It should be humiliating; instead it's exhilarating. He's on his knees -- something he only does when he's blowing someone, JC, and even then, not often. Ricky doesn't admit to it often, even in his own head, but he hates the submissive position kneeling calls to mind. Hates being that vulnerable.

For this, though...for this, he'll ignore the faint quiver running through him, and the trembling of his hands just before he clenches them into fists. For this he'll kneel, head bowed, chest heaving when he tries to control his breathing.

C's quiet above him, standing close enough for Ricky to feel his body heat, but not close enough to actually touch, unless Ricky reaches out. He's tempted, but it would mess with the strange vibe growing between them. Not that they don't have a vibe between them usually anyway, and when they're both on and gettin' down, the heat between them makes the air thick and heavy, rich with sex and need. It feels that way now, heavy, but there unease there, too. Unease, anticipation, a need so big it's consuming him; a bright light spreading through him.

"God, you should see your face, Keek," JC breathes, fingers tracing over Ricky's face. The words, the touch, slip over and around Ricky, make goosebumps rise on his arms.

"Don't--" Don't make me wait, don't make me beg, don't make me... He bites his tongue, not sure what he wants to say, the words all jumbled up inside his head. His throat feels as tight as his chest, heat scalding through him just in anticipation of what's coming. "JC. I."

JC touches his face again, smoothes his thumb over Ricky's lower lip. "Shh, I got you. I know."

The thing is, he probably really does. Ricky's never had a lover who was so in tune with him, who just knew what he needed, as well as JC does. It's a little eerie, a little unsettling. And sometimes, it's really fantastic, because there's no way he can say this. No way he can admit to wanting it to someone else; he has a hard enough time admitting it to himself.

"All over," JC says softly. He's not asking Ricky, he's telling him. The heat thrums lower, coiling inside him, and Ricky shifts restlessly.

There's a moment when Ricky feels like he's hanging in mid-air, wanting this so intensely it hurts, needing it to happen right the fuck now and nothing's happening, it's not working, he's not going to get it--

Warm liquid spatters across his chest, his shoulders, and Ricky opens his eyes he clenched shut at some point. Opens them, looks up into JC's eyes, sees the love and lust there. Sees how much JC wants to give this to him, wants to do this to him, not just for him. He shakes, reaches for himself, cock hard without even a touch until now. So hard, so ready, just his fingertips easing over the length makes him gasp.

"Look at me. Watch me." JC's voice is tight, rough with emotion, and Ricky looks up, draws his gaze away from the tile, from JC's legs. Sees golden liquid -- piss, because JC's pissing on him and he feels all kinds of perverted for the thrill thinking that gives him -- arc up and away, toward him. JC shifts his hips and it splashes on his neck, his face, and Ricky holds his breath in anticipation, shuddering when the first droplets hit his lips.

Taste me rings through his head, though he's not sure if JC said the words or if Ricky's just thinking about it. He leans forward eagerly, wanting something he's never going to really be able to articulate. He can't articulate it. JC nods above him; he sees the movement out of the corner of his eye.

The explosion across his tongue makes Ricky's head spin: hot, rich, bitter, sour, salty, musky. Too much and not enough, because JC was mostly done pissing, it's just the last few drops. But there's also warm skin, texture changing against Ricky's tongue, soft sliding into hardsoft, velvet over steel. He licks up, taking more of JC into his mouth until he's blowing him in earnest, JC's hands in Ricky's hair guiding him deeper, faster as he licks and sucks.

His own dick throbs in his fist and Ricky strokes it, slowly at first then harder, faster, as hunger spreads through him. He feels consumed by it, can't get enough friction, can't get enough of JC in him to assuage it. He groans when JC tightens his grip on his hair, holding him still so he can thrust in and out at will. At his will, not Ricky's. Using him.

Ricky closes his eyes and lets it happen, lets the heat sweep him away until he's drowning in it. JC groans, the sound slipping out in amongst the gasps and rough, harsh breaths, and it almost sounds like Ricky's name.

Then it is Ricky's name, a breathless, "God, Keek--" and JC's pulling away from him. Ricky opens his eyes, following, mouth open and searching, and JC grunts as he strokes himself roughly, coming on Ricky's face, his open mouth, welcome bitter heat he licks up from his lips. JC folds down against him, hand pushing Ricky's away from his dick, jerking him off almost violently as he leans in to kiss Ricky.

Orgasm explodes out of him when JC bites him, teeth scraping over his throat with hard suction following behind. Ricky shudders through each spasm of it, groaning when JC strokes him just a little too long, stripping every drop of come from him.

He licks his fingers off, then brings them to Ricky's mouth, pressing until Ricky opens, takes them in. The kiss that follows is gentle, soothing, and Ricky slumps against the tile in exhaustion, waves of relief and bliss washing over him, washing away the tension he's carried around for far too long.

JC shifts away from him after a few minutes and Ricky mutters a quiet protest, trying to follow the movement.

"Just starting the shower, Keek. Shh. Hang on a minute."

Warm, warm water washes over him then, and Ricky pushes himself up away from the tiles -- uncomfortably cool now -- to stand beside JC. He reaches for the soap until JC pushes his hands down, a gentle kiss pressed to the throbbing spot on his neck. "I want to do it. Just relax."

Relaxing is hard for Ricky, but right now he thinks he might be able to manage it.