Biology

by >>Jae

It started when Chris stopped.

Justin noticed right away, when Chris stopped looking at him. For a little while, it confused him, and then he realized that if Chris wasn't looking he could watch all he wanted. He did.

The other guys noticed when Chris stopped touching Justin. They were bound to. It was pretty obvious. Chris tried his best just to avoid him, but they had concerts and interviews and rehearsals and hours and hours on the bus together. Justin felt JC's eyes on him when Chris sat carefully in an armchair while Justin sat on the couch, or fell back a few steps so he was the last one to leave the bus. Justin didn't do anything for a few days, just waited and watched. Then he started touching Chris. Nothing unusual, nothing different from the way he had always touched Chris, sitting down next to him and leaning in, popping him on the shoulder as he passed. It was a test. No one said anything when Chris failed it. JC just slid down the sofa and put his arm around Justin's shoulder after Chris stood up abruptly. When Chris darted quickly from the room, hand clasped over the place where Justin had punched him playfully, Joey picked Justin up and flipped him upside down until he screamed with laughter.

They had to stop pretending to ignore it when Chris stopped talking to Justin. Justin hadn't thought it would come to that. It was pushing it, but Chris had always pushed it. Justin wasn't testing Chris when he asked him if he had Justin's CD. He'd asked three times before he realized that the problem wasn't that Chris hadn't heard him. Justin bit his lip for a second after he asked the third time and heard Lance gasp in the silence. He hadn't thought Chris would go that far. Maybe he was wrong. Then he looked up and met Chris' eyes. Chris turned and left the room, and Justin sighed with relief. He was right.

Joey slammed the closet door and swore. JC hurried out after Chris, a vicious glint in his eye. Lance sat beside Justin and patted his arm awkwardly. Justin was still for a few minutes, letting Lance pet him tentatively. Then he stood up and headed for Chris.

He paused outside Chris' door when he heard JC's voice. JC wasn't shouting; he never shouted. This sharp hiss was as close as he ever got. "--your fucking act together, Kirkpatrick. Stop screwing around."

"What do you want me to do, JC?" Chris sounded pissed off.

"You're the grown-up here. I want you to start acting like it. Grow up a little and get over yourself and deal with it. And while you're at it, figure out something to tell Justin about why you've been acting like such a fucking asshole."

"What do you want me to tell him?" Chris said.

"Anything. I don't care. It doesn't matter, he'll believe it if you say it. He's a kid. He doesn't know anything."

Listening outside, Justin shook his head. He didn't know much, but he knew two things. He knew when he was loved. He'd known it all his life. And he knew Chris.

"He knows more than you think," Chris said.

JC stormed out of the room and almost knocked Justin over. Before Justin could say anything, JC curled a hand firmly around his bicep and walked him down the hallway. When they reached Justin's door, he pulled out of JC's grip. "What?" he said angrily.

"Don't," JC said. "Not right now."

"Don't tell me what --"

"It's not a good idea," JC said.

"I'm not a kid," Justin said.

"Fine," JC said. "Just. No." Justin looked at him, but JC didn't move. JC watched as Justin took out his keycard and opened the door.

"Are you happy now?" Justin said. He went inside and closed the door in JC's face.

"Yeah, I'm happy," he heard JC say.

Justin waited a full ten minutes, sitting on the bed and timing it on the alarm clock. When he opened the door, JC was leaning against the wall.

"Um," Justin said. He felt like an ass going back inside his room, but he couldn't quite bring himself to walk past JC.

"Justin," JC said. His voice was quieter now. "Don't do it." He waved a hand as Justin opened his mouth. "I'm not saying it because you're too young, or anything like that. You're not. It's because." JC paused. "Just. Don't do it. It's a bad idea."

"You don't like him," Justin said. "You never liked him."

"I like him fine," JC said. "I mean, maybe not right now. But I like him."

"You don't understand him."

"You do?" Justin looked at the floor. He heard JC let out a harsh puff of air.

