Justin had found the old surf shop on his first day in Haleiwa. He'd crawled out of bed before dawn and walked down to the harbor from the small apartment they'd rented, picking his way carefully along the dark road until he saw the light spilling out of the windows. He'd wedged himself quietly in a corner, afraid that they might throw him out if he drew attention to himself, and watched as the sky lightened. The phone rang constantly, and the answer that morning had been, "six to eight." Even before the sun was fully up, the first wave of shortboarders had flooded in, all of them eager to catch the early morning waves, before school and work and life began. Justin had been eleven then, and he'd already known that he wasn't like the kids at his old school, but there, in that old tin shed, he found people who thought like he did, felt the same things. And that first morning, a tall, skinny guy with the bluest eyes Justin had ever seen handed him a Styrofoam cup full of bitter black coffee, saying, "Welcome to the Country," and Justin had fallen in love.
He hadn't known it then, of course. He didn't figure it out for years, but he'd spent that morning watching them work the waves, his eyes drawn irresistibly to the tall form that moved with a loose, easy grace on the water. When he'd gone home that night, after school, though, he must have known something down deep because he'd asked his mom what being in love felt like.
Lynn had given his question her usual careful consideration. That was one of the things Justin loved best about her. She never treated him like he was dumb just because he was a kid, the way some of his friends' parents treated them. She talked to him, listened to him, always, and she'd uprooted her life, her marriage, to bring him here, because she might not get how the ocean claimed him, but she'd looked into his eyes and known it was something he needed.
They'd talked late into the night, and he'd told her about the boy with the blue eyes. She'd hugged him tight and told him he had good instincts and he would know.
Justin loved his mom, he did, but sometimes he didn't think she was talking about the same things he was.
*
"Chris? Anybody home?" Justin called over the screech of the screen door and the ringing of the phone. CK's was still the same crazy mishmash of clothes and boards and random stuff, still the surf shop that every local knew about and jealously guarded from the tourist hordes, and Justin took a second to appreciate it. In so many ways, the overcrowded shelves and the ringing phone were more of a home than even Lynn's was.
"Hey, Hellboy, what took you so long?" Chris yelled from the back room. "Never mind, just make yourself useful and answer the damn phone. Nothing but ripples today."
Justin leaned over the counter to pick up the ringing phone. "One to three," he said, translating Chris's "ripples" just in case it was a tourist on the other end of the line. A man's voice, rough with sleep, muttered, "Thanks, man," and the phone went dead just as Chris came barreling through the stockroom door to dump an armload of leashes and fins on the counter.
Justin handed him the phone and they stood and grinned at each other like dorks until Chris reached up and smacked Justin on the head. "Jesus, don't they feed you out there on the glam circuit? And what the hell is this?" he asked, poking at Justin's jaw. "Whoever told you you could grow a beard was smoking what he was growing at the time."
Justin slapped his hand away. "The only one who was smoking was me, thinking I missed this place and your sorry ass."
The phone rang again, and Chris flipped Justin off while answering it. "One to three. Yeah, local measurements; you know I'm too old to be changing how I call the heights." He clicked the phone off and cocked his head at Justin. "You having a go out today? Or did that really fucking spectacular wipeout I had the pleasure of seeing on video mess you up too much for even the little swells?"
"Your concern is touching, man." Justin scrubbed his hand over his head. "You got a longboard I can bum? My quiver's somewhere between here and Tahiti, and Lynn gave my old ones to the kids who moved in across the street."
"Oh, man, dissed by your own mama; that's cold," Chris cackled between two more calls.
"You know her and possessions," Justin answered, and laughed at Chris's exaggerated shudder.
"She's not coming down here, is she? Cause, man, I love her as much as my own mom, but I'm a businessman, and I do not need her telling all my customers how owning stuff sucks the energy right out of your life. I need my people to be buying in twos and threes, not putting stuff back on the shelf."
Justin rolled his eyes at the 'just a businessman' schtick, but said, "Nah, she's got a couple of patients she's gotta see today. But she says to come over after dark, and she'll feed you up." Justin waited while Chris took three more calls, each one nothing more than the locals calling for the surf conditions, and remembered countless mornings he'd been the one on the phone, waiting impatiently for it to be light enough to get in as many rides as possible before school started. "It's the usual deal...she wants everyone to come, so pass the word, okay?"
Chris nodded, but the phone was ringing constantly now, the sky was lightening, and the morning crowd had started drifting in. He had just enough time to motion toward the back and say, "Take the board up against the wall," before Justin was surrounded by people he hadn't seen in too long. It was a relaxed group; the waves were small enough that only the ones who couldn't live without the ocean had bothered to get up.
Ten minutes later, Justin was duckdiving the first breaker and smiling in pure joy. Chris might have been laughing at his boardless state, but he'd sent him out with a vintage Hobie balsa that Justin could tell still rode like a dream, and there was nothing better than setting up and catching the first wave of the morning, especially at home.
*
Justin had already known how to ride a longboard when he got to the North Shore, but hanging out with JC and Tony and Dale and Keri had taught him how to ride it with style and grace and, most of all, respect. He'd had to get through school--he couldn't compete in sanctioned competitions otherwise, and, more importantly, Lynn cut him no slack at all if his grades weren't where she expected them to be--but everything else in his life revolved around the water.
JC had understood both sides of Justin's life. His own parents had been just as insistent about grades, so there had been a lot of days when JC would spread his stuff out on a picnic table outside the shack and Justin would sit with him, both of them working through assigned reading and problem sets as fast as they could so they could get as much time out past the breakers as possible.
JC had never seemed to care that Justin was so much younger; they were friends and that was enough for him. JC had a lot of friends, but he always seemed genuinely glad to hang out with Justin. There were always girls clustered around, too; soft, pretty girls who didn't know which end of the board was up, as well as the others, just as beautiful, Justin thought, who lived in the same lycra and wetsuits as Justin did, and who showed him how to hold the line on a wave with balance and grace rather than sheer muscle.
JC wasn't like the other guys; he never talked about the girls he dated or what they did together. In fact, he was pretty close-mouthed about everything, so if Justin hadn't had a sixth sense about JC, he would have totally missed who was in and out of JC's life. There weren't a lot of them, but they never seemed to last very long. It took Justin a lot longer to realize that in between the girls, there were an equal number of boys.
*
Lynn's parties tended to involve everyone between Waihaila and Lanikai; you never knew who would show up, or when, or how long they'd stay. You just had to go with it and pace yourself in case dinner turned into a weeklong luau. Justin had been in middle school before he'd realized that not everyone's mother would invite people she'd met in the Foodland that afternoon to a party. The only thing that would drag her away was a patient in labor, but even then, Paul always said it was only a matter of time before she'd combine the two and actually deliver a baby at one of her parties. Privately, Justin agreed with him, and could only hope it would happen while he was someplace far away.
