Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/82133.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Popslash
  Relationship:
      JC_Chasez/Justin_Timberlake
  Additional Tags:
      First_Kiss, First_Time, Europe-era
  Stats:
      Published: 2003-05-19 Words: 4128
****** Come What May ******
by mickeym
Summary
     Sometimes things are meant to be, regardless.
It starts as a random thing, Justin rubbing up against him just before a show,
brushing his mouth against JC's shoulder, or neck, or – once or twice – his
mouth. Not a kiss, exactly, but it leaves JC shivering and tingling, wondering
what the hell?
Justin's fifteen, and precocious in so many ways, but so innocent in others. JC
reminds himself of that when they take the stage, his body humming with energy.
He doesn't think about the almost-kisses, or the not-quite-caresses unless he's
completely alone, so he doesn't think about them much at all. But he likes the
shiver of electricity that slips through his blood when they happen…and how it
lingers.
                                     ~~~~~
Sixteenth birthday parties should always come with gold records, JC thinks,
watching Chris and Lance talking to one of their producers. His came with a
cake and punch that someone, probably Tony, spiked when no one was looking, and
presents, and a renewal of his MMC contract.
Which wasn't a bad present in and of itself. But he's pretty sure nothing can
top Justin's. And where is the birthday boy, anyway? JC frowns and twists his
head, trying to see around the crowds.
"Smile, or they'll think you're not having fun," Justin whispers practically
against JC's ear. Warm, moist breath swirls over his skin, already sensitized
from the heat in the room and the energy still clinging to him from the
performance earlier. He jumps, pretends he didn't feel Justin's mouth brush his
skin, and spatters beer on his shirt. Well, it was warm anyway. No great loss.
JC's not really keen on German beer.
He turns with a grin fixed firmly in place, tries not to recoil when Justin's
right there beside him, in his space.  A fraction of an inch forward and he
could kiss Justin—or Justin could kiss him. JC holds his breath, feels his
heart pound fast and hard and wonders at the heat sliding furiously through his
veins now. He can't breathe until Justin takes one step back, and the rush of
air into his lungs makes him light-headed for a moment, spots of red and black
dancing around the edge of his vision.
"Jesus. Justin. Where'd you come from?"
Justin looks around the room, probably checking for Lynn or Wesley or Mike,
then takes JC's cup and swallows the rest of his beer down.
"I've been talking to people, stuff. It's my birthday party, so, y'know." Blue
eyes, deep and guileless, stare at him and JC wonders at the fire he sees
burning there. Justin's too young – isn't he? To have that. But no, not really.
Justin's young, but. Not. And he's closer, leaning in so close, JC can smell
his breath, the yeasty, heady scent of dark German beer mixing with the
lighter, sweeter scent of Coke. He bites his lip and leans backward, freezes
when he realizes the wall is right there behind him, solid, impenetrable.
"Sweet sixteen," Justin murmurs, shifting a fraction closer. JC looks around
frantically—how can so many people not see an incredibly hot boy leaning in so
close to him they may as well be kissing?
And when did that happen, anyway? When did Justin go from being this dorky
younger kid who laughed at him and with him…to the incredibly hot boy leaning
into him?
Justin licks his lips and JC shudders, full body, lightning licking along each
nerve ending, sparking through him. He scrambles sideways, just enough that he
can breathe again. "Justin—"
"Never been kissed," Justin finishes softly, then steps backward. JC closes his
eyes for a minute; when he opens them again, Justin's disappeared into the
crowd.
God. He's not sure whether he should be grateful or not.
                                     ~~~~~
Sweet sixteen…Never been kissed.
Justin's words ring through his head at the most inopportune moments, and JC's
not sure what it's going to take to get them out. Preferably gone forever. But
nooooo, they linger, popping out unexpectedly at the weirdest times.
He's pretty sure Justin's been kissed, before. There was a lot of fooling
around went on backstage of the MMC, even with the younger kids, and there was
a whole lot of giggling and smiling and secretive looks between Justin and
Britney.
JC runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. Before the party, he could
enjoy the tingles and shivers from Justin's almost-touches, but now…now, he's
becoming obsessed, and he's not really enjoying that much. He doesn't want to
be obsessed with him. He's just—Justin.
He looks over to the table Justin's sharing with Lance while they do their
homework, sees Justin biting down on his lower lip while he studies whatever it
is he's studying, and sighs again. Fucking Justin, making him see and think
things he really has no business seeing or thinking about a friend and
bandmember.