"You don't know him," Justin said. "You don't know him at all, if you think he'd ever try to hurt me."

"Oh, honey," JC said. "He's not gonna have to try."

Justin brushed past him and walked down the hallway. He could feel JC's eyes following him the whole time.

Chris' door was open. He closed it behind him, and Chris looked up from the couch. When he saw Justin, he stood up.

"Not a good time, J," Chris said. "Take off."

Justin shook his head. He walked over and stopped in front of Chris. Chris had told him something, a long time ago, when he started taking Justin to clubs he had no business being in. Justin thought he'd have to sneak in, go through a back door or something, but Chris just pulled him along, nodding at the bouncer as they passed. "If you act like you belong there," he'd told Justin when they were inside, "people will let you in." Justin smiled at Chris. He knew where he belonged.

"J," Chris said, and stopped.

"It's okay," Justin said. "I know." He put a hand on Chris' arm. Chris looked at it, and then at Justin, and there was something in his gaze, something dark and hard and angry, that made Justin drop his hand and then his eyes.

"Oh, you know, huh?" Chris said. Justin fought to keep from wincing at the tone of his voice. "What do you think you know?"

Justin thought a minute. He knew a couple of things, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. "I know I want you," he said, and met Chris' eyes.

Chris laughed. It wasn't his real laugh, but the one Justin knew very well from the lawsuit and the last days of Lou and from long before that, from long tense evenings spent watching Chris whisper into his phone. "You don't know what you want," he said. "What, you want me to kiss you and hold your hand and a choir of heavenly angels will sing?"

"I'm not twelve," Justin said.

"You want me to take you out on a date and bring you flowers and walk you back to your door?"

"I'm not a girl," Justin said.

Chris pushed him, once, hard, and Justin stumbled backwards into the wall and hit his head. Chris' mouth swallowed his yelp of pain. Chris kissed him roughly, and ran a hand even more roughly over the front of Justin's pants. Justin held his ground, schooled his body to stillness, told himself this was a test. He closed his eyes, then opened them. Chris moved his hand back and grabbed Justin's ass. Justin felt his hands shaking as he lifted them. He clenched them into fists for a minute. When he put them on Chris' hips, they were steady. He pulled Chris closer to him, like Chris belonged there.

Chris stopped. "You want me to do that?" he said. His face was twisted into an expression Justin couldn't read. "Do you? You want me to put my dick in your mouth? You want me to turn you around and fuck you?"

"Yes," Justin said.

"You don't know what the hell you want," Chris said.

"I do so," Justin said. "I do."

"You don't have a goddamn clue," Chris said. He started to turn away, and Justin put a hand on his sleeve.

"What?" Chris said. Justin knelt down in front of him. "Go ahead," Chris said flatly. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Justin swallowed hard. He'd had, he'd gotten, of course he had, starting in Germany and then after. But always from girls. And even though he'd thought about it since, with boys, with guys, with Chris, his mind whispered, he'd always kind of been on the other end of the equation. He felt young and stupid, but he wasn't exactly sure how to start.

He snuck a look up at Chris through his lashes. Chris was watching him, something unforgiving in his eyes. Justin knew this would be his only chance.

Justin opened Chris' fly and reached in carefully for his cock. They'd all seen each other naked a million times by now, of course he'd seen it before. But never this close up. And he'd never touched it. It was smaller than his, but it still looked pretty large to Justin right then. He closed his eyes. He heard Chris shift restlessly. He opened his eyes. Chris was only half hard. He took a deep breath and licked Chris' cock from the base to the tip.

Chris tangled a hand in Justin's curls and yanked him back. "Get up here," he said irritably, and Justin stood up. Chris' hand was still in his hair, but it wasn't pulling now, just cupping his head. Chris looked at him. There was still something hard in his eyes. Justin felt like he was being searched for something, and he kept his chin up and met Chris' gaze, the taste of Chris still on his tongue. He saw something flicker in Chris' eyes.

