// HEY YOU! // You don’t wanna like him--hell you don’t like him. He’s crude and uncultured, burps way too much and he has a kid. Okay so you love him. You’re not exactly sure why, or when. But somewhere along the line, Joey Fatone crawled into your veins and he’s been making you insane ever since. It could have been when he got hurt during rehearsals because he howled in pain--and one thing Joey *never* did was howl--unless he was having sex. (Then of course he shook the pictures off the walls.) But pain he tolerated better than anyone you’d ever seen. You tried to let him know how you felt by running to his hotel after the POP video shoot with a Brooklyn Pizza--specially made by a local pizzeria--just for him. You even sat through five episodes of the Super Friends with him while he lay on the bed with sedated brown eyes that flashed with pain every so often. “I love you man,” he whimpered whenever the hurt got too much. All you could do was smile and fluff his pillow, hand him some water and another painkiller, then watch him doze in and out of a medicated slumber. But you stayed, all night long, watching vigilantly, jumping up every hour or so with his flinches of pain. You stayed right in bed beside him so you could hear him breath--and feel his every movement. Just in case. Or maybe it was during the premiere of On The Line when you went to wish him luck beforehand and he was shaking--guzzling Mylanta with a petrified look on his face. “You gonna be alright?” you asked him in his hotel room. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and you saw something in his face you’d never seen before. Honest to God fright. Joey was the strongest person you knew, but after that night, yeah, you realized that something else hid beneath that exterior. Some vulnerability that made you want to explore him His eyes, you decided, didn’t help matter any. The guy had *the* sexiest bedroom eyes, droopy and seductive on levels that made your stomach curl with just one glance. It didn’t warrant any further ‘how’s’ or ‘when’s’ though because it would only lead to heart break--not to mention the complications of crushing on a ’brother’-- and you would rather stick hot peppers in your eyes than deal with *that*. It was obvious he hadn’t caught on to how you felt so, no, loving Joey would just have to live in some dream world where it would work without consequence. *************** “You wanna come with?” Joey asks you, running his large hand over the small of your back. “Lance and I are going for some eats.” You’re in Orlando, preparing for the Olympics, staying at Lance’s house--trying not to imagine that large hand running over your naked stomach during some hedonistic bedroom romp. So far, Lance and Joey have pretty much ignored you, far too busy with chatter of Hollywood and movies--celebrities you don’t give two shits about schmoozing with--but to them, it’s the world. A new life they lead with passion. For Joey to invite you to lunch makes you feel special. Really special, and you think maybe he’s getting the drift here because, well, his hand is still on your back making these warm little circles that make you squirm. You do want to go, badly, so you nod and avoid the smirk Lance is shooting you because the smart ass looks you can do without. It’s not like Lance knows anything--you hope. He’s got that twinkle, though, and you don’t like that. “Whatcha feel like C?” Joey asks. You feel his gaze on you and it makes you fidget. Choices are limited, you know,--ignore the way he makes your stomach lurch--or hit on him and see what happens. It is Joey, you think, and well, Joey likes to be hit on. And maybe you *need* be that obvious for him to see you. Really see you. See you enough to want to rip your clothes off and hop into bed. Lance laughs from behind you and want to smack him because he’s just an evil person. He knows. You know he knows. It’s that deep amused chuckle that ends in a high pitch--the one he lets loose when he knows he has someone. You turn and glare at him and he’s standing there with his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Oh, he fucking knows. “I’m not so hungry,” you say, stopping in your tracks hesitantly. “I’ll catch up with you guys later okay?” Joey grabs your arm and looks at you. “You sure? We can go to that cool Sushi place you like.” “I ain’t eating Sushi,” Lance says. “Shut up,” Joey laughs. “If he wants Sushi, we’ll go there.” For a second you stop trying to get away and tilt your head. The sun beats down and you shade your eyes. He’s being nice and you realize that‘s his way, like maybe he realized that they‘ve been excluding you over the few days you‘ve been there. There’s something comforting about Joey-- something warm and kind that you want. Then he smiles and grabs you by the back of the neck, dragging you down the street. “Stop being all moody and come eat some sushi boy!” It almost offends you except he’s got you tucked under his arm and he smells like really good--like cinnamon or some shit. Lance runs by and slaps your ass. “You’re fucking going. Joey’s, uh, firm like that!” He’s jogging across the street before you can