reassembled just like me
Not that Justin would ever actually admit it, but it had totally been his idea to rent The Notebook, no matter how much he insisted that it was Cameron who had wanted to watch it. And then, maybe, possibly, he'd teared up just a little- that shit was sad, yo- but he wouldn't admit to that either.
"So Ryan's really." Justin blinked. "Um, grown as an actor."
Cameron was watching him with equal parts amusement and interest, the slight tilt of her mouth indicating she was having thoughts that would lead to mischief of some sort. Like throwing things at the paparazzi. Or handcuffing Justin to the bed again.
Justin rubbed his wrists. "What," he said.
"You should invite him over," Cameron said. Justin had a feeling she didn't mean for dinner.
The Teen Choice Awards were tonight, and Cameron was skipping them because she had an early meeting tomorrow. Justin was going alone, which was fine, and he couldn't figure out what to wear, which was less fine. Sure, it felt cool to be all "nah man, I don't need a stylist," but then he ended up rifling through his closet, sort of missing the days when he could get away with wearing things that had rhinestones. At least back then he'd had the guys around to distract people from his own sparkliness. JC and Lance had always flamed so much brighter. Now Justin couldn't even get away with things that shimmered a little, and he missed his unironic bling.
Cameron came up behind him as he was looking in the mirror, tugging up his pants. They were sagging just a little, barely catching on his hips. Justin wished he had an ass to speak of.
"Would you let him fuck you?" Cameron asked.
"Um." Justin blinked. Cameron was eyeing his reflection. She leaned closer, tugging at his shirt cuffs.
"I wouldn't mind," she said, then, "Wear that D&G shirt you just bought. It looks good on you." She kissed him on the cheek, and left.
"Um," Justin said again, to the empty room.
He thought about the movie, about Ryan and Rachel all twined together and beautiful. He thought about it, and thought about it, and then he had to think about his grandparents, and Carson Daly, and dead puppies, and Ryan lifting Rachel up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, wait, fuck, okay.
At least he was thinking about Ryan with Rachel and not, like, Ryan maybe lifting him up, not all the way, but setting Justin onto a counter or something, or just pushing him against a wall, sliding a leg between his and sucking on Justin's throat. Not in a freaky vampire way or anything, just enough to mark him up a little, and then he'd pull back and give Justin that look that he used to give him before they did something they weren't supposed to back on MMC, only now it would be darker, and Justin would bite his lip, a little nervous, maybe, before Ryan would move back in and bite Justin's lip for him.
Yeah, okay. Obviously that train of thought was much more productive than thinking about Ryan and his hot maybe-girlfriend. They hadn't come out and admitted to it, but Justin figured they had to be seeing each other. It would be a damn shame to waste good chemistry like that. People like the two of them should spend their time having a lot of sex, and inviting their old friends to join, or at least watch. It was only fair.
He wondered what exactly Cameron had meant. Did he, like, have a free pass on this one? Did she want a threesome, or just a bedtime story? It wasn't like they hadn't done weird shit before; the casual dinner with Drew and Fab last month had turned into watching Cameron and Drew make out. Fab and Justin had just sort of looked at each other, then back at their girlfriends, but it worked out in the end because it turned out that Fab's bandmates were big fans of Justin's, and now they had plans to hang out next time Justin was in New York and maybe write something. Plus, Justin had gotten to watch Cameron and Drew make out, so even if he didn't end up collaborating with The Strokes he considered that experience one for the plus column.
The limo stopped, and the door opened. Justin was suddenly glad he'd worn such baggy pants.
Justin sat back and watched the show, feeling old. Half of these people he'd never even heard of; there seemed to be a new parade of young blonds every year, and they just got progressively skinnier and more blandly attractive. It was sort of mesmerizing, watching the steady flow of Von Dutch-clad wraiths move across the stage. Like counting really shiny sheep.
"Wake up, you look stoned."
Justin jumped a little. Ryan slid into the seat next to him, taking over the spot that Elijah Wood had abandoned for the open bar about five minutes after the show started. In years past Justin had been seated next to Britney, his bandmates, various rising stars. Now he got hobbits. Not that Elijah wasn't cool, but Justin felt that he rated at least Orlando Bloom.
"Hey," Justin said, trying not to stare. Sure, Ryan had been hot in the movie, but up close he was, well. Yeah. Hot. Justin remembered him shirtless, undressing piece by piece, and the long flat line of his stomach.