"Hey, C?" Justin's voice cuts through his thoughts, and when he looks up and
over, Justin grins at him. "Can you read over my essay? It's on the War of
Eighteen-twelve." Justin's smile is bright, infectious, but wicked. JC sees the
imp hiding behind bright blue eyes and silly grin, sees the man lurking behind
the boy.
It's like a siren call, in a way. And he's never been so glad in his life that
someone else is in the room with him and Justin. "Sure, man."
                                     ~~~~~
The crowd's already hyped; JC hears them through the thin walls of their
backstage dressing room; hears the screams and cheers for the other bands.
Someday they'll be headliners in their own right, he's sure of it. All the
screams will be for them. The thought makes his blood fizz, makes him just a
little light-headed and very warm. Kinda like arousal, he thinks distractedly,
watching Chris pace around the small space, while Joey and Lance huddle
together, talking about who-knows-what. And where's Justin? He needs to keep an
eye out for him, so he can't slip up unnoticed—
He's right up in JC's face, mouth open, lips red and wet. Like he's been
kissing. Or wants to kiss. Kissable. So close, so hot, it wouldn't take
anything to lean in just a little, and watch Justin lean in closer, and—
Oh. Oh, god. Justin's mouth is warm. Wet. Just a brush of lips, of tongue, and
JC's mouth tingles, burns, a slow, heavy burn that slides down his spine and
lodges in his groin, adding to the pre-show excitement, making him harder than
he already was.
And then Justin's gone, just like that, dancing out of the way before JC can
react. He stares for a moment, licks his lips, then joins the Joey-Lance huddle
in the corner. JC stands there, watches him go, and blinks twice slowly when he
sees Chris scowl at him.
Why's Chris scowling at him?
Another two steps brings Chris close to him, nearly up-in-his face close. 
"Don't fuck with him, Chasez." And whoa, did Chris learn mind-reading? JC
clears his throat.
"Actually," he says softly, "I think he's fucking with me."
Chris snorts. "Didn't you ever crush on anyone, dude?"
Well, that's kind of an irrelevant question – to which the answer is 'yes', but
really—oh.
JC blinks again. "I—crush? He's crushing on me?"  Because, honestly, if anyone
had asked him, JC would've said Justin had a crush on Chris, what with the
following-him-everywhere and constant near-worship thing.
Chris snorts again and JC kind of wants to smack him, to stop that. "D'oh.
Pretty much anyone with eyes can see it, C. So I say again: Don't fuck with
him."
Lynn pokes her head into the small room. "Five minutes, guys."
JC nods his head in her direction then focuses back on Chris. "I wouldn't.
Won't. I mean—no."
Brown eyes clear and Chris smiles, nods. "I didn't think so, but. Yeah. Too
much up here, dude," he taps JC's temple. "I just needed you to know, so you
can—whatever. If you're gonna let him down," he frowns at this and JC's still
trying to comprehend what he's saying, "do it soon, so he can move on."
"What? Chris, I—"
"Just sayin', man. Fish or cut bait, y'know?"
And Joey's hollering that they need to get their butts over here right now to
do a hackey, so JC can't respond to that – if he even knew what to say.
                                     ~~~~~
It begins slow, but ramps up bit-by-bit, a steady assault on his senses.
Everywhere JC turns, Justin's there. Touching him, talking to him, teasing him,
brushing against him.
He brushes his hand against JC's back or hand at every opportunity, now. Lets
his fingers wander when they take turns ganging up on one for tickle fights and
wrestling matches. Breathes into his ear, quick words like 'hi', or 'bye', or
even, once, 'sexy', when JC would swear there was a quick lick with his tongue
at the same time.
Before shows is worst, or best, depending on his frame of mind when thinking
about it. Justin brushes against him, full body touch, breath moist and scented
like spearmint from the gum he chews against dry mouth, rubs once, carefully.
His mouth is always cool now, from the gum, but the touch of it ignites fire
inside JC and it's all he can do not to grab Justin and pull him closer, open
that wet, red mouth with his, and show him what a real kiss is.
He lets himself think about those touches and kisses now, whether he's alone or
not, and he walks around at least half-hard all the time. Joey and Chris tease
him about it sometimes, but Chris' eyes are dark with other meaning when he
does, and JC isn't sure what 'don't fuck with him' actually means, any more.
