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.


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