Should be tied (Bieber/Usher not-fic, R)
Against my better judgment, I let some people on Tumblr convince me to publicly share how I'm a terrible Usher/Justin Bieber shipper, because I mean. I mean, GOD, LOOK AT THIS --
Anyway, I went on to paitac in email about it in 2011. I thought it was just a few emails, but it turns out I lost my mind for like a week, and THIS IS NOT A FIC, but it's also 14,000 words, which means I have to break up the posts, so I gave it a title? But it's not a fic. It's super not! I would've put, like, way more work into it.
Should be tied
Justin Bieber/Usher. 14,000 words. R.
Justin comes to stay with Usher when they both have a few days off.
WARNING: BIEBER IS 16 BECAUSE I WROTE ALL OF THIS WHEN HE WAS 16.
Justin is more than a little awed by Usher in the beginning. It's easy to assume his attraction has to do with the fact that he still hasn't gotten over how someone like Usher genuinely thinks he can sing -- that he's talented. It's absolutely that kind of excited attraction people just get around celebrities, right? It has to be. That must happen with other people all the time. That's just how it is when people get around famous artists they admire.
But then it's been two or three years, and he still feels pretty awed by Usher for different reasons. He knows first hand that Usher is well-meaning, attentive, and dedicated to helping the people around him -- like Justin! -- succeed. They've seen a lot of success come out of their friendship, and Usher never talks down to him or treats him like he's "just a teenager," has always treated Justin like an equal, and Justin feels comfortable confiding in Usher, and if he's attracted to Usher now, it's because of how he's a great musician and a great person. Justin's attracted to people he wants to model himself after.
From what Justin knows, Usher loves his kids, and he really loved his wife, and he even told Justin a little about how heartbreaking that whole situation was, how it feels like you have everything together, and then one day you start thinking of that whole period as a time when you'd actually lost your head.
Justin -- Justin's never even been in love, not yet, but he thinks he gets it. He gets how important friendship is, even if he's a lot younger, and maybe Usher wants to be around people who can relate directly or something, but he never seems to act like that, like Justin's not on the level. A lot of Usher's crew are people Justin considers part of his own circle these days, and Justin has been to Usher's house plenty, and their families know each other. They've worked together countless times. It's no big deal if Justin spends a lot of time with Usher, or if he heads to his place in Atlanta to take a load off after tour instead of just going straight home.
They don't live that far from one another, really, in Atlanta, but it's still different, feels freer somehow, even more adult than he already does half the time, working so much. It's relaxing, easy -- killing time, bouncing around ideas, unwinding. Usher's still pretty busy, actually. He's planning performances, in and out of the house, but he's around enough that Justin doesn't feel like he's imposing by staying over or taking up space for no reason. Even with so much time spent busy and surrounded by people, Usher can still manage to come home at night with enough will to hang out for a while.
The kids are with Tameka, so it's really just them some nights, and it's all easy, fun. Justin feels good, feels independent, and he lets that easiness carry him through each day. He doesn't worry about going home too soon. He eats, laughs, plays basketball, and spends time with Usher in his place, lets himself kiss Usher in the garage while they're talking about how Usher wants to buy motorbikes or something. He doesn't even know the first thing about riding or going off-roading or any of that, not really, but it seems like the kind of vacation he's into these days. Could be fun. So it's not even an obvious lead in, doesn't have to happen, but Justin feels confident, relaxed and welcomed, like he can do whatever, and then his mouth is touching Usher's and his heart thuds as a chill spikes through his stomach.
"Hey, J. Hey. Justin -- hold on," Usher says, voice laced with surprise.
When he speaks to Justin usually, it's always with a brightness, the words pressed through a smile. He sounds cautious now, and Justin's eyelids flutter, unsure of where this is going now, or if he wants to see.
"Sorry --"
"Don't apologize." Usher's firmer about that. "You don't have to."
Justin feels overwhelmed again, like the beginning, like always, but he's never been this kind of nervous about it. He touches Usher, thinks better of it a second too late and can't figure out how to pull back without looking scolded. Usher doesn't flinch.
Justin thinks he probably should have thought this out more. He hadn't expected to go for anything, though. He says, "I don't know what else to say."
"It's… fine. It's just -- if it's just an accident."
"Well, I, uh," Justin says, because it kind of had been -- not enough. It wasn't unintentional enough, he knows, because he's too aware of the pads of his fingers on Usher's skin. He's still anxious standing in front of him, breathing deliberate, trying to stay normal. "Probably."
Usher's brow furrows, either not understanding or unsure of what move to make. He hasn't tensed up yet. Still. It's a confusing kind of calm, and Justin has to push up on his feet to get closer to him -- slowly, slowly.
He somehow didn't think about it during the first attempt to close in, but he feels every single inch of empty space now. They're too far away, this move is too obvious, and then the gap is completely gone, lips brushing again. Justin flexes his fingers, curls them against skin and the sleeve of Usher's shirt.
