It all started with a swimming pool. Justin's pool to be exact, and Chris developed the pressing, burning need to lick JC.

JC had hauled himself out of the water, newly honed arms flexing with the exertion, enough of a guy to not bother with a towel. He'd thrown himself on a lounge chair, closing his eyes, a sigh of contentment rumbling in his chest as water slid down his body.

Chris stood stock still, toweling off, and felt the stirrings of arousal, a creature far removed from the shallow lust that he felt when Justin wore his tight little tank tops, or Lance smiled bright and sexy. He'd fastened the towel around his waist, and run into the house shouting out promises of frozen margaritas. He hadn't made drinks though, running instead to the bathroom, staring at his cock, willing the hardness away, until all that he could do was close his eyes and touch himself, hard and fast.

He'd gone home right after that, confused, nervous and silent enough for Justin to call him later and ask what was wrong. By that time, he'd talked himself down, convinced himself that he'd just been horny and stupid, and he wasn't possibly thinking of JC all warm and golden and studded with droplets of water.

Chris believed that until a couple of weeks later when he walked in on JC in a hotel bathroom. JC was fresh out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and glaring at his dripping hair in the mirror.

"Don't know why I even bother. Oh, hi Chris."

JC stopped glaring, and turned to smile his sweet smile at Chris, who felt like the biggest asshole in the world for wanting to rip the towel off and take its place. He backed up, ass hitting the door frame, not saying a word, watching JC's smile fade, replaced by confusion, and finally by comprehension.

Chris knew that JC sometimes fucked boys, lovely androgynous boys, maybe not quite as often as he fucked girls, but enough. This just didn't seem real though, pretty, spacey JC with eyes darkened with thought, licking his lips and obviously considering Chris like, well, like that.

If Chris thought about it, he always pictured JC as the prey, not the predator. When JC moved forward, he realized that he'd been guilty of underestimation. JC moved sleekly, bits of water still dripping from the tips of his hair. All Chris could see was the intensity in his eyes and the purpose in his movement. When he spoke, the words were almost secondary.

"Chris? There something you're not telling me?"

Chris wanted to ask JC where he got his lines, say something flip and sarcastic that would defuse the ache in the pit of his stomach, douse whatever was rippling between them. But he wanted to touch more, wanted to trace the corded muscles of JC's arms, wanted to lick his nipples and rip the towel off and beg JC to fuck him right there on the bathroom floor.

So, it turned out that all he could do was nod, and try not to think about the subtle flip in his way of thinking, from wanting to fuck to getting fucked. All that really mattered was that he seemed to have communicated just fine without words and JC was steering him into the bedroom and locking the door.

Thoughts didn't seem important after that, not when JC was stripping him not even pretending gentleness. There wasn't any of that stopping and pausing, subtle shifts and learning, just the slide of skin and JC finally kissing him, almost chastely, pressing him into the soft bedspread.

Chris finally recovered enough sense to reach up and tangle his fingers into damp wavy hair and JC must have liked that, because he deepened the kiss, licking into the side of Chris's mouth, all hot slick wanting. Chris arched up and JC just laughed, pushing him back down, hands sliding not quite gently, harsh enough to make him gasp.

JC licked down his neck like he'd been reading Chris's mind earlier. Remembering his fantasies made Chris snap out of his trance just a little bit, reaching for JC and trying to flip him. This JC that Chris had never seen before was far too sure of himself and what he was doing to allow that, shaking his head and pressing Chris's arms down above his head, sprawling Chris out, straddling him and going back to kissing.

Somewhere in their sticky hot haze, JC stopped holding Chris down, pinning him instead with a look that said that he shouldn't move, that he'd regret it if he did. When JC leaned down, preliminaries forgotten, and licked one single stripe up his cock, eyes wicked and amused, Chris had to bite his tongue to keep from begging JC to fuck him.

JC knew though, could apparently read it in his eyes, just like he'd read Chris's interest, and he moved away quickly, the long lines of his back and his legs graceful and pale in the light from the bathroom. Then he was back, kisses insistent and fingers pleasantly intrusive, pressing into Chris, swallowing his groan.

When JC laughed a little, delighted with Chris's response and corkscrewing another finger inside, it was strange and familiar all at once. He arched into JC's fingers with a little whimper that he might be ashamed of eventually. At that moment, he wanted JC more than he wanted pride.

JC didn't make him beg, slipping his fingers out and filling him slowly, slow enough to make it seamless and hot and never quite enough until he was the whole way inside. He paused for a moment, sweet smile slipping over his face, strange and familiar again and all Chris could do was arch up, nudging JC into his sweet spot and clutch at his shoulders, restraint forgotten.

And JC laughed, strangely triumphant, and began to move. They slid together slick and warm and silent, want equalizing them, JC losing some of his hauteur and Chris regaining some of his confidence, until they were moving together perfectly.

JC reached down, wrapping fingers that no longer seemed delicate around Chris's cock, pumping him slowly inside and out, until Chris really didn't have any choice but to arch up and let go, wrenching gasps out of a suddenly dry throat. When JC came a few moments later, it was silent, his face tilted upward, exposing the graceful arch of his neck.

Chris thought that it should have been odd to roll over, tangled into someone so familiar and strange all at once. That didn't stop him from leaning over and kissing JC sloppily, not worried about impressing him anymore, just making sure that he was good, content. JC's fingers came up and stroked through his hair, and he felt sleepy, thinking about mornings and showers and droplets of water shining on pretty golden skin.

~end~