Chris kissed him, softly this time, keeping his mouth closed until Justin licked at his lips. Then he opened his mouth. His hand slipped out of Justin's curls and stroked his jaw. He made an approving little noise when Justin wrapped his arms around Chris' neck and buried his hands in his hair.

Justin was too breathless even to whimper when Chris pulled away. Something of what he was feeling must have shown in his eyes, though, because Chris chuckled. "C'mere," he said, and led Justin by the hand to the couch. Chris sprawled in the corner, arm draped over the back, his pants still open, his hair mussed by Justin's hands, his lips a little swollen. Justin stood there, watching him, his mouth open, until Chris tugged on his hand. "C'mere," he said again, and Justin sat down next to him. Chris smiled at him and waited.

Justin swung one leg up onto the couch between Chris' and knelt over him. He grasped the hem of Chris' T-shirt and pushed it up over Chris' head. Chris bent forward to let him. Justin dropped the shirt on the floor and sat back. He'd seen Chris without a shirt on before, of course. But in the beginning he hadn't cared about looking, and lately he'd been afraid of getting caught. He put a hand on Chris' abdomen and ran it slowly up Chris' chest up to the base of his throat. He moved his fingers over Chris' skin restlessly, over Chris' stomach, soft and a little rounded under his hand, over the dark hair scattered over his chest. Chris sat back and watched him. Justin bent his head down and his tongue traced the same trail his fingers had. Chris moved a little under him.

Justin sat, straddling Chris' lap, pressed tightly against him. "Oh," Justin said. Chris' dark eyes were watching him. He could feel Chris' cock hard against him. He shifted, and felt it straining, right underneath him. "Oh," he said again, and Chris put a hand against his stomach and shoved him back. "No," Justin said, pushing forward against Chris' hand, "I know, I'm not, you don't have to --"

"Shut up," Chris said without moving his hand. He kissed him. Justin shut up.

Chris toppled Justin over onto his side, his mouth falling against Justin's cheek, the side of his mouth, his throat. Justin squirmed until he was on his back and Chris' mouth was on his. Justin tried to focus. He was a good kisser, he'd been told, and he knew, and he wanted to impress Chris, wanted to daze him, wanted Chris to want more. Wanted Chris to want. But Chris' tongue was like Chris, smart and unexpected and a little too quick for Justin to keep up with. And Chris was heavier than he looked, at least like this, lying stretched out on top of Justin, pinning him to the couch. Justin worked one leg out from under Chris and slung it over the top of the couch. He felt Chris grin against his lips.

Justin dropped his other leg down so his foot was on the floor, then shifted again. Chris was still kissing him, but slower now, deeper, and all kinds of interesting things were happening in his lips, and his throat, and his skin, and his head, hot hazy things, and Justin wanted to stop, just for a minute, to think about those things, to notice them, but then Chris lifted his head and Justin buried both his hands in Chris' hair and yanked him back down.

Chris reached out blindly with one hand and grabbed Justin's jeans just over his knee. He pulled, hard enough to make Justin's leg bounce up, then slipped a hand under his thigh. He held Justin's leg up until Justin got his foot on the cushion and bent his knee. Then Chris started to move. Justin gasped, and then froze. It was. It felt. It was strange, that was what it was, to be on his back like this, Chris between his legs, sliding against him, hot and heavy and. And hard. Justin thought he wanted to stop for a minute, he had to, because it was too strange, too new. Surely this was starting something, something big and different, something Justin had to think about, because he could feel the entire length of Chris' cock against him, through his jeans, through Chris', and that had to mean something, had to. He put his hands on Chris' hips, to stop him from moving, just for a second, just so Justin could see this new thing that was starting. Then Chris' cock slid right against his, and Justin clung to Chris' hips, grinding up against him. He never wanted to stop.