ring his neck. Joey lets you go, ruffling your hair like you’re a kid, and suddenly you’re back in the “I don’t know” circle. He’s pushing the button to cross the street and you take a deep breath, hoping you can make it through the rest of the day. ************ Lance isn’t letting up. He grabs you back at his house and drags you into his room. “You got a crush?” he asks, tossing his shirt over his head. You hate that look in his eyes, so smug. Too smug. “Lance, have you been eating those funny mushrooms again because...” The looks he shoots you is priceless, and you think maybe you got one in on him. He lets out a lackluster, “Ha, ha,” which makes you laugh, and steps out of his pants. “I’m just asking,” he says. “Nothing to be ashamed of if you do.” “If I do what?” you ask, hoping to sound nonchalant. “Have a crush,” Lance sighs. “On Joey. He’s very, um, crushable.” He scratches his nose and chuckles into his hand a little which makes you think perhaps Lance is worthy of helping you. Maybe. “Why do you say it like that?” you press, because if you’re doing to enlist the help of  “They Sly One” it’s imperative to find out where he stands. Lance sheds his boxers and knots a towel around his waist. “Well, I guess I’ve sort of been there,” he admits before sweeping into the bathroom. “Gimme five and we’ll talk about it.” The next thing you hear is the shower running and Lance’s deep voice rumbling some tune you can’t place. For a moment, you get excited at the prospect of being able to get your feelings out in the open. And when you’re lips twitch, you bite back a smile because you’re still afraid. ****************** It’s not easy with your heart fluttering inside your chest and the roar of the crowd humming in your ear. The Olympics are supposed to be sacred, right? Lance is nudging you and grinning because he knows what you‘re thinking. Hell, he helped you plot and plan for the past two weeks and now it’s here. He’s given you the in’s and out’s of Joey--that extra bit of insight he thinks you might need to nab him. The time, the place. The impending seduction of one Joey Fatone. Joey is shifting from foot to foot and you’re glad Brianna isn’t in Salt Lake City because then you would have to battle guilt. And that’s not something you deal with well anyway. “Fucking Olympics,” Joey grins before he grabs you into his arms. He hugs and you want to curl up inside him. His breath tickles your ear and he smells like the pizza and beer you all had for dinner. You think about the dessert you plan to spring on him after the show, when the parties are over, and you’re back at the hotel. And you hope Lance remembered to pick everything up. Lance’s hand is on the back of your pants, dragging you out of the embrace. You debate swatting him away but he’s smiling and hauling you back pretty firmly. “It’s set,” he whispers with that glitter in his eyes--and you’re glad he’s ‘The Sly One‘. “All you have to do is get him back to your room. Get him back there and you‘re home free.” “That’s what you keep saying,” you moan uncertainly. “He’s my best friend, man. I’m not fixin’ to steer you wrong.” He smiles that goofy smile of his, the one every fan knows, the one every magazine captures--the one that makes you feel no more settled. “Stop looking at me like that,” you snap as Justin runs past you for the bathroom. “Hey,” Lance says, yanking his pants up, “I’m just being supportive.” He chuckles and turns away leaving you standing there with a blank look. You weren’t sure you could pull it off--and when Joey brushes past you, he pauses to squeeze your arms and shake you excitedly before rushing off. And the feel of his fingers around your biceps stays with you throughout the concert--the rush of the crowd pales in comparison to the adrenalin rush you get from Joey’s energy. It’s forcing it’s way into you without consent and soon you’re singing with more feeling than you’ve had in forever. Justin’s looking at you like you’ve lost your mind and Chris takes a poke at you when he slides past you onstage. You don’t care though, because Lance is nodding as he dances, and you trust him. You trust in his friendship with Joey. You trust that everything you’ve spilled to him will pay off. Until he whispers into Joey’s ear after the show while he’s looking at you. “Uh oh,” you whimper, wiping the sweat from your neck with a towel. “What-o?” Chris asks. “Nothing,” you reply because there’s no need to share your pending humiliation with anyone else. It’s too late to back down so you trail Chris to the busses to start your journey. ************* The parties make you crazy. You drink, probably too much, and soon a warm buzz is curling through your veins. Press questions you and requests photos ops with the rest of the guys. You oblige, careful to position yourself next to Joey. He smells all fresh and clean from showering and you almost get caught sniffing his neck. Luckily, Lance shoves you off center before anyone can capture the obvious. Joey seems happy, you think, because he’s laughing and talking to everyone but he’s got one eye on you. Even though you’re mostly alone, in the corner of the room, sipping