Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/85126.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Popslash
  Relationship:
      Lance_Bass/Justin_Timberlake
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing, Genderbending, Shaving, Dirty_Talk, First_Time, Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2003-03-05 Words: 5810
****** Dress You Up ******
by crackfic_(mickeym)
Summary
     Justin is a pretty girl.
Notes
     Co-authored as Crackfic, with the lovely halowrites.
Lance opens the door to Justin's hotel room carefully, half-expecting a pillow
to be lobbed at his head. Possibly something harder. Justin's face when Lance
dared him to dress up like a girl had been priceless, and Lance can only
imagine what it would have looked like when he'd walked in and seen the pile of
silk and satin on his bed, razor and tubes of makeup placed carefully on top by
Lance's own hands.
They'd been kidding around after a photoshoot, teasing each other about the
thick makeup they each had to wear for the sake of the cameras. None of them
were particularly fond of it, but it was one of those things that had just
become no big deal -another part of the everyday routine. Justin seemed to get
it the worst- makeup artists cooing over his 'darling baby face' and slicking
his mouth up with gloss, making him look like a debauched, androgynous
boywhore.
Not that Lance minded seeing him like that. At all.
"Pretty girlyboy," he'd whispered, leaning in close to Justin as the
photographer reloaded with film, "all made up and no one to kiss."
Justin had grinned at him, white teeth and shiny glossed mouth, licked his lips
and reached down to grab Lance's hand. "Want me to kiss you?" he'd murmured,
low and breathy, and Lance had pulled his hand back with a jerk, heat
flickering along his skin in shivery ripples.
"Get back to me when you're a real woman," he'd said, feeling his face flush
and the words had come out a lot shakier than he'd meant them to. Justin had
smiled then, sly and wicked, and Lance had felt something flip lazily in his
belly, a rush of heat to his dick.
He'd avoided Justin's eyes for the rest of the shoot, staying out of range of
those big hands with the long, soft fingers, trying to ignore the way Justin
kept looking over at him, grinning like he knew some delicious secret. "Can you
help me out?" he'd asked JC, when it was just the two of them getting changed
back into their own clothes. "I want to wipe that smirk off Justin's face."
JC had a way of sweet-talking anything out of anyone, and he'd handed Lance the
bundle of clothes- silk stockings, lacy underwear, and a cool pale blue silk
sheath dress. He'd grinned at Lance, immensely pleased with himself. "Dude,
it's even Justin's favourite colour."
"I'm not even gonna ask just how you got these," Lance had said, tilting his
head to indicate the clothes in his arms. JC had just smiled, eyes sparkling,
his cheeks flushing when the photographer's assistant had looked over and
winked at him.
"Um." JC had licked his lips and smiled sheepishly.
"Oh," Lance'd said, with a grin. "Say no more." He'd slipped the clothes into a
bag and leaned in close to JC. "He's kinda cute."
And now-- now he's in Justin's hotel room, wanting to see his reaction. Part of
him knows this isn't the best idea he's ever had- but there's something else
inside carrying him forward, towards the bathroom door, where he can hear
Justin cursing softly.
"Careful- you don't want to nick yourself." Lance leans against the doorframe
and tries not let his voice wobble, but it's difficult. Moreso when Justin
visibly shivers and glances up at him, eyes wide and dark. Fuck.
"Would you…can you help me?" Justin extends one long -fuck, he's got long
legs!- leg and it's Lance's turn to shiver. Pale golden hair shines in the
bathroom light, and Lance swallows as he follows the line of leg up to Justin's
thigh, solid, smooth, creamy, pale flesh. He glances away before he can linger
on the bulge cradled between those thighs. "Please?" Justin holds the razor out
to Lance and leans back against the toilet.
Hot fingers brush against his when Lance takes the razor from Justin's hand,
and he draws in a steadying breath. "Baby oil," he says softly, crouching down
and running his finger along the line of Justin's shin. "That's what you should
be using. It makes the razor glide more smoothly."
