grooves

by julia

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First off, this is a sequel to "everyone knows everyone".

Shireen's beta kicks ass. Thank you baby! Thanks also to porny R&B to which I am forever indebted.

*

The beep from his two way startled Justin from where he dozed in the depths of his mother's couch. It wasn't where he had grown up but coming back to this house in Memphis for a couple of days, feeling the length and breadth of his family around him, always brought him a deeper sleep.

But he awoke, and ran a hand through the beginnings of curls. Alright, alright, give me a second. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the offending pager, flipping the thing open so it wouldn't wake up his whole family. Especially his mom who couldn't bear to wake him up and send him to his bed, sprawled across the couch like the gangly teenager he once was. Justin shook his head to wake himself, and peered into the blue light of the screen.

"3:25, 4-25-02
In town, dirty. Hit me on my cell."

He glanced around at the house, the curtained windows, the solid chestnut furniture. The lateness became crisp and quiet as the buzz of sleep faded. Justin's breathing quickened. He picked up the cordless from the desk next to him and tried not to think about how easily the memorized numbers came into focus. One ring, then the slight static of the cell connection.

Justin wasn't sure what to say. "Hey man. It's me," he began. It seemed stupid, on second thought, to assume that Nelly would recognize his voice, but-

"I heard you were in Memphis, kid. So'm I." His voice was gravel and smoke. A pause, awkwardness and breathing. "Yeah, so. I wanted to see you."

Justin didn't know how to answer beyond "Okay," but Nelly seemed disgruntled by his own honesty and stumbled over an invitation to his hotel room. The same hotel where the guys were staying tonight before the show. The same fucking floor, where they apparently stuck all VIPs so that their late and wild nights would not disturb the denizens of corporate middle America. Justin told Nelly twenty minutes and hung up, shoving his easy acceptance of the invitation to the back of his mind. He looked down at himself, unsatisfied with an old basketball youth league t-shirt that had been three sizes too big ten years ago, but no longer, stretching satisfactorily across his chest and shoulders, and track pants.

He picked up the phone and dialed the first number that came to mind, however ill advised. JC wasn't one to curse, out of the blue, but interrupted sleep was predictably the one thing that did him in.

"Hey, C"

"Fuck you man, just fuck," JC mumbled into the phone. It had taken three rings but JC had picked up. Justin knew that JC recognized there was only one reason he would call at three in the morning with such a note of lusty hope in his voice. Once JC had said that to him, just that, "lusty hope," and Justin had laughed for a minute before he quieted, glad JC had found such a propitious route around the phrase "booty call."

"JC, I was thinking maybe you could-"

"Justin," JC continued, carefully, because this was one of those times when patience was just not on his side. "Would you please just spritz some of that Dolce stuff I lent you last week all over your, like, areas or something and shut the fuck up?"

"But-"

"I promise it smelled sexy on you," JC continued in a measured tone, curt but sincere.

"I know but listen! Jayceeee." Sometimes a little of the patented Timberlake whine was of absolute necessity. "Listen."

"Yes?"

"Remember that shirt you liked when we went shopping in New York?"

"Um."

"With the, the rhinestones, and the silk and-" Justin winced as he spoke, remembering the shirt's clash and sparkle.

"Uh huh." JC paused, considering. "Where are you going with this, Justin?"

"Remember how it was, well, really expensive? I could, you know. Get it for you by next week." A longer pause.

A hint of interest crept into JC's voice. "Justin?"

"Yeah?"

"The matching scarf?" There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Everyone knew Justin was relatively liberal with his money, but this ensemble had been particularly hideous. His voice may have cracked when he assented, but JC probably wouldn't remember and was already rambling on about the advantages and disadvantages of leather pants on a moist April night in Memphis.

Justin was already late by the time he headed out the door in a black sweater and undershirt (the former was only slightly see through, and soft) and crisp new denim that was appropriately baggy but hugged him. Showed off his ass, or so JC had mentioned carelessly among an ode to that white mesh shirt Justin had only dared wear the one time (the wardrobe director took one look at him in it, getting dressed for the photo shoot, and had declared it his) and a moment of waxing nostalgic about a fur coat. Calling JC for fashion advice was risky but he had an eye for what looked good on Justin more than on himself, and so Justin had grabbed the once-worn jeans from where they'd been draped over a chair his walk-in closet.

