Justin laid on his back on the bed, hands locked behind his head, watching the callboy dance with a foot on either side of him. Occasionally the boy would lose his balance a little, making the bed rock, until he caught the beat again. The song was ambient and nameless. Justin found it on a CD a fan had burned and sent to him. There were no song titles, but they weren't really needed.
The callboy had a body like a ballerina - thin limbs and narrow wrists, more slender than Justin could ever hope to be. Justin estimated him to be 18 or 19. He had brilliant blue eyes and black hair. That agency always did him well.
Justin had asked for a guy with black hair and bright eyes. He wanted someone who looked like JC. What he got was someone a lot more effeminate, without JC's strong limbs or masculine scent. When Justin answered the door and first saw the callboy, he wanted to shut the door in his face, call the agency and bitch. But the callboy was in his hallway, waiting, and Justin was so horny his body felt like it was on fire.
JC. Those two letters made tears come to his eyes and his heart ache violently. Two weeks ago it would have been JC in here, running his hands across Justin's body, rubbing in the right places, licking in the wrong ones. JC would have fucked him to any music, to any mood, used his fingers to make Justin come so hard half the hotel would hear it. But JC wouldn't have anything to do with him. Not anymore.
Justin hadn't meant to piss him off so much. They were apart for three days. Three days without JC's body pressed against him when he fell asleep. Three days without an orgasm. Justin couldn't help it. He hated to sleep alone. So he'd borrowed someone. It was just a fuck, and not even a good one. He'd been JC's for six months. He was JC's no matter who he fucked. He didn't think an hour of sex with someone he barely knew could erase six months of falling asleep together, showering together, doing everything together. But to JC it did. He'd barely spoken to Justin since, and when he did, his tone was thick was loathing.
The callboy seemed to sense that Justin wasn't paying attention. "Do you want me to keep doing this?"
"No," Justin said. "Take your clothes off."
The callboy slid out of his shirt, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. Justin watched him. "There's an extra $100 in it if you let me fuck you with inanimate objects," he said, just to see what the boy would say.
He looked up from undoing his pants. "Like what?"
Justin rolled his eyes. "Jesus. Just get undressed."
The callboy stepped out of his pants, kicking them on the floor, and waited. He was still standing on the bed above Justin. Justin was fully clothed. He reached over and switched off the radio.
"Lay down." The boy laid down next to Justin, let Justin roll him over on his stomach, waited silently as Justin grabbed the lube off the nightstand and put some on his fingertips.
"What's your name?" Justin asked.
"Jason," he mumbled into the pillow.
"Is that your real name?"
Justin reached down to the boy's ass and he spread his legs automatically. Justin's finger slid easily inside him.
Justin leaned in so his lips were almost touching the boy's ear. "Do you like this, Jason?"
The boy nodded. His eyes were closed.
"Do you really like this, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?"
The boy nodded again, his face calm. "I like it."
Justin slid a second finger in easily. "I can tell. You're so loose. How many times have you been fucked?"
Justin moved his fingers around inside him, feeling for his prostate. He knew when he hit it because the boy inhaled deeper and his body trembled a little. Otherwise, he was silent. Justin burned with jealousy for him. It had been two weeks since anyone had fucked him. He wouldn't let anyone fuck him except JC.
"Can you come just from being fucked?" Justin asked.
"I can," Justin said. "I can come so hard I almost go blind." He smiled a little from the nostalgia.
The boy was quiet.
"But only with JC." Saying the name out loud caused another stab of pain. Justin rested his forehead on the boy's pale, smooth back. "I miss him so fucking much. I can hardly stand it. I don't know what to do...I just...he'll barely talk to me."
Still no response. Justin realized his fingers were still sliding in and out of the boy's ass. The boy had started moving his hips, following the rhythm.
Justin drew back and put his hand on the boy's shoulder, turning him a little on his side. The boy's cock was hard and swollen, and there was a little wet spot on the comforter where it had leaked. He did like this.
Wait, Justin realized. This was supposed to be about him. He slid out of his shirt, moving on to unbutton his pants. He looked over and saw the boy watching him patiently, except now there was an expression in his eyes. Lust. Anticipation. Justin hated him.
When Justin was naked he laid back on the bed, his head on the pillow. "Suck me."
The boy obeyed, laying at sideways angle and taking Justin's cock in his mouth. Justin closed his eyes, resting his hand on the boy's head. He was faster, less personal than JC. JC knew exactly how to lick him, how to touch him. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on holding back the tears. "I miss him so much," Justin moaned. "I miss him so..." Another wave of pleasure ripped through him and he pressed his head back into the pillow.
JC. JC. The name had a rhythm of its own that rolled through Justin's head. He could easily have laid there until he came, reciting it mentally. But he grabbed the boy's hair gently. "Stop."
The boy stopped immediately, waiting obediently to be put into the next position. Justin rolled on his side and patted the bed next to him. The boy squirmed up and laid down so Justin was spooned against him. He laid there motionless, his cock still leaking, as Justin put a condom on himself.
Justin lifted the boy's leg and slid easily into him. Then he locked his arm around him and started a determined rhythm, paced from the start for him to come. The boy's body melted around his cock, took whatever he could give it.
Justin leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You can touch yourself if you want."