He looks up and Justin is watching him intently, mouth slightly open, a pink
wet gleam of lips and tongue. "Do we have some?" he asks, and his voice is
breathy, hitching a little when Lance's finger strokes a little higher.
"Yeah, I think so." Lance stands up, leans across to open the bathroom cabinet.
There- bottom shelf. He silently thanks JC's habit of buying all kinds of
beauty products makeup artists on photoshoots tell him about. He grabs the
bottle, unscrews the lid, and kneels back down between Justin's thighs.
"Spread 'em," he says, and grins when he hears the soft gasp Justin makes.
At first he's not sure Justin's going to, in spite of his request that Lance
help. But then - and oh, Lord, he looks at Lance - he spreads his legs. Slowly.
Which draws the fabric of his boxers up tighter against his balls. And Lance
can't even pretend he's not looking this time, because he wants to look. Wants
to touch, actually.
He pours a puddle of oil into his hand, then rubs both hands together to coat
them before sliding them up and down Justin's leg. Long, long leg, and Lance
feels the tremor beneath his fingertips, feels the way Justin's leg flexes and
shivers. The shiver intensifies when Lance smoothes the oil all the way up his
thigh, over the already - or naturally - smooth inner thigh, brushing his
knuckles lightly against Justin's balls.
The first glide of the razor over slick, slippery skin makes Lance catch his
lower lip between his teeth. It's the first time he's ever wanted to be a
razorblade.
"Are you doing-" he begins, then pauses when Justin moves, drawing himself
upright and spreading his legs further. Lance clears his throat. "Are you
shaving- everywhere?"
"D'you think I should?" That breathy voice again, and Lance feels it slipping
along his skin. "I mean- I've never-"
"Yeah, you should." Lance meets Justin's gaze, licks his lips. "It feels
fucking fantastic." One hand rests on Justin's thigh, warm soft skin, slick
with oil and he hears Justin moan softly when he flexes his fingers, just a
little. He squeezes harder, and Justin's hips jerk forward a little into the
touch.
"Will you do it for me?" The question hangs in the air between them, and Lance
can hear his blood pounding in his head, can feel his heart hammering in his
chest. For a moment he can't talk, can't breathe- and he bites into his bottom
lip, hard, to try and clear his head.
"Yes," he says softly, "I'll do it." Justin sighs, a gentle exhale of breath,
and Lance feels it hot and moist against his skin.
"Move your hands," Justin says quietly, then lifts his hips, hooks his thumbs
in his boxers and slips them down. The air between them is filled with heat and
sweat and musk, and Lance can't stop staring at Justin's cock, thick and full
between his legs.
"It's best to be, uh." He swallows over the lump in his throat, then grins at
Justin. "You have to be hard for this. I see that's not gonna be a problem."
"No." Justin flashes a smile of his own, and reaches for himself, slides his
fingers slowly down the length of his dick. Lance forgets how to breathe for a
moment, then shifts, his own dick pressing hard against the zipper of his
jeans. It's painful, but not, and he rubs himself once, not caring if Justin
sees or not. Because, really? Lance is more likely to believe in Santa Claus at
this point, than he is to believe Justin's not trying to turn him on.
"Harder," he says softly, licking his lips. "Stroke yourself-" And the words
freeze in his mouth, on his tongue, when Justin reaches out and takes Lance's
hand, wraps it around himself. He moans, just a little, very softly, and arches
into Lance's first, curled so carefully around him. "Fuck, Justin." And it's
just a couple of strokes, sure, his hand sliding up and down the hard, full
length of Justin's cock, but-it's guaranteed jerk-off material for like, the
rest of his life.
Justin groans again, and Lance wants to lick the sheen of sweat dotting over
his upper lip. "Hard now," he pants softly, hips working slowly up and down.
Lance squeezes once before letting go, and reaches for the oil again.
