Lee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
randomling) wrote2008-05-22 04:09 pm
randomling) wrote2008-05-22 04:09 pm
Close Encounter
I'm trying to catch up on a bunch of request fics I promised back in January... Er, sorry!
Summary: JC meets someone unusual in a German club.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF, sex.
Also: Unbeta'd.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adelate
Close Encounter
The club was dark and smoky and packed with German women: all of them older, clothing tight or short or both, and totally foreign to JC. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it - not the weirdly greasy feeling of European clubs, or the fact that he could legally drink, or the bizarre combination of freaked-and-horny he ended up with, out late, half-drunk and surrounded by sexy German women and, sometimes, sexy German men. Even after more than a month, Europe still felt strange, new, exciting.
And disorienting. Pressed into the crush of people waiting at the bar, bass beat thumping right through his chest, JC felt a little like he was on an alien planet. Tasting another world through the smoke and sweat in the air, making his skin prickle and his hair stand on end. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in, wanting to experience it fully, and then, a moment later, he was startled out of it by a hand landing firmly on his shoulder. For a second he thought it was Joey, and then he opened his eyes and turned around and discovered he was wrong.
Standing just behind him and a little to his right was a man: about the same height as Joey, true, but really, really not him. He must be ten years older than Joey - or maybe even ten years older than Chris - he had the kind of young-old face that made it impossible to tell. But he also had movie-star good looks, and twinkling blue eyes, and when he grinned down at JC he looked like he'd stepped out of a 1950s musical. His clothes looked vaguely military, but they weren't from any actual uniform JC recognized.
His hand didn't move from JC's shoulder. "Buy you a drink?" He had an American accent, which seemed so natural, given his looks, that it took JC a moment to be surprised to have run across an American he didn't know.
For some reason, that made JC feel impossibly young; unsure and naive. He smiled up at the guy. "Sure. Thanks."
The man said something that JC didn't catch; JC shook his head, and the guy leaned in close, speaking right into JC's left ear: "What would you like?"
"Um, beer?"
The guy's grinned widened, and he looked so amused that JC wondered if he'd said something wrong. But he just said, "Okay," and slipped away through the crowd. JC watched in wonder as he made it to the crowded bar and got served instantly, apparently without any effort at all, and then just wandered back to JC, a beer in each hand, as if the crowd wasn't even there.
JC said, "Thank you," reflexively as the cool bottle was pressed into his hand.
The guy grinned again, took a sip of his beer and said, "Outside?"
JC nodded.
Outside turned out to be the alleyway by the back exit of the club. It was September, and it was just a little chilly to be out in just a T-shirt and jeans, but when he leaned back against the wall and the guy stood right next to him, close enough that JC could feel body-heat, the cold didn't seem to be a problem.
"Little quieter out here, huh?" the guy said, and JC nodded, though he liked the noise inside the club, loud music and chatter and clinking glass. "I'm Jack."
"JC," said JC. He felt so unsure and so damned young; he'd almost said his name was Josh.
Jack grinned again, and JC took a hefty swig of his beer. That was a gesture he'd picked up from Chris, who always finished his drink in one gulp before striding across the club to talk to a pretty girl. JC felt weirded-out, but also kind of excited. Everything felt heightened and contrasted, cold glass in his hand and the warmth of Jack's body, and Jack's smile was beautiful.
"I watched you dance," Jack said. He didn't need to say you're good or it was hot: it was all there in the tone of his voice and the curve of his smile, just predatory enough that it sent a shiver through the pit of JC's stomach, and the shiver somehow forced JC to smile back.
JC said, "I, um. I kind of do it for a living. Dance, I mean. And sing, too." Well, it was almost true.
"Cool," Jack said. His voice seemed to cut off more conversation, and the next second he was leaning down to kiss JC.
There were no tentative beginnings to the kiss at all. Jack's mouth was firm and sure on JC's, and the weirded-out feeling evaporated in a cloud of steam as JC let his mouth open. Jack hooked one arm around JC's waist, and JC could feel the cool beer bottle resting against the small of his back, sharper because of the warmth of Jack, now pulled flush against him, kissing him with determination and abandon. JC was hard in a second, and was somehow not surprised that Jack was too. He put his own hands on Jack's shoulders and returned the kiss fiercely.
JC dropped his beer. Their bodies shifted against each other, and JC shivered again and tried to pull Jack even closer. Jack kissed him harder, and this was perfect, JC thought, little shocks of pleasure flying up his spine as they ground together. Jack's aggressive tongue made him feel submissive and powerful all at the same time, and that made sense, because right now everything was two things at once, hot and cold, weak and strong, rigid and dissolving. Perfect.
