"At least tell me there are lesbians in this." JC flops down beside Justin on the couch, and squints at the screen. "Wait, is that guy wearing nothing but a Ramones t-shirt?"

"It's Joey's," Justin says, moving over a little, suddenly very aware of JC's thigh pressed next to his. JC's very warm thigh.

"I never knew Joey even had a Ramones t-shirt. Or that he knew any porn actors," JC says, reaching across Justin's lap, and-

"JC, what the fuck?" That's not what Justin meant, and JC knows it, and what the hell is he doing?

"The box, honey," JC says, somehow combining an eye-roll and quick flick of his wrist in one, and then he's got the cover of the DVD in his hand, waving it in Justin's face. "The box." Oh. Of course. Justin totally knew that's what he was reaching for. Really. "So, what's it like?"

"What's what like? Sex?"

"Ha ha. Funny boy." JC's studying the blurb on the back of the cover like it's required reading. "The movie, smartass. Any good?"

Justin shrugs, and watches the guy in the Ramones t-shirt slip two fingers into a writhing blonde. "Um, it's. It's okay. I guess."

"Hmmm." JC drops the cover of the movie onto the floor, lifts his arms above his head, arching his back and stretching like some huge, contented cat. He watches the movie for a moment, the blonde woman onscreen arching her back, spreading her legs wider, and then he turns to Justin, grinning. "A little more than just 'okay' by the look of what you're sporting."

By the look of-- oh. Oh, shit. Justin can feel the rush of heat to his face, couldn't stop it even if he wanted to, and JC's mouth twitches up in a little half-smile. "I just. Y'know, um," Justin says, wishing there was a cushion handy to pull into his lap or something, and apparently coherency is also a little out of his reach right now.

JC makes a little noise of dismissal, like he totally doesn't care that Justin's sitting beside him with one hell of a hard-on, because Justin's only human, and he's watching porn afterall, come on now, it's to be expected, right? Right, and so Justin nods, hoping that is what JC's little amused exhale of breath actually means.

"Did you want me to leave you alone?" JC asks then, and what the hell does Justin say to that? Yes, because I'm planning to jerk off until I pass out, so please go away, or maybe, No, it's fine. Feel free to stay, because I'm perfectly comfortable sitting here with a boner I can't touch? Right, sure.

"Um," he says, and shrugs, hoping JC'll make the decision for the both of them. Who knew chilling and watching porn would get so, well, complicated?

"I don't mind if you jerk off," JC says, voice careful, his eyes on the screen, but he's strangely still as he says it. "I'll probably crash soon, anyway."

"Um," Justin says again. "I'm, no. What?"

"Oh," JC says suddenly, drawing the word out, his smile widening. "You've already-- oh. Dude, I didn't realise. Sorry, man. You need some kleenex, because--"

Justin shakes his head, because, no. No, no, no. "No," he says, grabbing JC's arm, "no, I haven't. You know, um. Already."

"Jerked off," JC says, kindly filling in the missing words for him, adding a helpful little demonstration in the form of a couple of flicks of his wrist. "No?"

"No."

"Ah." JC grins. "I thought it might have been a stealth operation, or something. An in-the-pants job. Mmmm." He licks his lips. "But-- no?" He actually sounds a little disappointed.

Justin screws up his nose. "No. And, ew." In his pants? He couldn't think of anything worse. Sitting there, wet and sticky, and-- no. "I've never done that. Ever."

"Never?" JC's eyes are comically wide. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not--"

JC's sitting up now, watching him intently. "You've never been so turned on you just couldn't stop? Just had to do it, there and then, and fuck undoing your pants, because it's gonna happen anyway?" He runs a finger over his lips, and his eyes are half-mast and heavy-lidded. "You've never felt just like that?"