"Hold yourself," is all he says, but bending close enough to shave Justin he
can smell him, the warm, musky scent of sweaty, aroused Justin. He wants to
lick, wants to suck, wants to taste the flesh gleaming before him, and has to
stop and take a deep breath before sliding the razor through slick, tangled
curls. Justin's dick is curved up against his belly now, and Justin flicks his
fingers along it slowly, mesmerizingly, and Lance can almost feel his toes
curling. He shaves another strip carefully, then leans forward and licks the
shiny tip of Justin's dick, shudders as the slippery, bitter fluid spreads over
his tongue.
He has to stop and breathe slowly through his nose for a count of ten before he
can finish shaving Justin. By the time he's done, Justin's writhing like a porn
star, jerking himself off slowly.
"Fuck," Justin breathes, "Oh god- Lance. Please, Lance- suck me?" His eyes are
closed, but when Lance closes his hand around Justin's dick, they flicker open,
dark and needy. "Please," he says again, and Lance nods and leans forward.
His own eyes slip closed as his mouth closes around hard, hot flesh, and he can
feel the muscles in Justin's thighs jump and twitch as his hips jerk forward.
He tastes bitter and musky, salty-sweet, and Lance hums as he swallows him down
deeper. Justin's fingers are wrapped tightly in his hair, tugging slightly,
tiny pinpricks of pain all over his head. Not unpleasant at all, instead just
adding to the heat that's spiraling through Lance, heat that's gathered in his
own cock, achingly hard between his legs. He snakes a hand down to rub himself
as his mouth works Justin's cock, groaning softly.
Justin tugs his hair hard, his hips rock forward more urgently, and Lance hears
him hiss in a breath. "Oh god-- Lance- I'm gonna-"
Come, thinks Lance, rubbing himself harder, sucking Justin down deeper, until
he feels him tense, then the saltbitter rush against the back of his throat. He
swallows reflexively, and the noises Justin is making are enough to send him
over the edge. Lance shudders as heat gathers in his belly then flares
outwards, along his arms and legs, crackles along his spine and he comes hard,
warm wetness spreading over the front of his jeans.
"Fuck," he manages, slumping backward to lean against the wall. His heart's
rabbiting in his chest and - euw. Sticky shorts. Justin's looking pretty
debauched, eyes closed, chest still heaving, dick soft, but still plump. Shiny
and red against the pale gleam of freshly-shaved skin. "You still gonna put it
all on?" Lance gestures weakly toward the hotel room with his head and Justin
opens his eyes and licks his lips.
"Yup." As Lance watches, Justin scrapes his fingernails slowly over his thighs
and up his chest, pausing to circle his nipples with his fingertips, through
his tshirt. "You want to watch me get dressed?" It's hypnotic, Lance decides,
watching those long fingers circle and press, circle and press, until he's sure
he can see Justin's nipples, beaded up tightly, pushing against the cloth.
"Um. Yeah." Lance shifts onto his knees again and leans in, presses his lips
against Justin's neck right where his pulse is throbbing visibly. Justin moves
forward until Lance can't smell anything but him, can't see anything but him,
can't feel anything but hot, sweaty boy pressing against him.
His voice is breathless. "You gonna fuck me, when I'm all dressed?"
So's Lance's. He shudders and bites at the smooth, thin skin. "God, yes."
"Help me put on my makeup?" Lance's belly flips at the words Justin asks in
that strange little breathy voice. He tilts his head. "It's in there, with the
clothes."
"Ok." Lance stands up, a little unsteady on still-trembling legs, pulling
Justin to his feet with him. "Lead the way," he says softly, hands on Justin's
hips, pressed close behind him as they walk through into the bedroom. Just the
thought of Justin's eyes smudged with soft black liner, his mouth outlined with
sticky red gloss- that's enough to make Lance's dick twitch once more.
