The Wrong Mantras

“One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art.”
–Oscar Wilde

Chris liked JC in leather.

He would slip into tight red hip huggers, and Chris’s eyes would look hungrily over his ass, his calves, and then suggest with a growl in his voice that JC never seemed to notice that maybe he should go with the mesh top instead of the silver.

JC would smile, nod, and reach into the closet to pull it out, and Chris would admire the play of muscles in his back, the flex of his ass, the dip of his shoulder.

Later, in the club, he would dance a little bit closer to JC than absolutely necessary, letting himself brush against the back of JC’s thighs with some wisp of a girl between them.

The grind would get him hard, and when he got home Lance would ask about his day, barely getting two words out before Chris pinned him to the mattress. The sex would be rough and quick and when Lance rested his head in the curve of Chris’s hip, he would smile quietly against Chris’s skin and whisper, “JC wore leather tonight, didn’t he?” And Chris wouldn’t answer, but he’d run his fingers through Lance’s hair until he dozed, and then pull him up for a sweet kiss to rest in his arms for the night.

Lance liked it when JC wore sparkles.

It was something about the glitter on his skin, the glint the light made, that made Lance smile. He thought it might have something to do with how representative it was of JC’s personality–he just sparkled from the inside.

Privately, Lance had deemed his lifestyle “The Way of the Sparkle,” coughing the laugh that threatened to break forth whenever he saw JC bedecked in rhinestones from head to toe.

When JC would dance around the living room, shining from the reflection of the lamps, Lance would sigh and smile and seek out Justin, humming a harmony to whatever song he was singing under his breath at the moment.

He’d slide up behind him, securing an arm around Justin’s waist and burying his face into the curve of Justin’s neck. Justin’s hand would creep around to rest on his waist, pulling his cock closer to rest near the cleft of Justin’s ass through thick layers of clothing.

The sex would be slow and sensual, Lance fucking deep strokes into Justin’s body and taking careful moments to run hands up Justin’s sides, caressing Justin’s face, holding his gaze as they gasped and came.

When they were spooned on their sides, Justin would play with Lance’s fingers, comparing the long thin bones to his own before turning over to search Lance’s eyes. He wouldn’t ask any questions, but Lance would sigh and mutter into his ear that JC was extra-shiny today, and he would understand.

Justin liked JC in pajamas.

JC, as much as any of them, had his defenses, and it was reassuring to Justin that JC felt comfortable enough to sleep around them.

JC would pad into the main room of the bus wearing stripey pajama bottoms, ignoring the loud game on the television to curl into Justin’s lap and nudge his head under Justin’s hand to be petted.

Honestly, Justin thought. Who could refuse?

So he petted and stroked JC’s hair, making sure his hand never strayed, but when they made a two am Wal-Mart run he’d have a quiet conversation with Lance and then smile softly at Joey as he boarded the two-man bus.

When the door closed and the bus started up, Joey would make them hot chocolate or tea and pull Justin to crumple next to him on the couch. They’d MST3k a Lifetime movie, cracking bad jokes and mocking the characters until the last of their adrenaline wore off from running around the store.

Joey would pull Justin so that he was on top of him, almost a lump in his arms, and he would whisper stories about stupid stuff Steve did as a kid while Justin snuffled laughter against his neck.

Joey’s hand would slip into Justin’s shorts, pulling slowly at Justin’s cock, watching the grin form on Justin’s face. Justin would brace himself against the couch, telling for the hundredth time about the llama story in Germany while nosing and licking Joey’s neck, and they would both give strained laughter when they got to the part about Chris falling off the ostrich until Justin’s back would arch and he would come, slumping against Joey’s chest.

Joey would be in the middle of the time when Lance jumped off the building as Justin slid down to suck Joey’s cock into his mouth, and his breath would catch, just stop, until he was coming with a low groan down Justin’s throat.

One of them would stumble to the bathroom to get a washcloth, and then they’d fall asleep skin-to-skin on the couch with Joey rubbing Justin’s short hair and Justin dreaming of stripey pajama pants.

Joey liked JC in denim.

JC wore loose, baggy jeans most of the time, and Joey would make him giggle and hoist him over his shoulder until he cried out, laughingly for mercy.

JC would poke him halfheartedly, and Joey would just smile and slip his hands into the pockets of JC’s jeans, pulling him back to rest against his chest. JC would breathe deeply until Justin yelled that he absolutely had to hear something and pull away, looking at Joey apologetically until Joey waved him off. But Joey would be digging through his pockets later for change for the coke machine and find a keycard to JC’s room.

The sex would be sweet and fulfilling, JC pushing him back against the headboard and telling him to stay, working his way down Joey’s body to whisper words like, “beautiful,” and “taste so good,” and “love” against Joey’s skin, making him arch and moan, scraping his beard against the pillows.

JC would slip Joey inside of him, rocking back and forth slowly as he straddled him, hitting his own prostate and driving Joey wild with building tension.

Joey would make himself wait, though, because he loved to watch JC come. It was like watching art being created, a look of ecstasy that would rival any of Michelangelo’s models.

Soon, though, too soon he would spend himself inside of JC, and JC would moan happily at the sensation, frowning slightly when Joey pulled himself out.

Later, JC would splay himself across Joey’s back, and Joey would mumble into his hair just before he slipped into snores, “You looked good today,” and JC would smile because he would know it was true.