For the 100 Ways Challenge. #34 - Golden Showers (aka Watersports). Many thanks to nopseud, Lumin, Lily and Synecdochic for the betaing and handholding.

Hindsight, Chris reflected, was a wonderful thing. Too bad it only came in 20/20, and didn't also come packaged with the obvious: foresight.

In hindsight, developing a group that was more than friends, closer to family, also meant exposing them to his family, his family to them, and so on and so forth. Especially at things like pre-tour parties, when they all gathered, as many as could make it, to grill and swim, and drink and laugh. And while he absolutely wasn't embarrassed about his family or his past nor anything he'd done in his past, he was pretty sure the world - or at least his four close-as-brothers and their respective families - didn't need to know stories and anecdotes from his toilet-training days.

He wasn't certain if his mom was still telling anecdotes, or if she and Phyllis had moved on to exchanging (in their words) war stories. He'd fled to the kitchen under the pretense of getting more beer, or maybe it was putting away the rest of the food, something to get him out of the room. And now he was watching out his kitchen window as some birds gathered around to pick at the crumbs dropped here and there on the patio and deck.

There was something mindless and soothing about watching birds peck the hell out of each other to get at the choice crumbs, so he startled a little when JC spoke, practically in his ear.

"Dude, your mom's in there telling us how you used to need an audience to use the pot."

"I was natural-born for the stage, obviously." Chris turned, a smirk settling comfortably on his mouth. "Gotta start early, work up to the big stuff."

JC snickered. "I dunno, man. Sounds pretty much like a show-off to me." He waved at the refrigerator. "Thought you were getting more beer?"

"Yeah, because no one in there is drunk enough already."

"No such thing as drunk enough." JC's mouth twisted into something Chris thought was probably supposed to resemble a smile. "Or is it too drunk?"

"Whichever it is, I'm thinking you're there." But he turned dutifully to the fridge and pulled out the last case of Coronas. "Here, have another anyway."

JC deftly plucked one bottle out, then turned it round between his palms. "Gonna be a lot colder in Utah."

"Y'think?" Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You have such a knack for stating the obvious, Chasez."

"And you don't have to be a dick, Kirkpatrick." JC set the bottle down on the counter. "Need any help cleaning up?"

"Nah." Chris turned back toward the window. The birds were still out there, hopping and pecking almost frantically. He thought maybe it was indicative of something, but couldn't decide what. "Go, gather more secrets about my childhood. Arm yourself for the road trip coming up, dude."

He shivered when JC stepped up to him, pressed against him. It was almost too hot to be so close; Chris blamed the fact that both of them had been drinking all afternoon and evening for the sudden flutter in his pulse and hitch in his breathing. "You could be gatherin' some yourself. Don't hide in here, man." JC's fingers were cool against the back of Chris' neck, and he felt his skin prickle in response. The breath that ghosted past his ear was warm, and smelled yeasty and a little sour, like the beer JC'd been drinking. Chris shivered again and took a deep breath.

"Not hiding," he managed, surprised by his reaction. This was JC, for Chrissakes. "Just don't feel the need to hang around and listen to my mom talking about my toilet-training."

"Heh." Another puff of warm air tickled his ear, and Chris gave up and relaxed back against JC, closing his eyes. With them shut, it felt almost like they were swaying gently to some rhythm only JC could hear, deep inside his head. "The mighty Chris Kirkpatrick, master of the show."

Chris snorted but didn't open his eyes. "That would be me. Showing off, for whoever wants to watch."

"Watching can be a good thing, y'know." JC breathed the words softly, so softly Chris wasn't sure he really heard them. "I like to watch." There was the softest press of a mouth against the side of his face and then JC was gone, the flap-flap of his sandals fading as he left the room.

Chris opened his eyes and stared at the birds outside, mind whirling with too many thoughts to catch even one.

It was the same thing, over and over: pulsing music throbbing up through his legs and mixing with the fire already in his blood. Heat swirling around him, the air warmed by sweaty bodies in constant motion, driven by the beat. Too many flashing lights, too much sound, too many people. Over-priced, watered-down drinks and girls and guys alike trying to crowd closer, to touch a bit of the magic, even for a minute. Same club, same scene; the only thing that changed was the city.

Tonight it was some place that started with a C - Columbus, Cleveland, one of those. Chris wasn't sure which, just that it started with a C and they had an extra night here, hence the out-and-partying thing. No curfew for any of them, plus the luxury of a hotel bed rather than a bunk on the bus.

Lance was conspicuously absent tonight, preferring to stay back at the hotel and go over some of the paperwork for his upcoming trip to Russia. Joey was around somewhere, but Chris wasn't sure where. He'd seen him an hour or so ago, sandwiched in between two tall brunettes who were taking turns grinding against him. Justin and JC were both down on the dance floor, and it was interesting to watch their faces change colors with the lights flickering and flashing. Interesting to watch the way their bodies moved so effortlessly to the music, keeping just out of reach of the crowd clamoring around them, moving against each other and the several chosen ones. Chris tossed the rest of his drink back and wondered who would go back to the hotel with which one tonight. He kind of thought the red-head with short curls might go with Justin; something completely different from long, blond hair. JC didn't appear to be favoring anyone, so it was harder to tell.

It didn't matter, but it was a game Chris liked to play. 'Try and guess who your bandmates will sleep with tonight'. He was going to bed alone - by choice. It was getting harder and harder to want to deal with the groupie scene, on top of everything else that had happened or was about to happen. It was easier by far just to beat off in the shower or in bed before passing out.

"Hey," JC said, right into his ear. Chris jumped, just a little, but JC saw it and grinned at him. He'd been doing that off and on since they'd kicked off the tour - and more often, more frequently, the closer they came to winding up the tour - sneaking up on Chris and whispering into his ear, smiling unapologetically when he startled him.

"Asshole." But he relaxed back against the railing, wondering where Justin was now, since he couldn't see him anymore. If Justin - and Joey - were ready to go back to the hotel yet. He was ready to call it a night.

"Too good an op to pass up, man. You looked lost in space."

"A place you're well-acquainted with, right, dude?" His glass was empty, dammit. JC snorted - no, it was really more of a giggle - and leaned in closer. He smelled sweaty and warm, and Chris could see the beads of sweat shimmering against his hairline. "You ready to head back?"

"Mmm." Another nudge and JC was practically draped over him. "Why, are you?"

"Yeah. My head hurts, and I need to take a leak."

"They got bathrooms here, Chris." The words weren't slurred, but they sounded soft and long, and Chris peered closely at JC, at the dilated pupils and flush on his face.

