Okay, so it's really short, but good smut comes in small packages. I hope. Many thanks to Caleb and Minako, my fine betas.
And this is probably a good time to mention that I don't know these boys or their actions. If I did, would I really be sitting here, writing this. No, wait. I might.
Startled, JC looked up from his drink.
"You're staring at that thing like you're having a religious experience. Should I leave the two of you alone?" Smirking, Chris leaned down to whisper in JC's ear, "Or is there room for one more?" He pulled back just enough to watch those pretty cheeks pink in embarrassment and smiled again, sliding onto the seat beside JC. "You're not still freaked out, are you?"
"A little, maybe." The blush deepened.
"Come on, C. You can't tell me you didn't see it coming! The way those two have been all over each other lately, I'm surprised they haven't started fucking in public! And besides," he paused, grinning wickedly, "it was pretty hot, wasn't it? All that golden young skin . . . Pretty, pretty boys."
JC nodded, remembering. The image was still fresh in his mind, still shockingly new. Justin's head had been bowed, his back arched as he pushed back onto Nick, their bodies tangled, both of them panting. JC had backed out and closed the door quietly, though he thought they wouldn't have noticed had he slammed it. He had turned, then, trying to slow his heart, and met Chris's knowing eyes across the hall before fleeing here. He wasn't entirely sure what was worse: that he'd walked in on his best friend having sex with Nick Carter, that he was turned on by it, or that Chris somehow knew.
"Pretty, pretty JC." His palm was hot and sudden on JC's thigh. JC looked worriedly around the room, but at three-thirty on a Tuesday morning, the hotel bar was nearly empty. Only a handful of sleepy patrons and a bored bartender remained, and the booth JC had been hiding in was secluded, yet it was still far from safe.
"Chris - "
"Do you remember how they looked? How they moved?" Chris asked, as though JC wouldn't be seeing it every night. "All perfect skin and sliding hips, all lovely and tangled and delicious. His high voice painted the scene again as his hand slid up to the top of JC's jeans. "Do you remember the noises they made - Nick's gasps, Justin's moans, his pretty whimpers?" The sound of the button and fly seemed unbearably loud to JC, obvious and guilty. He gasped himself as Chris eased a hand inside.
"Do you think he'd make those sounds for you? If you held him, stroked him here," and his fingers did something particularly clever, "what would you hear? What do you think he sounds like when he comes?" Chris licked lewdly up JC's neck to his ear, almost whispering now. "Would you like to make him come, JC? Do you want to run your hands over him? Do you want to fuck him?" He started working him in earnest now, his grip firm. "I bet you do. He's got the fucking sweetest ass. I bet he'd let you, too, just open up and welcome you inside. He loved it when Nick did him. He was writhing like a cat in heat. Or maybe you'd just like to watch? They were fucking hot, weren't they? I bet you could come just looking at them."
And that was too much. JC could see it, feel it, feel Chris's hands on him and Nick in him and himself in Justin and the two, three, four of them moving together, straining towards release, and they were in public, people could see them, but he didn't care anymore because the world narrowed and he was coming.
Chris withdrew his hand, licking it clean. He leaned in to kiss JC swiftly, messily, as he carefully refastened his jeans.
"Merry Christmas, JC."