Things Change // One The jet landed at McCarran International Airport and taxied to the gate. Justin stared out the window at the gaudy landscape in the desert. None of the details registered though. His mind was a jumble of confused questions zipping around and through, giving him little peace. It had been like that the whole flight from New York. He had kissed Brit good-bye this afternoon at Kennedy. She was on her way back to the tour and he was headed here–Las Vegas for the Billboards. It had been a great weekend in upstate New York, just the two of them. Well, bodyguards, of course, but still, romantic– the perfect spot to celebrate her birthday. But instead of relaxing and enjoying their time together, he had been fucking jumpy all weekend. She had noticed and called him on it, but he didn't have an answer. Britney, as usual, suspected he was cheating. And again, as usual, he had laughed. What girl was prettier or sexier or more desirable than Brit? The answer was *no* girl. But it wasn't a girl he was thinking about. It was Tim McGraw. He fetched back to the Bahamas trip. Before he could bring his thoughts into focus though, Dre was there with their bags and pointing him toward the limo. He slipped into the back seat, grateful that the teenies were held back behind some barrier, only their screams reaching him. Justin closed his eyes, the raw acid feel churning in his stomach, making him restless. The questions were back. What had actually happened between them in the Bahamas? It felt like a fantasy sometimes. Why did he let it happen? Did he really want that relationship? He sighed. Hell yes, he answered himself. Not only did he want it, he was terrified that Tim didn't. That it had been some kinky little sidelight to his trip, that the older man never gave it a second thought. But, he reminded himself, Tim had said he'd see him here. The thought that Tim had not meant it twisted inside him, torturing him with uncertainty. He hadn't heard from him. No calls, no e-mail, no connection at all since Tim had walked out of his room nearly three weeks ago. As the limo neared the MGM Grand, Justin chewed his nails. Dre led the way and Justin slid out, flinching at the screams but forcing a smile on his face, wishing Tim could witness the mature Justin. He laughed to himself. These last few weeks, he had drawn comments regarding the new and improved Justin Timberlake. Even his mother had called and asked him what was up. It hadn't been easy but he hadn't pulled any prima donna bullshit since those three days. He wanted praise, he wanted love and he wanted to be Daddy's little boy again. He had been shocked to realize how attached he had become in such a brief time together. More shocked still to know that submission turned him on. That his dick loved when Tim told him what to do and how to do it. "Mr. Timberlake," he heard through his fog. That's my father, he thought vaguely. Someone tapped him, pointing at the desk clerk who was holding out a key card. "Uh, thanks," Justin said, still in a daze, accepting the plastic card. Then he turned to see Lance, eying him with a strange look. Justin took a deep breath, fighting for steadiness, instead of the anxiety that was determined to gain the upper hand. "Hey, man, long time no see," Lance said with a laugh. Actually they had seen each other in New York right before the romantic weekend. Justin knew Lance was suspicious, wondering what the hell was up with him. Lance had been watching him, hell, studying him, since the Bahamas. Luckily, their time together had been limited or Justin was sure that "Scoop" would have had it all figured out by now. "Nothin'. How was LA?" Justin asked, his eyes nervously darting, scanning the lobby for any sign of Tim. At that moment, Dre and Lonnie stepped in, ushering the two out of sight of the gaggle of girls who were threatening to surge any minute. Safe in the elevator, Lance answered, "Nothing new. Just another award." He smiled and then got serious. "Jus, what's up? You're a bundle of nerves. The weekend `suck'?" He laughed at his own little joke but stopped when Justin looked more upset than before. Justin forced a laugh, "Get outta here, you sex maniac. The weekend was great. Major romantic moves on my part. Definitely scored points." "So why you acting like a ....," Lance waved his hand, at a loss for the word to describe Justin's behavior. "I'm nervous about the show, tired from the weekend, what else?" Justin snapped and the other three exchanged looks. They finished the trip in silence and went to their own rooms. Justin kicked the door shut and threw himself on the bed. He berated himself for losing control. All the hard lessons learned in the Bahamas were being lost, one by one. Pull it together, he told himself. Control, self-discipline. He heard the words barked out in his head, Tim's voice ringing. He attempted to meditate but gave it up and headed to the shower. Jerking off under the warm water helped and he was able to fall asleep, fantasies about Tim fueling his dreams. Lance stood at the window, staring out but not seeing. His brain was whirring, the pieces falling into place. Justin had been different since the Bahamas, more mature, self-controlled. When Chris had suggested some stupid prank, Justin had squelched it before Lance could. Lance had kept his mouth closed though he had seen other jaws drop in shock. Justin had resisted the bait whenever one of them had teased