nsync in black and white

Disclaimer: this is fiction. We made it up.

a night to remember

by micha, written for roz

His body is sore and aches dully in a number of ways. Some of them are good, and some of them are bad. The room is silent, and he sits by his small kitchen counter, looking down at the coffee cup seeping warmth into his hands. He is thinking about the previous night’s events.

Justin’s heart made a jolt at the sight of him. The slender, dark haired guy was standing by the bar. Alone. He was sipping a drink and bobbing his head to the techno music while his eyes seemed to be roaming the dancing crowd consisting of half-naked men. Justin watched transfixed as the lights, flashing in different colors, played over the guy’s sharp features. Justin was standing on the gallery, which made his view perfect, even if the distance was greater than Justin liked. He studied the guy’s face as best he could, trying to imagine what was going through the guy’s head; he was probably looking for some hot dude to dance with and take to the bathroom. Justin sneered and snorted derisively as he felt his stomach clench at the thought.

“Oh so, this is where you’re hiding. I’d never have guessed,” somebody said loudly enough to be heard over the music, making Justin jump.

“Jesus, Chris, you fucking scared me!”

Chris grinned impishly.

“I was almost beginning to think you’d already left with someone.”

Justin rolled his eyes and took a swig from his drink.

“You really should go up to him instead of just standing here watching like the creepy stalker you are, and you know, you might actually get lucky. Stranger things have happened.”

Justin flipped Chris off and turned back to the bar. He had much more interesting things to do than listening to Chris’s jibing.

But the guy was gone.

Justin cursed under his breath and rubbed his hand over his fuzz. Just his luck.

“Better luck next time?”

“Whatever,” Justin bit out, pushed his body away from the railing, and started on his way down to the bar. He might as well get wasted -- or perhaps he could get something else. Before he had even started descending the stairs, Chris’s hand was on his upper arm.

“We’ve been through this before, and I can no longer see you get shitfaced and moon over some guy you don’t even know. You’re gonna dance.”

Even though he dances hours a day, it is always routine; he hardly ever allows himself to dance with abandon like he did yesterday. He let everything go, even the jealousy of some unknown person who got to be with the guy, and he imagined that he was the one dancing with him.

“Dance with me,” a sexy voice sounded suddenly in his ear.

Justin turned halfway around and saw his face, and his movements stuttered in disbelief. All he could do was nod.

And then it was real; he was not only moving to the music but also to the guy’s movements. It was not like he had imagined. He had not thought he would do anything to hang onto the feel of the hard body pressing into his, their hips rolling together, and their bodies twisting together. And he did not want the guy’s hands to stop being all over his body, did not want to let him slip out of his own roaming hands.

Justin didn’t know how long they had been dancing when the guy huskily said: “Wanna get out of here, honey?” It could have been five minutes or two hours. The guy placed an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive skin right below Justin’s ear.

“Sure,” Justin said, trying to sound nonchalant, but he was breathless from dancing and arousal.

They ended up at Justin’s place. All the way there the want had ached dully in Justin’s abdomen and his hands had itched to touch the guy. Many times he had come close to simply pushing the guy up against the wall and drop to his knees, right there, onlookers be damned. And by the looks the other had kept sending him, it seemed as if he must have been thinking along the same lines.

They tumbled into his apartment, and immediately, Justin was pressed up against the door and kissed senseless.

“Seen you watching me. So fucking hot,” the guy panted, pressed his parted lips to Justin’s again, and stroked Justin’s tongue with his own.

Justin had to focus hard to slide his hands under the guy’s tight, pink t-shirt to smooth over the planes of the guy’s skin. The guy moaned when Justin’s finger slipped beneath his boxer briefs and into the cleft at the same time as Justin slipped his knee between his legs.

“Bed. Take me to your bed,” the guy whispered urgently, his eyes intent on Justin’s face.

“Yeah, come on.”

Everything is a blur after that; time seems to have sped up, and only pieces are clear to him. He remembers revealing the guy’s pale skin; drinking in the sight of his thin, wiry body; running his hands over the well-formed muscles; and sliding his fingers over the hair-roughed limbs. He recalls the big hands caressing his body; the warm mouth kissing him insistently; the guy sliding sinuously down his body; himself moaning when the guy blew him with hungry growls; the bruising grip as the guy held his gyrating hips down; and his fingers threading into the guy’s short, silky hair. He recollects the guy moving over him, moving quickly, roughly in and out of him; himself arching his back, trying to get more of the friction on his own cock trapped between their bellies; the guy making the hottest, small sex sounds ever; the guy throwing his head back in pleasure; the guy letting a drawn out moan escape him as he came; and himself having one of the most powerful orgasms he had ever had. But what stands out clearly is the intense pleasure, the heat of the whole encounter, and the almost instinctive way they touched each other.