Usher parts his lips to do -- maybe to say something, but Justin stumbles a little. Usher catches him at his side, steadying him, and without words, it's just reciprocating a kiss -- once, and then again, and then again, the small sounds of it amplified in a quiet space.
Justin's used to rolling with it. That's what he's done for the last few years, so he sticks to what he knows now, except this is also totally surprising for once, because well. Well.
But it doesn't even go farther than kissing at first. Justin's testing this whole new territory, but Usher stops things. He's responsible, and this is -- what is this?
"It's an accident," Usher repeats. It doesn't have to be a problem.
So he stops it, but he doesn't even pretend to scold Justin. That's not how they work. That's not the kind of influence Usher's ever wanted to have on Justin, and luckily it's not starting now. They're friends.
;;
Justin continues to spend time at Usher's place, unwinding, and they hang out in Usher's home studio. They listen to some of the material Usher's been working on and start to work out a new track of their own that may or may not ever become anything. It's normal. It's as ordinary as creating music can ever really get, the two of them taking turns in the booth.
Justin laughs in the middle of a few takes, because Usher keeps dancing every time he starts the cut over for Justin, saying things in between like, "Aww, you gotta groove on it. You gotta jam it out to make it feel right."
He demonstrates while Justin sings, unheard through the glass while the music's on but mouthing along with every word.
He holds out his hand for a low five when Justin steps out, and then there's that tense moment when somebody misses a cue, when Justin doesn't immediately sit down, where Usher then doesn't immediately go into the booth for his next pass, and Justin reaches out again, unsure of what he's intending, but his fingers skim Usher's forearm and catch his side.
Justin's fingers feel a suggestion of muscle through Usher's t-shirt, for a second, and then Usher's hands come up. He sets them on Justin's shoulders, holding him off. When Justin moves again, Usher flips them around, not really pushing Justin, but still setting them apart, until there's no where to go. Justin's back is against the wall.
Usher looks at him, expression inscrutable, and Justin touches Usher's wrist but doesn't try to move the hands on his shoulders. Instead, he rolls them, and there's a slight give, enough to make him try a little more, hunching close, tipping forward to get nearer, to tilt his chin up, and get -- somewhere, get there, touch their mouths together, part his lips, and not even breathe for a moment, because what if -- what if Usher doesn't -- but he does, finally, finally. He kisses back. He changes the angle of his head, and Justin almost feels awkward about making even a small sound then, a soft, surprised reaction, because it feels like there's been nothing but silence for so long somehow, and he disrupts it briefly, but Usher doesn't pull away, thank goodness, which might also be a strange sentiment here, to feel relief at that, but Justin does.
He touches Usher's sides again, barely, fingernails poised along Usher ribs through fabric and slipping lower. The back of Justin's hand slides over Usher's stomach, feeling the muscles jump there, a little, maybe, and Usher does freeze then, but he doesn't move back as Justin's knuckles bump across his belt.
He still doesn't have any specific aims, just thinks about what he's seen in movies, what he's imagined someone might do with him. Their lips come apart as Usher touches his forehead to Justin's, inhaling. Justin braces his fingers on the front of Usher's belt, tugging, and everything is quiet -- steady. Justin's not sure what to do but continue, so he does, undoing the buckle without looking, eyes closed.
He breathes kind of shallowly with his mouth so close to Usher's.
He presses a thumb over the button of Usher's jeans when the belt's loose, undoing that too and folding his fingers over the waistband of Usher's underwear, feeling the ridge of Usher's hip bones against the back of his fingers.
He flexes them once, and then Usher touches Justin's face, pausing, and it's not exactly a kiss when their mouths brush again, but Usher's still not retreating, not getting upset, at least not the way Justin expects. His pulse is a heavy thud in him, and he's so near to -- there's just skin now, as Justin pushes his hands down more, flips them to flatten the pads of his fingers against Usher's hips. Justin lowers his head to see what that looks like. Usher presses his face to the top of Justin's head as he looks, sees his hands in Usher's pants up to his wrists.
It's when Justin starts to push the fabric down that Usher finally breathes, "J, J, J..." hollowly, the only suggestion of a warning.
But Justin wouldn't know how to come back from this as it is, so he waits a moment, until there's quiet again, and then keeps going, pushing down. He slips one hand to the side and sees the underwear dip low, sees Usher's dick as he gets a hand over it. Usher's own touch changes, becomes more deliberate, tilting Justin's face up enough to kiss his temple.
It's not -- that isn't what Justin wants though, not when Usher's half-hard in Justin's hand, so he moves to get their mouths aligned again, and Usher drops to close the half-second of space between them, kissing Justin again, and that's the thing that throws the whole scenario into stark relief for Justin, that it's just them here, and he's kissing Usher -- kissing, and Justin's so hard, because the grip isn't ideal, but he's jerking Usher off in his studio.
He's imagined a lot of things, mostly about his career and how things could continue to change for him, even now, and how Usher would be around to support him through all of it, because he believes in Justin. So he's become used to imagining Usher there, for so much, and he once had this lame dream, where he and Usher were out, nondescript version of places they've really been, and Usher kept Justin with him, and things were different.