your drink slowly. Still, he manages to catch your eye and grin. You think maybe Lance told him something by the looks he’s giving you. Another drink, and you really give two fucks less. It’s time. “Joey,” you say, tapping him on the arm. He turns and tilts his head, pausing to take a long swallow of his beer. You imagine those lips wrapped around your cock instead of that beer bottle and suddenly, you’re flush. “You okay man?” he chuckles, dangling the bottle between his fingers. “You’re like all red. Feel alright?” It’s easy with so much alcohol in you to play the card--the ‘friend in need’ card. “I uh...” From the corner of your eye you spot Lance urging you on with a big old thumbs up. Like he could be any more noticeable. Clutching your stomach seems about right since it’s rolling with nerves. “Woah. You need to lie down?” The cage door snaps shut and you force yourself not to smile. “Maybe. Hotel. My hotel room.” Joey is thoughtful, and protective, so he downs the rest of his beer, burps and smiles. “Say no more. I’m on it.” His arm is around you and soon the chilly Utah air coils into your lungs. You think you love him even more when he brushes the hair from your forehead and presses his cheek up against it. “No fever,” he says lowly. Yeah, you know you love him now. It isn’t long before you’re back at the hotel and he’s digging through your pockets for a room card. If he notices the erection that’s sitting between your legs, he doesn’t mention it. Even after his finger grazes the tip of it during the search. You bite your lip to keep from moaning--bite it hard. Once inside the room, you pull yourself up. Lance, it seems, scented the room with some food like scent. Pumpkin pie you think. “You alright?” Joey asks, bending down to unlace your shoes. “Need some coffee or anything?” One hand curls around your calf and you shiver. “I’m better,” you murmur, dropping your hand to his hair. It’s still kind of short and tickles the palm of your hand. One finger slides down his scalp to his cheek and he blinks up at you. You aren’t good at coy so you smile and lick your lips. And pray that he’s getting the drift this time. “C? What’s going on here?” His brown eyes are dark and his hand rubs your calf insistently. Hope flutters in your chest because you think he’s getting it. Reaching for his hands, you pull him up and take a breath before leaning in. “I want you,” you whisper, twining your fingers with his. “Jesus, I just...really want you.” His face is blurry before yours, a mess of facial hair and a nose pinked from the cold. But his eyes flicker in yours and your blood jumps with desire. It’s a go, you think, and rub your lips against his... ...waiting for reaction. Praying as your head thumps mercilessly that he’ll take it. He crashes back against the wall, taking you with him--pulling you to his body instantly. His hands unlock from yours and wrap around your waist. For one delicious second, you get swept away. Confidence reigns over you and you let your lips press against his. His mouth moves faster than you can comprehend--mumbling something that isn’t connecting--then he pushes you back calmly. Confused brown eyes search yours, pleading. “JC? This ain’t right man. It’s not...” You don’t let up even though your heart is rocketing around like a ping pong ball. There’s a blush across your cheeks and you take his hand again. “Come here,” you whisper, leading him into the bedroom. The lights are fixed on low, casting a glow into the room. Lance took care of the nightstand, you notice in horror, with a big old box of condoms. A bucket of ice with Stoli is chilling there too and you hope you can get there before Joey notices ... “Condoms?” Joey chokes. “What are you planning?” It’s nervous teasing, you realize, and you know it’s too late. So you slump on the bed and cradle your head in your hands. “Shit! Shit! This isn’t...I mean, not what it was supposed to be and...” You can’t seem to force words out. It’s not like you just want to fuck Joey and be done with it. That’s not what it’s about. So much for seduction. One of his hands lands on your shoulder--his other cups your chin and draws it up when he sits beside you. “Then what’s this about, C? Talk to me alright?” “I don’t wanna talk,” you whisper. “I want to stop talking and thinking and just kiss you again.” There’s a silence you assume is awkward, and you tense, prepared to bolt. But Joey just sighs and drops his hand to your leg. “Then kiss me,” he says quietly. You can’t ignore the bubbles that rise inside your chest, or his hand which seems to be traveling up your leg leisurely. So you lean in and press against his lips again and this time his tongue meets yours. Joey exhales into your mouth and you relax even more. He grabs you and tugs you onto his lap, cradling your ass in his hands. You part your legs, wrapping them around him. His hands dive under your shirt, running along your spine and you push him back onto the bed. There’s so much you want to say, but he’s nibbling on your lower lip and making these rumbly noises that turn you on. You want all of him at once--it’s been a long time coming. You sit up, dragging