"You alright? You want to make a break for it?" Ryan grinned. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was always kind of strange and bothersome when you knew people for what seemed like forever, and they were just sort of weird-looking, and then they got all hot and you still had to live with him. It had been irritating when JC had done it, and Lance, and Chris. And actually also Joey. Sure, Justin knew, intellectually, that he was pretty hot himself. But he'd been a cute kid, and it was sort of unsurprising that he'd grown up to be a good-looking guy. Ryan was still kind of weird-looking, but in a hot way, an unexpected sort of hot that Justin vaguely resented. He was interestingly hot, where Justin was just average hot.
"I still have to present. And," Justin leaned in confidentially, hoping it didn't look like the obvious excuse to get closer that it was, "I don’t recognize half of these people. Who are they? Why are they here? What have they done?"
"I don't know, man," Ryan agreed, shaking his head. "Back in my day we had to walk ten miles uphill both ways just to get a WB teen drama. These days all kids have to do is get plastic surgery and a drug habit."
"You're mocking me," Justin said, eyes narrowed.
Ryan smiled. "Find me later," he said, and then he was gone. Justin watched him go. At least Ryan had an ass. Actually, it was a pretty nice one. In the seat behind him, Hilary Duff was watching, eyebrow raised. Justin quickly turned back around.
The show hadn't been almost over; it had dragged on for another hour in which Justin had presented one award and then gone back to sitting down and letting his eyes glaze over. He hadn't even been nominated for anything, because apparently you couldn't win something for just taking a break and hanging out with your girlfriend for awhile. Justin hadn't even been in the running for Choice Hottie this year. He was annoyed, a little, and couldn't admit that he was annoyed without sounding like an egomaniacal freak, which just made him more annoyed.
Justin leaned against the bar and knocked back another cranberry and vodka, which contained probably about as much alcohol as a bottle of cough syrup. At least at other award shows they didn't water drinks down because of all the teenagers. Justin refused to remember when he'd been a teenager sneaking drinks at this very awards show. He scowled at an Olsen twin, who looked vaguely curious but mostly just coked out.
"Hey, now you look stoned and angry."
Justin looked over. Ryan was still really hot, and giving him an appraising look. "I'm neither."
"Damn." Ryan looked disappointed now. Justin wanted to kiss it better. Or lick it, maybe. It? Something. "I was hoping you'd share."
"It's great how the Mickey Mouse Club made us all deviants," Justin said.
"Nah, it was Hollywood that did that. How have you been, man?" Ryan nudged his shoulder, making the ice cubes in Justin's glass rattle around.
"Pretty good." Ryan's shoulder was still against his. It was hard to think.
Ryan nodded. "I liked your solo record."
"Yeah?"
"It has a beat and I can dance to it." Ryan quirked an eyebrow at him. He was really fucking hot.
"Oh hey, yeah, The Notebook, man- awesome," Justin said, with a light manly punch to Ryan's arm that he hoped would negate his admitting to watching a chick flick.
"Thanks," Ryan said, his face lighting up with the sort of honest grin that Justin was unable to resist returning, or wanting to kiss.
"You did a great job, seriously." Justin grabbed a glass of champagne off one of the circulating waiter's trays, then took one for Ryan, too. Their fingers brushed when Justin handed the glass over. He didn't feel tingly or anything, because he wasn't a fucking girl, but he did wish to feel those fingers elsewhere. Like in his pants.
Ryan took a sip of his drink. "Joel Madden said you were checking out my ass before," he said, so casually it took a minute for the words to register.
Justin choked. Ryan laughed. "Um, what?" Justin managed. "I wasn't- when?"
"Have you checked out my ass more than once tonight?" Ryan asked, eyebrow raised.
Fuck, Justin thought, as Hilary Duff passed by. Of course, Joel, that guy from Good Charlotte that she was dating, the brother of the one Chris had hooked up with. Observant fucker, obviously, unlike Justin who hadn't even registered him sitting next to Hilary and watching him check out Ryan. "No," Justin said, late and a little lamely, failing to clarify that technically, no, he'd only checked out Ryan's ass the once. Though really only because he'd only had the one opportunity.
"So just once, then?" Ryan said.
Okay, obviously this was Justin's shot. Justin actually wasn't very good at hitting on people, on account of he usually didn't have to. "I'm Justin" and a smile was generally all it took. He looked sidelong at Ryan, who already knew his name, and who Justin had been smiling at for the last several minutes. Ryan was smiling back.