In the dream, Usher never broke off to pull some beautiful woman along by the hand. He just stayed at Justin's side, even when they were sitting finally, watching something -- on TV? a movie? a show? -- it hadn't been clear enough, but Usher's hand on his hip was. The way it made Justin shiver a little, when his fingers skidded underneath the hem of his shirt, catching skin, unthinking -- that was vivid.
Justin remembers that well. He remembers how it felt every time Usher would lean in to whisper something to him, laughing, so near a few times that Justin felt the shape of his smile against his cheek before Usher pulled back all the way. And it was the rush of being out, being around people he admired, who thought Justin had something worthwhile.
Or maybe it was about something different, closer to what he feels standing in the middle of this studio now, because now he's got that same feeling in him that he got in the dream, that he's gotten actually being out with Usher, warm and twisting in his stomach. It's heavier now, coiling tighter in Justin, and he keeps stroking, feeling himself gravitate closer as Usher's mouth grazes along his jaw, shaped differently than how he'd dreamed it might feel there, breath fanning out.
Usher still has his hands on Justin's face mostly, thumb pushing back and forth across the skin below Justin's left ear. When he finally moves one arm, it's to wrap his fingers around Justin's on his dick, squeezing tighter, showing him. Justin groans at the shock of it, seeing Usher's fingers around his and taking in the weighty absence of Usher's hands elsewhere, because he's touched Justin's fingers, shoulders, and face, and nothing more, and Justin wants him to so much right then -- anywhere, anywhere else.
But Usher doesn't. He keeps his hands to steady places, moving to Justin's arm when he lets Justin's fingers continue on their own. He only touches somewhere new when he comes, finally, bested by a few short moans as he gets there. He kisses Justin one more time, slipping his fingers over the ridge of Justin's collar bone, dipping under the edge of his t-shirt and out and down again, and Usher steps back, pulls his underwear and pants up as he finds a chair and sits. He rubs his hands over his face, dropping his head back and exhaling, and Justin doesn't know what to think about that, what it means that Usher's there while Justin's got come on his fingers, hard in his jeans and frozen to the spot.
Usher zips his pants up, buttons them. He doesn't redo the belt, and when he looks at Justin, he looks worn at the edges, severe but not angry.
Justin wipes his hand on his own thigh, swallowing hard.
"Are you, uh --" Usher asks but then stops, dropping his head down, and then exhales. The silence that swells then is enough to make Justin start to feel nervous, but Usher just sound normal when he speaks again, voice slightly rough. "We should eat something, right? Let me go see what we have in here."
His eyes go to Justin's hand when he flutter it a little, fingers clenching against his jeans, and Justin can see Usher's eyes slide the couple inches over, directly at Justin's fly, and it's probably obvious. It's probably so obvious that he's still hard, feeling like the knot in his stomach just gets bigger and bigger. "I'll, um -- let me find something."
Usher gets up, leaving.
Justin turns his head to track his movements, watches him step out. He doesn't follow. He hangs back, stuck inside the silence. The padding on the wall doesn't make sliding to the floor easy, but he lets himself drop down, breathing quick. He curves his hands over his knees, exhaling deliberately, and Usher doesn't come back, so he undoes his own pants and reaches to fix his situation.
;;
“What’re you thinking about?”
Justin taps his index finger against the table, centering his thoughts with that sound. Trying to. He says, “About downstairs…”
He could lie, but there’s no point. Usher doesn't look like he expected anything else anyway. He asks, “Are you embarrassed?”
“I don’t know,” Justin says. “Should I - I don’t know.”
“You can be straight with me,” Usher says. “That’s all the time. That doesn’t change.”
“Are you embarrassed?” Justin asks. “Or mad? I can. If I should be getting stuff together to -”
Usher says, “No, no. It doesn’t matter if I’m good.”
But that doesn’t really sound right to Justin. It matters to him, he thinks. He needs to know, because he’s trying to figure out what having dinner now means, after that, and he doesn’t really have any ideas. He says, “But if I’m honest with you, then… Trade.”
Usher looks up, like he’s considering something. He runs a hand over his head, bowing it, and when he looks up again, he rests his elbows on the table, folding his hands. Justin can see his eyes over his fingers, most of Usher’s expression hidden. He says, exhaling, “I should be telling you it was a mistake. That we can’t. I can’t -”
“You’re not going to?” Justin says.
After a pause, Usher says, “I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
Justin bites at his food a little roughly, leg restless in his chair. He says, “Say whatever, then.”
The corner of Usher’s mouth lifts once, a laugh that gets tempered right away. He’s still weighing things carefully, Justin can sense that much. He feels like he’ll never be able to sit still.
“I am embarrassed,” Usher says with his mouth stretching. Justin can’t quite figure out if it's supposed to a smile or wince. “I’m not mad. Definitely not mad.”
"Okay," Justin says. He nods. "I was worried."
But it's sort of reassuring to know that Usher is, possibly, just as out of sorts as he is here. Maybe this whole thing is weird, but he's not the only one unable to categorize how to respond to it.
