new fic: Sonata In Minor Key

[mickeym]

So, last fall, I had a major crush on Tara Reid. And I thought she and JC looked cute together. I don't think they were dating...but I kinda thought they were more than just the buddies JC said they were. After all, we don't get told everything.

Chris/JC/Tara. NC17. Warning for some het sex, as if you couldn't guess. *g*

Not mine, not true. Just for fun and entertainment :)

Many thanks to jchalo for reading over it and catching stupid things for me :) *hugs*




The photos were stunning. A mix of raw sensuality, of innocence, of beauty, and just a touch of slut in a few – the kind that makes men ache and women envious. You trace one finger over the celluloid version of Tara's face. They're really incredible pictures.

"When did you do these?" You look at her, curious, and she shrugs.

"Some were a while ago. That one," she nods toward the one in your hands, "was pretty recent. A couple months ago? Maybe late summer."

"Sexy girl." You toss the pictures gently over the side of the bed and grab at her, pulling her up to straddle you. She squeals when you tickle her ribs, fingers stealing under her t-shirt on a quick-strike mission. "Sexier in the flesh." Your hands span her waist easily; she's a tiny thing who makes you feel large. That doesn't happen often.

"As sexy as Chris?" She arches an eyebrow and wiggles back against your crotch, snickering softly when your cock stirs, not hard – yet – but definitely interested. Something about her keeps you almost always at least half-hard. You wonder if that's why everyone keeps asking if she's your girlfriend, if the two of you are dating.

Not dating, no. But the world doesn't need to know what you are doing.

Friends can fuck, as well as go shopping or hang out. But you're definitely not dating.

"No fair. You know I don't kiss and tell." You pout at her, then laugh when she leans in and kisses you, a quick slide of her mouth across yours. Cinnamon and cherries, from coffee earlier, and her ever-present lip balm. "I might tell you, though. If you ask the right questions."

She laughs again, lower, huskier, and licks at your mouth. "But I already know the answers, don't I?"

"Maybe." She probably does. You don't think anyone is as sexy as Chris, but—she comes a very close second. Your fingers curl inward, caressing warm, smooth skin. Silky skin. You love Chris, wouldn't trade the feel of him against you for anything, but sometimes your fingers itch to touch a woman…and you love touching Tara. Love how she feels against you, sleek and smooth, cool and warm at the same time. You love the slickness when she's turned on. You also like the way her hair strokes over you, so soft, so feathery-light. Chris' was like that when he wore it longer. You miss it. She smiles when you wind your fingers through it and tug gently. "C'mere."

Her mouth is warm, lips soft against yours, and you nuzzle into the kiss, licking and sucking at tender flesh, feeling warmth blossom inside you, bubbling along through your veins. She giggles against your mouth, creating more bubbles, carbonation that zings around inside and percolates your blood.

"Chris wanted us to wait for him," she breathes softly, rocking downward against you. You were half hard to begin with; now you're almost fully erect, your senses exploding with an overload of scent, sound, taste and touch.

"Chris needs to get his ass back here, then." You mumble a protest when she sits up, pulling away from you. The protest doesn't last long when she shifts backward so she's sitting fully on your dick, separated by only a sheer layer of silk, and a thin layer of cotton. You can feel her heat, know she's wet already. Tara's like you: she loves sex, just for it's own sake. It's one of the reasons you make such good friends.

"Chris is trying to be a nice guy and do you a favor by making dinner, dickhead." And speak of the devil. You turn your head and grin, because there he is, standing in the doorway, brandishing a spatula. You get an answering grin in return, and thank the heavens silently that he's decided he likes glasses over contacts for everyday wear. You love a guy in glasses. He winks at Tara. "You not hungry, C? I mean—we worked you over pretty good earlier… I'd think you'd need to refuel."

"Got plenty of fuel, thanks." It's a warm, lazy day, with late-autumn sunlight streaming in through and around the blinds, puddling golden-yellow on the floor, splashing droplets of fire onto the walls. Everything feels snug, comfortable, and you're surrounded by that and two people you care about a lot. You really don't care about eating, at least not for a while.