Justin thrust up, again and again, and that wasn't new, that was familiar, the roll of his hips, that desperate lift. But Chris was matching him, thrust for thrust, unyielding above him, sweaty and muscled and Chris, and that was new. That was new. And then he was coming, and that was the same as always, of course, of course it was the same, but Chris' mouth was on his, and Chris' eyes were watching him, and that was new, that was new.

That was new.

Justin didn't want to move. Maybe ever. He felt Chris get up off him, saw Chris sit up and rub a hand through his hair. Chris' eyes flickered over him, and suddenly Justin felt a little stupid, lying there on his back with his legs still splayed. He sat up and looked over at Chris. Chris was still hard.

Justin felt even stupider. He couldn't believe he'd come in his pants like a thirteen-year-old. He felt like he should apologize to Chris, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Then he looked at Chris again, and thought maybe there was something better to do than apologize.

He put his hand in Chris' lap. Without looking at him, Chris grabbed his wrist and put Justin's hand back on his own leg. "Don't," he said.

"But," Justin said helplessly. "I want to." Chris looked at him, and for some reason Justin couldn't look back.

"It's okay," Chris said.

"But I mean. You didn't. I don't --"

"Later," Chris said. Justin looked up, and Chris smiled at him.

"I guess. I don't. I should go?" Chris didn't say anything, so Justin stood up and hovered uncertainly over Chris. Chris just watched him, still smiling. "Okay," Justin said. "Um. Later, then." He left.

When Justin got out of the shower, he sat down on his bed. He was feeling kind of freaked out. He kept thinking about Chris' eyes, watching him, measuring him. He didn't know what Chris had seen. Justin felt like maybe he'd been caught in the middle of something, something that had started a long time ago and he hadn't noticed. But that was stupid, because Justin had wanted Chris for a long time, for forever. He looked at the clock and wondered how late it would have to get before it was later.

Justin was still sitting on his bed, thinking about earlier, when he suddenly realized that by anyone's accounting, it was later. He bit his lip. He didn't know why Chris hadn't come to find him. It was later. Maybe Chris didn't. Maybe Chris wouldn't. Maybe Chris hadn't meant it. But before he'd finished the thought, Justin shook his head. Chris never said things he didn't mean.

Justin laughed. In his excitement, he'd forgotten the first thing about Chris. Justin got up and walked down to Chris' room. He knocked.

Chris would never ask.

There was no answer at the door. Justin knocked again, then let himself in. Maybe Chris was sleeping. But the room was empty. Justin stood in the middle of the room and cursed himself. Later hadn't meant tonight. Later had probably meant later, when you grow up and stop acting like a jerk. Of course Chris wasn't here. Chris was probably out picking someone up, someone older and smarter, someone whose idea of sex wasn't coming in his pants and then leaving without getting Chris off or even managing a complete sentence. Justin turned to go.

He almost ran into Chris, barefoot with a bucket of ice in one hand.

They stared at each other for a minute. Justin tried desperately to kickstart his brain and hated himself. Great, he thought, great, first you come on his couch like a twelve-year-old and then you stare at him like an idiot. How can he not want you?

Justin said, "Um. I," at the same time Chris said, "Justin, I don't think this." They stopped, and looked at each other again. Chris took a deep breath and started to speak.

"No," Justin said. He knew what Chris was going to say. "Me first."

Chris quirked an eyebrow at him. A million stupid things to say shuffled through Justin's mind, and he sifted urgently through him, knowing he only had one chance, knowing Chris' patience was about to run out. Behind the moronic non sequiturs and cheesy lines his useless brain was throwing at him, one word pulsed, over and over. Later later later. Later.

Justin smiled at Chris, like he was sure of his welcome. "It's later," he said.

Chris looked at him. Justin met his eyes and kept smiling, calmly, securely. Chris dropped the ice bucket on the carpet. "So it is," Chris said.