This night was no exception. People had started gathering long before sunset, and the steady stream of locals, winter people and even the occasional random tourist showed no signs of slowing down. Justin was having a beer with Paul out on the lanai'i, catching a break from the crowd, when Joey showed up, walking down the path with both Kelly and Briahna. Justin couldn't believe how big Bri had gotten in just the last year. Joey sent him video all the time, of course, and Justin had bugged the shit out of more than one tour director to get a set-up so he could watch, but it wasn't the same as seeing her climbing up the steps in her little flip-flops and aloha shirt. She hung back while Justin hugged Joey and Kelly, looking him over with a critical eye.
"My daddy says you know how to surf," she said by way of greeting, her tone deeply suspicious.
Justin crouched down on his heels, to be more on eye-level, and nodded seriously. "I do," he answered.
"I can surf, too," she said. "JC teached me. Mommy told him she'd hurt him if I got hurt, but I didn't."
Justin hid his grin as he looked up at Kelly. "No, JC is really good at surfing. He pretty much taught me how to surf, too." He leaned closer to Bri and whispered, "And your mom is really, really cool, because I had to wait until I was seven before mine would let me try."
With perfect timing--if Justin was ever going to believe in ESP, it was going to be because Lynn always knew when he was talking smack about her--his mom came swooping in with cries of "My baby," like she did with all the kids she'd delivered. She carried Briahna off, the two of them talking so fast that Justin knew neither of them could possibly hear a word the other was saying.
Paul laughed and shook his head, but he wasn't fooling Justin one bit. Justin didn't have any idea how or why that marriage worked, he just knew that it did. Paul was as quiet and laid-back as Lynn was intense, and somehow they were perfect for each other. It was something Justin tried to keep in mind whenever another relationship fell apart on him.
Kelly turned to Paul, laughing. "Quick, before the demon child escapes, take me to the bar." Paul took her arm and set off in the direction of the makeshift bar Justin and Chris had built years ago from the first rhinochaser Justin had had broken under him at Waimea. Justin and Joey could hear Paul telling Kelly that he'd take the odds on Lynn any day, but Joey shook his head and said, "I don't know that I'd bet against Bri, man."
Justin stood back up, both knees popping. Joey winced in sympathetic solidarity, then pulled him into another, longer hug, strong enough that Justin couldn't help gasping, "Joe, fuck, my ribs."
"Sorry, sorry," Joey said, letting him go. "Tough wipeout; Chris sent me the video. It's just good to have you back, man."
"It's good to be back," Justin said, meaning it. "Where were you this morning. though? I figured you'd be out for sure."
Joey grimaced. "Eh, we were out on Pipe, trying to get some footage; I told them it was too flat, but man, the LA-types think they know everything. So we sat around for a couple of hours, until they decided that the waves weren't 'happening,'" Joey drew air quotes in disgust, "and then we listened to them bitch and moan about how it was supposed to be big wave season and how were they going to make their movie when no one was surfing."
Justin laughed. "It was beautiful out at Lanis. It's too bad you missed it."
Joey shrugged. "We got paid, so, no big waste. I had a go out this afternoon with Bri--you should see her, man. C's got her up on a little twin fin fish and she's fucking fearless."
"Yeah, I wonder where she got that from," Justin said, then hesitated before continuing, "So, C's around?"
Joey stole the beer out of Justin's hand. "Off and on; slightly more than some people I could mention." Justin ducked the smack automatically. Some things, you really never did forget. "Though that's not saying a fuck of a lot. He should be showing up tonight; Lance said he told him to come by."
"Cool," Justin said, and it sounded just right. Casual and comfortable; looking forward to seeing another friend, and then changing the subject. "And speaking of the Starman, where the hell is Bass?"
*
Justin hadn't figured things out until the winter after JC turned pro and tried to make it on the WCT. Lynn and Paul had bought an old house not far off Sunset Beach, and his first few years on the island had blurred together into winters of hiking to the breaks in the mornings and summers of being picked up before dawn in JC or Tony's battered pickup for the trip past coffee and pineapple plantations into Town, to surf Queens or Publics on the south side.
But then everyone was gone, and that sucked in a way Justin knew was completely selfish. He was happy for them, excited for them, but there was less light somehow. Life had still been okay, though, until Lynn lost the baby Justin knew she and Paul had wanted for years, and there hadn't been anything Justin could do to make her feel better.
All he could do was not make it worse. He'd studied more that winter than he ever had before, and never once skipped out to surf or party or anything. No one at school could figure out where he fit in--he surfed too much to be a normal guy, but he didn't party enough to be a surfer--so they'd mostly just left him alone. Trace had been the only one he could hang with, but Trace didn't really understand either. He was all about the beach scene, as long as it meant girls. The surf part, he never got. So, every morning, Justin had crawled out of bed in the pitch black and done whatever he could around the old house before walking down the path to Kammie's and hitching a ride with a local to wherever he could handle the waves.
The morning Justin had slipped out the back door and tripped over JC sleeping on the lanai'i, the surge of emotion had scared him with its intensity. Then he'd really gotten a look at the disappointment and hurt written deeply on C's face, and he'd swallowed everything he was feeling, pushed it down deep. The last thing JC needed was some stupid kid crushing on him, he needed a friend. It hadn't taken very long at all for Justin to convince himself that the friendship was too precious to risk and that they would always be better that way.
*
It took JC so long to make it to Lynn's that by the time he did, Justin had given up trying to mingle and was crashed out on the floor of the great room. Kelly had long since departed with Briahna draped over her shoulder, sticky fingers clutched tight in her shirt, and Joey was stretched out on the floor with Justin. Justin had talked to half the population of Haleiwa, Waimea, and Waialee combined, dodging as many comments wondering why he was back on Oahu so early in the season as he could. It was easy; usually all he had to do was say, Holy shit, there's a Starbucks in Haleiwa now? and detour safely into the automatic bitching and moaning about how un-Country the North Shore was getting, and how everyone hated being slowly subsumed into a suburb of Honolulu. He'd kissed another dozen of Lynn's babies and agreed--sincerely--with all of their mothers that there wasn't anyone like Lynn.
Lance had shown up with lecture notes falling out of his backpack and a little star chart for Joey to share with Briahna. He'd greeted the chorus of "Starman!" with a raised middle finger and an invitation to settle all challenges at glass-off the next day. Justin couldn't help grinning at Lance's exasperated expression; he understood, he really did. Once Chris gave you a nickname, you were stuck with it for-fucking-ever. Justin bet having one of them when you were teaching undergrads was even more annoying that having one on the WCT. Chris had even arrived, and no one ever expected him to show up until he could close down the shop and get something to eat, since, as he put it, he required something more than tofu and bancha twigs to fuel his manly physique.