"Never," Justin says softly, and the word just hangs there, between them. Never, he thinks, even though the thought of it, the way JC's looking at him, is sending heat spiraling down his spine, snaking into his belly. Never, he thinks again, and yeah, he's come close, of course he has, but never quite all the way. Once, hours and hours of making out with Brit, when she was still determined to hold onto those last remaining shreds of virginity with scarlet-tipped nails, kissing until his lips went numb and his dick felt rubbed red-raw from being pressed so hard against his zipper. No touching, she'd whispered against his mouth, and he couldn't feel her words at all, just wanted her hands on him. No touching, her words still ringing in his head, and the moment she'd left the room, he'd barely gotten his pants shoved down to his knees before he was coming hard into his fist, biting into his forearm so she couldn't hear him cry out her name.

"Not even once?" JC's right there, asking again, not looking away, and Justin shakes his head. No. Not even once.

Never.

A strip club a month or so ago, in Dallas maybe, Justin thinks, late at night after a show and they were all pretty wasted, and Justin remembers the sound of Joey's laughter as he'd bought them all lapdances with a fistful of hundred dollar bills. Joey's face had turned serious then, swearing if any of them ever, ever told Kelly, he'd kill them all their sleep. Justin had believed him too, because Joey had had that look in his eye, that don't-fuck-with-me look, so Justin had nodded, and promised. He might have even crossed his heart and hoped to die if there hadn't suddenly been a green-eyed girl with jet-black hair all up in his lap, warm and soft and smelling like sex. He'd kept absolutely still, so still, his fingers curled into the underside of his chair, hearing the others laughing in the distance somewhere, the sound coming to him from someplace else. She'd leaned close, touched his face, his arms, run her fingers down his chest, across his belly. He'd been so hard, and he knew she could see, because how could she not? In the end he'd had to close his eyes because if he'd had to watch her mouth, to see the way the words she whispered fell from the pink tip of her tongue, it would have been all over, and he couldn't, he just couldn't--

But he had. He'd opened his eyes, and across from him was JC, his head tipped back, his fingers curled around the hips of the redheaded girl gyrating in his lap. Justin couldn't not watch, couldn't look away from JC's face, the shape of his mouth, the way his lips had moved soundlessly as his eyes fluttered closed. I'm watching him come, Justin had thought, he's coming right now, and suddenly he had been, too, his orgasm hitting hard and fierce, taking him by surprise. He'd pushed the bemused girl off him, barely hearing her muttered curse, and made his way to the bathroom, his face burning, his dick still throbbing.

"Don't believe you," gently sing-songed in his ear, JC's voice even closer still, and Justin realises he's had his eyes closed again, remembering.

"JC--"

"I have." JC leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him, and Justin's belly flickers with heat, tightens when he sees that JC is hard, too.

He knows, Justin realises, he saw me watching, and, he knows.

"You want me to tell you about it?" JC's fingers, slowly stroking over his chest, a quick flash of tongue and teeth.

"Yeah," Justin says softly, "yeah, I do." No other answer even crosses his mind, because, fuck yeah, okay. "Okay," he says, a little louder this time, because yeah, this, he really wants to hear.

"Hmmm," JC says, shimmying even further down on the couch, and now he's trailing his fingers along his thighs, stroking himself like a cat. He's turning himself on, Justin thinks, feeling tiny goosebumps rise on his own skin, and he's fiercely aware of every push and pull of breath in his lungs. He's touching himself and it's turning him on. It's having the same effect on Justin, watching JC's fingers dance slowly, carefully along his thigh, a barely-there brush of his thumb over the hardness between his legs, and Justin has to stop staring, to close his eyes and try to focus on the sound of JC's voice.

"Chris and I," JC says, "sometimes we watch porn. Just like you. When we're stoned, y'know?"

Justin nods, and with his eyes closed, he's not sure if JC can see him or not-- but something tells him JC's watching closely, every move he makes, and can see just fine.

"It's fucking wild." JC's voice is low and secret, the sound of it slipping along Justin's skin, holding him tight. "When you're fucked up enough that everything's all smeary at the edges, but it's intense too." Justin can hear the smile weaving through his words. "Like you suddenly know the secrets of the universe, somehow."