"You wanna go somewhere?" Justin asked.
Ryan laughed, and it sounded startled, like Justin had just propositioned him or something. Which, Justin thought, replaying his last words over, it appeared he actually had.
"Sure," Ryan said. He drained his glass and Justin followed suit. Maybe Justin wasn't so bad at this after all. "There's a hallway over there with a bunch of doors. One of them must be unlocked. Let me just-" He nodded over at Rachel, who was standing in small cluster with the chicks from Mean Girls. Rachel smiled, glancing at Justin and waving. Justin waved back, and Rachel gave Ryan a thumbs up, then leaned against Lindsey Lohan. Justin was sort of surprised that Lindsey didn't fall over. Girl needed a damn sandwich.
"Let's go," Ryan was saying, and Justin followed him automatically over to a side door he hadn't noticed. They slipped through and into the hallway, which was empty except for Elijah Wood and one of the other hobbits, the one from Lost. Elijah made to stub out his cigarette, then relaxed when he saw who it was. He did casually adjust his collar though, which didn't quite hide the red mark on his neck, and there was no disguising the look on the other one's face (Dominic something? He was that same weird-hot that Ryan was, only more- something. British. Short).
"You stick around for the whole show?" Elijah asked.
"Yeah," Justin said, then, "No. Uh. I'll catch you later."
"Third door on the right is unlocked!" Dominic called after them, and Justin made a mental note to get the guy's last name and send him flowers or something, and maybe a confidentiality agreement. Although maybe that last bit wouldn't be necessary. He didn't turn back to see what they were doing, but he could guess.
"Gay hobbits, man," Ryan said conversationally.
"Right. What was that with you and Rachel? Are you guys a thing? Is she cool?"
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah. She said that if I wanted to hook up with you I could."
"What, you guys have an open relationship?"
"You know, whatever. I said she could hook up with Lindsey again, and she thought it was fair that I got you. Cameron's okay, right?"
"She said I should bring you over."
Third door on the right. Ryan tried the knob, and it clicked right open. There wasn't much inside, just a copy machine and a small counter with cupboards above. Plenty of room, and it locked from the inside. Cool.
"She wants to meet me? But this is only the first date, I thought it took at least three before I had to meet the girlfriend."
"I guess I'm just an old-fashioned guy," Justin said. Ryan had shut off the bright florescent lights once they'd checked the place out, and he was backed up against the wall, waiting for Ryan to find him.
"You remember how much trouble we used to get in on the set?" Justin asked as Ryan reached out, his hand bumping into Justin's chest and lingering. Justin tried to think back to what Ryan had looked like at age twelve, but all he could come up with was Ryan all golden and scruffy, or better yet, smiling slyly at him in the dark. Justin's hands were settling around Ryan's waist and then rethinking that one and traveling inward, pushing Ryan's shirt up to feel his abs. Not too defined, just flat and hard. Yeah. Nice. It had been too damn long since Justin had been with another guy, and he was glad it was Ryan in front of him now.
"So let's get in some more," Ryan said and yeah, Justin was down with that, with whatever Ryan suggested, really. "You know I've been watching you these last few years, back when I was still doing bit parts. I've missed you, man."
"Yeah," Justin said. "Should've kept in touch better." Touch. Mmm. "Maybe you could-" Justin started, but fuck that, he could kiss Ryan, he didn't have to just lean back and wait for it. So he didn't, just slid a hand up Ryan's back and pulled him forward, meeting him rough and hungry and fuck, just what he'd wanted all day and all night. Well, part of what he'd wanted. Probably shouldn't go getting him completely naked in here, because it was still the copy room, after all, a sort of semi-public place, and it would probably be best to stay as clothed as possible just in case- Ryan took his shirt off, and then he took Justin's shirt off, and okay, half-clothed, that was fine too. Or, Justin thought optimistically, half-naked.
Ryan was skinnier than he was, but not in a Lindsey Lohan underfed sort of way, just naturally lean. Like he didn't have to work for it, which was hot, because Justin wasn't really that wild about working out himself. Also it was hot because it was hot, the slight curve of his hipbones drawing Justin's hands downward and it had been forever, forever since Justin had sucked a guy off, and he wanted it so fucking badly his mouth was watering. He licked his lips, and then Ryan kissed his wet mouth, biting at his bottom lip and then moving lower and there they were, in the copy room, making out like teenagers. They should have done this years ago.