"Yeah, but I'd rather go back."

JC snorted softly again, the sound getting lost against Chris' neck. "Thought you liked an audience, man?"

Heat blossomed in Chris' stomach, tendrils creeping outward, winding through him. He shivered against it, then resolutely ignored it. It didn't mean...JC didn't mean what it sounded like. He was sure of it. He tried for a light-hearted, teasing tone. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" That got him a raised eyebrow and closer scrutiny than he'd thought JC capable of right now, and than Chris was comfortable with. "Fine," he muttered. "Sometimes...yeah. I still do."

"Okay." JC nodded at him. "Let's go."

"Here?" If there was any place he was less inclined to want to...do that...in, he was hard-pressed to think of it.

"Hotel." A quick gesture brought Lonnie over; one huge, dark shadow separating from the others. Chris hadn't realized he was there. "We're gonna head back, man."

"You want me to get the others?" Listening to Lonnie speak was kind of like listening to distant thunder rumble, Chris thought. Soothing. Comforting.

"Nah." JC glanced at Chris, then back at Lonnie. "We'll send the car back. Just, let Dre know so he doesn't freak out when I turn up missing, m'kay? Mike can go back with us."

"Sure." Another rumble and then Lonnie disappeared into the crowd. Chris wasn't really sure how a guy his size could move so stealthily, so easily, but he didn't question it, either. About any of Sexual Chocolate. They were the best.

"You ready, man?" JC hadn't really moved away, just shifted, but Chris felt the change when air flowed cool between them. He nodded and turned away from the railing, so aware of JC right behind him, one hand pressed sticky-warm against the small of Chris' back. Not a caress, exactly, and the pressure, the heat through his t-shirt was almost too much. But it made every nerve in Chris' body scream alive, made his belly clench with something that felt like anticipation.

JC's eyes were fever-bright and steady on him when they stumbled out of the elevator and into the hallway. Chris wondered if that was why he felt so hot, so shivery, from having that gaze trained on him all the way back from the club. It couldn't be the thought of someone watching him, no, not at all.

Yeah, right.

It'd been a long time since he'd played any kind of kinky games - of any variation. The thought of it now was exciting. Maybe a little intoxicating. And a little scary, too. He wanted to ask JC what he was playing at, but on the other hand...he didn't. If it was a one-off thing, better just to let it be. Enjoy the moment.

"C'mon, man." JC's breath was warm against his neck. Chris ignored the fact that his hand trembled when he reached out to swipe the cardkey through the lock.

"Working on it. What's the rush? I thought I was the one who had to piss."

Gentle laughter, muted and a little breathy, right above his ear. "I know a seee-cret."

Chris grinned and wondered if it looked manic. "What's the secret, C?"

"You, man." He laughed again. "You like to be watched."

Chris flushed. "Sometimes," he said softly.

"Have you done this since the whole potty-training thing?" The words were scarcely louder than the quiet 'snick' of the door unlocking and opening. Chris stepped forward, anticipation shimmering along his skin like electricity.

"Yeah. But not...often. It's-" He glanced back and felt something loosen inside him at the heat in JC's eyes. "It's kinda. It's a personal thing. Hard to know who you can share it with."

JC nodded. "You don't have to, y'know."

"I want to." Chris wasn't entirely sure he'd actually said the words out loud. They echoed in his head, but that didn't mean anything. Except JC reached out and gave him the tiniest push further through the door.

"Then do it. I wanna watch."

It was actually just about that easy, too. Chris kicked his shoes off and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it to lie on the floor on top of his shoes. JC followed him into the bathroom, both of them wincing at the bright glare of lights when he flipped the switch on. He didn't want to be nervous, but-JC was about to watch him take a piss, on purpose. Not quite the same as happening to be in the bathroom at the same time, or standing at a urinal in a public restroom. This was pre-meditated. Intentional. With someone he was friends with.

His zipper sounded impossibly loud, teeth grating apart. The air in here was noticeably cooler than anywhere else he'd been tonight, and Chris wanted to laugh at the goosebumps he got. Or maybe just laugh in general, because there was so much building inside him right now: nerves, excitement, disbelief he was here, about to do this.

"Master of the show, drawing the moment out-" JC's voice wasn't more than a whisper, but it echoed around them. Chris let go the laughter building inside him, snorting as he stepped up to the toilet and aimed. Then there was just the sweet release of pent-up pressure mingling with the even sweeter awareness of being watched. It wound through him slowly, trickled into his bloodstream thick and hot, until he felt flushed, feverish. He looked up and caught JC's gaze in the mirror, dark blue eyes focused on him, on his cock, on the stream that was now nothing more than a dwindling trickle and the heat intensified, coiling into something snapping and alive inside him.

"JC-" His tongue felt thick and Chris wasn't sure he could even say why. He swallowed roughly but didn't look away. Just watched. Watched JC lean in closer, so close, until he could feel the words as much as hear them.

"Thank you."

He nodded, mumbled something that was meant to pass for goodnight, and listened to the sounds of JC thumping against the wall on his way out the door. He was almost fully erect now; had started getting hard the minute he'd looked up and seen the intensity in JC's eyes. Chris shut his then and stroked himself, slowly, then faster, shivering as he replayed in his head JC whispering, I wanna watch.

When he came, stickysalty heat spreading between his fingers, it was remembering the heat of blue eyes focused on him, excitement sizzling along his nerves.

"Earth to Chris." A hand waved in front of his face disrupting his thoughts and when Chris blinked, there was a body attached to it. Justin, frowning down at him. He frowned back.

"What, dude?" He'd been in a nice, comfortable place. Not quite asleep, but not really awake, either. Zoned out. One of the many side bennies to bus-riding was staring out the window and just getting lost in the moving landscape.

"Entertain me." Justin flung himself onto the small couch beside him and grinned at. "I'm bored."

"God, what are you, twelve? 'I'm bored'." Chris shook his head and looked back out the window. "Go find something to do. Read a book. Call someone. Watch a movie."

"We're almost there, J." JC was on the other couch, still thumbing through the pages of whatever magazine he was reading.

"That's why I'm bored," Justin shot back, shaking his head. "I got all my shit packed up...nothin' to do now." He looked back at Chris. "Nintendo? Playstation?"