It might not be solved, but Usher does throw his arm around Justin later, the way he's done a thousand times. Though being in close proximity feels different now, doesn't it? If Justin notices, then Usher has to as well.
Justin's aware of how easy it is to tilt his head up now, and so he does, pressing his mouth against Usher's, both their smiles freezing on whatever made them laugh last.
"You know what you're doing here?" Usher says, like they're just talking about music or picking photos or something. It sounds almost the same, Usher telling Justin to always choose for himself and then to stick to it, because that's the what makes people realize you have opinions about what works for you and are serious about them.
And he's not -- he's not sure, sure of anything here, okay, but he says, "You don't have to remind me. You know..."
He starts to rethink speaking up at all when the pause in his words drags out a beat too long. Then Usher's nose touches his, and Justin inhales, like air expanding in his chest is what he needs to bring them right against one another, like they weren't already there, and this many times has to say something, right? If they've ended up in this position -- Usher's mouth on his, kissing in different rooms, it has to mean something. Right?
Justin feels like it means something. He feels like he's established something about what he wants here and completely remixed how exciting it is whenever he gets to spend time around Usher. A lot of what they're doing is all new and shaky and tense, but then it's also suddenly awesome too. He's kissed Usher multiple times -- Usher, who Justin loves for how great he is, and who's never hesitated in his friendship. Justin feels the muscles around his mouth give him away, grinning into the kiss again.
Usher's breath hitches a little, like something about Justin's caught him off guard. Justin tries to use it to his advantage. He tries to push closer, tries to shift as if he's ready to hoist himself over to get into Usher's lap, but he's not quite quick enough. Usher's reflexives are better for these circumstances. He lies Justin back on the couch. Justin sinks into the couch cushions, legs falling apart. Usher kisses him again while he hovers over Justin's body, and Justin feels the gap between their chest and hips like a physical blockade. He wants to even closer. He just wants to feel something other than the space, and he reaches up to pull at Usher's shirt, tugging to encourage Usher to meet him halfway.
Usher takes Justin's hand, traps it between their bodies and moves from Justin's mouth to kissing his cheek, moving down to graze Justin's neck and then biting his earlobe lightly. Justin inhales sharply, says, "Come on."
"What?" Usher says. "I don't know unless you know."
"Come down," Justin says, breathier than he likes.
When Usher does slide back some, letting his body stretch out against Justin's, almost too close, too -- Justin's caught off guard even though he asked for it, can't help but push his hips up at the same time he wraps his arms around Usher, because it's all right there, like he could do this now, if he wanted, and --
"Wait," he says, even though Usher's barely moving. But Usher obliges.
"Let me know," he says in this unfairly calm whisper, but Justin can tell his breathing's shallower, so there's that, at least.
He clings to Usher, hugging him, and even that's somehow a lot, because Usher's body is still there, and he can probably tell that Justin's turned on, and it's hot, so Justin's not sure why he can't stop the shivers that snake through him at random.
After a while, Usher starts to pull up, but Justin grabs on tighter and says, "No, hold on."
He hopes it doesn't sound like he's scared or not ready or anything, He thinks maybe he's botched it, but then Usher doesn't go anywhere. Instead, Usher hugs Justin until his heartbeat slows again, and he feels heavy and tired, lying there.
Eventually, Usher says, "Sleepy?"
When he moves now, Justin lets him, and Usher takes Justin's hand and pulls him along. He leads Justin to the guest bedroom he's been staying in, hugs him again. He says, "Go 'head and crash."
"Alright."
They don't sleep in the same bed, but Justin doesn't even know if he could right now anyway, if Usher lying with him on the couch is enough to make him start shaking, anxious and wanting and now knowing what to do all at the same time.
So Justin goes to bed by himself, but it doesn't stop him from thinking a lot about it either. He finally gets sleep but wakes up too early, stifled by blankets. He can't say he expected to be thinking about anything else -- anyone other than the obvious -- when he woke, but he's definitely not, mind already halfway down the hall before Justin's even gotten out of bed to use the bathroom, gargle, and then follow his instincts.
Usher's door is open. He doesn't come awake until Justin kneels on the edge of his mattress. Under Justin's scrutiny, he drags his face against his pillow, groans tiredly, and wipes a hand over his eyes. He watches Justin, and Justin feels uncomfortably new, then, without the sun up all the way, poised carefully like some kid who's just had a nightmare.
Usher doesn't say anything like that, though. He doesn't even ask if him if anything's wrong. He says, "What time is it?"
Justin has no idea. He doesn't have a clue. He just gets up to push the blankets back and crawls under them, and it's still as warm here as in his own room, but sitting on the edge feels silly after a couple minutes. He slides closer to Usher and extends his arms to nearly recreate their positioning from last night, the hug.
Lifting his head, Usher says, "Hey," with a little confusion but not startled enough that Justin freezes.
Instead Justin thinks again and again that he needs to keep going, keep going, and he kisses Usher's cheek first. Usher's thigh slips against Justin's legs, warm and bare below the hem of his underwear.