your lips away from his. The blues of your eyes are nearly black when you stare down at him. He folds his arms behind his head and smiles. One by one, you undo the buttons of his shirt, bending to kiss his chest with each inch exposed. His hands are on you, in your hair, tugging and twisting the strands impatiently. You push his shirt open, revealing his stomach. Glancing up you discover his eyes shut, and watch as his head lolls to the side. He’s more beautiful than you imagined and there’s nothing you don’t want to do to him. So you slide down, pressing your nose against his skin. You dip your tongue into his belly button and he hisses. It surprises you and you wiggle a little. Because your cock is begging against your jeans--straining to come out. Your chin grazes against his belt and you can feel hardness touching your chest. Joey’s hard for you--under you--from your touch. It renews your confidence and you pluck his button flies apart, letting your fingers dance over each one. Joey’s hips are rocking, thrusting in diminutive little motions toward you. His hands drop to his stomach and you blink up. His head is craned up and he’s watching you with a drop dead expression--like he can’t believe this. “You okay?” you murmur. He nods and throws his head back down, lifting his hips when your thumbs hook under the denim. You draw them down, taking his boxers as well, and discard them uncaringly to the floor. You struggle to stand because Joey is naked on your bed, and hard, and wanting you to love him which is a high you can’t even grasp. He’s brawny and tough and you almost feel inadequate standing between his legs with your knees pressed against the mattress. Your hands are fumbling with your shirt and you laugh to expend nervous energies that seem to surface every so often. Joey sits up and buries his face in your stomach. His hands slide down the back of your thighs and up again while his nose nuzzles the hem of your shirt, searching for your skin. When he makes contact, you almost collapse into him. His mouth his hot on your flesh, his tongue lapping in tiny circles just under your belly button, making the trail of hair damp. Joey’s name spills from your mouth and you lean forward. He drops your pants in seconds, expertly, and soon you’re naked from the waist down. “You sure?” he rumbles, gripping your hips in his hands. “You really sure?” Your cock is bobbing against his cheek and you manage to squeak out a yes. Somewhere along the line you lost control--you wanted this to be about him. And now his lips are wrapped around you and the world is slanting sending you into a tailspin. Joey’s mouth is sinful, warm and wet, and his facial hair tickles your thighs with each suck. You want to touch him--lie beside him and explore. “Joey,” you moan, running your hands around the back of his neck because dammit, you want to just spend eternity thrusting in and out of that mouth. But then you can’t do this right. “Mmhmm?” he vibrates and your knees give out. He releases you and you topple to the bed in a quivering mass. You roll onto your back and close your eyes to regain composure. Joey’s hands are on you again, before you can manage to regain anything, running along your arm. His touch is so tender but so sturdy it makes you crave him--fortifies the choice you made. When you finally force your eyes to open, you take his hand from your wrist and bring it to your lips. Rolling to your side, you ease him to his back, ready to take him on a trip. Because it was you, not he, who started the journey--and it was you, not he, who planned and worried. So you wanted it to be you to make him scream and roar and come in a fit of unbridled desire. Or something like that. You lick the inside of his wrist, dragging your tongue along his arm. At the crook of his elbow, you suck his flesh, nibbling gently. He shivers under your touch and you rest your hand just under his belly button, pressing your palm into his flesh lightly. It’s easy to lick him, you think, as your tongue dances up to his shoulder and down along his ribs. Your hand leaves his stomach and reaches for the bucket of ice. Plucking a cube, you scoot down a little and trail it along his leg. When you blow on the wet skin, he moans and gooseflesh prickles along his skin. He’s moaning your name and it’s like music to you--a sweet symphony that makes you want to sob because it’s real. He’s real. You pop the cube into your mouth and run your lips over his inner thigh. Joey is quivering, twitching and reaching out for you blindly. His hands find your head and he guides you over his cock. “Please?” he begs. “Oh God, please?” It’s muffled but it’s there--a request you can fulfill--a request you want to fulfill. Carefully, you wrap your hands around the base of his cock, then rub the tip of him over your lips. Snaking your tongue out, you lick around the head, then swoop down. He howls, just like you imagined he would, and you swallow him with easily. His hands rip at your hair and you go down again--and again. He finally drags you up his body and flips you over. His mouth crushes against yours and you can feel his breath, jagged and