Chris still wasn't used to the boot-camp look. He kept looking for the curls, waiting to see hair bounce when Justin jumped, wiggled, danced, whatever. It was throwing him off, in more ways than one. Another change; just one of many over the last couple of months. Like the thing with JC last week. Or, could a thirty-second action really be considered a thing? It wasn't like they'd done anything together. JC watched him piss, whispered in his ear, and then was gone. He didn't know Chris jerked off afterward. He didn't act like anything had happened at all, the next day. No looks, nothing said. Chris wasn't sure if maybe JC didn't remember - he'd been pretty drunk - and if he didn't remember, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Too, it could've just been a one-off thing like he'd suspected, and what needed to be said about that?

"Yo, Chris!" That damned hand waving in front of his face again. Chris scowled.

"Jesus, Justin. Can't you go be bored somewhere else? Or find something to do?" He slumped back against the couch feeling cranky but apologetic. "'M tired, J."

"And grouchy, man. Sorry. Didn't mean to bother you. Don't need to take my head off." Justin sounded just the tiniest bit petulant, and Chris opened one eye, then both, resisting the urge to roll them. Another glance toward JC showed him avidly watching him and Justin, magazine forgotten in his lap.

"What?"

"What, what?" The J's answered in unison. In fucking harmony, even. Chris wanted to laugh. Or cry.

"Is my head on wrong-ways, or something? You're both giving me the skeevies, staring. Can't a guy just be tired and want a nap? Or a nice quiet zone-out?"

"Sure, if he's anyone but you." JC arched an eyebrow and went back to turning pages in his magazine.

"What, I can't need some down time? It's kind of been a rough month, y'know." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Justin shift restlessly. JC met his gaze and shrugged.

"I think you need something, but not sure down time is it." Justin shook his head. "I dunno, man."

"Maybe tormenting you? Justin-torture as a way to cure all that ails me." Chris raised an eyebrow and watched Justin's smile turn into a smirk.

"You can try, little man."

JC shifted himself around on the couch. "This could be entertaining."

"Nah, not gonna be anything big." Justin grinned at Chris. "He's all talk. I'll take him down and it'll be over, and I'll still be bored."

"You wish." Chris hadn't spent seven years wrestling with Justin and not learned from it. The best element was a surprise attack, so he didn't wait for a comeback or anything else. Just launched himself forward, counting on Justin to catch him, break their fall, whatever. Or at the very least, provide a semi-soft cushion so he didn't break his ass when they hit the floor.

He got an elbow in his ribs when they landed, but he got his fingers under the hemline of Justin's t-shirt, scrabbling at warm, soft skin. Justin nearly clocked him with his knee when he twisted, arms flailing, and JC's shriek as Justin grabbed onto his ankle almost deafened Chris. There was an impossible number of limbs in the fray then, arms and legs and too many fingers to count, and Chris stopped trying. Lost himself in the simple joy of wiggling and tickling and wrestling, grunting when Justin pinned him and JC sat on him for better 'management'.

"Y'know, this was suppose to be a one-on-one, not a gang-up-on-Chris thing." It was hard to catch his breath what with JC sitting practically on his diaphragm.

"I'm an opportunity taker." JC raised one eyebrow and seemed to silently be daring him to say anything to that. Justin snickered.

"You're just gettin' old, Chris. Say uncle and give in."

He was hot and sweaty, but he felt better than he had before, staring mindlessly out the window. He wiggled once, watched JC's eyes narrow, then felt the air rush out of him when he shifted, pressing down further.

"Oof! Okay, okay, uncle. Gah, get off me."

In spite of Justin's warmth still pressed against his side, Chris felt cold when JC slid off him. The smile he got warmed him clear through, though.

The knock on his door startled him, mostly because he thought everyone had gone out. But no, JC stood there, a half-smile turning his lips up just a little. It was really kind of funny that about the time Justin decided he needed to get rid of his hair was when JC thought he needed more. But the longer hair looked good on him.

JC nodded into the room. "Can I come in?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Thought you went with the others?" Chris headed back into his room and let JC shut the door behind him.

"Eh. Not really in a gambling mood. I told Justin we'd both go down to Beale Street with them later, though." JC stopped beside the bed, stared down at the coverlet. Chris wondered what was so fascinating about it; it was exactly the same as the one in JC's room. "And I guess we're having dinner at his grandma's house tomorrow."

Chris nodded. "Yeah, I talked with Lynn earlier. Noon, so we have plenty of time before soundcheck and everything."

"Cool."

JC fidgeted with the hem of his shirt until Chris said sharply, "JC!" When JC looked at him, he pursed his lips. "Dude, you're weirding me out. What's wrong?"

"Did it freak you out-after the club last week?" It was interesting to watch JC slide down the wall to sit on the floor, legs all folded up under him. He had a look on his face Chris couldn't decipher.

"Not-no. It didn't."

"But?" Indecipherable became a frown, and Chris echoed it.

"But what?"

JC shook his head. "You've been acting kinda...odd. So I was making sure we're okay." He glanced up, eyes dark, intense. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Chris twisted his mouth up in something like a smile. "That was pretty tame to freak me out, dude."

"Because you're the king of kink, right?" JC seemed amused by that thought.

Chris flashed a cheesy grin. "Hell yeah, that's me. You know it, baby." He held JC's gaze for a moment, then snorted. "Okay, I can't even keep a straight face after saying that. But seriously-I wasn't expecting to do it, but it's not exactly high-end games to have you watch me take a piss once."

"What if we did it again? Or you watched me? Would that be too much?"

And he sounded so totally serious that Chris couldn't stop goggling for a minute. Just had to stare, and blink, and wonder if he'd heard wrong. "C?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but-what the hell, dude?"

"Thought you liked being watched."

"I do." He kind of liked the weird heat gathering in his stomach, too, but he'd be damned if he was going to say anything about that just yet. "I thought it was a one-off thing."

"We never really said. It doesn't have to be." JC shifted and Chris watched the denim stretch tight over his thighs, the non-existent curve of his hips. "I like to watch. And be watched. And it's-" He frowned. "It's like you said that night. Kinda personal, and hard to know who you can share it with."

Chris nodded, fairly impressed JC remembered that. But he had a feeling he hadn't been as drunk as Chris originally thought. "There is that. But, and no offense, why me?"

That got him a smile. "Why not?"

"That is not an answer."

"You seem to think so often enough."

Okay, and now he felt contrary. "Are we gonna talk, or take a piss?"

"You sweet-talker. I never thought you'd ask." JC got to his feet as gracefully as he'd sat down, and once again Chris was left wondering if he'd ever had an ungraceful moment in his life. He figured that was unfair, because JC could be as clumsy as the rest of them. But it just seemed sometimes like it didn't happen, that those moments were aberrations of some sort, maybe a figment of his imagination. JC gestured to the side. "Age before beauty." Chris snorted, but led the way to his bathroom.