He struggled a little unbuttoning Ryan's pants; it was hard enough at this angle and in the dark, but really the problem was that Ryan had moved down to Justin's neck, and was currently scraping his teeth over the bit where neck met shoulder. Well, not so much problem as really fucking amazing enjoyable thing that Ryan should never stop doing, ever. It was sending messages to his central nervous system like 'mate for life! mate for life!' because jesus goddamn christ that spot was practically hardwired to his cock, and it made it a little difficult to focus on anything except the swift glorious ascension to nirvana. Attaining inner peace through Ryan Gosling, Justin was so there. He would write the damn self-help book, and he was pretty sure it would fly off the shelves.
Finally, finally reaching into Ryan's pants, pushing them down over his narrow hips and gripping his ass for a second before grasping his cock and, "I need," Justin said, because he did, and if he didn't suck Ryan off right now then- Justin didn't even bother to finish the thought, just twisted them until Ryan's back hit the wall and Justin hit the floor on his knees.
"Justin, fuck," Ryan said, his voice rough, and it was Ryan that he was going to do this to, Ryan he'd known for over ten years, who he used to run around with on set, and the first guy, he suddenly remembered, the first guy he'd ever jerked off thinking about. He closed his eyes, running his hand over Ryan's cock before fitting his mouth over the head and slowly sliding down the length of it, taking in as much as he could. Ryan was just- fuck, too perfect, and Justin hoped to god this wouldn't be a one-time thing because it had been years, years since he'd been fucked and judging by the way Ryan's hips were thrusting toward him he'd be fantastic at it, hard and steady and goddamn it, why hadn't Justin thought this far ahead and come prepared? It wasn't like he hadn't thought it, wasn't like his fucking girlfriend hadn't suggested it, recommended it even. He didn't even have any condoms on him, fuck, Justin didn't even deserve to get laid.
He sucked harder, in penance, and Ryan groaned, which was, okay, Justin didn't feel so bad as long as Ryan was making those noises. Ryan reached down, sliding a hesitant hand through Justin's short curls, and Justin was glad he was growing them out again, because honestly it felt great when people gripped them, like Ryan was doing, not too hard but enough to convey his desperation. Justin glanced up. Desperation was a good look for Ryan, but actually he wasn't sure there was any emotion that was a bad look for him. Justin kept his gaze up as he moved his mouth over Ryan's cock. Ecstasy, eagerness, want. Yep, those were all pretty good looks for Ryan, too.
"You'll fuck me later, right?" Justin said, pulling back but keeping hold of Ryan, stroking slowly up and down. "We'll do this again?"
"Yeah," Ryan said, nodding down at him and the desperation was back and yes, Justin liked it a lot. "Yes. Definitely. Whenever you'd like. Please."
Justin smiled. "Good," he said, and went back to work, grabbing Ryan's ass and pulling him forward, and it wasn't long before Ryan was coming, hips jerking and thrusting into Justin's mouth. He leaned back and took it, swallowing down and oh fuck yes, they would absolutely do this again, maybe even somewhere with a bed or, fuck, actually the wall was just fine. Justin's knees hurt, and even that felt good. Everything felt pretty great, even Justin's own erection, which was pushing against his own zipper and even with the extra space, still a pretty tight fit. It wouldn't take much; Justin was so turned on it was possible that all Ryan had to do was look at him right and he'd lose it.
Ryan leaned against the wall, panting, as Justin rose to his feet. Ryan blinked at him and, "Oh god, here, let me," he said, reaching for Justin's pants, and Justin decided that willing might be his favorite look of all for Ryan. It really didn't take long at all for Ryan to get him off, the barest touch and Justin was leaning into him, moaning low against Ryan's throat and he thought about how later, Ryan would fuck him, and that was all he needed to come gasping Ryan's name.
Minutes passed as they caught their breath, and finally, Ryan asked, "So why didn't we do that years ago?"
"I have no idea," Justin said, thinking about how polyamory was a perfectly valid lifestyle choice.
Ryan laughed. "Well fuck that. We need to make time for this at least every few months."
No, fuck that, Justin thought. "Are you free tomorrow?"
"What?" Ryan asked. "Tomorrow? Yeah, I think so, why?"
"Because," Justin said, grinning, "I think you and Rachel should come have dinner."