By Mickey M.
© November 2002
for my writing partner-in-crime, halo
JC glanced over his shoulder when the door opened, frowned
when Chris stuck his head in the bathroom. "Uh. Chris. Kinda--y'know.
Busy?" He waved in the general direction of the toilet then turned away to
finish unzipping his pants, but didn't relax until the door closed again. And
it wasn't that he was a prude or anything; he'd seen all the guys, they'd all
seen him -- and yeah. They'd shared bathrooms and stuff before. But--if he
didn't have to, he preferred not to. Not to take a leak, anyway.
He jumped -- jumped -- for fuck's sake, when arms circled
his waist, and a warm, sturdy body pressed against his.
"Chris--what?"
"Shh." Chris petted his belly through his shirt,
then stroked the skin just above his waistband before skimming lightly over his
fly and pulling the zipper tab down. "Gonna help. Want--well. Yeah.
This."
JC shivered. "This is weird as fuck, man." He
really needed to piss, and Chris wasn't--helping. "I can't--"
"Yes, you can. Just. Take it out. Do your thing,
man." He breathed against JC's neck and JC felt the prickle of goosebumps.
"C'mon, day's a-wastin', C."
It wasn't just that easy...didn't Chris get that?
Because, yeah. How often did he just whip his dick out, and piss, with an
audience? On purpose? The answer would pretty much be 'never'. Sharing urinals
didn't count, because that was how that was set up. JC shook his head and
reached to pull his zip back up.
"I'll just, um. Wait."
"Don't be a pussy, Chasez. Pull it out and
piss." Chris leaned in closer and JC wondered idly if he was standing on
tiptoes, or what, because really--was Chris tall enough to do that? From
behind? JC didn't think so. He startled when a warm wet something -- Chris'
tongue? Is that his tongue? -- touched the back of his neck. "I'm
gonna help you with more than I'd intended, in a minute."
"Chris--" He didn't know what to do. Or say.
Part of this was turning him on, a little, the rest of it was freaking him the
hell out. In a major way. Singer stalked by his bandmate in bathroom.
Details at eleven. He shifted uncomfortably, then shifted again. Chris
moved with him. "Please, man. I need to go."
"I know you do." The words were brushed in
whispers across the back of his neck, and his skin prickled with sensation.
"Want...to watch. Touch. Help. C'mon, C." Chris nuzzled the last
words, mouth working gently against the side of JC's neck. He heard a soft sigh
but that couldn't be him, could it? "C'mon, dude."
Warm fingers teased into the opening of his pants, stroked
him through soft cotton, then delved further in. When Chris touched his cock,
he heard the low whimper, felt it in his throat as it vibrated, then left. The
cool air against his warm skin was a shock; Chris' fingers, warm and sure, were
more of one.
He closed his eyes, surprised that he wasn't protesting
more, shocked that he liked the feel of Chris' hand on himself.
"I--you. Um." He swallowed, and tried to
breathe, not even sure he had to go any more. His body was telling him
other things now, more interesting things. Like, he really liked Chris'
hand on him. And, that pressure. Just enough pressure. And oh, yeah. Erection
time. Chris gave him one stroke, not enough, just a tease, then squeezed.
"Piss, then we'll talk." A sharp, sweet sting of
teeth grabbed him, and he whimpered and put his hands on Chris' arms, braced
himself. Eyes closed tight, because no way, no how could he open them now. This
wasn't real, wasn't reality, he wasn't sure what the fuck it was, except hotter
than anything he'd ever remotely considered -- and did that make him, or Chris
the more twisted one? JC wasn't sure he wanted to know.
It took a concentrated effort, and really, he'd never had
to work so hard in his life to take a piss. The pressure was fierce now, and
when Chris took one hand and pressed hard right where his bladder was, JC
hissed in a quick breath and shuddered. It helped, though, he relaxed, felt the
warmth spread through him, and then he was pissing, Chris' hand warm and sure
on his dick, Chris' breath hot and damp on his neck.
"I knew this would totally rock," Chris' voice
was hoarse in his ear, lips brushing against him. JC groaned, shook briefly in
his arms. "You're just--god, C. Yeah." The pressure on his dick
increased, Chris squeezing harder, tighter, and JC moaned softly, felt himself
throb within that tight tunnel. He was harder now, cock swelling the longer
Chris held on. He was done pissing, but Chris wasn't done with him, he
realized. That thought made him shudder again.
"Chris, god," he rocked forward, wanting to
slide hot, hard flesh through the tight, slightly damp tunnel of Chris' hand.
"Please, man--"
"Oh, yeah. You totally rock." Chris shifted his weight
and JC leaned back, cradled against him while Chris stroked him a little
faster, harder, his hand squeezing and pressing. Heat flared inside JC and
spread outward, glowing red and orange, pulsing with each stroke against his
cock. "Mmm. Yeah." JC wasn't surprised when Chris rubbed against him,
dick hard behind snug denim, catching perfectly in the crack of his ass,
nothing but thin cotton there. His
breath caught in his chest with the sudden increase in heat, and he gasped,
bucked forward, backward, caught between the two sensations.
"Please--"
"Uhhuh," Chris grunted against his neck, jerking
him faster, grinding into him. JC growled low and gripped Chris' arms tighter,
harder, felt sweat gather at the nape of his neck. Chris licked it off, bit at the
tender skin there. JC shifted, rocking backward hard, meeting Chris grind for
grind. "Close, dude. So...close--"
"Mm, yeah, god--" He wanted to bend over then
and beg Chris to do--something. Fuck him, lick him, bite him, whatever
just something to increase the sensation. Something to knock him off the
precipice he was dangling on, and over into the abyss. He wanted to feel the
fire flare up into a firestorm, and see red and black dance behind his closed
eyes. Chris bit him again, fingers squeezing hard, and each pulse of his heart
echoed in his cock, raced through his body, sounded like a drum in his ears. JC
groaned and shoved forward, felt himself let go. He came in hot spurts over Chris' fingers, felt a flare of damp
heat against him when he rocked backward again. Heard Chris' low cry ring in
his ear and mix with the drumpulse throbbing there.
"Oh...god," he panted softly, body still
thrumming, hips still edging forward and back as tiny aftershocks rolled
through him. "Chris--"
"Umm. Yeah." Warm, sticky fingers slowly
released him, and JC blinked, felt the loss keenly. He jerked his pants up,
turned slowly.
"Um."
"Yeah." Chris stared at him a moment, then
leaned forward and kissed him, hard, quick, nasty, then backed out of the
bathroom, pulling the door closed again behind him.
JC stared at the door for a long time before he was able
to make himself open it.
~fin~