"Here." Justin hands him an eyeliner pencil, sits on the bed. "Think you can
keep your hand steady?" he asks, a lick of his lips, and Lance has seen that
look on his face before.
"Sure I can," he purrs, slinging his leg across Justin's thighs until he's
sitting in his lap. "Think you can keep your hands off yourself while I do it?"
"Maybe," Justin says, wriggling a little. "Do I have to keep my hands off you,
though?" As he says it he slides his hands up Lance's thighs, squeezing
lightly. Lance leans back just enough to give him a stern look.
"Unless you wanna look like a raccoon, you will." Lance bites his lip as Justin
inches his fingers higher; his dick's already twitching again, half-hard and
ready to get the rest of the way there. Justin's warm beneath him, and Lance
can't help but think of long, sleek legs, pale skin with just a hint of pink
where the razor scraped a little too close. Can't help but think of completely
bare cock and balls, and how it shouldn't be nearly as sexy as it is. He
breathes out in- relief?- when Justin stops, rests his hands on Lance's thighs,
and leans in to line his eyes.
The black liner makes the blue seem so vivid, when he pulls back to study
Justin closely. He adds one more stroke to both, then licks his thumb and
smudges the liner just a little, near the corner of Justin's eyes, increasing
the effect. Mascara follows, then a little blush, a quick stroke of the brush
across perfect cheekbones. He's reaching for the lip-gloss, a bright, cherry
red color, when Justin kisses him, just a brush of his mouth at first, then a
harder press, licking at Lance's lips and into his mouth when Lance opens to
him.
Justin moans softly into Lance's mouth, the taste of him hot and sweet and dark
against Lance's tongue. Lance thinks he could lose himself inside that taste,
let it slide inside him, through him, eat him alive. Justin's fingers are hot
where they rest on his thighs, then hotter still as they stroke him gently,
just the barest touch of skin on skin, but it's like electricity tingling
through him. "Wait," he gasps, pulling back, "we're not done yet." He lifts the
gloss brush to Justin's mouth, and Justin grabs his wrist firmly.
"Wanna keep kissing," Justin murmurs, pulling Lance closer. "Kiss me again." He
looks at Lance, lips slightly parted, the lower one gleaming wet and obscene.
Lance leans forward and covers it with his mouth, bites gently into the soft,
pink flesh, and he feels Justin hiss in a breath and jerk underneath him.
He pulls back again and smiles, twisting his wrist from Justin's grasp. "I
said," he whispers, "that we're not done yet." Justin's eyes flash with
something dark and needy as Lance lifts his hand to brush the gloss over
Justin's lips. He feels Justin's breath hot against his cheek, and when he sits
back to look, his mouth is a slick shiny-red pout. "Now we're done," he says,
leaning back in and licking slowly across sticky, full lips.
It starts out slow and easy, licking and tasting, and becomes the sort of kiss
that devours, like wildfire let loose in a forest. It's hot, and hungry, and
Justin moans into Lance's mouth, grips his shoulders hard with shaking hands.
Lance cups the back of Justin's neck, threads his fingers through silky curls
and bites and sucks at those slick, red lips, licking over each bite before
delving back into the hot, slick inside of Justin's mouth.
Lance slides one hand downward, fingers skating along Justin's collarbone and
over the length of his throat. He palms Justin's pecs, worries one nipple with
soft, light caresses until Justin's gasping into his mouth, moaning words that
ripple hotly down through Lance's nervous system.
He's hard and aching inside his pants, and Justin's stiff against his own
belly, before Lance draws back with a shudder. The lipgloss will need to be
reapplied, but Justin's mouth looks- delicious. Red, swollen, lips that gleam
sticky-wet, like Justin just gave head and didn't lick them clean. He licks his
own lips and feels Justin quiver beneath his thighs.