tattered, seeping into you. Joey takes possession of your lips and  pins your arms over your head. He sucks your tongue and you sigh beneath him. His leg is between yours and your cock is rubbing against his thigh. There isn’t a way to control your hips from thrusting, or your body from rocking, or your orgasm from stopping. He kisses you through your moans--through your pathetic attempt at warning him--through your body shaking. You think your heart will explode with each push against his thigh you take but it doesn’t. You grunt and your eyes fly open. Joey pulls his head up and stares down at you. “Come, JC. Come right now.” The teeth in your mouth mash together and your eyebrows knot--the room stops moving and all that you see is this incredible man over you--all you feel his flesh against yours--all you want it to come while you stare into his eyes. And you do--your back arches and your toes curl--and he’s nodding, kissing your cheek and neck, murmuring sweetly into your sweaty flesh. It’s an explosion that rips you apart and you lie there for several minutes afterward trying to regain breath. Joey releases your hands and rolls off you onto his side. His hand cover your heart and he kisses your shoulder. The mind you thought you had was off somewhere enjoying it’s spin and you want him to make love to you--to fuck you and make it all right. Because then you know he won’t leave. Then you know you’ll wake up with him. So you take a breath and call for your mind to come back. His fingers trace your lips and you shiver under the delicate feeling. He chuckles a little which makes you turn toward him. “I want you to...” Suddenly you’re hesitant, and not sure how to say it. Fuck seems too crude but making love seems too sticky. “..to..” You’re drowning and you can feel his erection pressing against you. “You can...” You look away toward the condoms, then back at him. “Why me?” he asks suddenly--and you meet his gaze. You see that tender soul peeking out, the one he hides most of the time. “What?” you ask, not sure what to say. “Joey what do you mean why you?” He shrugs and moves closer. “Why’d you pick me? I’m just curious.” “Fuck, Joey,” you say and when he tries to drop his hand from your lips, you grab his wrist and suck on his fingers. “Because,” you mumble lowly. “You have these fuck me eyes.” He laughs a little until you reach down and take his cock in your other hand. “And,” you continue, swirling your tongue around his thumb. “You’re beautiful.” He doesn’t laugh this time--you think he’s touched. Emotions churn through the brown of his eye and he blinks a few times like he can’t believe you said that. You sit up and reach for the box of condoms, rip it open and stare at him with wild eyes. “I would really like if you and your beautiful self would fuck me now.” It’s the only thing you can think that balances the line between sexy and sweet. Before he can nod, you roll the condom over his cock and crawl up to kiss him. “I ain’t taking no so...” Joey wraps his hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you down into a kiss. It’s a blur of movements, a roll onto your back and a face that smiles at you. Hands that roam over your body and lips that kiss your neck. A tongue that tangles with yours and hardness that presses against you. There are no words, only looks of desire that meet you. The muscles in his arms bulge as he hovers over you and you lick your lips, ready to dance. Joey is tender, far more gentle than you need him to be. His eyes are concerned for you and he questions with expression. You nod and shimmy against him for deeper thrusts. He’s feral after a while and you decide you love the way sweat beads at his temples. You down and touch yourself, close your eyes and stroke yourself in time with his thrusts. Soon he’s breathing changes and his eyes roll a little. You close your eyes and let it go--let the connection happen. Let the plans fall into their well deserved place. ************** After a cat nap, you sit across from him and share the Mississippi Mud Pie Lance has so generously ordered and sent up via room service for the occasion. “Lance?” Joey asks, taking another spoonful. “Lance,” you laugh. “He knew?” Joey reaches over and wipes a stray piece of dessert from your lips and you kiss his finger. “Apparently he picks up on this shit. He’s a pain in the ass about it.” Joey mulls this over and leans back. “I wouldn’t have guessed, JC,” he admits finally. “I mean, had this not happened.” His hands fold behind his head and he’s studying you in the glower of the room. “I figured that,” you chuckle, putting the dessert down. “I didn't know what else to do. I’m not like the obvious type.” Seriousness creeps into your voice as you think of pining for Joey--months of wanting him--debates you held inside your head--warnings you heeded for far too long. “Whatever you do, C,” he says, reaching over to hug you. “Don’t ever change.” His arms surround you and you curl into him. “Because shit, this is gonna be a helluva ride here.” A warm feeling spreads through you and you smile against his cheek. “I’m glad,” you say. “Really glad.”  | back | | feedback |