Reading 2

by >>Jae

One thing about Chris, one of the million great things about Chris, was that he was easy to read. At least, Justin had always thought so. Chris never asked for anything. But Justin could always tell what he wanted, and he tried his best to give it to him.

Justin was starting to wonder a little, though. It wasn't that Chris had said anything. But then, he wouldn't. It wasn't that Chris had done anything different, either. But then, Justin thought that might be part of the problem. If there was a problem. Justin wasn't sure.

And that was the problem right there. Justin had always been sure before. Now he was starting to wonder if he wasn't missing something. He had always been confident of his knowledge of Chris. He had always known what to do in every situation -- when Chris was mad, or sullen, or frantic with nervous energy. He had always known when to tilt his head back and listen to Chris rant, when to shove his way into Chris' bunk with a joke or a CD to share, when to race Chris up and down the hall until they both dropped laughing in exhaustion. Justin still knew those things, of course. It was just that now there were new situations. Naked situations. Justin felt sometimes as if he were learning a new language, sleeping with Chris, reading his skin like Braille. Justin worried a little that something was getting lost in the translation.

Justin could only think of one way to be sure. He asked.

"So," Justin said. "Um."

"Yes?" Chris said, licking Justin's ear. "Was there something you wanted?"

"No," Justin said a little breathlessly. "No, I mean, I don't. It's the other way."

Chris chuckled. "It usually takes a little longer before you reach incoherence."

Justin pushed him away. "No, I was wondering. I mean, is there something you want?" Chris looked at him. "You know, like. If you had, like, you know."

"I don't, like, know what you're talking about."

Justin took a deep breath. "I mean, like, if you had, we could do it. I mean, I would do it if you wanted. If you had, like. A fantasy."

Chris laughed until he fell off the bed.

Justin didn't help him up. He was irritated. He had just thought he should ask. He had just wanted to be sure.

Chris hauled himself back up next to Justin. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was just, your voice. And the way you said it." Chris dropped his voice and said huskily, "Can I be your fantasy?" He laughed again.

Justin knocked Chris' hand off his stomach. "Hey, lots of people would be happy to hear that."

"All right, all right, I said I was sorry. It's just, you know, that's not really how we. You just sounded like you'd been reading some sort of sexologist advice column. 101 Ways to Please Your Man."

Justin bit his lip. He maybe had been, reading standing up in the Borders, holding the book down below the shelf so his bodyguard couldn't see the title. Chris saw him blush, and started to laugh again. "Oh, J, you didn't. What were you --"

"Nothing," Justin said sulkily. "Like I said, I thought maybe you wanted something, but if you don't --"

"What, you think I been trying to tell you something?"

"No," Justin said, "I didn't, but I don't know. I thought maybe I hadn't, like, picked up on it or. Never mind," Justin said, rolling over. "Forget it, all right."

"Hey," Chris said, pulling Justin back, "hey." He bent his head and kissed Justin's hip. "I got no complaints. Believe me, you'd be the first to know." He smiled, and Justin smiled back at him. "You'll know," Chris whispered, and Justin shivered as Chris' breath feathered across his skin. He relaxed, letting his hand drift down through Chris' hair. Chris was right. He'd know. He'd always known.

Chris put his head on Justin's stomach. "So what is it you want, exactly?"

"What?" Justin said. "I said --"

"I know what you said, and it's sweet, really, but everyone knows that 'Do you have a fantasy?' really means, 'I have a fantasy, but I'm a polite well-brought-up boy and I'm willing to let you do something dirty and disgusting to me before I ask the same of you.'"

"No, that's not what I meant at all."

"No?" Chris said. "So there's nothing you want, nothing at all you can think of that you want me to do?"

Justin paused.

"Aha!" Chris crowed. "I knew it. Mr. Timberlake has a dirty little secret, something not suitable for print in Seventeen magazine."

"Shut up," Justin said. He tried to roll onto his side, but he was anchored on his back by Chris' head.

"Come on, spill," Chris said. He patted Justin's stomach. "Do you want me to guess? Does it involve --"

"No, no," Justin said quickly. "Don't guess."

"Then tell me," Chris said.

"I really didn't mean." Chris waited. "Well, I mean, if you're asking," Justin said. "Um. You promise not to make fun of me?"

"What kind of insensitive bastard would make fun of a young man's first beautiful experiments with his sexuality?" Chris said. "Have you met me? Of course I'm going to make fun of you. I'm going to mock you relentlessly for weeks, and there may even be a funny song." Chris ran a hand up Justin's chest and held him in place when Justin tried to squirm out from under him. "But. I won't tell anyone else, and I'll, you know, do it."

Chris met Justin's eyes and watched him steadily, grinning as Justin blushed. Finally Justin put a hand in Chris' hair and tugged. Chris slid up the sheet and put his head next to Justin's. "Tell me, J," he said, and Justin closed his eyes and told him.