A more direct heat spikes in Justin's stomach, and he moves to press a close-lipped kiss to Usher's mouth. He gets the upper hand, getting Usher to twist back so that Justin's the one looming this time. He kisses Usher again, and then moves down to his jaw. Justin kisses his chin, his neck, and his fingers graze the skin of Usher's stomach, shirt raised from movement against the sheets.
"Hey, hey," Usher breathes again, regaining the control. He rolls Justin to his back and inhales, holds Justin there for a moment, with both his hands against Justin's face, fingers in his hair. Justin can't get his arms around Usher like this, so he does the best he can beneath the covers, reaching for the waist of Usher's boxer briefs.
It's hard to actually get into Usher's underwear when they're lying together. Justin rolls his hips as a consolation. Usher makes a soft, vulnerable sound, and Justin tries to do it again, tries to build it up, but Usher bears down to still him again.
"What are you aiming for?" he asks, and Justin wants to keep doing that, is what he's currently focused on. He just wants to touch in some way.
He tries to tell Usher that. Flexing his fingers, says, "I'm gonna --"
The words seem pointless when he could just move. Justin works his hand out of Usher's grip for a moment, but Usher catches him again, makes sure to pin Justin's other hand down as well, and Justin moans once, something stifled and frustrated.
Usher lets his mouth drag along the underside of Justin's chin, and then his neck, and Justin registers that Usher's slipping back because the way the movement ghosts over Justin's dick makes him bite down on his bottom lip, exhaling in a rush of breath. He gasps, takes his next breath in too sharply when Usher kisses Justin's ribs through his t-shirt and inches farther along, heading down until he kisses Justin where his shirt has folded over, planting one at a halfway point between fabric and skin, and then it's all skin, right against his belly. Something bright concentrates there, and then again an inch away from that when Usher does it another time, in a new place.
Justin can't see Usher clearly. Even when he lifts his head some, the blankets are bunched up in a way that doesn't leave everything completely in the open. But Justin clenches and relaxes his fingers in Usher's grip, holding on and letting go, and he says, "Are -- is this --" as Usher releases one of Justin's hand to tug the waistband of Justin's underwear back.
He holds his breath and waits, but Usher stops before he's really gotten very far, just low enough for Justin to see the curve of his own hip bone beneath skin. Usher kisses that too. He kisses it once and stays, letting his teeth skim there, and then Justin feels the wet heat of his tongue as Usher moves inward slightly.
The way Usher's got a grip on one of Justin's hand and a finger hooked in his underwear stuns him, so close to his cock, so unbelievably close. Justin's thighs tense as Usher keeps his focus on the same place, right in the fold between thigh and pelvis. He curls his free hand in his own t-shirt, breathing and bending one knee, fidgeting in small ways to keep himself distracted enough to keep from groaning, but it's futile like this, because when Usher pauses a moment, turning his head, Justin feels his breath over the skin of his cock, sending a sensation through him that's cool and warm at once.
Usher's eyes catch Justin's for a moment, and once he drops his head again, he's shifted his attention inward even more but never where Justin's started to crave. Justin doesn't want to move too fast, doesn't want to make too much noise, doesn't want to do anything in case of -- just in case, but he can't not bring a hand down to press against himself, to have something before he's worked up to some impossible point.
And Usher -- it's torture when Usher crawls back up along Justin's body then. He's so lit that he can't be ashamed of the way he whines, wrapping his fingers around himself then, if this is the best he's going to get. It doesn't even take much after that, just a little concentration, with Justin's hand caught between their bodies.
Usher touches his wrist, not guiding, just there, and he kisses Justin's collarbone, and it's enough, finally. When Justin turns his head, immediately searching as he comes, Usher lets Justin find him for a moment, running a hand over Justin's hair and parting his lips for him, until Justin can comprehend anything again.
He tangles his fingers in Usher's, like he's searching for something to anchor himself to, and then only lets go to move one hand up to Usher's neck while the other goes to his back. Justin has his eyes closed, smothered in the feel of it. As Usher shifts, Justin angles in. He buries his face against Usher's neck and holds on tighter, awed and paralyzed by the thought of what happens when Usher moves away.
Usher says, voice low, "You got it. You got this; it's okay."
The way he says it makes Justin wonder what he looks like, if that's the kind of thing Usher knows to say to him right then.
"Yeah?" Justin says.
"Mhm."
Justin tightens his grip even more for a second, and then finally loosens. Usher doesn't roll away immediately or anything either, still lying between Justin's legs. The implications of their positioning hits Justin belatedly, making him trail his hand back down as he says, "Do you want me to help you?"
"No. No, I'm good," Usher says. He runs his knuckles along Justin's side. "We're good."
Justin doesn't think either of them can be certain about what they are now, actually, but he'll take that answer while all his nerves still feel fired up and raw.
;;
They won't get to stay in the bubble forever. Justin kind of wishes he could keep dragging out the time -- these fairly vague days of rest and relaxation, and whatever the word might be for the rest of it. He thinks it would be worth it just to have the time to figure out what that other word might be, but Justin knows better than to get his hopes up too high on that. Usher is a parent, and they both have too many people around them to sustain something like this, in this way. It's not like they can start going out on dates and hold hands, and Justin can plan to be the stepparent for Usher's kids.