"Okay," the boy breathed. Justin watched him put his hand around his cock, his thumb moving in slow circles around the head. Justin knew exactly how he felt, exactly the feelings that would produce, exactly why that would bring him off. He gripped the boy's hips and pulled him back, pounding into him as hard as he could. He could only do that for so long until he felt orgasm close in. He opened his eyes and noticed that the boy had come, ribbons of semen across his chest. Justin dug his fingers into his hips, buried his face in the boy's back, his forehead resting against his spine. He kept thrusting until he came, his body shaking, pain ripping through his chest. JC.
Justin collapsed on the bed and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. "How much for you to stay the night?"
The boy was already sitting up, wiping himself off with a towel Justin put by the bed earlier. "Doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter? That's the first time I've hear that."
The boy shrugged. "I like your band."
Justin got up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He squinted when he flicked on the light, deliberately not looking in the mirror. He dropped the condom in the toilet and flushed, sighing deeply. He didn't really want the boy to stay. He didn't want anyone to stay. But falling asleep by himself, the room big and dark and empty, was unbearable. He hadn't fallen asleep by himself for six months. Well, until two weeks ago. He had always had a problem with being alone, probably one of the reasons he wanted to be a performer. Not even a musician, really. A performer.
He grabbed his toothbrush and squirted toothpaste on it, finally looking in the mirror. He watched himself brush his teeth, his chest bare and smooth, his cock hanging limply in the mass of brown pubic hair. He had a good body. He knew it. Why didn't JC want it?
He remembered doing this exact thing five months ago, standing naked in front of the mirror brushing his teeth. Remnants of JC were spread across the counter - his shaving kit, a bottle of aftershave Justin refused to give back when they broke up, a blue toothbrush with white spots on it from old toothpaste. JC walked in and put his arms around Justin from behind, resting his chin on Justin's shoulder. They just stood quietly, looking at their reflections in the mirror, until JC grinned and said "We make a cute couple."
How could JC's attitude change so quickly? It was as if he'd never loved him at all.
When Justin went back into the room, the boy was curled up under the blankets, his eyes already half closed. "Do you want to fuck again?" the boy asked.
"No." Justin grabbed a pair of boxer shorts from his suitcase and slid into them, turning off the light and climbing under the sheets. He rolled onto his side so his back was to him. He heard steady breathing behind him.
"Put your arms around me," Justin said.
The boy obeyed, moving so his chest was against Justin's back and his arm was slung around his waist.
Justin felt a tear slide across his skin and drip off his nose. "I miss him so much."
"I know," the boy said quietly.
"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you," Justin said.
More tears came. Justin thought after the first two days he had cried everything out of his body, but at least twice a day it still came back. The dull ache, the feeling of desperation and loss. He wished he could reach into his chest and yank out the hard knot of hurt. Lance had told him that time would heal it. He told him that every day on the bus when Justin laid in his bunk and cried, JC in the other room silently watching TV. "You just need to keep your dick in your pants," Joey had said at first, but he didn't say that anymore.
Justin closed his eyes and tried to stop his mind, tried to sleep, tried to focus on the steady breathing of the callboy behind him, paid to hold him until he slept. But it was hard when he knew what his dreams would be about.
Justin dreamed about the moment when JC broke up with him. Usually his dreams were hallucinatory, featuring people with banana-shaped heads or him being on stage naked. But this one was literal.
It had been a fan. A girl. Justin met her at a restaurant down the street from where he was staying. She asked him right out if she could give him a blow job. So he let her.
It shouldn't even count if it was with a girl. Justin had almost let it go with a blow job, but then felt like he should fuck her, to be fair. Before he did it he was dying to fuck someone. Dying to come. But during the actual deed it took him 25 minutes. She thought he was just a talented, go-all-night kind of guy. But the minute he had the orgasm, pressing his forehead into her shoulder, feeling her hands grip his arms, he knew he'd made a horrible mistake.
At first, he figured he wouldn't tell JC. For an entire day, he didn't. He let JC smile at him, say he loved him, lay in bed that night and let JC's fingers lace through his. They exchanged friendly pre-sex banter, and when JC turned to him, Justin knew that they would fuck like animals. But when JC leaned in to kiss him, the secret screamed at him. He told him the whole story.
JC snapped immediately, yanking his clothes on and storming toward the door. Justin was already crying so hard he had to hang onto the blankets to keep himself in place. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't think you'd care."
"If you didn't think I'd care, why did you feel guilty about it?" JC's voice was pure acid.
"I just thought...it was nothing. Nothing. I swear. Nothing."
JC grabbed the doorknob but didn't turn it. "Nice to know you've thrown away half a year for nothing."
"I don't want to throw anything away," he said. His nose was running. He had to force the words out.
"Well, you have. I'm just kicking myself that I'm in this group with you, because I'm going to have to see your stupid fucking face every day. I told you. I told you I would only be with you if you stopped this shit, and you said you could, and you can't."
"I can!" Justin sobbed. "I can! I love you. Please. Don't leave me alone."
JC narrowed his eyes. "You deserve to be alone. I hope you die alone, because you make me sick." The door slammed so hard behind him that Justin jumped.
There it was. That button. The worst possible thing someone could say, the thing that you laid awake at night worrying about. It was amazing how people you loved could find that button so quickly. Strangers had no idea where it was.