The hotel. He was expected here at any hour when the tour stopped here, so getting in surreptitiously would be unnecessary. Security was slightly more of a problem. Justin straightened his shoulders as the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened on Tiny slouched in a chair that would probably have been called a sofa with a different inhabitant. He was dozing, the guys were all in their rooms for a while now, and night duty was a boring, if necessary, precaution. Usually it made Justin feel secure, but tonight he glanced around with uncertainty. There was Nelly's room, maybe ten feet away from where Tiny was sitting, which probably meant the guys' rooms were close.

Tiny brightened when he noticed Justin, and looked him right in the face. Justin was welcome here anytime, of course, but it was a little odd for him to be coming over this late when he could be at his mom's in his own bed. It would be more than clear that he wasn't heading into one of the other guys' rooms in mere moments. Justin looked down and studied the fascinating gold and burgundy florals that covered the carpeting, stammering something about seeing a friend.

Tiny squinted for a moment, then his grin broadened and he nodded knowingly. Justin should have expected that Tiny would have seen the list of guests on this floor, another precaution. Justin's face fell as he saw Tiny's gaze shift directly to Nelly's door.

He looked up, a little embarrassed. "Man could you-? None of them know about this, and I don't really…" He trailed off, Tiny was looking at him expectantly. These men were fiercely loyal but they had the understandable weakness of gossiping wildly among their small circle. Justin just wasn't ready to share this with anyone else yet. The other guys knew the Nelly stuff was his thing, but not a thing as in 'we get together and fuck in cities nationwide' (what a tagline for a relationship) but just a thing. A work thing, a music thing. Like JC and Tim Mcgraw, for example. Sort of, despite the fact that JC would have dropped everything to-but never mind. The point was that they didn't know, and Justin was okay with that.

"Don't worry Justin," the large man started. He really was attentive to his job, lowering his voice so as not to wake his charges. He hunkered down slightly, peering over his wire-rimmed glasses conspiratorially. They, unlike him, were in fact tiny. "But remember how you were saying you called up Janet that one time-"

"Oh. That." There was the slight problem that Justin hadn't been completely truthful. Johnny had set up the call in a conference room at the compound and thus Justin didn't exactly have Janet's cell number like he had claimed one night drinking those girly Tropical Orgasms JC was so obsessed with. Pink lemonade and cheap liquor tended to make him exaggerate, but Nelly was right fucking inside that door with probably no shirt on and dilated pupils from his night out in Memphis and-.

"Um, yeah. I'll hook you up with her number, dude." Then the kicker, the shit-eating grin that Justin pulled out in emergencies. He tried to ignore the trickling worry that settled into his stomach. He was certainly making a lot of promises for this sex thing, this lusty hope or whatever he was going to call it today, and he'd have to make more to get Tiny that number. So there was the question of whether he was digging himself a hole, crawling into it sweaty and dirty and eager.

When Justin was in the New York studio doing his part of "What's Going On," JC and Nelly had been outside the booth listening in their different ways. JC analyzing and appreciating and Nelly just there, at first unreadable. He looked at Justin for a moment without the guarded gaze the rapper got around so many industry types, and Justin looked back, and he felt like there was something. Something cleaner and better than a sweaty dirty hole. Maybe.

Justin blinked and refocused on the man still slouched on the couch in front of him. "We cool?"

Tiny chuckled. "Yeah, Justin, we're cool. We switch off next at 6, Lonnie'll be here after that." He squinted once more at the serious expression on Justin's face. "Have fun, kid, okay?"

Justin met his eyes and nodded. "Sure. Thanks man." He put his game-face back on and winked, "and I'll have that number for you." Tiny smiled in return and went back to his magazine, and Justin headed for the hotel room door.

Justin sighed, and knocked. It had been quite a bit more than twenty minutes. Nelly didn't answer for a second and there was a moment of doubt. Had he given up and gone to sleep? Justin glanced up and down the hallway. Some of these doors could open at any second and the friendly (or not so friendly at being awakened at 4:30 in the morning) face of one of the guys could pop out. He shifted nervously, foot to foot, but soon the slide and turn of the mechanized lock was audible.