Justin walked over toward the bed. He didn't glance back to check but he knew Chris was following him. He took off his shirt, took off his pants, took off everything. He was trembling, but he fought it hard. He didn't want Chris to see. When he turned to face Chris, the only unsteady thing about him was the frantic skittering of his heartbeat.

Chris was standing with his arms folded over his chest, watching Justin coolly. Justin didn't flinch, didn't look away. He knew Chris was looking for something in him, and he thought maybe if he stood straight enough, if he wanted it hard enough, somehow it would be there. He took a deep breath, wanting, wanting hard, and he saw something flicker in Chris' eyes. Chris swallowed, and put a hand to his mouth.

Justin laughed again. He couldn't believe he kept forgetting. There were two things he knew, and both of them were here in this room.

Chris smiled. "What are you laughing at?" he said, and tumbled Justin back onto the bed.

And then it was familiar again, because they'd done this before, a million times, rolling around together, Justin's arm winding around Chris' back, Chris' breath hot on his neck, laughing and laughing. But it was new as well, because Justin's hand had never slid down to cup Chris' ass, and Chris had never traced the path of his breath with his tongue, and Justin had never laughed into Chris' mouth. And Chris had lost his shirt somewhere, and Justin was naked, his skin pressed warmly against Chris', and that was new and not, because sometimes when they used to wrestle Chris' shirt would ride up, and Justin's would ride up too, or be drawn up by Justin's surreptitious fingers, and a small stripe of electric pleasure would shock across Justin's exposed skin. Now that thrill was rippling through him, sparking more brightly than Justin had thought possible when Chris mouthed his shoulder, dragged his tongue down Justin's spine, and Justin threw back his head and moaned.

Justin wrapped his legs around Chris' waist as Chris nuzzled his neck, the day's growth of beard on Chris' face sending strange brisk shivers through Justin's skin. Justin scrabbled at the buttons of Chris' jeans, and Chris' hand slid down over his ass and traveled lower, lower. Justin gasped and made a soft little uncertain sound. That was new.

Chris sat back on his heels and looked down at Justin. Justin reached for him. "Please," he said shakily, and Chris' eyes narrowed. Justin fought for control of his voice, and when he was sure he had it he said, "Come on, Chris. Come on."

"I wanna," Chris said breathlessly. "I wanna." Justin knew he was asking, and he nodded. Chris got up, and Justin watched him rummage in the bedside table. There was nothing there Justin hadn't seen before, but Chris' fingers, quick and deft, made Justin's previous hungry fumblings seem clumsy, childish. Chris shucked off his jeans before he got back up on the bed and Justin caught his breath. Chris glanced at him and grinned.

Chris settled himself between Justin's knees and pushed his legs up until Justin's feet were flat on the bed on either side of Chris. Chris stroked a hand up the inside of Justin's thigh, and Justin closed his eyes. He opened them when Chris brushed a kiss against his lips. "Bet you're gonna like it," Chris said. He kissed Justin's stomach. "Bet you're gonna love it," Chris said, and pushed a finger inside him.

Justin didn't love it, didn't even like it. At least he didn't think he did, the feeling was so strange he wasn't exactly sure what he thought of it. But the odd pull in his stomach wasn't liking, he didn't think, and the strange slick feel of something inside him made him squirm. Then Chris' fingers moved and found something, caught something, and Justin yelped in surprise. Chris' fingers were moving again, a little faster, and Justin wondered how Chris had known, how he'd known. But he was Chris, Justin thought, and that was the last thing he thought for a while, because Chris had been right, Chris had been right.

Chris had been right.

He knew Chris said something but he couldn't hear, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but clutch the sheets and try to keep the dizzying waves of pleasure from knocking him right off the bed and out of the world. "Justin," Chris said, "Jus-tin," and he knew vaguely that the sounds should mean something but nothing meant anything to him now but the hot golden threads running through his body, jerking his head back and his mouth open, pulling strange short cries from deep in his throat.