Finally, in the middle of trying to figure out when he and Lance could actually spend some time hanging out, which involved not only the craziness of Aloha's inter-island flight schedule, but also Lance's class schedule, the star chart (stolen back from Joey for reference material), and the telescope schedule at the Mauna Loa and Haleakala observatories, Justin just looked up and JC was in the door, smiling at him, the same as he had ever since that first time at Haleiwa. His hair was longer now, and he'd lost the beard he'd had the last time their paths had crossed, but the smile was always the same. Before Justin could get up, JC dropped down beside him and bumped his shoulder into Justin's as if they'd seen each other an hour ago, rather than the better part of a year.
"I saw Lynn on the way in," JC said, reaching across Justin to touch fists with Lance and Joey. "She looks great. She and Chris are going at it, out in the garden."
"What's the topic?" Lance asked.
Justin snorted, "With those two, does it matter?"
JC laughed. "Nah, cat, you know it doesn't. This time, I think they agree with each other; they're just arguing for old time's sake or something." He looked around the room and smiled. "This place still feels the same."
"She won't take anything from me," Justin said. "Paul gets her out about once a year, and we get a crew to come in and do something like the floors or the windows--or, the last time, we got a landscaper. We sure as hell don't change anything, just fix stuff that needs to be taken care of, but she still won't talk to us for a month."
Chris had arrived in the middle of the speech, laughing. "And this is a bad thing, how?" He tapped JC gently on the head. "Don't think I didn't see you sneaking around so you wouldn't have to agree with me and suffer the Organic One's wrath. You flying solo tonight?" he asked, and when JC nodded, continued, "Where's the last little wahine-wanna-be who was trailing around after your skinny ass?"
"Oh, uh." Justin could feel JC tense up. "Trailing after somebody else's?"
"Jesus, C," Lance sighed. "Again?" Which Justin thought was maybe accurate, but not the most tactful thing to be saying.
JC shrugged, and let Chris knead his shoulders. "Ah, don't worry, C," Chris said. "There's somebody out there who'll love that pretty face of yours. We just need to screen them before they stomp on your heart." JC kept his head down, but Justin saw him lean into Chris's touch. "Compare notes with the other pretty boy there," Chris motioned to Justin, "'cause I hear his batting average is about the same as yours, while I speak with the movie mogul." Justin opened his mouth to argue, but really, what was the point? His track record did kinda suck.
Chris kept rubbing until JC had relaxed a little, then held out a hand to pull Joey up off the floor. "Your Hollywood types are driving me fucking nuts, Fatone. I know you're making a killing off of them, and it's not like I don't appreciate the business, but maybe you can tell me how I'm supposed to deal with their latest asinine request. I mean, shit, I ask the assistant producer what kind of board does she want for the stuff you're shooting tomorrow and she says 'pink'? Maybe you could get into the specifics with me, so you don't have your stunt team out there on something that'll kill them, just in case the waves didn't get her memo.…"
His voice faded as they walked out of the room, and Justin went back to planning stuff out with Lance, talking as calmly as possible even though he was hyper-aware of JC lounging alongside him, close enough to touch for the first time in eight months.
*
Justin pretty much separated his life into Before and After JC returned, as though C had been his lucky charm. A month after JC came back from his first try at the tour, a new surf shop opened right across from the break at Laniakea, and when Justin stopped in to check the place out, the dark-haired guy behind the counter introduced himself as Chris, told Justin he'd seen him around, and then offered Justin heaven in the form of a local sponsorship deal.
And it hadn't been just the money. When Justin had mumbled something about having to check with his mom before he accepted anything like that, Chris hadn't laughed at him and told him to come back when he grew up. Instead, he had closed the shop, given Justin a ride home, and let Lynn give him the third degree over dinner, explaining that it wasn't his money, it was coming from a local businessman who also sponsored a group out of Haleiwa, and answering questions until she was satisfied.
It hadn't taken long for CK's to become far more than a place to shower off the salt and sand of the morning before racing down the road to school. Once Chris mentioned they were looking for more than just one or two kids to sponsor, Justin had nearly exploded before he could track JC down and bring him in to meet Chris. Then Chris lured Joey away from the crappy place they'd both been working before Chris got the chance at the shop and quickly the tiny, overcrowded store became a second, surprisingly functional, home.
Chris was a maniac on a shortboard. Waves that a sane person wouldn't touch, he'd set up and go for without a second thought. JC threw himself into every wave with a fierce determination that never ever took a holiday. Joey was always there, smooth and easy, and Justin learned so much from all of them.
They had all been there when Justin caught his first big wave at Rocky Point. And at Waimea. And at Pipe. Those first waves hadn't been all that big, and he knew he didn't throw any astonishing runs, but cutting back out of his first curl at Pipe, Justin had heard JC hooting all the way down the beach, as loud as if he'd won the Pipe Masters. Joey had thrown him over his shoulder and spun him until Justin very nearly puked. Chris had smacked the back of his head and told him that it didn't matter if he'd survived the Green Room, he was still nothing but a grommet and could not claim to be a hellman--but that Chris would be magnanimous and allow him to be a hellboy.
Even knowing JC was never going to look at him as anything more than a friend, Justin hadn't been able to imagine being happier.
*
When Lynn, egged on by Chris, started pulling out the clippings and pictures of Justin's first competitions, JC took pity on Justin and, flashing the smile that Lynn could never resist, pulled Justin out of the house and pointed him toward the beach. Out on Sunset, the full moon was so bright the stars were hard to see, but Justin automatically let his eyes trace over the Southern Cross. Even after living here for so long, it was still exotic to look up at the night sky and see it. JC was quiet next to him, and when Justin snuck a peek, he was focused on the waves crashing hard onto the reef.
"I love this side of the island," Justin said, softly, to not interfere with the night. "But at night, when it's clear like this, it's hard not to want to be down on Waikiki, watching the catamarans go out past Diamond Head."
JC laughed, but his voice was soft, too. "Dude, don't say that too loud. They'll revoke your locals' pass. You'll have to start fighting for every wave."
Justin leaned back on his elbows and watched the moonlight catch the crest of the waves, but his ribcage couldn't take the angle for very long. He shifted, then froze as a warm hand pushed up his t-shirt and traced the fading bruises, still dark enough to be visible even in the moonlight.
"Teahupo'o?" JC asked, his fingers brushing lightly around the edge of the reef scrape.
"Ye-yeah," Justin managed. "Kicked the shit out of me."