Does it mean go for it? Or not?
                                     ~~~~~
Germany bleeds into Spain, into Switzerland, into England, into so many
countries JC can't keep track any more. They're in Africa for Lance's
eighteenth birthday, still reeling from the idea of Africa, knowing they're
promoting themselves, but unable to get past the 'oh, my god, we're HERE'
thing. All five of them, even Chris, walk around with eyes wide and staring,
trying to take in as much of it as they can.
Africa's a lot warmer than Germany could ever be, and JC loves it. He misses
the heat and humidity of Florida. Hates being cold all the time, no matter how
many layers he wears. He's always hot when he comes off-stage, but that's
different. That's the heat of performing, the sheer rush of adrenaline, of
knowing he's the one (or one of five) making the little girls scream and shout.
Heat from performing is more like heat from sex than just being warm.
Thoughts of heat and sex make JC dart his eyes over to where Justin is watching
the ostriches, fascinated like they all are. He's leaning awkwardly against the
pen, his jeans pulling across his butt, and oh, fuck. It's like it all slams
into JC at once, the tall, lean frame, big hands resting lightly against the
framework of the pen, mouth open and laughing at something Chris just said,
curls gleaming gold in the sun. If he could see Justin's eyes they'd be a deep,
rich blue, color to rival the sea or the sky.
Sweat breaks out on his forehead and a passing breeze makes him shiver
violently, because, oh, god. It's been there all along, he's been resisting,
yes. Best as he can, because he's not entirely convinced it wouldn't be
courting disaster to want – in any way – someone he still has to work with…not
that that ever stopped people on MMC from dating, fighting, breaking up. They
still went on. He could go to the 'he's younger than me' argument, but he has a
cousin who dated a girl six years his junior for three years before they got
married.
And JC knows he's nowhere near wanting a commitment of that magnitude for like,
a long time – and doubts Justin is, either. But. Dating. Boyfriend. Sex.
Sex, with Justin.
Justin, wanting sex with him.
He's grateful for the picnic table behind him when his legs give out.
                                     ~~~~~
"Get the damn camera outta my face, Fatone!"
JC smiles at Chris' snarl, because yes, finally. He got tired of the camera
months ago; it's about time someone else stopped finding it amusing. Not that
it'll make a lot of difference in the long run; Joey grew up with an older
sister and brother. He can ignore taunts and threats and snarls like nobody's
business. JC, as the oldest, in his family, is more used to making the taunts
and threats and snarls. As is Chris. Chris, though, is a lot more vocal than
JC, so, maybe Joey will get a clue. He can only hope, because before a
performance? Not the best time to film them, really.
There's a buzzing noise in his head, voices, sounds, and he closes his eyes to
tune it all out, to bring himself into focus.
"Hey." The buzzing becomes a soft whisper, voice pitched low and not a little
sexy. Justin. It's like having an itch he can't scratch, and JC finds himself
wiggling in place.
"Hey." His throat feels dry. Justin grins and leans in toward him and JC's
amazed by his ability to tune out everything else going on around them. His
focus is one hundred percent on Justin. Narrowed down to blue eyes glinting
brightly, to a mouth curved upward in a smile, lips gleaming damply. As he
watches, Justin licks them, and just that flash is almost more than JC can
stand. He shivers, catches himself raising his hands to—what? Pull Justin
closer? Push him away? Clutch onto him?
He doesn't get a chance to do any of those, because Justin surges forward,
taking the decision out of his hands. JC ends up clutching on because he
doesn't want to fall, but then it's, oh, god, hot boy in his arms, and Justin's
mouth on his, and this isn't the quick fly-by brush of mouth against mouth,
this is a kiss. Hot and wet, Justin's tongue teasing against his lips, and JC
opens to let it in. To taste him. Holding him is like holding a live wire, he
can feel Justin vibrating in his grasp, and the slick slide of Justin's tongue
over his makes him feel electrified, flashes of heat jittering along his
nerves. Then it's over, too fast, not fast enough, and his mouth tingles, and
he's hard and aching behind his track pants, and Justin runs his tongue over
his lips and grins, but it's—different, this time. Hungry, mischievous, but
still different.
"For luck," he whispers before backing away from JC. Over his shoulder, JC sees
the other three watching. He closes his eyes and pretends no one saw that; when
he opens them again, focus has shifted, and Justin's nowhere in sight.