It stopped. Justin wasn't sure if the tremors shaking his body were caused by the aftershocks of pleasure or the sudden desperate ache of absence. He licked his lips, started to ask Chris why, and heard his voice start to quaver. Chris frowned, and Justin swallowed his whimper. He dug his nails into the sheets, hard, until he felt his knuckles burn. Then he said, clearly, "Now. Now." Chris' lips quirked upward, a fast private smile, then Justin felt Chris' hand under his thigh, lifting his leg to rest over Chris' shoulder. Justin gasped when he felt Chris' cock, hot and solid, nudge at the entrance to his body. Chris' grin widened for a moment, then disappeared. He bent his head down to Justin's and ran his fingers through the curls. "Justin," he said, "are you sure --" He paused. Justin held his breath and stared up at Chris. Chris' voice grew rougher. "It's going to hurt."

Justin opened his mouth to say something reassuring, then stopped. He could feel a shaky "please" rising up from his throat, and he swallowed again, and again, until the please was gone and all that was left was an ache. Then he said steadily, "Damn it, Chris. Do it." When Chris still didn't move, Justin smiled bravely up at him and laced his fingers through Chris'. Chris shut his eyes and pushed inside.

It hurt, it did, and Justin was grateful for Chris' closed eyes so he could bite his lip and concentrate on keeping his breathing smooth and even and not grabbing Chris' hand too hard. Chris was going slowly; Justin could see the effort in his face. Broken phrases circled in Justin's head, obscurely comforting. 'Chris,' he thought, 'it's Chris,' and 'shhh,' and 'there you go, there you go.' He could feel Chris in him, over him, so close, and he wanted it to stop and he wanted it never to end. Chris opened his eyes, ran a hand down Justin's side and then moved Justin's leg lower, over his back. The new angle drew a whimper from Justin, and although he clamped his lips shut on it as soon as he could, he knew Chris heard.

"Easy," Chris said, "easy." Justin felt Chris' hand moving down his leg to his ass. Chris tugged him a little closer, slid in a little deeper. Chris rocked against him. Justin felt something flare brightly, cutting through the pain, and he threw his head back in surprise and delight. Chris rocked again, and again, and Justin moaned and grabbed at the sheets with his free hand. "There you go," Chris said, and started moving a little more, rolling his hips in small circles, and Justin was gasping and groaning and twisting beneath him.

Chris stilled again, and traced Justin's lips with his thumb. Justin pulled it into his mouth, sucking on it, and he felt Chris pull back and thrust in hard and he bit down. Chris said, "Fuck," but it was stretched out so long and so low that it took Justin a minute to realize what he'd said. Then Chris pushed in again, a long slow push, and Justin let Chris' thumb slip out of his mouth because the molten gold threads were back, only now they were ropes wrapping around his body, constricting his lungs and blocking his vision.

Chris was panting and moving faster now, and Justin was making little soft whimpering sounds. It felt good good good, but at the top of every thrust there was a brief cold splinter of pain, and with a wild thrill Justin recognized it. It was what being with Chris was like, had always been like, this sharp sting buried deep inside joy. Then Chris leaned down and kissed him hungrily, dirtily, and put his hand on Justin's cock, and Justin was coming, hard, his eyes open, moaning into Chris' mouth.

Chris was still moving over him, thrusting into him, and the sting was building, the pain was splintering off into more and more pieces, and then Chris called his name, high and clear, and came. Justin lay next to him, waiting. Chris was breathing hard, one arm draped over his eyes.

Chris didn't say anything for a long time. Justin didn't want to be the first, so he waited some more. Finally Chris moved his arm, and smiled at Justin, and reached out and touched his lips lightly. Justin smiled against Chris' fingers.

"Jesus," Chris said, "these sheets are a mess."

Justin laughed.

"Seriously," Chris said. "I don't wanna sleep on these."

"Well, we could go to my room," Justin said slowly.

"We could," Chris said, grinning. "If you think you can manage to walk that far."