"I saw the footage," JC murmured, and jesusfuck, Justin thought. Had everyone seen that footage? He liked it better when you had to send video by mail, instead of uploading. "Heavy wave," JC continued in that same low, intimate voice.
"I thought," Justin started, but JC's hand was still on him, and he couldn't fucking think. "I had a line, I was deep, I thought I could make it through the barrel."
"You almost did," JC said.
"Almost," Justin agreed, and closed his eyes, willing himself to stay still, be cool. "I was good, it was a beautiful ride, C, you should have been there; it was so damn good, right up until it all went to hell."
"And you got back up and charged another one, yeah?"
"Fucking adrenaline," Justin laughed, and it was only a little breathless. "Pharrell was right with me, egging me on, but, man, when Trace got to me after the second wave, he couldn't decide whether to leave me out there to drown or pick me up and strangle me on the back of the 'ski."
"Hellboy," JC murmured fondly, like he had a million times since Chris had stuck Justin with the stupid nickname. His hand was gone and everything would have almost seemed like normal, except holygoodgod, that was his mouth on Justin's skin now.
"C-C?" His voice was shaky and high, but what else was he supposed to do with JC's tongue slow and hot along the edge of his ribs?
"J," JC answered, his breath cool against the skin he'd dampened. He dipped his head lower, and licked a lazy tease around Justin's navel and that was it, Justin couldn't stop the whimper that slipped out of his mouth. JC hummed softly and looked up. "I'm crashing with Chris," he said.
Justin nodded, then let himself be pulled to his feet and led along the beach to the familiar path back through the plumeria trees. He wasn't going to ask what was happening--he didn't think that he could form words, for a start, not when JC had his hands on him--he was just going to go along and deal with it later. JC kept him close, steered him around to the side entrance of Chris's oddball house, and up the stairs to the small apartment Chris kept for visiting friends.
"It's not Turtle Bay," JC said. "But at least there's no sand." Justin had spent more than one night in this room; more than one night crashed out there with JC, even, but not like this, never like this, never pressed up against the wall with JC's mouth warm and teasing on his.
He didn't really need special handling; he'd gotten banged up a lot worse not two miles away on the reefs at Pipe, but JC's hands were gentle as they pulled his shirt up over his head and then, sleek and sure, slid down the bared skin to rest carefully at his waist. His mouth, when it followed, wasn't quite so gentle, and Justin gave up trying to stay cool in any sense of the word.
JC held him against the wall, touching Justin only where his hands traced light, teasing patterns over his hips. Justin could have stepped away, moved toward the bed anytime, but he couldn't make himself break that barely-there contact. Instead, he dropped his head back against the wall, and let JC mark him with lips and teeth and tongue, gasping with every lick and bite.
"Tell me," JC murmured, not taking his mouth off Justin's collarbone, so that his words sank straight into Justin, marking him on the inside as well. "Tell me what you like." He mouthed Justin's nipples, one after the other, again and again and again, and Justin's brain screamed thatthatthat but his mouth only whimpered.
JC laughed softly and Justin shivered at the feel of it on his skin, then whimpered again as JC skimmed down to lick lazy circles around his navel again, this time not so much a tease as a promise, because his hands were pushing Justin's shorts off his hips, and then JC's breath was hot and damp through the thin cotton knit that was all that separated his mouth from Justin's cock.
"God, please," Justin managed to gasp. "Please." JC's mouth was on him, licking and sucking, and Justin jerked uncontrollably at the rasp of material against the head of his cock. JC's hands tightened on his hips, holding him in place, forcing him to be still, not letting him move, not even when JC scraped his teeth along the length of Justin's cock, and bit lightly at his balls.
"Tell me," JC growled, and his fingers were leaving bruises now, Justin could feel them starting, and his mouth, god, his mouth wouldn't leave Justin alone, wouldn't let him breathe, how did JC expect him to speak?
He did, though; he was stopping and looking up at Justin, hands sliding Justin's boxer-briefs over his hips, over his cock, stopping at mid-thigh so Justin was trapped against the wall, with JC on his knees in front of him, watching him, waiting for him, and when Justin could only gasp for air, JC smiled a slow, satisfied smile. "This?" he asked, flicking his tongue across the head of Justin's cock, warmwetvelvet that was there and then not. "Or this?" he whispered, with the barest hint of suction.
"Any--anything," Justin managed, and shivered as JC's smile deepened.
"Really?" JC breathed. "Anything?" He wrapped his hand around Justin's cock, not stroking, just holding, long, elegant fingers covering Justin perfectly. "Like this?" Justin nodded frantically. "Only this?"
"More," Justin moaned. "Jesus, C, please."
JC laughed softly, but his hand tightened around Justin, then began a smooth, languid updownup rhythm, not enough to get Justin off, but better, so very much better than before. "You should see yourself, J," he said in a voice that was little more than a whisper, but somehow filled Justin's head. He added a dirty little twist to each stroke and Justin bit his lip to keep from whimpering, to keep from missing anything JC might say. "So strung out, J, so pretty."
Justin had gotten tired of people calling him pretty long before he turned sixteen, but he could listen to JC whisper it like that until he died, especially if it was followed by a hot wet tongue swirling over the head of his cock and fingers suddenly pressing hard inside him. JC was watching him, could see how close he was to losing control, and there was nothing Justin could do about it.
He was so fucking close, and JC knew it, Justin could tell by the way he eased off, the way his mouth only skimmed Justin's skin, the way his hand went back to only holding Justin's cock, and those fingers stilled inside him.
"Not yet, J," JC said. "Not until you tell me how you want it." Justin shook his head helplessly. "This?" JC asked, and flicked his wrist, jacking Justin once, just once, but rough and hard and nasty. "This?" he asked again, and twisted his fingers deep inside Justin, curling them forward and sending shocks of pleasure rocketing through him.
"Y--Yes," Justin stuttered.
"Which one?" JC asked, his voice low and rough.
"However," Justin gasped, as JC leaned in to lick light and teasing over thigh and belly and cock. "However you want, God, please, just do it."
JC hummed, a soft, pleased sound, and slowlyslowly eased his fingers out of Justin, and then back in, a little harder, a little faster every time, watching, seeing everything Justin couldn't hide.
Justin fought to hold himself still, to not fuck himself on JC's hand, but he couldn't, he had to move, needed to feel JC deeper and deeper inside him. "Yes," JC hissed. "Yeah, like that, J, show me how much you like that." His thumb brushed over the head of Justin's cock and Justin half-sobbed at the tease. "More," JC said, and it wasn't a question at all. "C'mon, J," and Justin cried out at the third finger pushing into him, "Show me how pretty you can beg for it."