Justin's 16. He has to go home at some point.
For now, though, he dozes off again, and he feels completely rested when he wakes up and the sun's out. He feels loose-limbed but alert, and Usher's not too far behind him in opening his eyes.
Justin looks at him for a minute, and Usher doesn't stop him. He laughs suddenly, shifting his hips a little under the covers and saying, "My boxers are pretty bad right now, man."
"Oh, god," Usher says and buries his face in a pillow.
Justin laughs louder. Taking a breath, he says, "Yeah, I should get out of these," and peeks underneath the blankets. "I'm, um --"
"You want to use my bathroom?" Usher says.
"Yeah," Justin says, feeling strange about sitting up to go. He jerked off against Usher a few hours ago, but somehow walking around his bed and to the bathroom feels weird. But Justin sucks it up and does it, trying his hardest to move as if everything is ordinary, even though it really isn't.
In the master shower, he looks down at his body, taking in what he sees, skimming fingers over his tattoo and then the places where Usher had his mouth. He thinks about that feeling, what it was like, arousing and foreign, and he can see how his skin has reddened, how he might have a couple hickies, it looks like, and Justin feels himself smile some, because that's crazy. That's insane, but it had felt amazing, too, had been him and Usher, and coming was good -- really good.
He might have a little more swagger getting out of the shower. It's nerve-wracking but confidence boosting in the aftermath, because Usher had his head between Justin's legs, hadn't pushed him away or placated him, had participated and been there with him, so maybe he's onto something, he thinks.
Usher isn't in the bedroom when he comes out of the shower, wearing one of Usher's bathrobes. Justin walks through the house to find him, and Usher's dressed leisurely, standing in the living room with a remote in his hand.
When he sees Justin, he says, "Better?"
"Yeah," Justin says, and he walks toward Usher, brings his arms up like he's done hundreds of times to get a hug, but this time he goes for a kiss too. He wonders if it could be that simple, if he can pull that off now, something easy, and he's a little awed when Usher obliges.
His arms wrap around Justin instinctively, lifting, and Justin reaches behind himself when his legs bump against the back of a couch. He sits on the arm, balancing, and Usher steps back and looks at Justin with his a hand on his hip.
"We should be outside today," Usher says, and Justin shifts his legs under the casual survey Usher seems to be taking of him.
"Or we could stay here," Justin says, even as he covers his leg, fixing where the robe has fallen apart slightly.
Usher half-smiles at him, chuckling low. He says, "You're too much for your own good."
"I learned from the best," Justin says, grinning, laughing along. "You gotta know what to say to the ladies."
Usher shakes his head, saying, "I'm not some young thing you brought on stage, dude."
"I know," Justin says. He starts to wiggle one foot, restless. "Wait." He lifts his chin before he speaks. "Am I?"
Usher presses his lips together, still considering Justin with the same focused but friendly ease. He places his hands on Justin's legs, leaning forward, and he rests his cheek against Justin's hair and exhales.
Justin's not sure if he can really sense Usher's pulse this close or if he's imagining it, but trying to figure it out makes him think about how many times he's felt it for sure in the last day. He thinks about the garage, the studio, the bedroom, and he thinks hard about not saying what comes to mind, because it would be too much right now, for this, and Usher still hasn't answered the question, which could also mean something, right? But Justin still touches Usher's arm and says, "Man, I love you."
Usher kisses Justin's head softly, mouth against his hair. He's not speaking, and he's not speaking, and then he says, "I love you, too," like always, murmuring it against the side of Justin's face. He kisses there too, and then pulls back, patting Justin's leg. "For real, let's get out for a while. Get some fresh air."
And Justin's wondering if he's made things better or worse, and what the criteria for either would even be for this.
;;
Justin isn't completely clueless. It takes him ten minutes to really get it for certain, but he knows that Usher getting them out of the house is his attempt at getting some kind of breather for them. It's not a bad idea, but Usher's also still the guy the who didn't quite but totally almost could have given Justin a blowjob earlier. That's tough to shake from his brain, no matter where he's standing -- insid or outside.
Justin makes an honest effort to go along with distraction, but when he jumps on Usher's back like he always does, his arms don't drape quite the same way. It's hard not to graze neat fingernails against the back of Usher's neck discreetly or run a thumb against Usher's collarbone as casually as he dares, partly to see if he can and more because he wants to. He wants to pick at the edges of this, figure out exactly where it makes him get nervous, what makes Usher stutter for a moment in return. It's frustrating that Usher doesn't really seem to initiate in the same way, and so Justin only pushes so far, simultaneously reckless and careful.
He tones it down completely as they run some errands. Justin calls his mom while Usher stops at a bank, lets her know that he loves her. They hang out for the day, and Justin goes with Usher to pick up his sons from Tameka's. He's going to spend the next few days with them until he has to fly out for a couple appearances and performances.