him, smiling softly and going back to whatever he had been doing without snapping back. It was kind of sad really, Lance thought, the old Justin kind of cute. Then the past week, flashes of the old, not-so-cute Justin appeared. He was jumpy and snappy and basically told them all to fuck off. In some ways it was a relief, but the diva shit wasn't something *anyone* had missed. Lance had questioned him in New York when they were together. He had commented on Justin's conversion and noticed how Justin tensed up. Justin denied the change, but Lance had snorted and, in quick order, clicked off three incidents that said different. Justin had stormed off then, leaving Lance more suspicious than ever. A few hours later, when they met for dinner, the new and improved model was back, apologizing for his behavior. This time, Justin used the excuse that he was nervous about the Billboards. Lance laughed out loud at that, commenting on the fact that they had been there more than once. Then Justin said he was nervous about the upcoming weekend with Brit. That was even more laughable. They were friends *and* lovers and were as comfortable with one another as old shoes. When Lance mentioned that, Justin shrugged and finally said he didn't know what was wrong. They switched the subject then and Lance let it drop. But today, when he saw Justin in the lobby, his suspicions flared again. He had noticed the furtive looks. He was waiting for someone. Who? Not Brit. So who? Tim McGraw flashed through his head and he dismissed it with a snort. Then Laura arrived and dropped hints about what they could do before dinner and he stopped thinking about Justin at all. By dinner, they had all arrived and agreed to time and place after a flurry of calls. At seven, Justin stepped into the hall, dressed for Tim. He was met with a curious look from JC first and then the others. Chris voiced it, "Who you dressed up for, Jus? The fans? Brit ain't here? Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser." Lance watched Justin's embarrassed shrug. "Can't I dress nicely?" Chris started to respond, but Lance put his hand on Chris's arm, shaking his head. Chris hesitated, then said, "We all ready?" Justin was relieved and thanked Lance with his eyes. Lance just nodded. They caught up for most of the meal, like gossipy women, filling each other in on all the small details. Their dates sat and watched, amazed at the closeness. It was easy and fun until Chris got this gleam and turned to Justin, "So how was the *weekend*?" "Fine," Justin answered. "That's it? Just `fine'?" "I ain't telling y'all the details, if that's what you're asking." "Come on. I know if I ask the new Justin politely, he'll answer just as nicely. So–tell us *please*." "Cut it out, Chris," Justin laughed, a tight sound that said he was starting to lose it. "Okay. Well then how about this?" Chris smirked. He saw Justin's shoulders bunch and redoubled his efforts to get a rise out of his friend. "Lance thinks something's up with you." Lance slid down in his seat, shaking his head, sorry that he had ever confided his concerns to Chris. Justin's head whipped around and pinned Lance. Lance grimaced and muttered, "Sorry, Jus." But he couldn't meet Justin's gaze. Justin wanted to strangle Lance and Chris. He sure as shit didn't want Lance's concerns a topic of conversation among the five of them. He sucked in his breath, fighting for the control Tim had taught him. "Let's drop it, okay?" "Nah, man, we want to know where the new Justin came from? And more important, friends, why?" Justin remained silent, hoping Chris would stop on his own. "Alien takeover of the golden one? Or maybe it's true what Dre told Lonnie last week. He said the new Justin was a robot so the real Justin could be off screwing Brit." Justin simmered for less than thirty seconds before lashing out angrily, "Shut the fuck up, you little cocksucker." Chris was undeterred. "Whoa, have I hit a nerve?" Justin was furious, too furious to notice the nosy stares of their fellow diners. He didn't care that Em and Laura were staring at him open-mouthed. He fucking didn't care. His nerves had been strung tight for too long and this had been the last straw. With what little self-control he still possessed, he stood, ready to leave. He turned on his heel and ran smack into Tim, who had arrived just in time to see Justin's little performance. Justin looked at him and saw the disappointment that was edging into anger. Everyone froze, waiting for the scene to play out. They all watched with guarded expressions, shushing Chris who had been enjoying getting a rise out of the younger boy. Tim stood aside and said with a drawl, "Don't let me stop you, boy." Justin's shoulders sagged and all the fight was gone. He bit his lip momentarily before releasing it with a guilty glance at Tim. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll be right back." Tim turned his back on Justin and greeted the others, "Aside from the diva, how are you boys?" Lance stopped listening and stared at Justin's retreating back. He recognized the posture. It was the reprimanded child look. And then it clicked. It *was* Tim. There was something there, at least on Justin's part. He glanced back at Tim who was chatting amiably with the others, no sign that the interaction had meant anything to him. So what the fuck was going on with them? By the time Justin came back, Tim had left, promising to catch up later in the casino. Justin asked where he had gone but didn't pursue it any further when he saw Lance's quizzical frown. Shit, Justin thought, he knows. God, why can't anything be easy? Chris tried to rekindle the blaze, but the new Justin was back and didn't bite. Chris's attention span being what it was, Justin won round two and they all finished up in peace. The group moved toward the casino, splitting off to different games. Lance and Laura, JC and Em headed for the roulette wheel, Joey to play 21 and Chris off to the slots. Justin wandered, ostensibly looking for a way to lose money, but really searching for Tim. He saw him at a craps table and went over, buying some chips and placing them randomly, not even caring about the bet. Justin looked around and made sure none of the others were in sight. He tried to maintain control, but the urge to apologize to Tim was overwhelming. He knew Tim would be livid if he interrupted him. In fact, he knew that Tim was actively ignoring him. The hard-earned lessons though were melting away, his need to see Tim and talk to him stronger by the moment. He got his opportunity when Tim laughed and whispered to one of his friends before heading off to the men's room. Justin waited only a moment before following him, rushing to catch up. He put his hand on Tim's arm and called his name. "Tim, please wait." Tim turned and stood facing Justin. "Tim? You have a short memory, boy." Justin blushed and apologized, his eyes cast down. "I'm sorry, Sir." Tim remained silent. No indication of whether the apology was accepted or not, so Justin plunged on. "Sir, I wanted to explain about what happened before." "Look at me, boy," Tim hissed and Justin looked up to find a stern, angry Tim McGraw. "I have told you before about public displays. Where is the control you learned? It was less than *three* weeks ago, Justin." "I'm... sorry..., Sir," Justin stammered. He wanted to cry in frustration. He had done nothing right yet and he was afraid he was running out of chances. "Go upstairs and wait for me. I'll come to your room. What's the number?" "1210, Sir." "Go," Tim said tersely and walked away. Justin headed for the elevators, Dre following discreetly. Once Justin was safe in his room, Dre left, heading back down to join the others. Justin lay down, replaying the entire evening and dreading the consequences. Terrific, he snorted. Tim never saw one bit of his self-disciplined behavior, only his shit tonight. It wasn't fucking fair. He waited, glancing at the bedside clock every few minutes. An hour went by and Tim still hadn't appeared. Maybe he should go back down, pretend he needed to be there for some reason. Check out what Tim was doing. You idiot, he told himself, that would be the last straw. You'd never see him again. He would cut you so dead. Instead he thought hard about what he could do to earn Tim's forgiveness, how he could make Tim happy. He went into the shower again, wanting to wash off the smell of fucking up. His dick was hard just thinking about Tim. But he wanted praise so he held back, not touching himself at all, even though his dick was screaming for attention. He shifted his focus to clothes. Yes or no. He wasn't sure it would please Tim to have him answer the door naked with his cock totally erect. He ran his hands over the still smooth skin. He had continued to shave, enjoying the silky feel. It had been a little awkward with Brit, but she accepted his lame explanation, enjoying it herself. The knock jolted him out of his reverie. He guessed the question was answered as wrapped the towel around his waist. It barely covered his dick and certainly left little to the imagination. Justin hoped that Tim would be flattered. He swung the door open and froze in shock to see Lance there. He remained in the doorway when Lance spoke. "Hey man, I was wondering where you disappeared to. What's up?" Justin still didn't move aside to let the other man in and Lance frowned, "You gonna stand here half-naked while we talk?" "Listen, Lance, I'm tired. Can we talk another time?" Lance looked Justin up and down, figuring that sleep would not be the next thing on Justin's agenda, his erect cock really obvious. He stared at the younger man intently, watching the nervous movements: chewing his nails, jiggling his leg, swinging the door back and forth. Before he could say anything else, Justin had pushed him out into the hall. With a hurried promise of later, the door was closed in his face. As he stood staring at the white expanse, he heard the sound of the elevator arriving and was not shocked to see Tim step out and head toward him. As he waited, he wondered yet again what was up between them. Tim smiled pleasantly, showing none of the weirdness that was so apparent with Justin. "Hey, Lance, fancy meeting you here." Tim used his years of self-control to hide his dismay at finding Lance outside Justin's door. It was clear from his expression that he suspected something; it was up to Tim to keep him from finding out. "Is Justin still up?" Tim asked, not hiding the fact that he was visiting him. "Yes, I'm sure he is," Lance replied. "Oh, in fact, I know he is. I just saw it, er, him." Ignoring the innuendo, Tim just smiled and knocked. Justin must have been waiting because the door opened immediately and Tim went in without a backward look. Again, Lance was left pondering the situation. It was brief though, since Laura would send out a search party if he was too