"Oh, there's so going to be a funny song about this," Chris said, and kissed him.

Justin felt a little guilty afterwards -- after all, he'd meant to give Chris what he wanted, not the other way around. But he remembered the look in Chris' eyes when he said he had no complaints and was comforted. He felt even better a few weeks later when, after a few days of Chris pushing Justin's hands above his head and grabbing his wrists, he figured out what Chris was trying to tell him.

Chris looked at him and then grinned when Justin showed him the soft rope he'd gotten. Chris ran it through his fingers, said, "Nylon. Good." Justin shivered a little as Chris bent over him, tied his wrists deftly to the headboard. "Cold?" Chris said, and Justin shook his head. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Chris was sitting in a chair pulled up to the side of the bed, watching him. Justin smiled, shifted a little, bent his knee and slid one foot up the bed. He expected Chris to laugh and call him on his posing. But Chris just kept looking at him, until Justin eventually stopped moving and just looked back. He wasn't sure he liked what he saw. Chris was watching him, hard, his lips moving slightly. He looked like he was trying to memorize Justin, store what he saw away, as if he were preparing for a long cold winter. Something in Chris' intent gaze made him seem far away from Justin somehow, as if he were looking at Justin from behind a glass wall. Justin felt like Chris wasn't looking at him, but through him -- no, into him. He wasn't sure what Chris was seeing.

Justin started to say something, but then Chris said suddenly, "I wish --" and stopped. He extended one hand, fingers spread wide, and Justin's back arched in anticipation of Chris' touch. But before his hand met Justin's stomach, Chris pulled it back to his mouth and then moved it higher. As Chris' fingers covered his eyes Justin saw something flicker, dark and painful. Justin had seen Chris hurt before, but it was always hard and defiant. But what he saw now was soft and open, blurred a little as if by distance. As Justin watched, Chris caught a ragged breath. He blinked, and his lashes brushed against his fingers and left something shining behind. Justin jerked up, trying to reach Chris. The rope hadn't been tight until he pulled against it. Justin panicked.

"Hey," Chris said quickly, softly, "hey, take it easy, J." Chris put one hand on Justin's stomach and untied the rope with the other. He rolled onto the bed and folded himself around Justin, pressing skin to skin, gathering Justin in his arms. When Justin felt Chris' hands on him, warm and steady, he realized he was shaking. "Relax, it was just a game, you're okay," Chris said soothingly, repeating the words over and over. Justin buried his head in Chris' shoulder, pushed against him and felt Chris' body right there, solid against him.

"I just. I," Justin said, and Chris shushed him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in time with Chris. Chris rubbed his back and rocked him a little, mumbled against his hair.

After a while Chris pulled away from Justin, just far enough to see his face. "Guess you freaked out a little there, huh?" he said, and stroked Justin's jaw when Justin tried to speak. "It's okay, just not your scene. Don't worry about it."

"No," Justin said. "I don't. I just." Chris watched him patiently. "It was like. It was different. You were, you were watching me, and then you were, I don't know," Justin trailed off. "It was like going away."

"What?" Chris said sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Justin said, twisting a little in Chris' arms. "I know it sounds stupid, but it was like you weren't. You were. You were there, and you couldn't. I couldn't get to you."

Chris' lips twitched. "I'm right here," he said.

"I know," Justin said. "But for a minute there, you looked like. It looked like you were --"

"You just lost it a little, J," Chris said firmly. "It's okay, we've all got things. I'm afraid to fly, and you've got --"

"No," Justin said, "no, I mean, I know I lost it, but it wasn't being tied up. It was." Justin bit his lip, thinking.

"What was it?" Chris said harshly. There was something hard in his eyes. Justin looked down.

"I don't know," Justin said finally.

"It's okay," Chris said. His voice softened. "Like I said, you just freaked yourself out a little. C'mere," and he pulled Justin close again.

"I felt like you were far away," Justin said into Chris' throat.

"I told you, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Chris pushed Justin gently onto his back and kissed his way down Justin's stomach.

"Right here," Justin murmured softly. "Stay right here, okay? Right here."

Chris looked up at Justin briefly, then dropped his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," Chris said.

The next morning, Justin's wrists weren't even sore. He didn't even notice the light bruises, delicate as shadows, running around them, until Chris lifted one wrist to his lips. Chris didn't kiss it, just brushed his mouth against it. Justin watched Chris through his outstretched fingers. Chris closed his eyes, and his lashes were dark against Justin's skin. "Chris," Justin said, and Chris opened his eyes and covered Justin's mouth with his own.

Justin forgot about the bruises until that night. When he was undressing, Chris caught his arm and pushed his sleeve up, ran his thumb lightly over the inside of Justin's wrist. The marks had faded completely from his skin.