It's almost strangely mundane. It's just like the kind of normal they were before too recently, before Justin spent more time glancing at Usher and thinking about what-ifs and acting on some of them. With the exception of Justin's mind and the way Usher has let Justin's hand linger here and there, it's almost like nothing's happened, easy enough to laugh and talk, humming along to the radio.
;;
Usher is an okay cook, but it's never been something he actually enjoys doing all that much. Justin wants to help make stuff for the boys, because he's kind of fond of making meals alongside other people, something he associates primarily with his mom, the two of them cooking together. It feels grounding. It's like the reward for a day well-spent is eating well. Plus, Naviyd and little Usher are picky eaters, so it's like winning a challenge if they eat something and then want more.
He and Usher make a pasta dish that the boys devour even with all the vegetables in it. The only reason they don't really finish off third helpings is because they start to doze off at the table, and Justin rinses plates while Usher herds both the small dudes to bed, glancing up and half-smiling when Usher comes back into the kitchen and stands to the side of the sink, watching Justin's hands.
When Justin finishes, he dries his hands on a dish towel and turns around, leaning back against the edge of the counter. He says, "Is it time for 'the talk'?"
He drops his voice low on the end of the question, some mock foreboding.
"Which one is that?" Usher says, sounding sincere, though Justin knows that's what this is. They both must.
"The one where you say I'm too young. I won't be able to handle it. I should go with something different," Justin says.
"Is that what you want me to say?"
"I'm just familiar with it," Justin says.
Usher exhales, head tilting. He says, "Then I probably don't need to say it." He reaches out at bumps his hand against Justin's elbow. "Besides, anybody who tells you that is wrong. You know that right?"
Justin nods, because he knows what Usher means. With the music -- with work, he's always reminding Justin that he can take it. There's a difference between pushing it and not letting people convince him that he can't roll with what's thrown at him. Justin agrees and appreciates the vote of confidence, except -- "But this is different?"
"There's no good answer for a double-edged sword," Usher says. He folds his arms, and then drops them again. "What about your girl?"
At that, Justin shrugs. He doesn't really know. Sometimes he's dating Selena, and sometimes they're really close friends. When they can be around each other, it's great, and when they can't, it's complicated.
When Justin doesn't offer more of answer, Usher says, "You've got better things to do, man. Better places to be."
"I want to be here," Justin says.
"Really?" Usher says, skeptical. He gestures over his shoulder. "Cleaning dishes, watching kids, dealing with tantrums --"
"Not just them," Justin says. "And, come on, you like this --"
Usher says, "After most of my twenties celebrating not having the responsibility, though. You're haven't even let yourself hit 18, yet."
Justin huffs. "I'm too young."
"Your age isn't a bad thing, dude," Usher says, nudging Justin's shoulder. Justin catches Usher's wrist, halfway guides his hand up, until Usher's got his palm curved along Justin's neck, gentle.
Justin says, "What about right now?"
"What do you want, J?" Usher asks, leaving his hand where it is.
"It'll sound cheesy."
Usher's mouth picks up at that, a faint lopsided smile. He says, "I won't laugh."
"Kiss me," Justin says. "I mean. I want to know if you want to."
Usher sighs, exhaling through is nose, and the movement seems to bring his shoulders down, just that fraction of an inch closer. Justin tries not to read into it too much.
Usher curls his fingers against Justin's neck, stroking back and forth softly. He says, "I probably can't tell you what you want to hear."
"But you did it already," Justin says, pushing up on his toes. Usher doesn't have quite the same height on him that he used to, but it's still enough to feel like an effort. Justin raises up slow, anticipating, not hoping -- he is hoping.
Usher says, "Justin --"
"No, don't. Don't, please?" Justin says. "You don't have to, then. Forget I said --"
Usher brings him in close and wraps his arms around Justin's shoulders. He's warm, hugging tight enough that Justin knows it isn't sympathy. At least, he knows that it's not only sympathy. He doesn't need pity. Usher kisses the side of his face, at his temple, which is tease enough as it is.
"Again," Justin says, and he worries for a second that it might sound too much like a question. Usher pauses only momentarily, and then he gives another kiss, this one over Justin's hairline.
"Again," Justin repeats, angling his face up more. Ushers lips catch the bridge if Justin's nose this time.
Justin keeps encouraging Usher, repeating a single word as Usher gets his eyelids, his cheeks, his jawline, until Justin tilts his head the way he's been envisioning the whole time, murmuring nonsense, too anxious to focus, because it would take nothing, almost nothing for Usher to lean forward, for him to initiate the next one, for it to be all him if Justin hasn't actually said a word at all.
Justin can feel the slight stretch of lifting himself all the way through his toes. He could drop back down, could let it go if Usher's not going just do what he's thinking, what Justin's thinking too, but then he really is resting back on his heels, and it's because Usher's craned in, following Justin down.