"Shut up," Justin said, although gross as the bed was, he didn't really want to move, and now that Chris mentioned it, he wasn't really crazy about the idea of walking. But he wasn't going to tell Chris that. He swung his legs carefully off the edge of the bed and stood up. He was feeling a little shaky, and then he took a step and something crazy happened to his balance and he was falling. He reached out to break his fall and knocked the lamp off the table. It sparked and shattered on the floor. Justin lay on the floor and looked at it.

Chris cackled madly. He leaned over the edge of the bed and looked down at Justin. "Don't worry about the lamp, J," he said. "That fucker started it." Justin ignored him. The carpet was kind of nice in this hotel. Thick and soft. Chris put a hand out to him. "You wanna come back up?"

"No," Justin said with as much dignity as he could muster, "I think I'm just gonna. Stay here for a while." Chris chuckled again, and Justin guessed he hadn't done too well at the dignity-mustering. It was kind of hard, when you were lying bare-assed on the floor with broken glass surrounding you. He shoved the nearest pieces of glass carefully away.

Something big and heavy fell on him with a dull thud, and when Justin got his breath back he yelled. "You could've broken my back," he said, and Chris poked him in the arm and squirmed around until he was draped half over Justin, an arm around his stomach.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said. "If I get glass in my butt I'm gonna kick your ass."

There was a loud knock at the door. "Chris, are you okay in there?" Lonnie called, and Justin winced. It was like being caught by his dad.

"Yeah," Chris yelled back.

There was a pause, and then Lonnie said, "Is Justin in there with you?"

Chris started laughing, and Justin smacked him and said, "Yeah, Lonnie, I'm in here."

"Are you sure everything's all right? I thought I heard some banging."

"Well, that's one word for it," Chris said, and Justin punched him on the shoulder.

"No," Justin said, desperately trying to sound normal with Chris cracking up next to him, writhing and licking him, "it's cool, we're cool."

"What was that noise then?"

"It was - we were wrestling," Justin called, and Chris said, "in the gay porn sense of the word," and Justin clapped a hand over Chris' mouth. He giggled as Chris bit at his fingers.

"As long as you're okay," Lonnie said, and Justin held his breath until he heard Lonnie move away. Then he started to laugh helplessly, shaking and gasping. Chris put an arm around him. With his other hand Chris yanked the blanket off the bed and arranged it over them.

"If I sleep on this floor tonight," Chris grumbled, "ain't neither of us going to be able to walk tomorrow." But he let Justin curl against him and put his head on his shoulder.

Justin's stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and the carpet wasn't quite as soft and thick as he had thought, and he was aching in all sorts of new places. But Chris was holding him tightly, his mouth moving in Justin's hair, and the blanket was warm and welcoming around him, and it wasn't that he didn't feel his aches and twinges, it was that they seemed lost in something else, something bigger. He thought maybe this was what love was, and then Chris looked at him, and Justin smiled and closed his eyes.

In the middle of the night Justin woke up. Chris was sound asleep, snoring gently in his ear. Justin slipped out from under his arm and went into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He felt a little stupid, like he was in some dumb young adult novel, but he still looked. There was a mark from Chris' mouth on his neck, but that would fade soon. Otherwise he didn't see anything he hadn't seen before. He was a little disappointed. He didn't understand how he could be untouched by the night. Unchanged. Something had started, he was sure of it, and he longed to see the evidence imprinted on himself.

On his way back to Chris, he snagged the pillows from the bed. He dropped one on the floor and eased the other under Chris' head. When he lay back down, Chris shifted and mumbled something against Justin's hair, something he'd never said before. Justin kissed him lightly. "I know," he said. Chris didn't move. His breathing was deep and even. Justin watched him sleep for a few minutes, then he whispered, "I love you."

Chris opened his eyes. Justin had left the light on in the bathroom, and a silver beam stole out through a crack in the door. Justin saw Chris' eyes shine in the light. He saw his own reflection in Chris' eyes.

He saw something he'd never seen before.