He had on track pants this time, so there was no zipper to grate loudly in the near-silence. JC hung back just a little, then stepped closer, close enough that Chris could smell bodywash and the faint scent of aftershave. So close that their bodies touched, just barely, a brush of clothing, of heat exchanged. It was sexual, but it wasn't. Weird how that was.

"You first," JC breathed, the words sounding thick, hanging heavy in the air. Chris nodded and shifted, took a moment to breathe through the excitement dancing through him again.

"This is weird," he whispered, trying to fool himself into just the act and not get caught up in the sexy part.

"No." JC whispered back, breath warm against the side of Chris' face. "It's good." There was a gentle pressure against the small of his back, the briefest brush of fingers against his side; JC a warm presence right beside him. Watching.

Watching him.

Heat washed through him at the same time he let go. Sexual, but not. No, more than sexual. Intimate. It was the most intimate thing Chris could imagine just then. Even more than JC whispering something that sounded like 'God' in a tone that was both reverent and mischievous all at once. He didn't have much, because hello, pissing on command isn't the easiest thing in the world. But that was okay; he had enough adrenaline zipping through him after he finished and JC changed places with him to make up for it.

Hotel bathrooms were perfect for this, Chris decided, because of the long mirrors all across the wall behind the sink and toilet. He could see everything, from JC staring at him down to the long, slim fingers working the zipper tab. It wasn't even seeing JC's cock - he'd seen that before, in changing rooms, when five of them shared one bathroom, on the bus, whatever. It was seeing something that wasn't shared with just anyone. Watching something private. Watching.

He caught JC's gaze in the mirror, saw himself form the words before he realized he was thinking them. "Do it."

Everything coalesced, came together at once. JC's eyes, the sound of his stream into the toilet, the heat winding through Chris. He looked down, away from dark blue; watched the thin golden arc dwindle into droplets, then nothing. He was hard instantly, achingly hard behind his sweats. He watched JC stroke himself once, twice, then hitch his jeans up.

"Not weird," JC said softly, brushing past him. Chris shuddered at the sensation of fingers teasing briefly against his erection, and then JC was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Anyone who thought it was easy to sing and dance through a concert after too much partying the night before had obviously never done it. Chris was pretty sure the top of his head was about to blow off through most of the gig. The other guys, damn them, all seemed okay - Lance was a little off, but not as much as Chris himself. Maybe he was getting too old for this shit.

There were quips during the show about how there is such a thing as too much Beale Street. Ha ha, very funny. Chris wasn't laughing. If he laughed, his head would fall off and roll into the crowd.

The best part of the Memphis show - besides the kid with the chicken hat - was when it was over, though he hated feeling that way even a little bit. Four more days and it was all over for however long hiatus was going to last. They'd tentatively discussed going back in the studio at the end of the year to start laying down new tracks, but he wasn't sure how much of that was serious planning and how much was bullshit. They were long overdue for a vacation, and three of the five of them had some big-assed plans in the interim.

It was still kind of a relief to know he had a few more days to climb onto the bus, and wrestle with Justin, or crank-call Joey at three a.m., or send Lance dirty jokes through email. Or crowd into a tiny bathroom with JC and watch each other take a leak.

Actually, they weren't going to do that. There seemed to be very few rules to this new...thing, but that one, however unspoken, was a big one. Don't involve the other guys. Don't call attention to what they were doing. Not that Chris was sure what that was, aside from watching each other, but still.

"Hey hey, did someone say there's a party here?" Joey's bag appeared first, tossed onto the bus, with the man right behind. Then JC, then Justin, then Lance. Chris cocked an eyebrow.

"Did we lose a bus?"

Lance settled himself on the couch beside Chris while Joey sprawled onto the other one and Justin headed for the kitchenette. "Nah. For some reason, Joey and I thought we might hang out here with y'all for a while."

"We have better snacks." JC nodded sagely then headed back to the bunk area, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

"Fuck you. We thought we could do a little post-concert drinking." Joey threw a small crumpled up piece of something toward the curtain and grinned when JC stuck one hand out, middle finger raised.

"I'm pretty sure I drank enough last night for all of us." Chris touched his head gingerly. "It's still attached, right?"

"You were pretty off your game tonight." Lance petted him once, then shifted to toe his shoes off. "Losing your edge, Kirkpatrick?"

"Still got my pretty face." He was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea, but he accepted the bottle Justin uncapped and passed to him. They waited another minute or two before Justin hollered, "Beer's getting warm, C," and JC came back out, dressed down for the night in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt.

"We're doing an end-of-tour party, right?" JC tossed himself down onto the floor in front of where Chris was sitting while Justin sprawled beside Joey.

"Yeah, but that'll be-everyone. This is just us." Justin looked around, studying each of them in turn, then raised his beer. "To the five of us-and another seven years together."

"I'll drink to that," Chris leaned forward and clinked his bottle against the others' and swallowed down cold bubbles against the heat prickling inside him. He didn't think he was getting left behind, exactly. But it was nice to hear the others say they weren't abandoning this entirely.

The warmth where JC leaned back against him, head resting against Chris' leg, was even nicer. For the first time probably ever, Chris was grateful for the time they'd spent together diminishing the need for physical boundaries. They all touched, petted, snuggled, and now he could touch JC, if he wanted. He gave into the urge after the second beer to comb his fingers gently through those curls, and tried not to read too much into it when JC made a soft sound low in his throat and leaned even closer.

His first thought was he shouldn't be awake yet. It was still dark outside. The second was he was awake because he was about to burst. Chris rolled out of his bunk, trying to remember getting there, and gave up when it made his head twinge. Hangover, two days in a row. Yay.

He stumbled to the bathroom, aware of Justin's slightly congested snoring coming from the front of the bus, and wondered briefly if Joey and Lance were still on, or if they'd made it back to their own bus. The latch on the bathroom door eluded him for a moment, and then he tugged it open, certain he was about to have a really embarrassing accident if he didn't get in there right. fucking. now. Except someone was already in there, dammit, and Chris almost turned around - almost, until JC shook his head.

"Stay?"

And sure, he was going to turn that down, like, never.

He couldn't wait, though. Couldn't draw it out, make it more than just pissing. And that was probably okay, too; in a way it made it hotter. Sexier. That they could stand here and do this, sleepy-eyed and half-hungover, and it dawned on Chris then that they were pissing at the same time, which made something like lightning sizzle through him. He thought briefly about the one time, once, a long time ago, when he knelt in a shower stall and waited for a shower of an entirely different kind than the stall'd been designed for. He wondered if JC just liked to watch, or liked to do-more.