When Jack's free hand reached down to take hold of JC's cock through his jeans, it was with the same confidence that he kissed. JC couldn't help but rock up into Jack's hand as it started to move steadily, picking up the rhythm of their kiss. JC tried to keep himself in check, but Jack was good, the quickening motion of his hand making pressure build helplessly in JC's groin. JC gasped, and gasped again, and then he was panting into Jack's mouth.
JC pulled his mouth from Jack's, and Jack chuckled, a low, rich sound from his throat as JC clung to him. JC's chest heaved, and Jack picked up the pace, dipping his head to kiss the side of JC's face and then his neck. JC's hips were jerking in the same rhythm as Jack's hand and his own breaths and Jack's tongue, and each out-breath brought a whimper with it. JC was aware of nothing but the sudden desperation to go faster-faster-faster, until it was all too much and then, with a single hard crest of sensation, it was over. JC's head hit Jack's shoulder, just for a second, and when he looked up Jack was grinning. Still panting and sweaty, JC grinned too.
Jack was still gratifyingly hard. JC leaned up to kiss him quickly, far more gently than they had been kissing before, and slid one hand down to Jack's groin, moving his hand nervously over Jack's cock without unzipping him. Jack's eyes flickered closed, and JC was just starting to pick up a little confidence when a hard voice said, "Jack."
Jack turned, and JC moved his hand automatically to Jack's thigh.
"When you're quite finished," the voice said, and a tall man moved into view at the back of the alley. Leather jacket and a buzzcut, and something told JC that the accent was British, but it wasn't any British accent he really recognized. Jack glanced at JC, back at the British guy, and then turned one last time to kiss JC's mouth.
"Thanks," Jack said. "That was fun." Then he turned and strode down the alley towards his friend. "Did you find her?"
"Fawning over Justin Timberlake," the British guy said as they turned away, the scorn obvious in his voice, and JC bit down the urge to defend Justin and his ability to get eleven-year-old girls screaming.
Jack laughed. "He needs five years."
"Ten years," said the British voice in an amused tone, and they were gone.
JC shook himself and smoothed down his hair with one hand. He waited for a few seconds - just until he was sure he'd gotten his breath back - and then turned back toward the club. He really needed to get himself cleaned up, and that really needed to be a prelude to changing his underwear. Ew.
Before he made it to the bathroom, he bumped into Lance, who looked half-drunk too, even though he was way illegal, even in Europe. JC said, "Hey."
"Where the heck have you been?" Lance asked.
JC grinned enormously, because his dizzy head and sticky groin couldn't take away the memory of Jack. He slung an arm across Lance's back and said, "Out of this world, dude."
Summary: JC meets someone unusual in a German club.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF, sex.
Also: Unbeta'd.
For
adelateClose Encounter
The club was dark and smoky and packed with German women: all of them older, clothing tight or short or both, and totally foreign to JC. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it - not the weirdly greasy feeling of European clubs, or the fact that he could legally drink, or the bizarre combination of freaked-and-horny he ended up with, out late, half-drunk and surrounded by sexy German women and, sometimes, sexy German men. Even after more than a month, Europe still felt strange, new, exciting.
And disorienting. Pressed into the crush of people waiting at the bar, bass beat thumping right through his chest, JC felt a little like he was on an alien planet. Tasting another world through the smoke and sweat in the air, making his skin prickle and his hair stand on end. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in, wanting to experience it fully, and then, a moment later, he was startled out of it by a hand landing firmly on his shoulder. For a second he thought it was Joey, and then he opened his eyes and turned around and discovered he was wrong.
Standing just behind him and a little to his right was a man: about the same height as Joey, true, but really, really not him. He must be ten years older than Joey - or maybe even ten years older than Chris - he had the kind of young-old face that made it impossible to tell. But he also had movie-star good looks, and twinkling blue eyes, and when he grinned down at JC he looked like he'd stepped out of a 1950s musical. His clothes looked vaguely military, but they weren't from any actual uniform JC recognized.
His hand didn't move from JC's shoulder. "Buy you a drink?" He had an American accent, which seemed so natural, given his looks, that it took JC a moment to be surprised to have run across an American he didn't know.
For some reason, that made JC feel impossibly young; unsure and naive. He smiled up at the guy. "Sure. Thanks."
The man said something that JC didn't catch; JC shook his head, and the guy leaned in close, speaking right into JC's left ear: "What would you like?"
"Um, beer?"
The guy's grinned widened, and he looked so amused that JC wondered if he'd said something wrong. But he just said, "Okay," and slipped away through the crowd. JC watched in wonder as he made it to the crowded bar and got served instantly, apparently without any effort at all, and then just wandered back to JC, a beer in each hand, as if the crowd wasn't even there.
JC said, "Thank you," reflexively as the cool bottle was pressed into his hand.
The guy grinned again, took a sip of his beer and said, "Outside?"
JC nodded.