You rock upward and hear Tara's soft moan, watch her catch her lower lip with her teeth. Pretty. In the doorway, Chris twitches. You reach up and cup Tara's breasts through her t-shirt, rubbing over tight nipples. She shimmies and Chris groans in unison with you. Didn't take her long to figure out she could do that and you'd both react. Smart chick, really. You like that, like you like guys in glasses. Smart chicks are wicked hot. She shimmies again and you pinch her nipples, quick and dirty, hard like she likes it, and she gasps.

You hear the quiet, muffled sound of a spatula hitting the floor and laugh softly, thumbing Tara's nipples again. When you look over, Chris is stripping out of his t-shirt and shorts. You eye him, one eyebrow raised, and he shrugs. "It'll keep. S'all in the oven anyway; we have an hour." He reaches out and pulls Tara's t-shirt up over her head, leaving her in nothing but a wispy pair of sheer panties, which really accentuate more than they hide. "Perfect," is all Chris mutters before he leans in and licks, lifting Tara's hair out of the way to reach her neck better. Tara's moans feel like trickles of heat shivering through you.

She likes biting and licking just as much as you do.

You wish sometimes that you could love her – be in love with her. It'd make so many things so much simpler. Chris likes her, she likes him, and it's almost as much fun to watch them together as it is to be involved.

People would stop asking you who you're seeing. What you're doing. Why you're not seeing anyone. You don't want a beard, exactly. And you're not going to give Chris up. But you're tired of hiding thing, too.

But. But, but, but.

Tara will never be more than she is now, and if she can't be, you don't see anyone else getting there. She's the female match to you and Chris both—a whacked sense of humor, good in bed, fun to hang with, smart in a quiet, unobtrusive way. You love her as a friend, and wish it could be more. You suppose it's enough she knows what you know…that it won't be.

"Hey." It's more than a sound, less than a word. A soft voice that sounds like pure sex, and then there's heat all over you, hers and Chris' both. You blink and bring Tara into focus, with Chris right behind her, their hair mingling as blond with dark streaks. "Are there two of us here, or three?" She smiles at you and arches back toward Chris, eyes closing when you slip your fingers under the elastic band of her panties.

"Three." You catch Chris' eyes, hold them while you touch her, fingers slipping between swollen, damp folds; one sliding deep inside her. Her clit is firm beneath your thumb and the soft noises she makes when you rub gently, slowly, make you shiver in return. You slide another finger inside her and Chris swallows her groan down, lets it out softly when he breaks the kiss. "So pretty." And she is. "Ride, baby. That's it…ride…." Chris helps her, hands gentle on her shoulders, then under her arms, rolling with her movements. You want inside her, want to feel the slick heat surrounding more than just your fingers, but it's mesmerizing to watch her like this, hips swiveling and shifting as she rocks up and down slowly.

"JC—" Her voice is husky, breathless, and you press harder, rubbing circles over and around her clit until she cries out softly and bucks downward, body shaking against yours, against Chris'.

"Oh, yeah." Chris bites her throat, hands sliding around to cup her breasts, fingers pulling on her nipples. You shift awkwardly until you're sitting up, fingers still deep inside Tara, her heat pressed against you. Chris tastes like lip balm and cinnamon coffee, too, when you kiss him. He licks your fingers when you slide them back out and shares the taste with you, with her, a three-way kiss that's sloppy and wet, but hungry, bodies so in tune and wanting together that it makes you ache all over again that your hearts can't be that way, as well.

"Don't leave again," Tara whispers the words, licks at your mouth, then at Chris' before ducking so he can kiss you again, deeper this time. You feel his heat, lose yourself in it for a long moment, the heat of Tara's gaze mingling with it, ratcheting your hunger upward. It's like being wrapped in a blanket of sunshine and summer with shivers of electricity humming throughout. Chris tangles his hand in your hair, cups the back of your head and holds you closer; Tara strokes kisses across your chest, tasting you, biting words into your skin. You think they feel like 'want you', 'fuck me', 'taste him'. You think they sound like music.

Chris bites your lips before pulling away, and his voice is thick in your ear, the words rich with arousal, dark with want. "Wanna watch, C." He bites your earlobe, sucks at it. "Watch you fuck her."