                                     ~~~~~
The knock on his door after everyone's supposedly headed for bed is completely
expected, mainly because JC grabbed Justin just before they entered the hotel
and whispered, "my room, tonight."
Because something—has to give.
He has a feeling it's going to be him, and he's going to like being the one to
give. Give in, give up, give—period. 
"Are you mad?" Is the first thing Justin says, and JC gapes at him for a
second, before pulling him inside his room and pushing the door closed.
"Why would I be mad?"
"Because—well. Um. Kissing…in front of the other guys." Justin kind of mumbles
the words, and JC shakes his head and reaches out to touch Justin's face. He
takes him by the chin and tilts his head back just a little, wonders how long
until Justin's actually taller than him. He's close, now.
"You kinda rocked my world, kiddo." JC leans in and brushes his mouth over
Justin's, feels him shiver.
"You kinda rock mine a lot." Justin smiles, but unlike the last days, weeks,
months, it's not cocky and certain; it's shy and unsure, eyes half-closed, dark
lashes fluttering like butterflies against his cheeks. Something tightens
around JC's heart, squeezes his chest just a little, while warmth flows through
him. Warmth that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with
friendship…and possibly more. "I don't—I've never kissed another guy, C." Those
eyes are wide open now, pupils dilated, black surrounded by a thin ring of deep
blue. "I always wondered, but didn't…care. And then—I dunno." He shrugs once
and the movement brings him a little closer. JC wonders if he really needs to
breathe. He hopes not; he can't seem to get any oxygen in. "Just. One day…all I
could think of was kissing you. A lot."
He tilts his head back and JC smiles, traces his thumb across full, red lips.
Justin opens his mouth just a fraction and JC's thumb slips inside. He shudders
when Justin bites down gently, flicks his tongue against the tip. The tightness
in his chest expands, grows, surges outward as heat floods through him.
"Let's try that then, huh?" JC steps closer, presses Justin back against the
door and cups his face, and Justin opens eagerly, hands sliding up JC's arms to
clutch his shoulders. Justin's mouth is perfect, oh, god, so perfect. He could
spend forever kissing him, exploring the silky, wet insides of his cheeks, the
rough, slick palette, the hard enamel of his teeth. Justin's tongue teases his,
stroking then darting away, and JC spreads his fingers and tilts Justin's head
back a bit, angles deeper inside his mouth, tasting and learning.
One kiss becomes many, becomes long, drugging kisses without breaks. JC doesn't
want to stop, ever, if possible, and from the way Justin clutches at him,
fingers teasing the hair at his nape, he feels the same way. And it's not just
his mouth; JC wants to taste and kiss as much of him as possible. He nips and
licks at Justin's lips, sucks the bottom one into his mouth and lets it slide
out slowly with a slick, wet sound that hangs in the air and makes his belly
flipflop. Then there's the length of Justin's jaw to taste, slow licks and
little bites, and Justin tastes faintly like soap and sweat.
He tilts his head obligingly when Justin murmurs something low and throaty, a
whisper of "please", or maybe "I want", and he can't deny, can't say no. Licks
his way out of Justin's mouth, one last taste of his lips, then groans softly
when Justin licks up the length of his throat, stopping to suck on his Adam's
apple.
"You taste good," Justin whispers, biting along JC's jaw, and he has to lock
his knees in order to keep standing. Each little scratch of teeth, each soft
gust of breath against sensitized skin makes him tremble, makes his blood run
hot like quicksilver, and the ache inside him grows apace, curling out into
every little part of him. "Want—can I touch you?" Justin drags his hand slowly
down JC's chest, and he's aware suddenly that there're only thin t-shirts and
boxers between the two of them. He can feel the heat from Justin's body, is
aware of his erection pressing hard against his thigh.
"Yes—" JC takes Justin's hand and slides it the rest of the way down, rubbing
over his stomach slowly, letting Justin feel the way it twitches and quivers
under his touch, then down to cup himself, curling Justin's fingers around his
hard-on before he lets go. Justin curls his fingers tighter, not really
stroking, just pumping gently, but JC shudders, blows a breath out. He's afraid
he's going to fall over or down, or something. "Bed—please—"
"Yeah." Justin's voice is thick, rougher than usual. He lets go of JC, but
stays close as they stumble on unsteady legs to the small bed. JC barks his
shin on the chair he left sticking out, and yelps once, then doesn't care
because Justin's pulling him down on top of him and thin cotton is no barrier
at all for two bodies to slide and rub against; it simply adds extra friction.