Outside turned out to be the alleyway by the back exit of the club. It was September, and it was just a little chilly to be out in just a T-shirt and jeans, but when he leaned back against the wall and the guy stood right next to him, close enough that JC could feel body-heat, the cold didn't seem to be a problem.
"Little quieter out here, huh?" the guy said, and JC nodded, though he liked the noise inside the club, loud music and chatter and clinking glass. "I'm Jack."
"JC," said JC. He felt so unsure and so damned young; he'd almost said his name was Josh.
Jack grinned again, and JC took a hefty swig of his beer. That was a gesture he'd picked up from Chris, who always finished his drink in one gulp before striding across the club to talk to a pretty girl. JC felt weirded-out, but also kind of excited. Everything felt heightened and contrasted, cold glass in his hand and the warmth of Jack's body, and Jack's smile was beautiful.
"I watched you dance," Jack said. He didn't need to say you're good or it was hot: it was all there in the tone of his voice and the curve of his smile, just predatory enough that it sent a shiver through the pit of JC's stomach, and the shiver somehow forced JC to smile back.
JC said, "I, um. I kind of do it for a living. Dance, I mean. And sing, too." Well, it was almost true.
"Cool," Jack said. His voice seemed to cut off more conversation, and the next second he was leaning down to kiss JC.
There were no tentative beginnings to the kiss at all. Jack's mouth was firm and sure on JC's, and the weirded-out feeling evaporated in a cloud of steam as JC let his mouth open. Jack hooked one arm around JC's waist, and JC could feel the cool beer bottle resting against the small of his back, sharper because of the warmth of Jack, now pulled flush against him, kissing him with determination and abandon. JC was hard in a second, and was somehow not surprised that Jack was too. He put his own hands on Jack's shoulders and returned the kiss fiercely.
JC dropped his beer. Their bodies shifted against each other, and JC shivered again and tried to pull Jack even closer. Jack kissed him harder, and this was perfect, JC thought, little shocks of pleasure flying up his spine as they ground together. Jack's aggressive tongue made him feel submissive and powerful all at the same time, and that made sense, because right now everything was two things at once, hot and cold, weak and strong, rigid and dissolving. Perfect.
When Jack's free hand reached down to take hold of JC's cock through his jeans, it was with the same confidence that he kissed. JC couldn't help but rock up into Jack's hand as it started to move steadily, picking up the rhythm of their kiss. JC tried to keep himself in check, but Jack was good, the quickening motion of his hand making pressure build helplessly in JC's groin. JC gasped, and gasped again, and then he was panting into Jack's mouth.
JC pulled his mouth from Jack's, and Jack chuckled, a low, rich sound from his throat as JC clung to him. JC's chest heaved, and Jack picked up the pace, dipping his head to kiss the side of JC's face and then his neck. JC's hips were jerking in the same rhythm as Jack's hand and his own breaths and Jack's tongue, and each out-breath brought a whimper with it. JC was aware of nothing but the sudden desperation to go faster-faster-faster, until it was all too much and then, with a single hard crest of sensation, it was over. JC's head hit Jack's shoulder, just for a second, and when he looked up Jack was grinning. Still panting and sweaty, JC grinned too.
Jack was still gratifyingly hard. JC leaned up to kiss him quickly, far more gently than they had been kissing before, and slid one hand down to Jack's groin, moving his hand nervously over Jack's cock without unzipping him. Jack's eyes flickered closed, and JC was just starting to pick up a little confidence when a hard voice said, "Jack."
Jack turned, and JC moved his hand automatically to Jack's thigh.
"When you're quite finished," the voice said, and a tall man moved into view at the back of the alley. Leather jacket and a buzzcut, and something told JC that the accent was British, but it wasn't any British accent he really recognized. Jack glanced at JC, back at the British guy, and then turned one last time to kiss JC's mouth.
"Thanks," Jack said. "That was fun." Then he turned and strode down the alley towards his friend. "Did you find her?"
"Fawning over Justin Timberlake," the British guy said as they turned away, the scorn obvious in his voice, and JC bit down the urge to defend Justin and his ability to get eleven-year-old girls screaming.
Jack laughed. "He needs five years."
"Ten years," said the British voice in an amused tone, and they were gone.
JC shook himself and smoothed down his hair with one hand. He waited for a few seconds - just until he was sure he'd gotten his breath back - and then turned back toward the club. He really needed to get himself cleaned up, and that really needed to be a prelude to changing his underwear. Ew.
Before he made it to the bathroom, he bumped into Lance, who looked half-drunk too, even though he was way illegal, even in Europe. JC said, "Hey."
"Where the heck have you been?" Lance asked.
JC grinned enormously, because his dizzy head and sticky groin couldn't take away the memory of Jack. He slung an arm across Lance's back and said, "Out of this world, dude."