Justin closed his eyes, his breath coming in tearing, sobbing gasps, and rocked himself back and down onto JC's hand, groaning at the stretch and burn, and each time he moved, JC teased his cock a little more; every shift of his hips was rewarded with JC's tongue sweeping along the length of his cock, lapping at his balls, dancing lightly over the head, until Justin was begging helplessly and JC finally, finally let Justin push into his mouth, sucking him and fucking him and shattering him into a million tiny pieces.
*
Their lives had been charmed. Justin occasionally thought that he might be remembering things better than they had actually been, but Joey had video of everything, good and bad, and the bad really had sucked, but they always managed to pull out of it.
That the video had been what saved their asses was one of those things that made you stop and think that whoever was running the universe really had a twisted sense of humor. Joey had only lorded it over them once, and even then they were all dead drunk and celebrating. Justin thought his restraint was pretty impressive, given how often they'd bitched and moaned about the damn camera being in their faces over the years.
Actually, if Justin was completely honest, it had been Joey's video and JC's mother-hen instinct that saved them. Without C's need to take care of strays, Justin would never have looked twice at the awkward, slightly dorky kid with the square haircut standing on the beach at Waikiki, looking at the almost dead calm with a palpable mix of fear and excitement. JC, though, always smiled at people, and when they smiled back, always stopped and said aloha. Before long, he'd been offering to show the kid how to surf. It was dead enough--they had been out on Waikiki, for Christ's sake--that the others had gone along with the plan. Then Joey had taken a shine to the kid, and Chris and he had formed some weird bond, and the next thing Justin knew, there were official nicknames involved and Lance had become a part of CK's.
Lou hadn't really liked sponsoring Lance and always made snide comments about the money he was wasting, but Justin knew how much better they were after Lance started hanging out with them. He'd never been able to define it, but Lance had settled them all somehow, made them better at what they were best at. Chris stopped being quite as reckless. He'd still charge waves most people wouldn't touch, but they had been able to quit worrying about him killing himself just to prove a point--all because Lance had seen the concern in JC's eyes and found the exact right tone of cool sarcasm to use when he asked Chris who'd inherit the store when he miscalculated on a wave. JC loved having someone to teach, almost as much as Joey loved having someone to take care of, and Justin found out that he really liked not being the sole focus of their energies. Plus, it had been cool to have someone closer to his own age to hang out with.
It didn't matter what Lou thought; they were an unbeatable team, and it hadn't been long before the CK logo started getting more and more recognition and respect.
*
Justin wasn't really in the best mental shape to be making plans; the only one he came up with was to keep everything light and casual and leave as soon as possible. He hadn't counted on JC tumbling them down onto the bed and kissing him, slow and lazy, rocking against him until they both came again. After that would have been a good time to leave, too, but before Justin's heart stopped pounding, JC was asleep, and Justin couldn't make himself slide out from where JC had thrown an arm and a leg over him.
JC eventually shifted away, and then Justin's head cleared enough to remind himself that the friendship would move along so much easier if they didn't have to do the avoiding-the-eyes thing in the morning. Sleeping with friends was dicey, and even though the actual sex had been incredible, Justin needed to remember that there really wasn't any reason for JC to have started anything with him other than not wanting to go find a stranger. This was just a thing, a hook-up, nothing big. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to keep that perspective if he spent the night with JC curled around him.
Even with the internal pep talk, it still took him hours to actually move. When he finally forced himself out of the bed, he barely took the time to get dressed, just in case he lost his nerve and ended up back under the sheet with JC sprawled on top of him again. It was easier once the door was closed behind him; he still knew the path down to Rocky's like the back of his hand, and the beach was peaceful and welcoming, the sand cool under his feet and the waves keeping him company on the walk.
He didn't know what time it was, but the sky was still dark. He focused on the stars and thought that he should ask Lance about the two really bright ones. Their light was clear and strong and bright enough to be seen over the light of the moon. He was pretty sure he remembered Lance telling him that would make them planets, but he still didn't know what they were.
The lights were on in Lynn's kitchen; he could see her moving around, dancing a little, like she always did. She smiled when he opened the back door, and her voice was gentle, but her eyes were serious. "Baby, what are you running from now?"
*
Without Lance, Justin wasn't sure what they would have done when Chris figured out just how much Lou had been skimming off the top and the only response to his questions was a registered letter informing him that the lease on CK's would expire in ninety days and that TransCon Industries would no longer be forwarding monies from any of their previous sponsors.
They had all been nearly sick with fury, venting in the back room of the shop, and then Lance had gotten very still and asked Joey what he'd done with all the footage he'd shot over the years. Joey had followed Lance's line of sight to where Chris had his stock of videos and DVDs shelved, and nodded once. Between the five of them, they had managed to cut together a fairly respectable underground surf movie in less than a week. It was rough in places, but Joey had learned a lot over the years, so it ended up not embarrassing them.
In the big picture, it hadn't gotten them all that much money, but it was enough to pay for equipment and entry fees in the Triple Crown, and that had been all they'd needed. Chris had practically lived in the shop, custom working their boards while Joey had taken over the day-to-day operation of the storefront. Lance had gone out and talked himself hoarse to anyone who might be interested in giving them money. Justin and JC had spent every minute of daylight watching the waves at Waimea and Sunset and Pipe, watching each break in every possible condition.
Before that, the break at Rocky Point had always been one of Justin's favorite spots. The waves were good enough to work out tricks and stunts, without killing you like the other breaks might. It was always the fun place--until everything was riding on how well they could do, and Rocky's was the only place they could really practice the showy stuff. Morning after morning, day after day, every wave one more chance to get it right, get it perfect; and he'd never really enjoyed surfing there since.
The morning of the first round at Waimea, they had stood on the lanai'i at Lynn's, the five of them and one of her friends, an ancient Hawaiian woman, there to ask moana to grant them its strength. She'd sent them on their way with ti leaves for luck and one last reminder of "Mahalo." Justin had known they were going to blow Lou out of the water on the first wave of the first heat, when JC had charged the outside edge and absofuckinglutely ripped a monster ride. Each of them had fed off that energy and every wave was better than the last.
The big names had been waiting for them as they walked off the beach that day--Hobie and Billabong and Dakine--and they'd never had to look back.
*
It would almost be a relief to have it out there, Justin thought as he closed the door behind him. Almost. He wished suddenly that he'd had time to shower before this conversation had to happen--because it was going to happen; he'd had no illusions about that when he'd deliberately decided to come home early from the tour. He just hadn't thought it was going to happen on the proverbial morning after, mostly because he'd never actually considered that there might ever be a night before, not with JC.