"You need to get dressed," he says at last, clearing his throat twice before
the words actually come out. Lance touches Justin's thighs, still soft, the
skin smooth from shaving and oil. "I want to see-"
"You want to see me dressed like a girl." Justin leans forward and breathes the
words into Lance's ear, and Lance jerks, shivers as they prickle into his skin.
"Makes you hot, doesn't it? Do you want me to be a girl, Lance? Want me to be
your girl?" He licks Lance's neck, then nips at it, and all Lance can think of
are those even, white teeth flashing, framed by lush, red lips. He slips his
fingers down the length of Justin's cock, hears the soft growl resonate around
them. "Want me to be your bitch, baby?"
Justin's voice is an octave lower, and it makes Lance's stomach tighten, the
words adding heat and need to the mix.
"You're a dirty girl," he growls softly, palm flat against Justin's chest,
pushing him backward onto the bed. Justin's eyes widen in surprise for an
instant, before he recovers and grins back up at Lance, wet pink tongue
flicking out to lick at sticky-red, swollen lips. Lance reaches behind him,
fingers finding the gentle tangle of silk and lace. "Here," he says, dropping
the clothing onto Justin's belly, "put these on."
He shifts off Justin's lap, watches as Justin sits up, his cock still thick and
hard, curved against his belly. Painted like a girl above, definitely all boy
below. Lance's breath catches in his throat- the contrast between the two is so
fucking hot it's almost enough to make his mind fold in on itself.
And then- then Justin starts to dress, and Lance can barely stop himself from
moaning out loud. Black stockings smoothed up long, long legs and he can hear
the gentle hiss of silk sliding over freshly shaved skin. He wants to touch, to
reach out and trace the seam with a finger, but instead he bites into his
bottom lip, hard, and concentrates on not coming in his pants.
"Pretty," Justin murmurs, stepping into the black french-cut panties, shimmying
his hips a little as he pulls them up. They fit perfectly, black silk outlining
his cock, the thin fabric transparent where it clings to the wetness slicked
across the tip. "See something you like?" Justin looks up and grins, a sexy
little smile, and outlines himself through the silk, stroking slowly. Lance is
pretty sure it would be obscene - hard cock, the tip just barely peeking up
over the waistband - if it weren't so fucking hot.
The garter belt confounds Justin for a moment, and then it's more silk, more
lace, and watching Justin stretch one leg out and rest it on the edge of the
bed while he hooks the tabs to the stockings, then smoothes them again, is
almost more than Lance's heart can take. He's grateful for the cool stream of
air from the AC unit, and wonders how high he can turn it up.
The bra fits loosely against Justin's flat chest, and Lance thinks that looks-
right. Justin's got the perfect mix of boy and girl going, the right balance of
siren and innocent. Or maybe a little more siren than not, because after he
hooks the bra around his chest, he catches Lance's eye and licks his lips, then
pinches and pulls on his nipples until they're red and erect. Lance is pretty
sure he moans along with Justin as the satin slides up over them, just hiding
them from sight. Lance wants to lick through it and bite each one 'til Justin
begs for mercy, or to be fucked, or both.
"Help me with the dress," Justin murmurs, and Lance shivers as he steps into
it, shivers at the sound of silk sliding against silk. It's pale blue, sleek
and beautiful, and cut tight and close, if Justin actually had curves. As it is
Lance can see his cock outlined between his thighs, and when Justin turns for
him, he catches him around the waist and palms it slowly, fingers pressing and
outlining until Justin sags back against him, whimpering. "Lance, god-"
"Sexy, dirty little girl," Lance growls into Justin's ear before biting down,
tugging on the gold hoop there. He feels Justin's shiver, then a wiggle back
against him, and god, he's never been this turned on in his life. He bites
again, then whispers, "Gonna fuck you so hard, little girl," before drawing the
zipper slowly upward, his other hand still teasing Justin through the dress.
He feels Justin draw in a breath, and then he pulls away from Lance, a sly grin
dancing on his lips as he glances back over his shoulder. "How d'you want me?"
he asks, and it's a soft breath, barely spoken, but the words ring loud and
clear through the blood that pounds in Lance's head.