delayed. Before the door had closed completely, Justin had assumed the position Tim had taught him. Hands behind his back, legs spread wide, head down, eyes on the floor. Tim was inordinately pleased that his boy had remembered and was so anxious to please. Tim studied that beautiful young body, all muscle and sinew. His boxers were tented with the erection that Lance had noticed. He felt his own dick respond to Justin but needed to deal with the issue at hand first. He got in Justin's face and tilted the boy's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. "What the hell were you thinking of downstairs? Anyone could have seen us. As it is, Lance is suspicious." Justin wanted to bite his lip but resisted, letting Tim see the tremble instead. He wasn't sure which was worse. Justin's head dropped again as Tim went on for a few more sentences. He tore into him about the incident at the table, choice words aimed at Justin's self-esteem, each hitting the mark. He saw the boy flinch but continued the assault, determined to remind him of the lessons he had learned. Tim wound down, leaving Justin feeling battered. He wanted to explain but wasn't sure Tim would listen. When Tim fell silent, Justin whispered, "Can I explain, Daddy?" "Yes," he answered curtly. Justin swallowed hard and began. "I really have been trying hard. Everybody's noticed. It's just that I got nervous knowing I was going to see you and, well, Chris was teasing me at dinner and...." "You lost control. You acted like a child. You embarrassed yourself and your friends. You cursed in front of the women." Justin felt the hurt in his chest, the pain of the mocking tone. Tim had just discounted all of his efforts. "I really tried, Daddy. I've really been working hard. Please. Don't be angry." Tim heard the plea and softened. "I know, boy, I know you've been trying." He ran his fingers through Justin's soft curls and heard the sweet sigh. What he was going to say next would hurt Justin more. He met Justin's gaze once again and said quietly, "I can't do this anymore." Justin's head snapped up. "Please don't leave me. I'll do anything. Please," he cried. "You need someone who will be there for you all the time, who can correct you right away, not just every few weeks or months. The new baby is going to take up a lot of my time. I just can't do it, Justin." "Please, I'll be a good boy. You won't need to correct me so often, Daddy," Justin said, the tears welling up until you could hear them in his voice. "No crying, Justin," Tim snapped. "Time to be a man. And none of that pouty shit either. Understand?" "Yes, Daddy," Justin replied, forcing the sadness back. Tim watched him, sorry that he had to be such a hard-ass but wanting Justin to demonstrate the self-control that was the sign of a mature man. Tim leaned into Justin, feeling the soft breath. "Close your eyes, baby." The dark blue eyes, so full of misery now, were shuttered. Tim was glad, unwilling to see the pain. Lips touched sweet lips and Justin's opened beneath the request, letting the older man in. Tim's probing brought a gasp from Justin before he responded, tasting Tim with his own tongue, swaying on his feet in response to the delicious sensation. His head was swimming with delight, focusing on the moment. Tim, on the other hand, recognized the bittersweet quality of the exchange. Their first and last real kisses. He clawed for self- control himself as this gorgeous child sent him reeling to the edge. He pulled away, not responding to Justin's whimper of protest. "Ssh," Tim whispered, pulling the boy toward the bed. He backed Justin against the bed and pulled his boxers off, marveling at the erect dick that was begging for lips – lips that he would not give. Instead, he said softly, "Lie down, Justin." He watched Justin tense for his leaving, straining toward the touch that was no longer there. But he kept his eyes closed and his hands by his sides. Tim smiled proudly as he undressed. "Scoot over, Justin." The sharp intake of breath betrayed Justin's shock and he moved over immediately, wriggling like a puppy, anxious to be petted. Tim hovered over him, listening to the erratic breaths that signaled Justin's arousal. "No sound, baby. Okay?" Justin nodded and merely stiffened when Tim grabbed his dick and held it firmly. He let go for a few seconds to spit on his hand and then grabbed Justin's cock again, smoothly moving up and down. Tim blew softly into Justin's ear, synchronized with the rhythm of nature, his hand in perfect time on Justin's cock. Unfortunately for Justin, the emotion of the night, the anticipation of seeing Tim, and the anxiety of waiting served to make it a short trip to paradise. He came in huge spurts, covering Tim's hand and his own stomach with the results of his orgasm. He managed no sound and Tim was impressed. He knew how controlled, how well-behaved Justin could be with the right teacher, the one who would see and correct, the one who would reward. He sighed, sad that it couldn't be him. Spooned together for this one night, Justin's tears dripped quietly down his face. Tim felt the slight shaking and ignored it, knowing Justin needed the release. His own sadness filled him as he pulled his boy closer and sniffed the soft curls, the clean scent that he would miss. It was late before they fell asleep and early when Tim slipped out of the warm bed and went back to his own room. [ things change two ] [ things change menu ] |