Lynn curled up in the window seat and rested her head against the wall behind her. Even in the bad light that had always plagued the kitchen--he should fix that next, Justin thought absently--he could see the dark circles under her eyes and the tired set to her shoulders.
"New baby?" he asked as he sat across from her.
"False alarm," she said, smiling. "Soon, though. Maybe later today." She laughed. "Or maybe not for a week."
"You should sleep. I'm--" Justin hesitated. "I'm okay. No, really," he insisted when she gave him that look, the one that asked 'Just how stupid do you think I am?'
"I'm fine, too," she answered. "No, really," she continued, mocking him gently, and okay, okay, he got it. "I have a yoga class in a little while in Town, so there's no sense in going to bed. I'd just disturb Paul. He needs his sleep; he and Chris closed up the house and took care of everyone when I had to leave."
The opening was there; Justin knew she was giving him the chance to ask when she'd left, so they could talk about why it was that he'd been gone already, but he just asked, "Taking or teaching?"
"Teaching." Lynn smiled again. "Prenatal. There's so much extra life energy in that room, I'll get a boost from them, and then I can nap for a while in the back room at the clinic if I have to."
She watched him steadily, sipping her tea like she did every morning, and the familiar smell of herbs and lemon was as comforting as her voice. Justin knew that he could get up and say he needed to sleep and she wouldn't press him, just like she'd never pushed him about being away so much, but this was the reason he'd flown back to Oahu nearly a month before he needed to be there for the Triple Crown. This was the safest place in the world and he was tired of feeling like he had to avoid it.
"The same thing," he blurted out. "What I'm running from." He took a deep breath and, finally, after however many years it had been, just said it. "JC."
"Oh, baby," Lynn said, and put her tea down to lean across and touch his cheek. "You still haven't figured things out?"
Justin could only shake his head.
"Well," Lynn said. "You need to." She picked up her mug again and sat back, burrowing into the cushions a little. "You. You're not eleven anymore, or fourteen. It's long past time for you to get things worked out in your head."
Justin knew this; he'd told himself the same thing, but there was something about hearing it from someone else that made it more real. When he looked up, Lynn was still watching him. "I," he started. "If I do, if we do figure things out, there's, I won't," and there was just no good way to say what had been jumbled up in his head for so long.
"Baby, whatever it is, just spit it out."
"If I'm with C--or any other guy--there wouldn't, we probably won't have kids, and I know, I know how much you wanted another one, and I know it wouldn't be exactly the same, but--"
"Justin Randall Timberlake," Lynn said, sitting up straight and not bothering to hide her emotions. "I don't know whether to hug you for being the sweetest child alive, or smack you for trying to make this be about something that it isn't." She pulled her hair back off her face, gathering it together and securing it with an elastic band from around her wrist. "I know it was a bad time when I, when we lost the baby," she said, her voice calm, but Justin could see how her hands trembled as she fixed her hair. "But that has nothing to do with whatever decisions you need to make."
She stood up, shaking her head, then leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Just be happy, baby," she said, and started gathering her things to leave.
*
Britney had been inevitable, Justin decided, with the wisdom of hindsight, long after everything had fallen apart. She'd always been around, right from the very start, pretty and sweet and not afraid to work her butt off. Everyone said they had so much in common. While that might have been true, you couldn't quite build an actual relationship on a shared work ethic and a dozen covers of Surf magazine, especially when you were apart more than you were together.
The only good thing about the end was that the real nastiness started after the Triple Crown and didn't mess with either of their WCT seasons. Because pretty didn't count for much when sweet turned bitter, and as much as he'd been willing to own up to his part in letting things disintegrate, he still hadn't been ready to hear even half the things that got said, or to hear the stuff he was saying in reply.
Lance and Joey had taken him out and gotten him drunk; blind, stinking, stumbling, puking-every-internal-organ drunk, drunker than he'd ever been in his life, drunker than he ever would be again, if he had anything to say about it. Chris had let him hide out in the half-finished apartment over the shop so he didn't have to face Lynn's gruesome anatomical descriptions of how he'd just poisoned his body, and after six days, JC had come and dragged him out of his cave and forced him on a plane to South Africa and the breaks at J-Bay. It had taken three weeks in the cold Indian Ocean, but by the time he followed JC onto their return flight, Justin had started to feel whole again.
*
Three pairs of eyes were fixed on him the second he walked into the shop at CK's, all with the same smug expectant expression. Justin knew them, knew from how they looked that they'd been waiting all morning for him, and was perversely glad he'd insisted on driving Lynn into Honolulu and back.
"What?"
"We're just paying our last respects," Chris said, cackling.
"Dude," said Joey, at the same time. "You are so fucked." He shook his head and laughed with Chris. "You have to admit, though," he said to Chris. "The kid's got kahunas."
"I hate to disagree with you there, Joe," Chris cracked back. "But I'm thinking it's more that he's gotten crunched by one too many waves and his brain doesn't work anymore."
"What?" Justin turned to Lance. "What the fuck are they talking about?"
"We, ah, ran into JC this morning," Lance said, and even he was grinning, the ass. "He's pretty much not happy with you."
Chris and Joey laughed again, and yeah, Justin loved them, but there were times he just wanted to drown them.
"Are we done yet?" Justin's head was throbbing now, the tension headache that had started with Lynn's advice graduating to a dull pounding at the base of his skull.
"Oh, hell, no," Chris said. "Pull up a chair, dumbass. Let me tell you the story of our stop to get cinnamon rolls this morning."
"Which is different from every other damn morning of your life, how?" Justin muttered.
"It's not every morning that our own little Ted's Bakery is treated to the sight of JC in a fine, righteous rage because someone walked out on him the night before."
"Oh, fuck," Justin said.
"Oh, good call," Lance said, bumping fists with Chris as Joey pulled a neat stack of folded bills out of his pocket and handed them to Chris.
"Shit," Justin muttered. "Shitshitshit."
"Not to worry, J," Joey said. "He was a little incoherent, even more than normal, so I don't think anyone else figured it out." He grinned. "Especially seeing as how we only took a guess 'cause Chris was ticked about you skipping out on the clean-up."
"C's general incoherence is fortunate, because you know Ted's on a morning like this," Lance added. "The whole island would know by now, if he could have managed something other than the glare of death and the occasional hiss."
Justin mostly ignored them, and tried to calm his racing brain. "I need--is he out this morning?" He waved vaguely toward the ocean and tried to figure out what break JC might have decided to surf. The morning surf report--which Justin listened to automatically--had good stuff at Lanis, right outside the door, but Justin honestly didn't know what JC was looking for these days.
"C?" Chris asked. Justin nodded and Chris looked at him a little strangely. "Nah, man, he's on his way back to his place. He didn't tell you he abandoned us for Pe'ahi?"