"Just like this," Lance growls softly, stepping forward to palm Justin's hips,
spinning him round and pushing him back onto the bed. He hears Justin's soft
gasp as he shifts until he's straddling silk-clad thighs, feels Justin moving
underneath him as he leans forward to bite and suck at slick, red lips.
Justin's mouth opens under his, soft little needy sounds breathed into him, and
Lance grinds down against the frantic boy-girl thrusting up beneath him.
"Fuck," he hisses, as Justin hooks a long leg around the back of one of his
thighs, arching up, pressing them even closer together. Sweet, sweet friction
against his cock, and he grits his teeth, pulls back and away with a supreme
effort.
Justin moans, and it sounds more like a snarl. "The fuck?"
"Slow down," Lance says, trying to catch his breath, his skin tingling and his
cock hard and aching against the zipper of his pants. "Let me get these off."
"Let me help." Justin- where the hell did he learn to do that smoky, throaty
voice? It sizzles down Lance's spine and across every nerve, and his fingers
stutter on the zipper tab. Justin smirks and reaches for him, caresses him
through his pants until he's rocking forward into Justin's hand.
He shifts away, shaking, panting a little, and hisses, "thought you were gonna
help?"
"Mmmm." Justin licks his lips again, strokes one finger over Lance's hard-on
when he gets the zipper undone. He sucks his finger into his mouth slowly, and
Lance can't get his pants off fast enough, then. He's pretty sure he tears his
shirt, pulling it over his head, but fuck it. It's only a shirt.
"Dirty little girl," he growls, leaning down over Justin. He licks at Justin's
mouth, where the finger disappears between slick, red lips, tastes himself and
Justin combined. Justin stares up at him, a strange, erotic mix of boy and
girl, of slut and virgin, and it makes the blood pound harder in Lance's head,
makes his skin feel tight and hot and too small. He straddles Justin's legs and
pushes the dress up, bunching it around Justin's thighs until a pale slice of
thigh shows, cradled in black silk and framed by blue.
Justin writhes beneath him, arching his hips upward, and the bulge of his cock
is obscene this time, pressed against the dress, spoiling the line of it. Lance
is pretty sure he's never seen anything so sexy. He bows his head and nuzzles,
breathes hot, moist air over Justin until he's gasping breathlessly, "Please-"
"Not yet." No, god, not yet. Lance pushes the dress up just a little more, then
bends to lick slowly up the inside of that pale thigh, scraping lightly with
his teeth. Justin tries to spread his legs, groans when Lance clamps down on
his hips. "Little slut," he whispers, then licks upward, teases his tongue over
Justin's dick, wetting the silk panties liberally as he licks.
Justin's fingers thread through his hair, tugging, holding his head steady as
he mouths him through the flimsy fabric. Each stroke of his tongue is matched
by a tiny jerk of Justin's hips, punctuated by soft moans, then a breathy gasp
when he scrapes his teeth gently over the head of his dick. There's the
familiar saltbitter taste across his tongue again, and Lance's belly tightens,
fierce heat coiled inside. One more slick of his tongue along the thin covering
of silk before he grasps Justin's hips firmly, his thumbs pressing into the
gentle curve of hipbones. "Roll over," he says softly, "onto your belly."
Justin does, a slow, languid roll of silk and lace, and Lance draws in a breath
at the sight of him laid out on the bed, just waiting. Waiting and ready for
whatever Lance wants to do to him. And right now, Lance wants to keep tasting,
licking, exploring that smooth, soft skin. He slides his hands up the back of
Justin's legs, pushes the dress up, exposing his ass, black silk pulled tight
across the smooth, curved flesh.
