Five
Justin
approached the water with one thing on his mind: making sure JC was okay. Then
he'd go back to his bed and sleep until morning. This thought died a swift
death, however, when he saw JC in the water. He stood in water waist-deep,
lightly tossing droplets up onto his chest. JC's long hair shimmered wet and
damp down his back.
“Warrior.”
Justin
jumped. JC wasn't even facing him. “How…”
“I'm
an elf,” JC said simply. He quickly and without modesty walked from the water.
He carefully used his hands to squeeze the water out of his hair, then reached
for his breeches. “Am I embarrassing you?”
“No,
of course not,” Justin said in what he hoped was an off-hand manner, though he
was very thankful that HE was not the naked one.
“I
intrigue you.” It was a statement more than a question. “I've noticed you
watching me. It is as if you've never seen an elf before.” JC pulled on his
pants, then stopped, tunic in hand. “You have, have you not?”
“Never
anyone like you,” Justin said truthfully. “You're…well…beautiful.”
JC
dipped his head with modest grace. “Thank you.”
“I
never…” Justin stopped, shaking his head. He hardly knew this person. It was
JC, but NOT JC.
“You
like men?” JC asked. He took a step towards Justin, who stepped back. “Warrior,
you look afraid.”
“I'm
not. I mean, I don't. Like men, I mean.”
JC walked over and cupped Justin's face in
his hand. Justin shivered at the touch, and JC smiled. He knew exactly what
kind of effect he was having on Justin. “I think you should look inside
yourself…find out what you really want. Denial takes its toll on a man's
strength as well as his soul.” JC removed his hand and headed back to the fire.
The
next day's ride was broken at midday, when they came to a small town. As Lance
had predicted, the townspeople welcomed them with open arms. The children
begged Lance to do magic for them, and he performed simple tricks involving
sparks and smoke and color, and even JC was smiling.
“You're
a great warrior,” a little boy said in awe to Justin. Justin smiled.
“Just
a warrior.”
“You're
going to save us. My father told me so.” The little boy's brown eyes were full
of adoration. “When you come back, when you save us…can you teach me to be a
warrior, too?”
“Mind
yourself,” the boy's mother said. “Leave Master Timberlake alone.”
“It's
fine, really,” Justin promised, but the little boy was already running away.
Justin sat, deep in thought. This was serious. He was expected to help save the
world. He stood and began to walk away.
“Timberlake!
You must try this!” Chris waved a leg of some sort of meat in Justin's
direction.
“I'm
not hungry!” Justin called back, and it was true. This sudden weight of
responsibility was making him sick to his stomach. He headed for the nearby
woods, determined to get away from the noise and the activity and the truth. He
was a pop star. He had a Grammy. He was NOT supposed to fight a dragon.
“Timberlake.”
“Go
away,” Justin growled. JC's approach had been silent, as usual. “I'm not in the
mood to talk.”
“What
is bothering you?”
“Everything!”
Justin yelled, whirling around. JC stood in front of him, long braids flowing
down his chest. His arms were crossed over his braids and he looked at Justin
impassively. “I'm not supposed to be here.”
“Timberlake,
you are a Warrior. You…”
“I
am NOT.” Justin took a step forward. “I'm not a warrior. I'm a singer. I don't
belong here. This isn't what I am.”
“Yes,
it is. It is your destiny.”
“No.”
Justin shook his head. “You don't understand. JC, you're part of the problem.
You stand there, all beautiful and serene, regal…” Justin shook his head again.
“I
have nothing to do with the way you feel.” JC arched an eyebrow. “You think
you're not a warrior…that is a problem that goes far deeper…”
“You
ARE part of the problem,” Justin snapped. “I can hardly look at you without
wanting you. Chris always said I wanted you, and I denied it. But now…seeing
you like this…” The calm, beautiful look on JC's face made Justin even angrier.
Before he knew it, he had JC pushed up against a tree, one knee between JC's
thighs. “I can hardly stand it.”
“You
want me.” JC said the words softly. Justin could smell him, could see the pale
length of his neck. Justin licked his lips and nodded. “You could take me.”
“God,”
Justin said, the word an anguished cry as he pressed his body against JC's. He
tasted the softness of JC's throat, felt his pulse beat against his lips.
“But
you would only be taking. I would not be giving,” JC said, his voice a mere
whisper. Justin froze. He would not do something that could only be considered
rape, no matter how easily JC seemed to let him. He didn't want JC that way.
Justin
stepped back. “I'm sorry. I won't do that again.”
“It
is your birthright to fight. It is your destiny to be the Warrior we all need,”
JC said softly.
“No.”
Justin shook his head, feeling sad and alone. “That isn't me, JC, I swear.”
“You
insist on calling me that,” JC said. He reached up and lightly touched Justin's
cheek. Justin's eyes closed and he concentrated on that light touch. “I am a
prince, you know. You should not treat me in this manner.”
“I
shouldn't do a lot of things when it comes to you,” Justin muttered. A thumb
stroked his lips and Justin's eyes flew open. JC was smiling at him almost
shyly.
“I
don't mind.”
Justin
watched JC walk away, feeling lost and even more confused.