*
If Britney had been predictable, Nick had been a total shock. Justin thought that Nick kind of felt the same way about him, but for all the surprise, he was pretty sure they could both say that it ended up being a good thing.
Nick had always been around, surfing out of Haleiwa with his boys in the same way Justin had started out with the guys at CK's, and the WCT was like a small town, the same faces popping up no matter where in the world they happened to be. Nick hadn't liked it, hadn't liked it one bit, when he'd realized that Justin had noticed how Nick watched AJ. Then one day Justin had turned away from yet another easy, "brotherly" goodbye scene with JC to find Nick watching him with a sudden understanding in his eyes. After that, maybe the biggest surprise was that they lasted two more stops on the tour before they started fucking.
Chris was the only one who'd said anything about it, though Justin was almost positive everyone else had to know. Chris, of course, had waited for the exact right time to say his piece, even after walking in on him and Nick in a hotel room in Australia. Even knowing it was coming, Justin hadn't been able to keep from turning beet red when Chris had clutched his heart at the breakfast table and mock-swooned, pronouncing Nick to be "Just dreamy."
"It's not like that," Justin had mumbled, beyond grateful that Nick had already left for the waves. It hadn't been. Chris had been going on like they were the gay love affair for the ages, but it had been nothing like that. What it had been was Nick liking to watch Justin jerk himself off before rolling him over and fucking him until he was begging to come again. It had been a long, sweaty afternoon in Tahiti tracing over ink with his tongue, the taste of the Pacific and Nick all around him. It had been Justin catching Nick off-guard and tying Nick's wrists to the bed to see how long Nick could stand him playing with the rings he wore in his piercings before he started some begging of his own. It had been a lot of things, but it hadn't ever been love.
It hadn't even been friendship, not exactly--they tended to rag on each other too much for it to be truly friendly--but for the better part of a year, they had kept each other distracted and sane, and when AJ had started looking back at Nick, Justin let himself feel envious for a couple of hours before getting over himself and sending Nick off with a kiss and a slap on his ass.
*
Justin found he wasn't all that surprised JC had moved over to Maui. He'd watched JC fall for the big waves and the skills it took to ride them years before, watched him slide gradually off the circuit to spend more time at J-Bay and Kauai and Jaws for the sheer thrill of the tow-in waves. He'd watched JC for years, but now, this morning, it felt as though he'd never really seen him.
The cliffs at Opana Point were crowded with idle spectators. Justin stood with them, one more person watching the waves and the men who were riding them. The only difference was that he didn't need binoculars to know when it was JC who took a wave. He didn't have to squint or wonder; he knew from the second a figure dropped down the face of a wave whether it was JC.
The waves didn't crash here; they slammed into the rocky strip at the base of the cliff with a noise like thunder. From where they stood on the top of the cliffs, you couldn't get a sense of how big the waves were, not until someone actually tried to surf them, and then their size became overwhelming. Justin watched two fairly spectacular wipeouts with grim sympathy, but both guys were hauled out on the 'skis, and though they didn't take any more rides, they were okay; he could see them crashed out on the big catamaran they were using as a back-up boat.
He stood and watched until he saw that JC had switched off and was driving one of the jet skis, towing his partner into the waves, and then he walked back through the trees to where he'd left the rental car and carefully followed the directions Chris had scribbled down for him.
JC's house stood at the edge of the cliff, not three miles from the break at Pe'ahi, and Justin thought that even if he hadn't had the address, he would have guessed this one. It wasn't that it wasn't a beautiful house, but it wasn't a showplace like most of the other houses on the looping road. Someone lived there, you could tell. Justin gently brushed a small lizard out of the way and settled himself on the top step of the long, low lanai'i.
*
It hadn't been the first wave out at Teahupo'o that had started Justin thinking. That one had slammed a thousand tons of water down on him, shattered his board and cartwheeled him over the reef. Pharrell had been closest to him, and when he'd slung Justin onto the sled, Justin could barely breathe from the adrenaline rocketing through his blood.
No, it had been the second wave, the one that everybody backed off of and let him take as soon as he gotten back out past the breaks. That was the one he couldn't talk about, the one that by all rights should have killed him for his arrogance in going back out again, but instead had drawn him into the power of the earth and ocean, allowed him to pull that strength into his soul and rocket through the barrel with millimeters to spare. Trace picked him up, damn near pulling Justin's arm out of the socket as he threw him back on the sled, but Justin barely noticed. Even when they were working him over in the first aid tent, the disinfectant biting deep and hot into the network of scratches on his arms and legs and body, he could only sit and shake and wonder why he was still alive.
*
Storm clouds were piling up in the sky and the wind carried the smell of rain long before JC's truck appeared. Their eyes met as JC pulled around toward the small barn that Justin assumed was his shop, but JC didn't acknowledge him otherwise. Justin looked down and nodded at his buddy the lizard, and tried to keep himself as calm as possible.
JC didn't keep him in suspense for long, rounding the corner of the house so quickly Justin was sure he hadn't even put his stuff up. Justin watched him walk up along the path, standing as JC came to a stop a few feet away.
"I'm sorry," Justin said, after the silence stretched on.
JC nodded, but Justin couldn't find any forgiveness in his face. "I am, too," JC said. "I thought you were ready; I thought maybe I was rushing myself, that I wasn't in the best place to be starting something, but we were actually in the same room, and it just felt right." His eyes were flat and hard, and his voice was even. No towering rage, Justin realized with a sinking feeling, but an ice storm, and that was infinitely worse.
"Ready?" Justin asked. "For what?"
"Does it matter?" JC asked, and Justin might as well have been one of the tourists out on the cliff asking for directions, so disinterested was his voice.
"Yeah," Justin said, after a minute. "I think it does."
JC looked at him for a long time, long enough that Justin was sure he wasn't going to answer. The wind was whipping in gusts now, and the light had an odd greenish cast as it filtered through the clouds.
"Ready to see me like I am," JC finally said. The first raindrops fell, fat and warm, but JC made no move toward the broad overhang of the porch. "Just me," he said. "Not whoever you have me built up to be."
Justin let JC's words echo in his head and felt something ease inside him. He met JC's eyes and said, just as evenly, "You mean the guy who's standing there all pissed off at me for freaking out but who won't actually admit that? The one who never got around to mentioning that the other night was anything more than a quick buddyfuck before he had a hissy fit in Ted's and ran away?"
"You ran first," JC snapped.
"Yeah," Justin admitted. "Yeah, I did." He started to add that he'd had his reasons, but right then, they all just seemed so stupid. "I'm here now?"