"Gonna take these off," he breathes against the warm skin of Justin's lower
back, leaning forward to hook his fingers in the waistband of the panties,
Justin's hips lifting just enough so Lance can slide them down his legs. He
drops them over the side of the bed, trails his hands up the length of one leg,
then the other, the skin warm and smooth underneath his fingertips. "Spread
'em," he says to Justin for the second time that night, a twist in his belly
when he thinks of kneeling between Justin's thighs earlier, shaving him, then
sucking him off.
Justin looks back over his shoulder before pushing himself partly up on his
knees, legs spread wide, ass framed by the garters and stockings. "Lance-"
"Mmhmm. Pretty," he mutters, giving himself one long stroke before reaching to
stroke Justin's ass.
He rubs his thumbs down the crack between Justin's cheeks, spreading him just a
little, waiting long enough for Justin to shift impatiently before leaning in
and gently kissing the skin right above the swell of his ass. Lance licks
downward then, spreading Justin wider as he goes, tongue sweeping up and down
the narrow crevice, brushing over the tight ring of muscle there. Justin moans
and spreads wider, and Lance brushes one hand over a straining thigh, partially
covered in silk, restraining and reassuring Justin. Sexy. So fucking sexy. He
licks again, spreads Justin wider and teases him with long, wet strokes, then
shorter, rougher ones, poking gently at the knot of muscle until Justin
shudders and relaxes and Lance can lick inward, tasting nothing but heat.
Justin quivers under him, hips rolling upward, slowly. Lance bites at the soft
skin of Justin's cheeks, then licks again, licks over the muscle before pushing
on Justin's thighs, pushing him up so he can kiss him there, the most intimate
kiss, tongue teasing into Justin, stroking him, until Justin's crying out and
pushing back against him.
"Please, Lance…please…--" Justin's voice is thick, husky, and when Lance looks
at him, the sight makes hunger coil into a hard knot in his belly. Swollen
mouth, flushed cheeks, eyes bright and hot, lined in black, sweat gleaming on
his forehead.
"Jesus," Lance moans softly, one hand snaking between his legs to squeeze his
dick, biting into his lip to concentrate on not coming yet. Not yet- but soon.
He reaches across to the bedside drawer, fingers almost clumsy in their
urgency. And then- oh, god, there- he grabs the small square of foil, tears it
open with his teeth, then rolls the lubed condom on. He looks back at Justin,
and he's propped on his knees, and Lance can see his hand moving between his
legs, stroking himself. He shudders, heat racing through him as he watches.
"Such a slut," he whispers, reaching over to trail his fingers along the curve
of Justin's spine, and Justin arches up toward the touch, moaning low in his
throat.
The sound of him, the sight of him- it's driving Lance fucking crazy, and he
shifts over to kneel behind Justin, palms his hips to hold him steady. "Are you
ready?" he asks, and Justin nods, presses back into Lance. "You sure?" Lance
asks again, and Justin glances over his shoulder, eyes dark with need, smeared
glossy lips curled back from sharp little teeth.
"Please, Lance-f uck me," he gasps, and then groans long and low as Lance
slides into him with a single thrust. Hot, slick heat surrounding him, and
Lance sucks in a breath, feels heat gathering in his belly as he rolls his
hips, Justin pushing back, whimpering softly.
It's going to end too quickly, far too quickly, when Lance wants to fuck Justin
all night long. Wants to reapply the lip gloss and kiss it off, watch the
eyeliner smudge from sweat and exertion, wants to tug the bra down and lick and
bite at tender nipples, and fuck Justin sitting on his lap, and laying across
the bed, and pushed up against the wall. He growls as the last thought flashes
through his mind and thrusts into Justin, feeling tight, hot walls contract
around him, feels the heat pull him in and hold him there, seductive,
intoxicating.