"Yeah," Justin breathes, and he's running fingers across his thighs now too, slow, lazy loops, swirls, figure-eights, feeling the heat on his skin, even through his sweats. "Yeah, I know." How often, he wants to ask, how often have they done it at the back of the bus, just the two of them? He wakes up to the soft murmur of their voices sometimes, can never make out any of the words, just the low sounds, and all this time, he never knew. He never knew, and the thought of it now is like a thousand tiny flames licking at his skin.

"Mostly we just wanna get off," JC's saying, "just get off and go to sleep. It feels so good to just touch, J. So good. Watching a movie, and it's dark and late and you're fucked up and you just don't care about anything, except how good it feels. How good you can make it feel. And I know that he's doing the same, too. He's right there, and I can see him, and he's doing the same."

Justin's fingers curl into his leg, and he can see it, can see them behind his eyes. Chris and JC, light from the screen flickering across their faces, both of them with legs splayed wide, palms spread, the slow, steady movement of their hands, pressing against heat, feeling it curl thick and hot and fierce in their bellies. And their voices, the voices he wakes up to, those soft, low murmurs, and that's what they're doing-- oh, god. He lets his fingers brush over his cock, just the barest of touches, bites back a soft moan when his hips buck upward almost of their own accord.

"Yeah, like that," JC murmurs, "just like that, J." He pauses for a moment, and Justin can feel him move, can hear the sounds of his hand brushing, stroking across and over denim. Touching himself while he watches me touching, too. When JC speaks again, his voice is thicker, slower, heavier somehow. "No talking now," JC says, "just noises. Chris makes some pretty filthy noises, man."

"You do, too," Justin says, tracing over the outline of his dick, cupping, rubbing harder. "You do too, don't you, C?" I've heard them, he thinks, I've heard the sounds you make when you're getting yourself off. JC's answering hiss is all the confirmation he needs.

"I watch," JC says, a beat later, the words tipping slowly off an exhaled breath, "I watch him across the room. I watch the way his foot arches. The way his toes are starting to curl. The way his head falls back. The hum he makes in the back of his throat when he's. He's." Another beat, and Justin's fingers are curled hard around the lines of his cock now, his feet braced flat on the floor, not even trying to stop the upward twist of his hips, just needing to do it. "The way he's making himself feel so good, and he can't, Justin. He can't wait anymore."

Justin opens his eyes, because he has to look, has to watch. Has to see. Beside him, JC's pressing the heel of his hand into the denim covering his dick, his eyes half-closed, shimmying his hips up and up and up, his body moving, curving to match the rhythm of his strokes. I know how that feels, Justin thinks, I know how he sounds, and he's close too, so very close, and he wants, he wants--

"C'mon," JC gasps, his other hand wrapping hot and fierce around Justin's wrist, moving with him, urging him, fingernails biting half-moons into the pale skin, but Justin doesn't care, can barely feel it, and, when JC shivers then stills and hisses "now," something silver and shimmering unfurls in Justin's belly, spreads itself hot and fast along his spine, brilliant white noise crackling behind his eyes.

He comes down slowly in a soft, warm haze, drifting awhile before he's suddenly aware of JC shifting beside him again, of the movie still flickering on the screen, long-forgotten, of wet heat spread across his belly. Moving seems like too much effort, like nothing he can ever do again, so he stays right where he is. I hope this won't make things weird, Justin thinks, then swallows back a laugh. It's JC. Weird is par for the course.

But still.

"JC?"

"Hmm?" JC's tucked his legs underneath himself, his eyes closed, satisfaction in the lines of his body, in the curve of his lips, his hand still loosely curled in his lap.

"We okay?"

JC smiles around a yawn. "I know I'm okay. I feel fucking great. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Justin tips his head back and grins stupidly at the ceiling. "Yeah, I am."

"For someone who's just come in their pants, of course."

"Now who's the smart-ass?"

JC hums softly under his breath for a moment. "Um. Just one more thing, though, and I hope you're gonna be okay with it. I tried to tell you before, but--"

"What?" Justin sits up, and he's not freaking out. He's not. Okay, he is, just a little, and now JC's sitting up, too, his face serious. "Fuck, JC, whatever it is, just tell me--"