Her eyes are dark, watching you and listening to him. You growl "oh, yeah," softly, and watch them darken more. Beside you, Chris' eyes glitter; you would swear you can see tiny sparks floating in them, snapping brilliantly at you.

Tara's breasts are small, but not too small. A nice handful, and she sighs when you cup them and lick at her nipples. They draw up tight, dark pink tips against pale golden skin, and you suck gently, then harder, biting down and tugging when she cries out. It's her hands in your hair this time, and Chris disappears from sight, only his hands visible as he pulls the wispy panties down, helping her shift to tug them off. Your shorts are removed in much the same way, Chris' magic hands teasing and stroking after you're naked while you tease Tara, fingers skating over skin that's slick with silken moisture.

It's a dance, the steps orchestrated carefully, practiced faithfully, if differently for different pairings. You love to have Tara ride you; love to watch her face while she moves over you. Chris kisses you, long and wet, then rolls the condom down slowly, caressing you as he goes. Tara's heat when she shifts over you and sinks down is enough to take your breath away. You feel it catch in your chest, your heart fluttering like a wild creature, then sensation explodes through you in crimson streaks and you can breathe again, jagged stripes of cool blue and silver mixing with the bright red, swirling all around you.

You push up on your arms, watch Chris move back behind Tara. You miss the connection of his body to yours, his mouth on yours, but you watch him, eyes fixed on his. He moves in rhythm with Tara, slow and sensual at first, and she gasps softly, arches back against him. You've both done her like this, taken her at the same time, but it takes patience and time and while you could, now's not the moment. You all seem to sense when it's right and when it's not, moving with ease from one to the other.

She kisses you, lips warm and soft against yours, mouth similar to the wet heat surrounding you. Fucking and fucked at once, you make a complete circle, one into the other. If you close your eyes it's endless warmth, endless wet, her tongue teasing yours before she breaks away to lean back into Chris' embrace. You slide one hand up her side and then onto his arm, lacing your fingers with his. She tightens around you and rocks down, up, muscles in her thighs and ass working; you can feel them moving against you. You open your eyes, though you like the dark and the way it makes you feel everything more intensely. You like to feel, but you like to see, too. See the way Tara's body strains and shifts, the play of muscles under skin, the light sheen of sweat that makes her glow above you. You like to see the way Chris looks like a dark angel pressed against her, all pale skin dusted with black hair, flushed with arousal. Even Chris looks large, compared to Tara.

"Faster, faster," Chris mutters softly, lips working against Tara's ear. She shudders and rocks down, up, moving faster. You move your hand – your and Chris' – down to her hip to steady her, and reach between her legs to stroke, fingers sliding over slick, hot skin. So wet. You could drown in her, and die a happy man. Your eyes are on Chris, watching the words, feeling them ripple through Tara and into you. You could drown there, too. "Ride him, T…feel him…like him inside, filling you up—"

You taught Chris to talk dirty. He would whisper the words to you sometimes, but he has crazy hang-ups about some things, and that was one of them. And now…now it makes your blood burn hotter, makes your dick harder. You want to crawl up inside her, inside him, bury yourself deep and never come out.

Faster. Harder. A symphony of sounds mingling between the three of you, and sometimes it's hard to tell if it's Chris or Tara; her voice pitches a little lower than his at times. Other times, you think he's hitting notes Lance usually hits—the growls that make the hair stand up on your arms. Chris lets go of your hand and you watch his arm jerk, watch the movement between him and Tara stutter unevenly. She's biting her lip now, one hand cupping a breast, fingers worrying a hard nipple. You rub her clit, slowly, then faster, watch her eyes close and her chest heave. You're so close, can feel the heat gathering, coiling into something tight and hot, something that slithers quickly through you, leaving streaks of fire in its wake.

Chris comes first, his eyes widening, then closing, his face screwed up tight like it hurts, or feels so good it hurts deep inside. You wish you could feel him, feel the way he jerks over you or under you, cock spasming as he comes. You feel liquid heat in small drops on your legs, and then it's liquid heat everywhere, tighttighthot, clenching all around you, rivers of heat drowning you, whirling through you fast and hard, silver and black with streaks of red. You hear Tara's gasps, soft cries that mingle with the harsher sounds Chris makes, and you add your own, a melody in your head made of groans mixed with colors, everything swirled together, overlaid by the sound of your pulse throbbing in your ears. You buck up into Tara one last time, body still shuddering through your orgasm. She's shivering, skin pink and flushed, glistening where the sun catches her. Chris holds her close, holds her against you, and you watch him lick her neck gently, slowly, and you think maybe you taste her, too, on your tongue.