The rain came heavier, whipped hard enough by the wind that it stung when it hit Justin's face, but JC didn't move. Justin kept his eyes steady and, he hoped, calm. Even if JC turned him down this time, he knew now, knew that JC didn't just see him as the kid from Haleiwa, and, well, he'd already spent half his life loving JC without any hope; he could last as long as it would take to make up for leaving the other night.
JC looked away first; pushed his hair back, raking both hands through the windblown curls. Justin had to remind himself to breathe, slow and even, but he couldn't do anything about the way his heart was pounding.
"You are," JC said. "But this is my house." Justin heard the finality in that, the seriousness he'd added by taking this to JC's home, and it felt so good to be able to meet that seriousness with his own.
"I'm here," Justin started, but his voice cracked, and he had to swallow hard. Then he thought, Fuck it, who cares, and didn't bother trying to get it back under control. "I'm here for as long as you want me," he said unsteadily, and this time he was the one who had to look away. It was raining so hard that Justin didn't think JC could really see him, but he'd never felt more naked.
"Good." JC spoke quietly, barely loud enough for Justin to hear him over the rain, but he wasn't just hearing things, because JC was pressed close, close enough that Justin could wrap his arms around him and rest his forehead in the crook of JC's neck and find that it didn't matter that he was shaking, because JC was, too.
It was probably too stupid for words to stay out in the wind and the rain, Justin thought. There was a cliff somewhere close by and the lightning was getting closer, but then JC was kissing him lightly, almost shyly, and the sky could have fallen in and Justin wouldn't have moved. They kissed again when they finally made it onto the lanai'i, and Justin suddenly liked the idea of waiting, of letting the anticipation build slow and steady through the evening.
The inside of the house was open and spacious and full of JC's life. Waiting for JC to shower off the day's salt and sand, Justin recognized a dozen paintings and ceramics and sculptures, remembered walking through markets in cities around the world, waiting--not always patiently--while JC talked with the artists and made his decisions. He stood for a long time in front of a picture of the five of them in Lynn's garden, laughing in front of the rhinochaser bar, after JC had exploded on the scene and won the Eddie, flushed with their first taste of real success. It had been the first time Justin had seen JC truly happy after he'd returned, and he could still feel the way JC's smile had twisted something inside him.
JC slid up behind him, silent on bare feet, and this time, his smile was all for Justin. They had dinner, because JC had left for Maleiko Bay early in the morning and had only eaten protein bars in the boats, and Justin remembered that he'd been too keyed up to eat all day. They sat across from each other as the lights flickered in the storm, eating ono straight off the grill, sharing wine made by one of JC's friends. JC gathered the plates and glasses when they were through and carried them to the sink, and then Justin had waited long enough.
"JC," he said, his voice thick and heavy in his throat. "Leave them. They'll still be there in the morning."
JC turned away from the sink, his eyes dark, and took Justin's hand silently. Justin laced their fingers together; the house was quiet and the air was soft as JC led them up the stairs. The storm had blown through and the light of the full moon spilled in through the open windows, bright enough for Justin to see all he needed.
JC was pliant under his hands, allowing Justin to skim off his shirt and shorts, then stood naked in the silvery light and Justin almost needed to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't a dream. He leaned down and brushed kisses along cheekbones and jaw, each one a tiny teasepromisetaste that fed the need twisting low and hot in him, until he couldn't stand another second of not tasting more fully.
He caught JC's face in both hands and kissed him, more roughly than he intended, but JC's mouth opened under his and Justin couldn't not take what was being offered. JC arched into him, a long, smooth roll of muscle and skin that left Justin breathless.
"Undress me," he whispered against JC's mouth, and it didn't matter if his voice was hoarse and eager. He wanted JC to know how much he wanted this. "I want to feel you."
It didn't take long, even if Justin couldn't make himself stop kissing JC, and when his clothes were scattered on the floor, and JC was there against him, pressed close from chest to thigh, Justin said, very quietly, "I like this." JC's smile flashed out in the dim light, and it was so easy to answer with one of his own.
It was two steps to the bed, the sheets silky and cool under his back and JC warm and solid on top of him. Justin wrapped his legs around JC's waist, hissing at the contact, and said again, "I like this."
It was easy to roll them, and then JC was moving smoothly against him, his hips shifting in an easy rhythm. Justin let it set the pace for everything he did, everywhere he touched, each kiss he dropped onto mouth and neck and hair. JC reached back to the bedside table, never taking his eyes off Justin, never stopping the rocking of his hips.
"I like this," he said, dropping condoms and lube on the bed next to them, smile gone, and leaned up to kiss Justin, hard and demanding.
Justin met him halfway, lick for lick, bite for bite, but then backed off, took his time, leading himself on as much as JC. He wanted to remember the first flash of bittersalt on his tongue; the way JC drew his breath in, quick and sharp, as Justin teased slick fingers not quite inside him; the low, small sounds JC made when Justin finally stopped teasing.
"Fuck," JC whispered, rocking up into Justin's hand. "Want you, J, so much."
Their hands tangled together reaching for the condom, and Justin might have laughed at the awkwardness, but JC was watching him with eyes so intense that Justin could feel the gaze sliding over his skin. He leaned back and let JC take care of him, strong, knowing hands stroking him slowly before smoothing the condom on him.
"Now," JC said, wrapping his legs around Justin's waist. "Nownownow." His voice dropped lower, grew hoarse as Justin listened and pushed inside with one fast, hard thrust. He stretched his arms over his head, reaching for the bedframe, and Justin moved without thinking, one hand pinning JC's wrists to the bed, the other roaming freely.
JC shuddered, hard enough that Justin stopped and breathed, "C?"
"Yeah," JC answered on a moan. "God, yeah, like that."
Slowly, deliberately, Justin tightened his grip and JC arched up hard, twisting and swearing when Justin wouldn't fuck him, moving even more frantically when Justin finally did, and this was real. This was JC squirming under him, breath harsh and panting as Justin trailed his free hand over JC's cock, circling feather-light touches, keening softly when Justin pinched his nipples. This was JC looking at him, drawing him in with eyes that didn't hide anything, didn't hesitate to show desire and want and need.
Justin knew that want, had known it for so long it was a part of him. He answered it with his own, moving easily with JC. In, hard and fast, then slowly, slowly sliding out, not quite all the way. Holding, holding, watching JC's face, keeping him still, until neither one of them could wait a second longer, and then in, again, and again, and again.
"Justin," JC growled, low and rough, twisting his hips up, coming with a ragged groan as soon as Justin touched him. "Justin," and the pleasure in his voice drew Justin hard after him.
*
In the dark Maui night, Justin fell asleep surrounded by the sounds of the waves crashing on the base of the cliff below the window and JC's heart beating under his head.
--fin--