nsync in black and white

Disclaimer: this is fiction. We made it up.


by missy, written for silveryscrape

As soon as Justin woke up with his hands cuffed to the headboard, he knew it was all about the harmonies. JC, of course, didn’t say anything other than, “Good, you’re awake,” and methodically tied down both of Justin’s ankles.

“JC,” Justin started, but JC just leaned up and put his hand over Justin’s mouth and said, “No, that’s not the way it goes,” and then Justin really knew it was about the harmonies, because that was exactly what he’d said to JC when he’d heard how JC had been mixing everyone's voices.

But JC was watching him with steady, serious eyes, and no, it really had nothing to do with the song at all, and everything to do with the slow coil of heat low in Justin’s belly, and the sudden slamming of his heart.

JC knew--JC always knew--but Justin nodded slightly, just to make sure. JC didn’t smile, not exactly, but some of the tension went out of his shoulders, and his hand wasn’t covering Justin’s mouth so much as it was caressing it.

Justin smiled, then let his tongue sweep along JC’s palm, closing his eyes and concentrating on the taste, the feel, until he could find and trace JC’s life line and, more importantly, his love line.

JC hissed faintly, but he took his hand away, and when Justin frowned, he leaned close and said, “It’s going to go like this tonight.” He was close, kneeling right over Justin, talking low and quiet in Justin’s ear, and Justin was excruciatingly conscious that he was naked and spread-eagled on the bed while JC was fully dressed, except for his flip-flops.

“Tonight,” JC said, and bit Justin sharply on his ear, “tonight, we’re doing it my way. You don’t say anything, not unless you want me to stop.”

Justin nodded again, and this time JC did smile, sharp and bright and hungry, and Justin drew in a long shuddery breath. He tried to remember the last time JC had looked at him like that, but he didn’t think it had ever happened, not even when they were first together and life was just something they had to do before they could get back in bed, and certainly not recently. But right now it was more important, much more important, to pay attention to the way JC was tracing feather-light touches across Justin’s collarbone.

They were so soft Justin could barely feel them, but they commanded his every attention. Collarbone, breastbone, then maddeningly soft strokes around and across and around his nipples and again at his navel, until Justin was panting and pulling uselessly at the cuffs.

He hated being tied like this, especially as tightly as JC had him stretched; it gave him no room to move. JC knew that, too, and Justin shuddered as JC drew patterns on his inner thighs. JC knew and he’d done it anyway, and Justin wondered what else JC was going to ignore this night.

JC kept up the barely-there touches, ghosting his fingertips along the crease of thigh and torso and across Justin’s hip and back down, again and again and again. When he finally, finally moved the teasing to Justin’s balls, no force in the world could have stopped the strangled whimper that forced its way past Justin’s lips.

JC stilled immediately. Justin could still feel the heat of him, so damn close to where Justin wanted, needed him to be, but there was no way to get the touch back, he couldn’t move even the fraction of an inch he needed, and he fucking hated being spread-eagled.

“Justin,” JC said, with enough of an edge to let Justin know that he’d missed something, and that JC wasn’t happy about it. At all. He forced himself to breathe deeply, and met JC’s eyes. “You said something. Did you want me to stop?”

Justin knew that tone of voice, that deceptively mild, calm attitude that said nothing to look at here, no mindfuck in progress at all, no, not here, and braced himself mentally, even as he shook his head. Just once, to answer the question and to let JC know that as eager as he was, as much as this whole thing was turning him on--and there was no hiding that--Justin wasn’t rolling over and baring his throat, not yet.

JC leaned up and traced his finger—the same one that had just been tormenting Justin’s balls—along Justin’s lower lip. “What if it happens again?” he asked. “Should I stop then?” Justin started to shake his head, but JC wasn’t finished. “You tell me, J. Should I stop or would you rather be gagged, so there aren’t any misunderstandings?”

Oh, you *bastard*, Justin wanted to say, half-admiringly, in the endless seconds that followed. He hated that, too, hated the texture and taste of the ball gag they had, hated the way it left his jaw aching and sore after only a few minutes, hated how he had to take attention away from other things to breathe around it. He hated it and JC knew it and was smiling down at him again, the smug sonofabitch.

“You can say one word, J,” JC said. “Either tell me stop or gag, and I’ll know what to do the next time.”

As fucking hard as Justin was already, even after barely being touched, there wasn’t any question of what he was going to say, but fuck, just having to say it, having to ask for what he hated nearly choked him. When he finally said it, though, when he finally managed to make himself form the word, “Gag,” JC caught his mouth in their first kiss of the night, hard and deep and endless, and Justin kissed him back until stars danced in front of his eyes and his mouth felt bruised.

JC started the touching again, running his fingertips back and forth over Justin’s collarbone, but his hands were rougher this time, and he spent a long time playing with Justin’s nipples, pinching and rolling and tugging them, leaving them swollen and hot and throbbing. He traced the same line as before, navel, thighs, hips, and then spent an equally long time with his balls. Justin didn’tdidn’tdidn’t want the gag, so he swallowed every gasp and whimper and moan, barely allowing himself to breathe when JC was touching him the most, and nearly sobbed in relief when the hands moved back to his collarbone.

This time though, it was only to hold him more firmly, so JC could lick along the same path. JC’s tongue was soft and warm, stroking gentle patterns, not just straight lines. Justin wanted to relax under it but he knew there had to be more, knew that JC wanted him off-balance for some reason.

JC smiled, Justin felt it next to his skin, then bit down hard enough that Justin knew he’d have a bruise the next day. He looked up at Justin and grinned. “That what you were waiting for, dude?”