JC buries his face in Justin's neck and breathes in a deep, shuddery breath
when Justin curls his hand around his erection again. "Can I?"
"God, yes. Please." He slides one hand up under Justin's t-shirt and rubs his
fingers over one taut nipple, feeling it bud up tighter under his fingertips.
Justin moans and squeezes him, and JC growls. "Justin—god. God."
Justin jerks away. "Does it—did I hurt you?"
"NO." JC bites his lip then kisses Justin gently, softly, licking and teasing
his mouth. "No. God, please—it just. I. It feels good, m'kay? Really good."
Another slow, easy kiss that deepens, and the slick, wet sounds of their mouths
meeting ratchets the tension higher in JC's body. He pinches Justin's nipple
once, lightly, and feels the quick jerk against himself.
"Oooh—"
"Like that?" JC pinches again and Justin quivers beneath him.
"Yes. Oh—oh, god." JC covers Justin's mouth with his and kisses him, long, slow
sweeps of his tongue through Justin's mouth, swallowing the soft noises they're
both making. He slides his hand downward, traces Justin's navel with one
finger, then continues onward. Justin spreads his legs and JC laughs softly
into his mouth, licks at the corners and nips at his lip again before rolling
to his side, pulling Justin with him, placing Justin's hand back on his dick.
"Together," he says softly. "Together…god, you feel good." He strokes and rubs
the hard-on poking through Justin's boxers, teases a finger over the wet spot
spreading out across the thin fabric. Justin whimpers and arches up into his
hand, hips swiveling around and up, and it's the hottest fucking thing JC's
ever seen. He finds a rhythm and waits for Justin to match it, though waiting
is so hard…he's so hard his teeth ache.
Fire sweeps through him when Justin reaches into his shorts and touches him,
curls his fingers tightly around his cock. JC can't help the rolling thrust,
and then it's not so much fire as sparks shooting behind his eyelids,
redwhitegold, bubbling as molten liquid through his veins, each beat of his
heart pumping more heat outward. He tightens his grip, rubs his thumb over the
sensitive spot just under the head and takes Justin's mouth in a deep, bruising
kiss. They groan and arch together, coming almost in unison, hands sliding and
stroking.  JC's head spins when he feels liquid heat sliding slickly over his
fingers and it's all he can do to hold on, finish Justin off, one last spurt
that pulls a long, low growl from him that JC echoes.
He rolls onto his back and Justin curls close into him, chest still heaving.
Glazed blue eyes watch him raise his hand to his mouth, watch him lick and suck
his fingers clean.
JC watches equal parts interest and revulsion shine from Justin's eyes.
"Is it—what's it taste like?"
"A little bitter, kinda strong. Salty-sweet." He leans over and kisses Justin
slowly, sweeps his tongue around the inside of his mouth. "That's you. Now
taste me."
Watching Justin lick tentatively at his fingers would be enough to make him
hard again—if he weren't so tired. As it is, his head is pounding now, post-sex
lassitude giving way to a desperate need for sleep.
"Stay?" He sweeps one hand down Justin's arm, feels the goosebumps prickling in
his wake.
Justin nods, his mouth still curled where he's tasted JC's spunk—and hasn't
decided yet if it's gag-worthy or not. JC hides a smile; he can tell him
tomorrow it's an acquired taste…that you kind of get used to, if that's what
floats your boat. "I told Lance where I'd be. But, not mom." He ducks his head.
"She knows I, um. Like you. But not—this." He gestures vaguely and JC feels his
stomach dip.
"Um. Good. Maybe later, but. Yeah." God. Definitely something else to think
about. Tomorrow. He can deal tomorrow. For now—he yawns hugely and shifts to
pull the covers down. "Catch the light, man."
Justin shuts the light off and strips his t-shirt off then curls into JC,
mumbling a goodnight that's more breath than words. In the dark, feeling Justin
warm and sweaty against him in the cool room, JC figures he doesn't much care
what tomorrow brings; whatever it is, this makes it worth it.
"G'night, J."
There's no answer, Justin's already breathing slow and deep. But just before he
slides into sleep, JC feels Justin's arms tighten around him ever so slightly.
                                     ~fin~
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