Anyhow. I can't even tell you how much I hope sombody'll finish it. *g*
What it meant, of course, was that it was all Janet’s fault that Justin found himself where he was.
If it hadn’t been for the rumors, nobody would ever have figured that he’d be up for this kind of thing. If it weren’t for the rumors, he wouldn’t really have thought about it much himself. If it weren’t for the rumors, Nick Carter would never have decided that he should emulate Janet’s supposed predilection for fucking a certain scrubby-haired young popstar with a strap-on dildo. Minus the strap-on, naturally.
Justin wriggled against the table as the edge of it pressed hard into his abdomen, bar of unyielding wood straight across his front, echoed by Nick’s heavy arm slanted across his shoulders. "You’re fucking tripping," he said, irritated that for all his hotel-room pushups, he still couldn’t throw Carter’s huge ass off his back. He tried to console himself, thinking that if he *really* wanted to get Nick off him, he could, but then he thought about that and it didn’t really make him feel any better.
"Huh," Nick said, and then his hand was in Justin’s hair, tugging once, firmly, and his other hand was holding something balled-up and soft and forcing it into Justin’s slightly-open mouth, and fuck, JC told him once that he shouldn’t leave his mouth hanging open all the time but JC really should’ve said "it’ll prevent Nick Carter from gagging you with a dishcloth" and then maybe Justin would’ve paid a little more attention.
Theoretically, Justin could’ve stopped Nick from doing that, at least. Also theoretically, Justin didn’t fuck guys. The non-theoretic truth seemed to be that Justin was bent over Nick’s kitchen table with his hands tied behind him, still fully clothed, and being gagged securely with a lemon-tasting dishcloth and a bandana over that, knotted tightly behind his head and stretching his mouth painfully at the corners. "nnglph," he said, indignantly. It looked like one of his own old bandanas. Of all the nerve.
"Can you talk?" Nick’s voice was sudden and honey-dipped against Justin’s face, right in front of his ear and almost against his cheek. Justin worked to swallow, failed, and shook his head, rasp of cloth on his skin. Nick’s teeth pulled delicately at his earlobe, burning hot by now, and he said, "Good. You never say anything interesting, anyway."
Which was rude, and unfair besides, but Nick wasn’t paying attention to Justin’s affronted garbling. He was, instead, reaching around to grab the hem of Justin’s t-shirt, ruck it up so the table was pressing bare flesh now. He was undoing Justin’s jeans, one button at a time, and yanking them down unhurried and deliberate. Justin promptly forgot about Nick being unimpressed with his conversation in favour of thinking about his cock, and how hard it was, and how good Nick’s slow, arrogant hand felt on it. He bit down on the cloth in his mouth but it did little to muffle the low purr that rumbled from his throat.
Nick chuckled at that and leaned fully onto Justin’s back, his hand squeezing just a little before sliding around onto Justin’s hip, holding on to it tightly. "If I’d known you were this easy, Timberlake, I would’ve done this a long time ago."
Any thoughts of protest died as Nick licked along the side of Justin’s neck, biting down where it curved into his shoulder. Justin groaned into the gag and his hips jerked back into Nick. Nick’s hand slipped around Justin’s hip again and Justin gave a little shimmy, trying to get that hand back on his dick. He moaned in frustration as Nick laughed and pulled away from him.
Justin turned his head as far as he could, looking over his shoulder. He could see Nick moving around, back to Justin, but he couldn’t see what Nick was doing. Justin looked forward and raised his chest off the table a few inches before he was shoved back down, chin banging on the top. Nick’s hand was pressing down on the middle of his back and he could hear Nick clucking his tongue.
"You don’t want to leave just yet, do you?" Nick asked, and it took a moment for Justin to realize that Nick’s other hand was moving up the side of his leg, over the curve of his ass, and then another moment for Justin to realize that Nick’s fingers were sliding too smoothly over his skin, slick with…something. Shallow push of a finger into him, just the tip and just enough to make Justin want more, and Justin shook his head. No, not leaving, not ever, not if Nick would just move his finger a little deeper. He arched his back and lifted his hips up, growling when Nick moved his hand away.
"Oh yeah, you’ve definitely done this before. With Janet? Or maybe Britney? Does America’s pop princess like to play dirty?"
And that's all we've got.