You tip yourself sideways once Chris shifts off your legs, and Tara falls with you, curling into you bonelessly. She looks completely sated, skin rosy and eyes heavy, and you stroke sweaty tendrils of hair back off her face and nuzzle. She tastes good, tastes a little like herself and Chris combined, and you like that. Chris kisses you both, then slides off the bed slowly, reaching for his discarded shorts.

"Gonna check on dinner. You kids get dressed, m'kay? This isn't gonna be a dining-in-bed thing." He kisses you again and winks at Tara, then heads for the kitchen. It seems quieter with him gone, though none of you were making much noise beyond sex.

"Hey." You rub her nose, and she wrinkles it but doesn't open her eyes. "Don't sleep. Food, soon."

"Sleepy." She curls closer. You stroke her shoulder gently, emotions washing through you, cloudy and uncertain. You like her. So much. Just not enough, in the right ways.

"Tara—"

"No." She blinks her eyes open and looks at you, a little sad, a little happy. "Don't say anything, JC. Don't say stuff you don't mean."

"I want—" You swallow the words down and sigh. "I wish I could…want it. Want that. Want you." You stroke her hair again and smile a little in response to her smile. "You know what I mean."

"You do want me, honey. And you have what you want from me. We're friends. Good friends. Buddies." The word you use all the time. She kisses you once, then nuzzles the tip of her nose against yours.

"Even if we're not dating."

"Buddies don't date."

"But they fuck?" It's a conversation you've had a hundred times. Maybe more.

"Sure. You've heard the phrase 'fuck buddy'. I know you have." Another kiss. The ones on your nose tickle, a little. "We shop, we fuck, we drive Chris crazy."

"Crazier." The condom makes a wet sound when you slip it off, and you really hope the trashcan is still where you remember it being, when you toss without looking. Tara shakes her head and leans in, smile gentle.

"You're a special guy, JC. Quit trying so hard. Enjoy what we have."

"I do."

"You guilt about it, man. Where's the crazy cat who teases me when we go out?"

You smile at that, a real smile. "He's still around. Just sometimes—"

"Well, knock it off." No nonsense, this time, and you like that a lot about Tara. She doesn't take shit—and she doesn't hesitate to let you know when you're being stupid. Like now.

You flop one hand over your eyes. "I'm whipped, aren't I?"

"Totally." Chris' voice from the doorway mingles with Tara's laugh. You flip them both off with your other hand. "Dinner's ready and y'all are still in bed. Kids today, I swear."

"I'll just be a minute." Tara uncoils herself from you slowly and you miss her heat when the bed dips and she's gone. It dips again a moment later, and Chris settles against you, solid and warm.

"I'm an idiot." You don't turn your head, don't look at him. You know, he knows, she knows.

"Sometimes." He kisses your hand, then your mouth, a slow, easy kiss. "But not this time. You're fine. Just need to stop wishing for things that aren't gonna happen, dude."

"I hate—wanting it, even. I feel like. Dunno, like it's wrong. To you. To us."

Chris shakes his head. "Maybe…if she were someone else. Or if you wanted her instead of me. But—that's not the case, and sometimes…I want what you're wishing for, too. For both of us. But it's not meant to be that. Just—we gotta take what we got and be happy."

"I'm happy with you." And you were. You always would be.

"Ditto." Chris tugs your hand from your eyes and grins. You blink at the spatula in his hand, now waving in front of your face. "Now. Stop moping, get your ass outta bed and in the shower. I'm armed, here, and I'm not afraid to use it."

You laugh as you get off the bed. "You're a complete freak, man."

"And don't you forget it, Chasez."

One last kiss, and his lips are warm, and soft against yours. You pull away and smile. "Never." Your smile turns into a grin when you hear the shower go on. "Race you to the bathroom?"

The spatula hits the bedroom floor for the second time that day.

~fin~