Justin rolled his eyes and barely restrained himself from sticking out his tongue but the tension was less stressful and more sensual and he could let himself go with it instead of fighting to stay on top of it. JC’s mouth moved smoothly over him, tasting him in long, slow, sweeping strokes, teasing over his nipples again and again, each touch drawing the nerve endings tighter and tighter, drawing him tighter and tighter.

He wanted it done, wanted the sharp, clean jolt he’d get from the bites he knew were coming, but JC was in no hurry, and all Justin could do was lie there. He wanted to scream nowNOW but the gag was right there, right on the edge of his peripheral vision, so he just let the words echo in his brain.

There were no smiles against his skin this time, just JC’s teeth closing around his left nipple and the air rushed out of his lungs even as the shock of pain stuttered into an aching pleasure. He was more prepared for the second one, and the third, but after that it all blurred together and he only knew that he hadn’t cried out because JC wasn’t stopping.

“Fuck, Justin, fuck, fuck,” JC gasped. Justin drank in the need in his voice as if he were dying of thirst. “You’re, fuck, so beautiful, so gorgeous,” and JC never talked like that, never said more than the occasional, “Mmm, yeah, that’s good.” It was killing Justin, killing him, not to be able to respond, but JC knew, Justin could feel it in the careful attention he was paying to every tiny bit of Justin, in the way he traced the tip of his index finger along Justin's lower lip, over and across and back and forth.

Justin closed his eyes, so he wouldn't be distracted by how dark JC's eyes were, how intense, so his world could narrow down to the the single point where JC was touching him, so he could feel that touch ripple out through the rest of his body, until JC slipped the very tip into Justin's mouth and then Justin could curl his tongue around it, tempt JC into giving him more.

He didn't open his eyes, not when JC pushed his finger all the way into his mouth, not when the second finger slid in next to the first. He didn't need to; he knew all he needed to know from the subtle tremble under his tongue, from the quick, sharp hiss of breath above him when he sucked both fingers deep, scraping lightly with his teeth. He kept his eyes closed until JC growled, "Fuck, J," and pulled away from Justin's mouth, and then Justin looked up so he could see JC, so JC could see him when he started fucking Justin with those same two fingers.

Justin breathed through the hard burn, shifted his hips as much as he could, arched and pushed back and never took his eyes off JC's. "Want you, baby," JC was growling. "Want you under me, want to feel you screaming inside when I take you, when I fuck you, want to you laying there, spread out, having to take it, not be able to do anything but feel me."

Justin nodded mindlessly, already halfway there, slipping, sliding, falling hard and fast into the space JC wanted him in, nothing but skin and nerves and JC.

Now, his mind sang. Nownownow, and he didn't have to say anything, he knew JC could hear him, see him losing himself as JC pressed inside him, fingers twisting and curving, stretching him and fucking him, fucking him, until Justin didn't know where he ended and JC began.

JC never looked away, never stopped, even as he slid his free hand down Justin's thigh, over muscles hard and tight and shaking from the strain, didn't stop until suddenly Justin's ankle was free and JC was reaching for the second cuff, and it was wrong, it wasn't what he wanted, what he knew JC wanted.

"No," Justin gasped, the words spilling out of his mouth. "No, don't." JC froze, his eyes narrow and intense. "Just like this," Justin said, not caring that he was begging, that JC would know how much Justin wanted it. "This is enough, just do it, now, right now, pl--"

JC's mouth slammed down on his, biting, growling, and Justin didn't know if it was JC's blood he was tasting or his own, but then JC's hand was on his face, fingers and thumb digging deep at his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and the gag was deep in his mouth, hot sharp copper mixing with the ugly taste of the rubber and Justin didn't have to be quiet anymore.

"Those noises you make," JC whispered, drawing the words out long and slow. "Fuck, just the way you look at me, when you're like this. You're such a slut for this under that pretty little boy look."

JC took his time sliding out of his jeans, peeling off his t-shirt, whispering all the time how much he knew Justin wanted to get fucked, how he was going to take his time, see if he could make Justin cry before he let himself come. He slid his hands down his body, jacking himself, teasing Justin with every stroke, grinning at the low, harsh noises that forced their way past the gag.

He crawled up over Justin, mouth and hands everywhere but where Justin wanted them, pinching and biting and scratching, and Justin knew that anytime he looked at himself, any time he showered or undressed or saw himself in a mirror, he'd see JC's mark on him, for weeks after this, no matter how far apart they were physically. Justin suddenly knew that was what this was all about and it was an easy, dreamy slide from there.

By the time JC slid his hand up the back of Justin's thigh, pressing his leg up and back, fucking Justin open with hard, rough thrusts, Justin didn't know anything that wasn't JC's hands and mouth and cock. He lost himself in JC; gave himself to be fucked, used, owned, until JC came inside him, and all Justin heard was his name.

His shoulders cramped hard when JC uncuffed his wrists, dark twisting muscle spasms shot through with the almost unbearable pleasure of JC's mouth sliding down his cock, licking, sucking, swallowing him deep. The hard rubber still stopped his voice, muffled his whimpers and moans, but JC knew exactly how hard, how fast Justin needed it, knew it and gave him no chance to move or think or breathe, so that Justin came knowing that it was all at JC's pleasure, all at JC's desire.

JC unbuckled the gag, licking hot and sweet inside his mouth, cleansing the hated taste, murmuring quiet praise into Justin's skin. He smoothed warm hands over Justin's shoulders and arms, pressed not-quite-gentle kisses to the marks he'd left.

Justin made his arms work, reached up to slide his hands into JC's hair, tugged sloppy and clumsy until JC slid up to lie next to him. "It can go like this," he mumbled and fell asleep listening to JC laugh.



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