"Fuck, you feel good," he mutters, gripping Justin's hips tighter. He wants to
sink in and never come out; sex hasn't felt this good in so, so long. He
wonders what's different about it. The boy-girl thing? He's not attracted
sexually to girls, but there's an appeal. An allure. And good god, Justin's
rippling around him, tightening, and Lance forgets his thoughts, concentrates
and moving in and out, slow thrusts, then faster, heat slicking through his
blood, boiling it, turning his vision redhot. Justin swivels his hips and
moans,
"Christ, Lance-" and jacks himself faster, and Lance has to pull back just a
little, just for a minute, so he can watch a big hand, boyish hand, with long
fingers, disappearing under a swath of blue silk, between smooth thighs. Heat
and hunger clench his stomach tight again and he slams forward, hearing
Justin's gasp, feeling his groan. "Fuck, oh, god, fu-" And then Justin tightens
around him, almost too tight, his dick is being squeezed, seared, and Justin's
shaking under him as he comes, gasping and panting, his body rippling with the
force of it.
And that- that's all it takes, one, two more thrusts and Lance feels flames
crackling along his spine, wild heat that sparks outwards and takes the air
from his lungs, tearing a thin, breathy moan from him as he comes hard. He
feels boneless, dissolved, nothing but pure pleasure thrumming through him,
along his skin, even as Justin still shudders underneath him. He tries to stay
upright, but can't- his legs won't hold him anymore- and he's draped over
Justin's back, sweatslick skin and crumpled silk underneath him as the two of
them lie on the bed, panting hard.
"Holy shit," Justin murmurs, and he sounds as dazed as Lance feels. Lance
slides out of Justin, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, lapping along
the warm salty skin. Justin hums happily, shifting in Lance's arms until
they're face to face, soft, smeary eyes, lips swollen and gleaming, and Lance
has to kiss him again, has to taste, lick inside that hot, slick mouth.
He breaks away long enough to toss the condom toward the trash, then pulls
Justin back to him again, runs his hands over his shoulders, throat, arms,
back, kissing him here and there before delving into Justin's mouth again. They
kiss for an impossibly long time, until Lance's mouth feels swollen, raw, lips
tender and abused, and they kiss some more, breaking to breathe, then falling
together again. It's a fantasy moment, reality is on hold until daybreak, and
Lance intends to milk it for all he can.
"Want you again," he whispers against Justin's throat, minutes, hours, years
later, body humming with need again, cock hard and aching, but not as urgent as
before.
Until Justin sits up, kiss-bruised mouth red, lips pouty and slick-looking,
eyes blue against the dark lining them, smudges here and there from sweat and
touching and fucking. Lance's dick throbs hard against his belly and he strokes
himself lightly, settles back to see what Justin's going to do.
He disappears into the bathroom, comes out a minute later with gloss reapplied,
and quirks a finger at Lance. "Chair," he says softly, licking at his lips.
Lance knows what that tastes like now; thinks he might be forming an addiction
to lip gloss.
Lance nods and whispers, "slutty little girl," as he sinks into the chair. He
thinks he could form an addiction to boy-girl Justin, given half the chance.
The second time is even better than the first, because it's hot, but not
desperate, the edge taken off earlier. Lance sits and Justin straddles him,
dress rucked up around his hips, thighs straining against the black silk
stockings as he rides Lance, glossy-wet mouth open as he pants, in between
kisses and licks. Lance wants to hold him there forever, grips silk-swathed
hips tightly and bucks upward into heat, into tightness, and refuses to close
his eyes, stares into Justin's, memorizing the blue-against-black, the slippery
slide of satin and the sexy scritch of silk against his skin. He comes hard,
burying his face in Justin's neck, biting hard enough he hears Justin moan his
name, fingers tightening on his shoulders. Then he takes Justin in hand,
strokes long and slow, then shorter, faster, teasing over the sensitive spot
near the head of Justin's cock, thumb smearing sticky precome while he works
him.
Justin sobs his name when he comes, then kisses him, long and hard, mouth
moving over Lance's almost desperately.
He can still taste the lip gloss later, even after he's brushed his teeth.
~fin~
 
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