And then there was Nelly, low slung gray sweatpants and a white wife beater and do rag. One of his hands grazed over the ribbed fabric covering his belly. Justin could feel Nelly's eyes on him, just the same.

"Aw, J." A smirk. "You didn't have to go and dress up for me."

"I know," Justin returned, pausing, blushing. He swallowed, more than a little irritated with his own reaction. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, dirty. Come in. That's why I wanted you here." When Nelly didn't move, Justin's shoulder, his hip, brushed against Nelly's to get in the door. He could feel the man's heat and his breath on Justin neck as he stepped past him. Nelly turned his head, following Justin's movements as he entered the room.

"You smell good, too. Nice." He turned Justin, hand at his shoulders, to face him, and held him solidly against the wall next to the bathroom door in the suite's dim entranceway. The weighted door clicked shut behind them.

"But you kept me waiting." Justin breathed in quickly as Nelly brushed their lips together, teasing. Pushed his neck forward looking to deepen the kiss but Nelly pulled away, came towards him at an angle, and licked the back of his jawbone. Justin's hands fisted, held at his sides by Nelly's firm grip on his wrists.

"Sorry," Justin mumbled, his head tilted back, and there was that low giggle. Didn't Nelly seem to find a lot funny when they were together? Nelly slid fingers through the hair at the back of Justin's neck and rolled his head smoothly to the side. Justin's eyes darted from the empty hotel room over Nelly's shoulder to the mirrored door of the closet. The combination of searing wet suction on the thin skin of his neck with the reflected image of Nelly sliding a tongue along exposed tendons was pretty fucking hot. Justin could see his own mouth come open, heard himself pant, and in the daze of arousal was vaguely aware of his lack of control.

"I can make it up to you," Justin sighed, and Nelly raised his head from where he was slowly sucking and nipping at the point where Justin's neck met his shoulder.

"Yeah?" They were at eye level and for the moment Nelly wasn't touching him, even if Justin could still taste Nelly's minty breath on his lips. Justin slid out from between the wall and Nelly, making brief contact with his hips, noting his hardness with satisfaction.

Now Nelly was against the wall and Justin wielded his position well. Kissing Nelly hard-"Yeah." He slid a hand under Nelly's shirt, scraping blunt nails over ridged and contracting muscle. The skin was hot and he felt his cool fingertips warm even as he pulled the shirt over Nelly's head.

Nelly couldn't help but smile as Justin folded to his knees, so easy, his long fingers sliding down Nelly's sides to rest at his waist. The boy's blue eyes looked up at him, dark but wide as they were almost always. Nelly remembered what they had looked like, rarely squinted shut, when he had his mouth on Justin in the kitchen. But now: open, framed by too long lashes, and below that his open red mouth.

With Justin, even though it was so easy to stay still, lean against the wall's ridged paper, and just look at him, it didn't seem enough for the boy. He leaned forward and worked over the tattoos on Nelly's lower stomach with lips and teeth and tip of the tongue (when Nelly had told his mother he wanted to rap she sent him to voice lessons in hopes that he would sing, and when people commented on his voice he never forgot it). He tore his eyes away from pink smudged back and forth against brown skin, cool where Justin had wet it in the air conditioned room. Glanced away and felt unreasonably bereft.

Meeting eyes once more, Justin's only seemed that perfect combination of earnest and hungry when he gave the boy some direction. Nelly didn't mind that Justin was late, not really at all, but if following instructions made Justin slide his thumbs into the grooves of Nelly's hips, get rid of the pants that were just hanging on by their last drawstring anyway, and finally finally use that mouth, Nelly could deal.

He twisted fingers into the short curls and added a little pressure. Not to hurt, but to guide, and even when Justin jerked slightly at the feel of Nelly hard against his cheek (nerves, maybe? But he knew what to do with his tongue) and the turn of his head must have pinched his scalp at the very least, he didn't yelp or squeak. He whimpered in that irresistible tiny voice and Nelly thought maybe he'd found the real appeal of those high wails Justin sang on his knees or with his hips in the air during "Gone."