It seemed to take forever. How much beer did he have last night? Four? Five? He'd be standing there forever, probably. And JC...was standing there, done pissing, just watching. Stroking himself very gently. Not completely erect, but definitely aroused. Chris tried to look away; wanted to look away. Instead he shifted just enough to brush his arm against JC's side, enough to watch him come fully erect. Enough to feel the shudders and hear the soft noises JC made when he came into his hand a minute or two later.

Chris came a minute later, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon. He couldn't have said at that point what made him hotter: watching JC jack off, or knowing why JC got turned on to start with.

End-of-tour or no, it was good to be home. The house was a little too empty without Busta in it though, so Chris shied away from the idea of spending too much time there. He'd dumped all his stuff off when they got home, but didn't actually go home until after the Orlando concert was over.

His bed felt too big after the last week of mostly-on-the-bus, and the rooms seemed to echo when he walked through them. Oh, it wasn't empty, exactly; Ron was in and out, and his mom had stopped by, but it wasn't quite the same. Which was probably why he found himself knocking on JC's door at two in the morning, the morning after they wrapped up the studio recording for the Disney thing.

"Dude." JC opened the door, looking rumpled and sleepy. "'S everything okay?"

And Chris realized just how late - or early - it really was. He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. And-I'm sorry, man. I woke you up, didn't I? You want me to go?"

"Nah, s'okay-" JC yawned, then gestured him inside. "I kinda crashed hard. You been out here long?"

Nothing was going to make him tell JC he'd knocked for almost ten minutes. "Not really, no." It was cool inside JC's house; cooler than his felt. And quiet, but not lonely-quiet. Just the peaceful quiet that comes at night. "Is your brother here?"

"Uh. Not right now, no. You, um. Want something to drink? Or-um. Food? I could fix you something-"

What was he doing here? This was the stupidest idea he'd had in a while. Chris shook his head and turned back toward the door. "No. Dude, I'm sorry. You go back to bed, and I'll just-"

Warm hands grabbed him, settled on his shoulders. "Chris. Stay." JC spoke softly, close to his ear. "Stay with me."

With him, or with him? This was insane. He was insane. Hell, maybe they both were insane. Stranger things had happened. "You-I mean. I can go. And it's, it'll be-"

"Shh. C'mon." JC turned them toward the stairs, flipping the one light he'd turned on back off, guiding Chris gently. "I think you're kinda strung out, cat. Need to get you some sleep, loosen you up."

Strung out seemed like as good a description as any. They'd all been a little emotional at the last concert, but JC let it out, let himself cry. Chris didn't. And now he was wound tight, unable to let go.

He stumbled once, just outside the threshold to JC's room; caught his boot on something, nothing, he wasn't sure what. JC didn't let him fall, just caught his arms until he steadied. Chris thought about insisting he could stay in one of the guestrooms, but wasn't part of the reason he was over here because his own bed felt too big, too empty?

"Arms up," JC said softly, tugging on his shirt. Chris raised his arms obediently and smiled when JC skinned it off him then aimed it in the direction of his recliner. "Boots, man." He came around in front of Chris and smiled. "You should wear flip-flops. Easier. Quicker."

"Yeah, well. I'll leave casual beachwear to you." He leaned over and unlaced then sat down on JC's bed to toe them off. He hadn't realized until then that JC was practically naked - nothing but a pair of shorts hanging off slim hips. "Um-"

"Everything, Chris."

Well, that answered that. He stood back up and kicked his boots aside. JC was right there then, fingers teasing along Chris' waist, tugging at the buttons on his fly. "I-"

"Shhh." Nimble fingers, teasing against him, tracing patterns of heat on already burning skin as JC undid all the buttons and pushed at the denim. Chris shuddered and swayed in closer, nerve-endings firing frantically, trying to catch each bit of sensation. He thought maybe he whimpered when JC slid downward, tugging his jeans down until they puddled around his feet. It took more coordination than he thought he had to step out of them and not trip. Not fall over the man kneeling in front of him. JC brushed his mouth across the front of Chris' shorts, breathing warm, moist air onto thin cotton and hyper-sensitive skin. "Chris."

It took him a minute to process his name. "Wha--?"

JC smiled. "Let's go to the bathroom, then go to bed."

Let's.

"I dunno if I can. You got me all-" Chris gestured to his erection, pretty much completely visible through his shorts. It seemed silly at this point to try and pretend he wasn't hard, that JC hadn't just fucking kissed his cock through those same shorts.

"Me first, then." His eyes twinkled, in spite of the sleepy and rumpled thing he had going on, and Chris snorted.

"If you insist. Who am I to say no?"

It wasn't as bright in JC's bathroom as the hotel ones had been. One dim light, not quite a nightlight but not a regular bulb. Whatever it was, it was kind of nice to have it softly lit. He watched avidly when JC hooked his shorts down. He wasn't exactly soft, but not hard either. Chris wanted to touch, suddenly. Touch him, taste him, feel him lengthen and harden in his hands. He scooted closer, pressing up mostly behind JC, reaching around to run the fingers of one hand down his length then back up, holding him gently. JC let out a shuddering breath then twitched, and it was like he came alive in Chris' hand, golden stream arcing out and down. He kissed the back of JC's neck then; couldn't help himself. Had to taste something. JC tasted warm and a little salty, like sweat. Chris stroked his fingers down over the length of JC's dick and rubbed away the few warm drops lingering there.

"Your turn," JC said hoarsely, moving to stand behind him. Chris shivered when JC stroked one hand down over his chest then the other, inching his shorts down over his hips. One hand stayed, splayed open over Chris' belly, pressing very lightly. "So good, man."

He was still mostly-erect; holding JC while he pissed certainly hadn't helped that. But he closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, thought about nothing for a minute and willed his body to cooperate. Teeth grazing lightly over his neck surprised him and sent more heat skittering through him. He managed a soft growl, then, "Jesus, C-" before thrusting his hips forward, rocking into the hand that curved around him in a warm, firm grip. Half a dozen strokes was all it took before Chris shuddered against JC and came. He pissed while JC licked his fingers clean, trying to remember how to breathe calmly so he didn't hyperventilate.

"What about you?" He asked when he could form words and thoughts again.

"'M good, dude. Too sleepy." The smile JC gave Chris was more asleep than awake so he didn't argue. There was always tomorrow. They shuffled back to JC's bedroom and Chris stood beside the bed until JC rolled his eyes. "Just get in, already."

