mickeym | [ Late Night Repeat

[ Late Night Repeat ] - Chris/JC. NC17.

Short and porny. No sign of plot anywhere. Completely

withdiamonds' fault, because she mentioned this, and my brain ran with it.

It's the middle of the night and he's awake.

Not even just fuzzy awake, though that came first, with the re-awareness of warmth beside him, a sturdy, solid body curling close to his.

Nope, this was eyes wide, body humming, everything online awake.

It might've been the dream he'd had. A dream of the reality of the evening before, hot kisses and electric touches, and losing himself in the colors and sounds and tastes of sex; of sex with Chris.

A quick skim of his hand down his body, and oh, yeah. That's good, a sweet, throbbing ache between his legs, heat pulsing through his body with each beat of his heart. JC rolls over and runs his hand down the length of Chris' back, nuzzles at the nape of his neck and smiles when Chris shivers faintly in his sleep. "Sexy man," he whispers onto sweaty skin, tongue darting out to taste the salt there.

He slips his hand lower, fingers skating down in between Chris' cheeks. Chris mumbles something in a sleep-heavy voice and shifts, just a little, opening his legs. JC grins and touches lower, runs his fingers over the slick, loosened muscle. When he presses in, gently, Chris shivers again.

He's hot inside, and slick, and JC pushes deeper, feeling no resistance at all. No surprise; he fucked Chris twice last night before they were both sated, bodies wet with sweat and lube, lax with pleasure. Two fingers go in easily, and JC's fingering him, fucking him slowly, watching Chris shift and press back against him. He marvels at how open he is, how ready, even now, still mostly asleep.

There're condoms in the night table; always a full box and then some, and JC doesn't have to try hard to find one. He regrets needing both hands though, and Chris whimpers softly when he removes his fingers. "C—"

His voice is hoarse, husky with sleep, and it makes JC shiver intently at the longing there.

"Gonna fuck you good," he whispers, mouth pressed against hot skin. "Feel so good, Chris." He bites, gently, then harder, and Chris moans into the pillow.

They shift around, now that Chris is mostly awake. He draws his legs up under himself, and JC moves into place, cock throbbing before him, a mind of its own. He runs a finger over Chris once more, hears him groan at the tease, just a fingertip pressed inside quickly. It's really fucking hot, sex like this, when Chris is already opened up, slick and ready from earlier fucking. He fists himself once then presses forward, growling when Chris pushes back, sheathing him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's hot, and clenching tight, and JC wants to lose himself in him. In this. He wants it slow and hot and long, wants Chris trembling and begging beneath him. Wants to beg, himself.

It's hard to go slow even when he wants to. His body is greedy for it, for the sensation. Greedy for Chris. JC loves the way they fit together so well, his hands on Chris' hips, holding him for fast, intense thrusts, then for slower strokes, slipping up to lay over Chris, their fingers sliding together.

He's hot and sweaty, eyes burning from stray droplets, and he shakes his hair back before licking down Chris' spine, sweatslick skin prickling beneath his tongue. Chris mumbles something, shudders and pushes back against him, against the friction. JC bites where he licked when he realizes Chris has one hand beneath himself, working his dick.

"Fuck, C—" Chris' voice is hoarse, needy. "Give it…want it harder, please—"

He pulls up again, angling for faster, harder, deeper, blood pounding through him. If he closes his eyes it swirls around him, flashes of silver and black dotted with red, streaks of white lightning slashing through it all. And all around him is hot. So hot. Electricity burning him, rippling along his nerves. Chris jerks himself faster, and JC feels each stroke when Chris clenches, relaxes. He wants to kiss, lick, bite, wants to ride Chris until they can't move any more—

It's powerful, the tide rising over him, whitehot and bright, and he strains against it then gives in, letting it wash him away. JC hears himself shout, feels the pressure and pleasure coil hotly then release, and he thrusts over and over into Chris, feels him shake beneath him as he comes inside him in thick, hot spasms. He's still quivering when Chris comes, body too-tight but ohgoddon'tletgoever, holding him in and squeezing him, and JC comes again, just a little, more aftershocks that make him shudder and gasp into Chris' skin.

Afterward they lay together, still panting softly, limbs twitching and quivering from exertion, exhaustion, maybe still a little need. JC hates missing so much time with Chris – the perils of having his very own solo album to promote – but he's glad too for the absences which make their time together so incredible, which make him never take this, or Chris, for granted.

"You're something, Chasez," Chris mutters against him, nose bumping against JC's neck. "Fuck me senseless last night, and wake me up in the middle of the night for more."

"You complain'?" He strokes over Chris' skin, liking the way his fingertips slip over the slickness. "Didn't sound much like complaining to me."

"Like I would complain about that." Chris' voice is faint, sleep-heavy. JC smiles. He's sleepy too. Again. "Gonna do it again?"

"In the morning," he says softly around a yawn. "Sleeping now."

Chris hums an agreement, going heavy and relaxed against JC. He smiles and yawns again, lets his hand rest against Chris' ass as he drifts. After all, that's how the last dream started; he may as well get a head start on the next one.

~fin~

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