Justin feels his body stirring as he dwells upon the memories, and he fights the urge to do something about it. Now is not the time.

Afterwards, as he was falling asleep in the guy’s embrace, Justin dimly wondered if he would be waking up alone the next morning. He really hoped not, but he would probably never forget this night -- him.

The next morning he felt the day pulling him out of his sleep. He knew it even before he was fully awake.

The guy had not left.

The guy’s body was warm where it was lying stretched against his, limbs tangled with Justin’s. The room was silent save for the sound of their soft, heavy breathing. Justin opened his eyes and looked into the guy’s face, barely visible in predawn’s gray light. Justin extricated his arms from the guy’s and moved his upper body slightly back, but left his legs intertwined with his. Feeling a little guilty and very content, Justin lay mapping the guy’s face and torso all the way down to where the light yellow sheets lay around the guy’s lower body. Golden sunlight slipped gradually in through the window, illuminating the room. The guy was, if possible, even more beautiful in daylight, with his dark brown hair tousled and his jaw rough with morning stubble. Justin sighed; this was surely the best way to wake up.

He held his breath when he first sensed a stirring in the guy, bit his lip as the guy’s eyes fluttered open, and counted to three and forced himself not to look away as the guy first took in Justin and then his surroundings with blue, sleepy eyes. Slowly, the guy gave a warm, tentative smile. It warmed Justin’s whole body, and he felt his own lips be drawn into an answering smile.

“Good morning, you,” Justin whispered, his cheeks staining palest red.

The guy only fluttered his eyelids languidly and moaned in response. The sound sent shivers down Justin’s spine, and he drew a deep breath.

“So… um… would you like to take a shower… and have some b-breakfast?” he said through the lump in his throat. The butterflies’ wings were beating his in ears.

A smile and a nod. The guy rolled over to his back and stretched, moaning.

“All right,” Justin replied enthusiastically and all but sprang lightly out of bed.

The tread of bare feet on the wooden floor pulls Justin out of his reverie, and with a nervous smile, he turns to face the guy. He appears as debauched and sated as Justin feels, but his hair is still wet from the shower, and he smells of Justin’s shampoo and body wash. He looks great in one of Justin’s white t-shirts and the pair of new boxers, even though the clothes hang on his wiry frame, and Justin thinks slyly that it would be all too easy to get his hands in under them.


The guy makes a sound in agreement as he sits down on the other wooden barstool. Justin feels the guy’s eyes on him while he drags his heavy body awkwardly over to his cupboard, takes out another white cup, and pours hot coffee into it.

“Here,” he says softly as he places the cup in front of the guy. “Oh, would you like some sugar or cream or anything?”

Justin’s eyes flash up from where they rested on the cup and up to the guy’s face in time to see the guy shake his head and thank him with a small smile, which makes Justin’s heart skip a beat.

“What would you like? Cereals? I’ve got many different ones. No? Toast?”

Justin prepares the toasts with shaking hands. He can feel the guy’s eyes following his every move, but they don’t say anything. Justin puts the plates down on the counter and the guy clears his throat before whispering “thanks”. His voice is still slightly hoarse. The guy looks on with sympathy when Justin sits down gingerly on the stool. If it was anybody else sitting beside him, he would stick out his tongue, maybe. But there is not, so they only sip their coffees and eat their toasts while letting the ticking of the clock fill the silence stretching between them. Justin knows for what they’re waiting, but neither seems to want to be the first to say something.

“So I take it -- um… may I see you again?” the guy says in a rush, blushing a bit.

Justin’s stomach clenches pleasantly, and his heart is suddenly beating faster. “On one condition.”


The guy looks so nervous that Justin has to smother a smile.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me your name.”

“JC,’” he gives Justin a totally blending and adorable face-splitting grin. “My name’s JC.”

And Justin knows -- he just knows -- that this is the start of something he’s been dreaming about.


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