It felt really weird at first - it'd been a while since he'd shared a bed with anyone for more than a quick fuck. He got into the bed, breathing in the scent of laundry soap and fabric softener and closed his eyes. The lamp clicked off and the bed dipped beside him. Chris held himself stiffly for a moment then relaxed when JC wrapped his arms around him, spooning up behind him in the darkness.

"Sleep," was breathed into his ear. Warm lips brushed a kiss there, and Chris let himself go, feeling truly peaceful for the first time in weeks.

The sun was slanting in odd patterns across the carpet when Chris woke. He stretched, yawned, and stretched again, trying to work the kinks out before he stood up. It took a minute of processing to remember where he was, and why. And what had happened last night.

The bed was empty but for him, but he could smell the unmistakable scent of coffee and bacon, so he figured JC was still somewhere in the house. He made a quick trip to the bathroom, then washed his face and rummaged around in JC's medicine cabinet until he found an unopened toothbrush. Whatever the day might bring, Chris was going to face it with good dental hygiene.

He grinned when he stepped into the kitchen, because JC had a funky pinstriped apron on over sweats and a tank-tee. "I like that look on you," he said, plopping down at the table. JC snorted.

"Heather's idea of a gag gift for Christmas last year. But it keeps me from spattering bacon grease on myself, so I guess it does the job."

Chris squinted. "I'd kinda pictured you more as a pink ruffles and frills sort, myself. Maybe a few sequins."

"You really don't want any breakfast, do you?" JC brandished his spatula. "Besides, what's wrong with pink? It's a good color on me."

"Just don't throw me out without coffee, please." Another yawn and a stretch and Chris got back up to get the aforementioned coffee. It took him a minute to remember where JC kept his coffee mugs, and another moment of deliberation before deciding on one that read, 'I'm Not Irish, But Kiss Me Anyway'. "And I didn't say there was anything wrong with pink. I'm pretty sure I said I pictured you more in a pink apron. If I'd pictured you in an apron at all."

"Good save." JC smirked as he set a plate in front of Chris. "You want toast?"

"Nah, this is good, C. Thanks."

"No sweat, man." JC sat down across from Chris and slid a fork across the table toward him. "Dig in before it gets cold."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Chris paused and said, "you'll make someone a good wife some day, Chasez."

JC laughed. "What a sweet thing to say. You askin'?"

"Domestic bliss and all the bacon and eggs I could handle?"

"Something like that. Someone needs to take care of you."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "What, you think I'm doing a suck job at it?"

"You were wound so tight last night, Chris, I wasn't sure you could unwind." JC stirred some sugar into his coffee and tasted it. "You know you slept more than twelve hours?"

Even if he hadn't believed the clock on JC's dresser, the fact that his back was kinked all to hell would've told him that. Chris nodded. "I was kinda wiped out."

"Tch. Y'think?"

He resisted the urge to flip JC the bird. "It's not like April was the most stress-free month in my life, dude. Cut me some slack here."

"You can have all the slack you want. I'm just stating facts. And offering-to take care of you."

"I dunno if an old fart like me could keep up with a hot young thing like you." Chris snickered when JC rolled his eyes.

"Don't be an asshole. I'm trying to be serious, here. I'm-I dunno. It's been there a while, I guess. I didn't think anything would ever come of it, but there ya go." JC got really interested in his plate suddenly.

"The best laid plans of mice and popstars?" He wanted to keep the conversation light-hearted, because otherwise the twinge inside might become an actual ache. He'd decided to ignore the whole relationship thing for a while after it didn't work out with Michelle. It never occurred to him to look for something different, like someone he was friends with. Someone he knew and trusted already.

The look in JC's eyes told him JC was aware of what he was doing - trying to do - and didn't care. He'd take him as he was. "Something like that, yeah."

"Huh." Chris crunched down a piece of bacon, thinking how cool it was that JC knew exactly how to make the eggs - just this side of dry - and the bacon - extra crispy - without even having to check. "You gonna make an honest man out of me?"

"How honest are we talking, here? Like, you want the white dress and veil and all that?"

"Only if I can wear my Docs with it."

"Ooh. Billy Idol-style. I can dig it." JC's smile could light up a whole room, Chris decided, setting his fork down. He turned his coffee cup around and considered the caption.

"Question here, while we're promising our hearts to each other-"

JC got up and took the plates to the sink to rinse them before loading them into the dishwasher. "Yeah?"

"The whole watersports thing. Uh. How far-how into it are you?"

JC leaned back against the counter then and smiled. "You know everyone thinks I'm a kinky motherfucker. There's probably reasons for that."

"Yeah?" It was hard to ignore the warmth shivering through him like a live thing. Something about that look JC was giving him, maybe. Or the insinuation in his voice. "So, you like-what?"

"Dude, are you listening? You name it, I probably like it."

"Watching, being watched." JC nodded. "Helping." Another nod. Chris took a deep breath. "Actual golden showers? And, um. Doing, or giving?"

"All. Both. Yes." JC raised an eyebrow. "You?"

"Both. All of it." Whoa. He sounded kind of hoarse and breathless. "Dude. It's kind of weird again."

"Only because you're letting it be." JC shook his head. "Why's it weird? Seriously."

Chris snorted. "Wow, I wonder why. Maybe because we're sitting here talking about pissing on each other, and haven't so much as kissed?"

"You want normal with your kink? Is that what you're saying?"

"Can't get nothin' past you, can I?" He cleared his throat. "Just sayin'...the other stuff's good, too. And I kinda-I want that, too. Not just. Hell, I don't want...I want to be able to bullshit with you and tease you and do the kissing thing, and fucking, and all that other kinky shit, too."

"Chris." JC reached a hand out to him. Chris stared at it blankly for a minute, then took it, let JC pull him up and against him. "Stop letting it be weird. It's not. We're good. Two kinky cats who...need someone to be kinky with." He smiled. "And someone to be not-kinky with."

"Is it just that simple?"

"Why does it have to be difficult?" JC blinked and Chris frowned. Why did it?

"Because I have a tendency to overthink shit?"

"Not you, dude."

"Okay, was that sarcasm?"

JC leaned closer and brushed his mouth across Chris', whispered, "Maybe."

