Jack

By: Dayse

Every once in a while he would get into certain moods. Destructive, daring, adventurous, dangerous, new. Moods that involved leather pants and tight shirts and glitter and streaks of wild colour in his hair. He'd get a new piercing, a new tattoo, relish in the pain because sometimes he felt like it was the only thing left in his life that was real anymore. It felt good to escape from the confines of his own self.

His fingers were ringless, but he wore a single watch on his left wrist. A black choker with a pentagram squeezed his neck, bobbing with each swallow he took. His hair had been carefully gelled to nearly stand straight up and the splashes of purple and silver in the dark brown locks stood out like flares. His body itched with the music that vibrated around him.

The guys didn't know about his late night trysts to the Outside. Outside with a motherfucking capital letter. They didn't know that once in a while he liked finding a strange body to fuck or be fucked by, he was sure that they wouldn't understand. How could they when HE didn't fully understand? Already he was questioning himself, wondering what the hell it was he was doing as he stood outside the darkened club doors, waiting to be let in like anybody else.

He shivered in a mix of anticipation and dread. He felt *right* in his clothes, in his skin. His face was flushed pink, the make-shift sparkles decorating his cheeks, his lips pink with gloss he had stolen from the make up table the day before. His pants were a little too tight, but the leather clung to him in the most intimate of areas, and he felt the largeness of his own arms in his flimsy t-shirt.

It all seemed right and wrong at the same time, he reveled in the contradiction of it all. He could feel the night just giving itself up to him, letting him know that it belonged to him by any means and Joey felt it with every blood cell and bone. His own body felt foreign to him; borrowed.

The line moved slowly and with each step forward he took he wandered if any of the others were worried about him, if they were wondering where he was or if they even knew he was gone. They usually didn't - they had their own secrets, their own escapes to keep them busy at night. But with each look stolen his way, Joey felt a little more at home, a little more accepted into this crowd of strange faces and perfume.

The bouncer eyed him, carefully. Dark eyes (suspicious eyes) studied him from head to foot and arms larger than life flexed their intimidation. "ID."

He kept the two pieces of identification in the front pocket of his pants, they offered no room for a wallet and Joey passed it over easily, watched as the bouncer studied it them Joey himself before passing them back and stepping aside for Joey to enter. A silent invitation and Joey felt the chill, felt his skin break out in gooseflesh. Another night to remember.

He couldn't quite pinpoinr when he had started to do this, when he had started to look up days in advance the seediest, dirtiest clubs in the town they would be staying at. It had been on a whim really, he had gone the first time with Lance and Chris - a laughing joke they had all decided to participate in as an alternative to another typical club or a night of heavy drinking. It had been harmless at first and had ended on the same note.

Chris and Lance had laughed and joked about it. The chick with the silver studded bra. The dude with the riding crop who's date had 'Horsey' written across his leather vest in silver cross-stitching. The fact that the music had been death and steel itself. Joey had joined in, had first thought it WAS just a joke. But then knew it wasn't when he found his mind wandering to the night again and again.

Day after day.

It wasn't so funny after a while. Joey remember the feeling of being inside, of the clothes that he had seen, and of the looks in the people's eyes. It had been something he wanted for himself.

So. Here he was. Again. Making his way across the dance floor, feeling bodies brush against his as they danced and moved to the heavy sounds of Rob Zombie and Soulfly. Their gyrating more sexual then rhythmic, their eyes hungry for him as he passed. The energy was intoxicating and the glowing blue bar called out to him from across the floor, urging him closer. He always met them at the bar.

That was another thing that kept making him come back. Other than the noise, the music, the bodies, the clothes, the whole attitude of other worldly-ness that came from it, it was the sex. The sex that was hot and painful and damn near anonymous. No one knew who he was here. No one gave a fuck about NSYNC except maybe to see them strung up like Christmas ornaments from the ceiling. Pretty, glowing, but inanimate things.

Joey slid onto the bar stool, ordered a straight vodka, and waited. He never approached anyone, he was always the one approached. And if ever he doubted his looks, his persona, his whole self in comparison to a Justin Timberlake or a JC Chasez, in this place all those insecurities went away. He knew he was wanted, knew he was watched.

Knew that no one could take that feeling away from him.

It never took very long. Last time he had barely been through the door when someone had approached him. A dark haired man with vibrant green eyes who had taken him out to the parking lot with barely a word spoken between them. A finger fuck that lasted for what seemed like hours, the stranger's hand moving against him in hard, abrupt thrusts of pleasure and almost violence that had left Joey moaning and begging for more.

That was another thing. No guilt here. No shame. The freedom was both liberating and fatalistic. Too much of it and Joey wasn't sure what kind of person he would become.

A hand slid down his back. Joey looked to his side to see a young man, but not younger than him, dressed in a dark green shirt and tattered gray kilt. Motorcycle boots with tiny encircling chains rounded his ankles and his lip and ears were pierced. His face bore no resemblance to anyone Joey knew, his hand was warm and possessive on his back.

"Hey." The man made no attempt to raise his voice above the music but Joey still managed to hear him. "I'm Jon." Sure you are, Joey thought.

"I'm Jack," Joey replied. his eyes skidding over this new and beautiful body in front of him.

'Jon' managed a little, little smile. His hand moved up to pinch Joey's bottom lip and his fingertips came away sparkly. "Let's get outta here, Jack."

Joey nodded, got to his feet and followed the other man out. Just because he could.

The End

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