitterchick for the inspiration.
don't ask.
well, okay, but i won't tell.)
The touching thing had started again. Chris tried to stop it, but JC kept doing things like wearing tummy-revealing t-shirts, and eating ice cream, and just fundamentally making it impossible for Chris to quit. JC’s habit of arching into his touch was also a problem. Justin began passing remarks.
“Damn, Dawg, you just gotta be feelin’ the JC 24/7, know what I’m sayin’ to yo?”, and a lot of other stuff that proved Justin still believed that if he was pure at heart, he would become a real ghetto boy by the time he grew up. Also that he wasn't completely blind, which situation Chris thought a sharp stick could improve.
One of the infant’s favorites was to ask JC if he “understood the touch of a man when it’s a brother loving on a brother.” JC tended to open his eyes at Justin in such adorable confusion at questions like this that Justin would duck his head and blush and start quoting from the Promise Keepers’ Handbook on Manly Respect. Chris generally left the room at this juncture, even if he had to push JC off his lap to do it.
Joey had nothing to say at all. Except that he would nudge Justin and point, and act like he’d never spent hours, drunk, sitting on JC so he couldn’t get up until poor JC wet himself that time last year. Which Chris remembered because that was when JC was wearing the pink cardigan, with the soft looking floaty fuzz all over it. Chris helped poor JC change, and loaned him a pair of amusingly wrong-sized sweatpants. He may also have taken the opportunity to cop a feel, but then he was hardly a saint, was he?
Chris thought perhaps that might have been when the touching first began, but he’s not sure. The time in Miami when JC smushed against him in the booth might count, except that JC had started it and lots of guys kiss each other on the cheek. True, he might have nuzzled a trifle. He wasn’t sure, because he was pretty drunk at the time.
It got painful, but Chris couldn’t stop. He supposed that was the nature of a true addiction; it hurt you and the ones you loved, but you still could not quit the behavior. He consoled himself by noticing the things he *hadn’t* done, even when he wanted to do them. Such as licking JC on the collar bone that time at the beach, when they were filming the Chili’s commercial. Of course, then he couldn’t think about anything else for a week, until he wrestled JC to the ground the evening after they finished taping the Teen Choice thing and licked his face until he cried uncle.
Things were getting out of hand.
JC had tasted delicious.
~
There was a brief interval when Chris thought he had successfully stopped. He could even be in the same room as JC and not wrap a hand around his shoulder. The Challenge game was a triumph; a little touching, sure, but Justin was there and he focussed on messing with Justin’s head. He even cut JC off during the interview when they asked about Lance, and he knew that JC wouldn’t hug him with full body contact for at least several hours after such an act.
But then someone snapped some pictures of JC chatting it up with a male porn star in an animation gallery. JC, Chris decided, was a flirt and a tease and he wasn’t going to encourage him by backing off. A man could only take so much, before he took right back. Or something.
~
It must have been very late indeed, because the street below was completely silent. JC sat up on his elbows, suddenly wide awake. He was in his LA home, with state-of-the-art security, and an alarm loud enough to wake even JC himself. Strange, then, to feel a weight on the mattress and a hand on his arm.
A familiar hand, one that felt like…
“Chris” he tried to say, but then Chris was pressed against him from knees to lips. He opened his mouth to say something else but it filled immediately with Chris’ tongue. He lifted his hands to Chris’ shoulders, and tilted his head to get more contact. When Chris pushed him down, his legs spread all on their own.
~
There was a little light in the sky, when the licking stopped long enough for JC to say “I thought you seemed kind of stressed lately. And I was beginning to think you were a real tease.”
Chris made him lie still and be licked for an hour in punishment.
Strangely, JC didn’t seem to mind.
So I got sleep, and my art suffered for me.
So, a little remained, and I sort of. typed it up.
So here you go.
~
The Touching Thing
by stungunbilly
(oh, and i blame the sandys and bitterchick for the inspiration.
don't ask.
well, okay, but i won't tell.)
The touching thing had started again. Chris tried to stop it, but JC kept doing things like wearing tummy-revealing t-shirts, and eating ice cream, and just fundamentally making it impossible for Chris to quit. JC’s habit of arching into his touch was also a problem. Justin began passing remarks.
“Damn, Dawg, you just gotta be feelin’ the JC 24/7, know what I’m sayin’ to yo?”, and a lot of other stuff that proved Justin still believed that if he was pure at heart, he would become a real ghetto boy by the time he grew up. Also that he wasn't completely blind, which situation Chris thought a sharp stick could improve.
One of the infant’s favorites was to ask JC if he “understood the touch of a man when it’s a brother loving on a brother.” JC tended to open his eyes at Justin in such adorable confusion at questions like this that Justin would duck his head and blush and start quoting from the Promise Keepers’ Handbook on Manly Respect. Chris generally left the room at this juncture, even if he had to push JC off his lap to do it.
Joey had nothing to say at all. Except that he would nudge Justin and point, and act like he’d never spent hours, drunk, sitting on JC so he couldn’t get up until poor JC wet himself that time last year. Which Chris remembered because that was when JC was wearing the pink cardigan, with the soft looking floaty fuzz all over it. Chris helped poor JC change, and loaned him a pair of amusingly wrong-sized sweatpants. He may also have taken the opportunity to cop a feel, but then he was hardly a saint, was he?
Chris thought perhaps that might have been when the touching first began, but he’s not sure. The time in Miami when JC smushed against him in the booth might count, except that JC had started it and lots of guys kiss each other on the cheek. True, he might have nuzzled a trifle. He wasn’t sure, because he was pretty drunk at the time.
It got painful, but Chris couldn’t stop. He supposed that was the nature of a true addiction; it hurt you and the ones you loved, but you still could not quit the behavior. He consoled himself by noticing the things he *hadn’t* done, even when he wanted to do them. Such as licking JC on the collar bone that time at the beach, when they were filming the Chili’s commercial. Of course, then he couldn’t think about anything else for a week, until he wrestled JC to the ground the evening after they finished taping the Teen Choice thing and licked his face until he cried uncle.
Things were getting out of hand.
JC had tasted delicious.
~
There was a brief interval when Chris thought he had successfully stopped. He could even be in the same room as JC and not wrap a hand around his shoulder. The Challenge game was a triumph; a little touching, sure, but Justin was there and he focussed on messing with Justin’s head. He even cut JC off during the interview when they asked about Lance, and he knew that JC wouldn’t hug him with full body contact for at least several hours after such an act.
But then someone snapped some pictures of JC chatting it up with a male porn star in an animation gallery. JC, Chris decided, was a flirt and a tease and he wasn’t going to encourage him by backing off. A man could only take so much, before he took right back. Or something.
~
It must have been very late indeed, because the street below was completely silent. JC sat up on his elbows, suddenly wide awake. He was in his LA home, with state-of-the-art security, and an alarm loud enough to wake even JC himself. Strange, then, to feel a weight on the mattress and a hand on his arm.
A familiar hand, one that felt like…
“Chris” he tried to say, but then Chris was pressed against him from knees to lips. He opened his mouth to say something else but it filled immediately with Chris’ tongue. He lifted his hands to Chris’ shoulders, and tilted his head to get more contact. When Chris pushed him down, his legs spread all on their own.
~
There was a little light in the sky, when the licking stopped long enough for JC to say “I thought you seemed kind of stressed lately. And I was beginning to think you were a real tease.”
Chris made him lie still and be licked for an hour in punishment.
Strangely, JC didn’t seem to mind.