He had soft lips. Really soft. And warm. And he teased Chris' lips with his tongue, tiny flicks of it, like a cat might. Gentle pressure there and gone, then back again. Chris reached up to tangle his fingers into wild curls and opened his mouth, licking at JC's mouth. He tasted like strong coffee and salt from the bacon, and his tongue was slick and warm, teasing around the inside of Chris' mouth. It was warm and comfortable and then not so comfortable and a few shades closer to hot when JC backed off and nipped at his lips, at the underside of his jaw. Chris moaned and tilted his head back, growled when JC bit down and sucked hard.

"C-"

"Mmm?"

"More-god." He gasped when JC bit again, and tugged on the hair curling between his fingers, trying to bring JC's mouth back to his. The biting was good - very, very good - but he wanted to taste more.

They stood in the kitchen kissing until Chris felt light-headed and wobbly from lack of oxygen and pulled back. JC's mouth looked wet and swollen in the late-afternoon sun shining in the window, which made him want to kiss again, gently. He swiped his tongue along the puffy bottom lip, teased between and inside again. JC made a soft noise low in his throat and relaxed back, letting Chris have the control. Gentle turned harder, and he deepened it slowly, delving inside in increments and drawing back each time to lick at JC's lips. He ran his tongue over the soft palate and hard enamel, pressed against slick gums and cheeks until he'd tasted every inch. When he drew back again, they were both breathing harder. JC's eyes were dilated, the pupils huge and dark. Chris thought he probably looked the same.

He watched JC's mouth open, thought maybe he could stand more kissing before he died happy. Instead JC said quietly, "Bed, dude."

This trip up the stairs was so different from last night. Chris was wound, sure, but it was anticipation and arousal now, rather than stress and uncertainty. He followed closely behind JC, tickling up under his t-shirt until JC swatted at his fingers. "We're gonna fall back down the stairs, and I don't want to be the one to have to tell the guys why you broke your neck."

"We won't fall if you don't squirm."

"You're tickling me, idiot. Of course I'm gonna squirm."

"Gimme a reason not to tickle you."

JC stopped abruptly, one step from the top, and grabbed Chris' hand then pressed it firmly against his erection. Chris curled his fingers in, felt the hard length throb in his grip. "Jesus."

"Stop tickling me so we can get into the bedroom-" JC thrust forward into Chris' hand, growling softly. "Christ. We get on the bed and it's all yours, man."

"What, no sex in the hallway?" He jacked JC slowly through his sweats and reached to rub himself, too.

"Not this time." Yep, it was definitely a growl, and Chris felt a shiver of lust ripple through him. There was something infinitely exciting in that low, raspy tone. It kind of promised a whole lot of things without actually saying anything. And he was eager to experience them all. He stroked JC once more then let go - reluctantly - and gave him a gentle push.

"Then get moving, dude. Time's a-wasting."

JC turned and yanked him up the last step, and if Chris hadn't already known that JC was stronger than he looked, that would've sealed it for him. He let himself be pulled into the bedroom and pushed down on the bed, pliant and willing. And he realized then the best part of sex with someone who's been a friend for years already-that it could be fun, as well as sexy. JC's eyes were light - laughing eyes - and warm and he grinned down at Chris as he knelt over him. "Somebody needs an attitude adjustment." He nipped the words into Chris' skin, along his jawbone. "Probably a good spanking."

Chris shivered. "Or a good fucking might just do the trick, too." He squirmed up toward JC aching for some friction to rub against. JC nipped at his throat again and pressed down obligingly. So hard, so hot; Chris wanted to feel him without the clothes in the way. No barriers between them, just hot skin touching. "Lose the clothes, C."

JC tugged on Chris' earring with his teeth. "You lose my clothes," and damned if it didn't sound like a purr right in Chris' ear. He shuddered and wriggled so he could reach the hem of JC's shirt. It went up easily and JC sat up to pull it over his head. Chris took the opportunity to scrape his fingernails over JC's nipples, laughing at the whimper he got.

"Hot boy," he muttered, pinching one erect. JC ground down against him. Oh, that was promising. "Sensitive there?" He pinched again; rubbed his thumb over the other nipple.

"Fuck yes."

At the rate they were going there wouldn't be any fucking of any sort, because they'd both come before they got their clothes off. Chris plucked at both nipples once more, then pushed at JC until he fell sideways. "Clothes off, C." He was really glad he only had his shorts on. Less to kick off that way.

"Gonna need to do laundry," JC muttered, tossing his sweats off the bed before laying back. Naked JC, right in front of him, and Chris couldn't think of a single better thing in the world. Naked, aroused, wanting him. He stroked one finger down over JC's chest, circling around his nipples before traveling lower. He teased it around his bellybutton then dipped in and back out quickly; a mimicry of what he wanted, what he wanted to do. JC mirrored his actions, finger ruffling through chest hair and down the trail beneath his navel. He touched just the tip of Chris' cock, just one finger easing over it, smearing the fluid pearling up there. Chris groaned and arched forward, growling when JC pulled away.

"Fucking tease."

"Mmm. And you're not?" Well, good point. Chris closed his fingers around JC's erection and stroked firmly, shuddering when JC took him in hand. It'd been a while since he'd done a mutual jacking-off, and it took a minute to coordinate themselves, to get a good rhythm going. But oh, god, it felt good. Was good. Chris leaned in closer so he could kiss JC, lick at that wet, swollen mouth some more. He thought about what it would look like stretched around his dick while JC blew him and electricity shot through him, curling his toes.

The handjob was just as good, though. Hot, sweaty fingers holding him, teasing him, just the right amount of pressure and JC did something, a flick or twist, and Chris saw stars. He groaned into JC's mouth and bucked into his hand, trying to get more, now, faster, harder. Hunger twisted through him hot and potent, built up until he felt consumed by it. And then he was coming, groans muffled by wet, sloppy kisses. JC stiffened against him and Chris' fingers slid slipperysticky over JC's dick as thick, wet heat spread between them.

"Jesus," Chris managed a little while - minutes? days? - later. "Is the top of my head still attached?" He reached out and pinched JC when he snickered. "Seriously, dude. That was-awesome."

"Ow, hey, no pinching post-coital." JC squirmed closer and oh, yeah, they were both a sticky, sweaty mess. Chris couldn't have cared less. He kissed JC once and shifted until the sheets weren't bunched up under him.

"So pinching's okay if it's not post-coital?" He trailed one finger lazily around JC's nipples, back and forth between both.

"No pinching at all." JC stilled his hand, held it over one nipple. "Unless it's there. But gimme a few to recover first."

"I think you're seriously over-estimating my recuperative powers if you think it's only gonna be a few minutes." But he thumbed JC's nipple and smiled at the wiggle it got. "Old man here, remember? Over thirty, now."