Maybe because he was so innocent to it, had never felt its full brunt in his life, there was something pretty or special to Justin about mixing pain and sex. Nelly wasn't going to test his limits though, not tonight. Even as Justin's mouth formed a perfect 'o,' so eager to please, Nelly slid a finger along the angle of his jaw line and tilted his head to meet his eyes. Justin wasn't a fucking innocent, or maybe that was it, an innocent old enough to sleep around, to fuck.

So Nelly felt the need to protect the boy for a moment, traced a finger around his lips, through which passed noise so loved and hated. First a bit of tongue and then suction around Nelly's fingertip told Nelly that he would do what he could for this boy. Low and lower, gruff even, "Your mouth, J. That's what I want."

Justin gave Nelly as a sideways grin as he put down Nelly's hand. Sometimes he knew what the fuck he was doing, and it showed as he lowered his head, rocking forward and back on his knees so slightly, creating a rhythm that Nelly didn't dare speed up. He stroked the back of Justin's neck with one hand, his other pressed to Justin's damp temple, and he thought hard about keeping his hips pressed to the wall. Justin might have a subtle interest in pain, but Nelly didn't think he could bear being the one to cause it.

It was more difficult than he thought, Justin was nothing if not persistent, and soon Nelly was sweating too in the dim light, cursing at Justin, "Fuck, fuck-come here," and pulling him to his feet.

Justin looked at him directly, breathing harshly with his nostrils flaring. Nelly looked away, the gaze was too open and simple and frighteningly unthinking. He moved to the bed to create some distance, this would be over too quickly otherwise. Justin looked at him quizzically; thank God, there was the boy again, overanalyzing every action.

"Get your pants off, shorty."

Justin moved fast, twisting the tight denim off of his body, and Nelly kept his eyes on the revealed golden skin. Enticing, wasn't it, that a man who didn't have to listen to anyone liked to be bossed around?

Justin sat on the edge of the bed, his back mostly to Nelly. There was no noise, the springs in the mattress new and oiled. Nelly drew a finger past the fuzz on Justin's neck over the soft straight knobs of his spine. Justin shivered and turned his head. Nelly was propped on one elbow on the mussed sheets and he pulled Justin's face to his,

"Let me," and kissed him slowly on his bruised lips.

Despite the need Justin had built up in Nelly it was a moment of reassurance among shadows. Justin settled into the kiss underneath the curve of Nelly's body

There was something easier about this time. Pushed farther than far as Nelly had done in LA, Justin could adopt a different role, but this was natural and comfortable, the way Justin's thighs folded open, no strain in his long muscles. Open thighs and huge open eyes and teeth not gritting together like Nelly's but apart and clattering together at the shock of the other moving inside, first with his fingers, then fucking him. Justin didn't have to be told to grasp the iron headboard with both hands; the movement stretched his torso out further but his hips and abdomen rippled restlessly.

"Keep them there," Nelly leaned down and whispered close to Justin's ear, drawing a whine from the boy who twisted his head back and forth in frustration at Nelly, somehow gentle, slow. Justin didn't know it but Nelly was trying to get some control back: even with Justin in so vulnerable a position Nelly was losing power over the situation with every tight, sweet second.

"Keep them there, and I'll do it harder." Justin obeyed.

Or did so until the veins in his neck and forearms were prominent with tension. Nelly kissed even as he moved harshly, coming hard, dragging lips against Justin's mouth and cheekbone. A brush of knuckles and grasp of strong fingers-seconds and Justin came too- and he was pliant now and flushed everywhere. Nelly shifted for a moment, stayed on top of him and tucked his head under Justin's chin. Kissed his shoulder with his mouth open, tracing patterns of muscles with his lips.

"You're pink," Nelly said, half surprised. Justin breathed, slow and deep under him, close to sleep. Nelly settled on a spot near the crease where Justin's arm met his chest and sucked lightly at the salty sweet taste.

"Yeah I know," Justin murmured. "You'll make me pinker." Nelly smiled against his skin, bit a little and Justin trembled and breathed the remnants of his arousal.

The bed was big, this was a nice hotel after all. But Justin kept a hand on the nape of Nelly's neck, preventing him from even sliding off. He liked the weight, the pressure of sticky skin and heavy muscle.

So they stayed, crumpled together like pretty paper written on and folded and unfolded until it was softer than soft. Like the note from Britney left from ages ago in the back pocket of Justin's jeans, crumpled also on the floor.