"Age is just a number, and you're only as old as you feel. Or in your case, as you act." JC had his eyes closed and Chris thought that was a great idea. Sex with another guy was the best, because they understood the need to nap afterward and didn't complain like women sometimes did. He grunted when JC poked him.

"What?"

"I just totally dissed you, dude."

"I'll care as soon as we finish napping."

"'Kay." JC curled up against him, around him, all sticky and warm, and Chris couldn't think of any other place he'd rather be.

He itched. The sort of itch that happens after come and sweat dry while sleeping. Chris reached down and scratched, but nothing happened. He tried again, wondering if his body was numb from an excess of pleasure, and yelped when he got an elbow in the ribs.

"Cut it out."

"Wha-huh?"

"Dude, you were scratching me."

"I was trying to scratch me. I itch."

JC snickered and turned to face him. "I'll bet. Want me to get that itch for you?" He tickled his fingers over Chris' balls.

"That's not the itch, you dickhead." But he grinned and wiggled shamelessly and got a kiss for his troubles. "Seriously, I need a shower. We both need a shower. We're kinda ripe."

"Yeah." JC wrinkled his nose and Chris fought the urge to do something stupidly cute like kiss it. "If you want-"

"Do not do that 'age before beauty' shit again, C. I'll coldcock you."

"I was going to say," JC clapped a hand over Chris' mouth and continued like he hadn't been interrupted, "we could shower together. Shower...and then shower. If you want. Since we're already kind of messy. And then, y'know. Wash up."

Chris thought he was sated, but the words made want ripple through him, a tiny shiver that teased along his skin and made his hair stand up. He nodded and waited for JC to remove his hand, pressing a quick kiss to the palm before it was gone. "Yeah."

"You gonna get weird again?"

Chris smiled. "Probably. Maybe. A little bit? But just for a minute, I promise."

JC kissed him then rolled toward the side of the bed. "I can probably handle that. It's not like it's so different from every day."

"Hey!" Chris followed him toward the bathroom. "Dude, that's twice now. Payback's gonna be a bitch, just so you know."

"This is me, trembling with fear." JC disappeared behind the door and came back with large, terry bathsheets.

"More mockery? You suck."

"I swallow, too." Where had this kinky, mouthy JC been all the years Chris'd known him? What a revelation this was. He thought about mentioning that he really did need to take a leak, but that would defeat the whole purpose of this moment, so waited silently instead while JC set the towels down and switched on the heat lamp.

It was kind of weird, though, standing in front of the open shower, staring at each other. Like they were trying to decide who was doing what without actually using words. Just the hypnotic power of their gazes. To which Chris snorted silently, because wow with the cheesy comic book imagery there.

It was the first time JC had hesitated since they started this odd courtship, or whatever it was. Chris stared at him, wanting to ask, demand, offer-but wasn't sure which one was the right one, and afraid to screw it up now, doing the wrong thing. But it was chilly standing there, heat lamp notwithstanding, so he nodded once and stepped into the shower, wincing at the cold tile, and knelt down. JC swallowed and nodded back, reached out and touched his hair. "You sure, man?"

"Yeah." Chris shivered with the excitement bubbling through him. "Can I, afterward?"

JC nodded. "I want-yeah."

His eyes were so dark. Chris reached out and stroked the length of JC's cock once, then reached for himself. No jacking off. Just slow, easy strokes. Something to make him feel good. He looked up and smiled; got a smile in return. "Do you want me to turn around?"

"Only if you want to. I'm-this is good." JC stroked himself slowly, matching Chris. He was long and thick, but not hard. Perfect. Chris shook his head and closed his eyes, trying not to tremble too much. Trying not to want as much as he did.

"Please," he whispered finally, when the silence stretched out between them. "Do it."

It was like warm rain, when it finally came. A soft gasp from JC, then warmth dripping onto him, flowing down, spreading out in winding rivulets of heat and pungency. A few drops splashed on his face, on his chin, and Chris opened his mouth, let the salty, pungent taste spread over his tongue. He heard JC whisper something but couldn't figure out the words; couldn't make his brain work for anything other than hot, wet, good. Another splash against his chest, then lower down, hitting his cock. It was almost too much, heat concentrated where he wanted it most, but not yet. He wanted to give this back to JC; share this gift with him. He waited until there was nothing but cool air washing over the wet trails on his torso before opening his eyes. JC stared down at him, eyes almost black with emotion. Chris leaned forward and took his cock into his mouth, licking the last droplets up, giving him one gentle suck.

"Me," JC said hoarsely, kneeling even before Chris had pulled completely away. He nodded, not trusting his voice, and pushed up off the shower floor.

It'd been so long since he'd done this. He'd met people who didn't mind doing the pissing, but didn't want reciprocation. And that was fine. But it was...circular, to him. Or should be. He wanted it to be. He didn't bother asking if JC wanted to turn around; if he'd wanted to, he would've. He could see the anticipation, the want, in JC's eyes. Black, only the thinnest ring of gray-blue around the pupil, and then nothing as those eyes slid closed. The feeling of release when he finally let go, was almost orgasmic, it felt so good. Full-bodied, sweeping over him from head to toes, like fire spreading outward. He watched pale gold splash over sun-kissed skin, droplets turning into tiny streams. JC kept his mouth closed, but licked his lips when Chris was done. He smiled up and Chris grinned, felt that last tiny bit of tension fly away from him then.

He was still grinning when JC stood up and turned the actual shower on, hot water streaming over them while they stood and kissed, sharing a little more of themselves with each other.

"Tell me again why the beach was a good idea?" Chris scratched at the sand coating his ankle and calf and glanced over at JC, lying serenely beside him, body slick with sunscreen. "We just got clean, and you haul us off to where we'll get all dirty again."

JC reached one arm out and whapped Chris in the chest. "Dude, you're fucking with my Zen here. The sun is good for us. Vitamins and stuff."

"Ultraviolet rays and damage to our skin." Too bad they were out in the open; Chris could think of alternative uses for sunscreen that the manufacturers probably never intended.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?"

"All the time." Chris snickered. "It's not like you didn't know this already."

"True." JC tugged his shades up and squinted at Chris. "Okay, tell you what. If you get dirty? I promise I'll let you have another shower. How's that?"

His mouth twitched with the effort not to grin, and he solemnly reached out and shook JC's hand. "Deal."

"Thank god. Now let me sun in peace." The shades came back down and JC relaxed back on his towel.

Chris wondered how much sand he could dump down JC's trunks and how quickly.