And this -- this is a real distraction. Justin loses himself in the feel of the kiss until remembers that Usher still hasn't told him what he wants to hear. He wants to know what Usher's thinking. Justin has spent years listening to the music, watching the videos. He's been around in rooms full of grown folks, sometimes hearing things he probably shouldn't -- stories. He knows a little bit about the things Usher's gotten up to in his life, with women, and where his mind can go, and Justin wants to know exactly what Usher's thinking about him.
After a minute, Justin murmurs, "Did you want to?" against Usher's mouth. Even if he knows the chances of a simple yes are slim, it's still what he needs, just once, because his head's full of images and possibilities, and he wants to know he's not alone in that.
What Usher says, after some push-pull where Justin tries to get closer, Usher holds him off, and then lifts him to pin him against the fridge, to get control of the moment again -- Usher says, "If you were anybody else--"
It could be in reference to Justin's squirming, a chastisement, but Justin says, "What? Say. If I was anybody else, what?"
"What do you think?" Usher asks, their lips still so near, brushing lightly as they converse.
"I don't know," Justin says, but maybe he has an idea. He hopes he does. He's got his legs hitched up around Usher's waist. It's difficult not to have some theories.
"You want me to say I'd kiss you?" Usher asks, and then does, soft and pretty chaste. Justin licks experimentally, testing, and Usher opens his mouth wider, lets Justin's tongue get farther until the kiss isn't too wet but undeniable.
He feels bereft when Usher pulls back and mutters, "Want me tell you how I'd touch?"
He tightens his grip on Justin's thigh and slides it along until his hand's nearly curved over Justin's ass, as much as possible while holding him against the metal of the fridge. Justin's back is chilly against door, T-shirt nowhere near thick enough. He's cold at the back and warm along his front, making breathy noises as he tries to kiss him again, and Usher only lets him get so far.
He lets Justin's body slide down some, and Justin tries to buck his hips against that, stay longer. Usher hunches in to make up for the slack, like it's on purpose, and when Justin bucks this time, their hips are more aligned, the friction the perfect kind of suggestive, and Usher says, with his mouth brushing the edge of Justin's ear, "Hoping to hear how we'd fuck?"
Justin chokes on an exhale, like his body isn't sure what it wants to do next. He groans, the sound quick and jagged, and Usher reels back some, bracing Justin. He says, "Is that how you feel?"
There's something searching about the way Usher's looking at him, heavy -- unavoidable. Justin tries get his arms around Usher's neck.
He says, "I'm slipping."
"Nuh uh," Usher says, canting his hips forward, reminding Justin that he's pinned there.
Justin thinks that, under the circumstances, they could laugh here, an easy pause where nothing's really funny but it just feels appropriate. The faint smile that starts to shape across Justin's own mouth stalls when the backs of Usher's fingers touch the underside of Justin's chin.
"Your turn," he says. "Is that what you think about?"
Justin's pretty sure his angle in this has been transparent from the start. He gets the smile to work this time, huffs a little, a quiet laugh and says, "I'm 16, man. What do you think?"
Managing to turn Usher's own words around is just a bonus, really, and he's smiling so hard he has to bite his lip to control it. He feels unexpectedly giddy somehow, and then Usher hoists Justin up again, gets both arms around him, high enough that Justin can look down a fraction, air gone again. Usher says, "Tell me."
He's stepped back from the refrigerator, and Justin feels completely suspended, clinging. He says, "It's not like --" "Tell me," Usher says again, soft-spoken but direct.
Justin remembers that he doesn't have anything to hold back, didn't want to in the first place, and he says, "It's only more recent -- curious --"
"J."
"Yes, I think about it," Justin says, finally -- okay, okay, yes, and he closes his eyes as his head drops forward, because his pulse has sped up. It's one thing to know they both know, but it's another say something. Except dropping forward to hide his head just brings him closer to Usher, and Usher kisses his neck affectionately.
Justin holds on as Usher starts to walk, takes in cautious, deep breaths as he's carried across the room. He's set down sooner that he anticipates, Usher setting him down on the table. Justin lies back slow when Usher comes up after him, planting his hands on either side of Justin.
Usher leans in, kisses the ridge of Justin's cheek and trails back, says, "Where? -- like here? You want us to do it like this, after dinner, everything cleared?" He sounds like maybe he's smiling now, but Justin can't really see his face in this position. He curls his hand around Usher's arm and flexes his fingers.
"I could stand at the edge, pull you to me," Usher says, and he drags one hand down Justin's side and back again. "Or I'd lay back and let you set the rhythm. You want that?"
Justin fixes his mouth to say something, but he loses it and ends up moaning around a single, aimless syllable.
"Unless you want it on your back. Do you? You want me from behind?" Usher asks. His voice is warm and secretive. He wraps his fingers around one of Justin's forearms, like a point of reference while Justin's mind races. It's so hot in the house to him now, even with all the open space. "Might have to move if you want it on your knees. The couch, the bed -- up to you. It's what you want. You're in charge. You ready for that?"
And Justin -- Justin doesn't know. He hitches on leg up, rolling his hips. Usher moves both of his arms in to brace Justin's head, fingers in his hair so that Justin has to look at him. He repeats himself, says, "Would you be ready?" "I don't know," Justin confesses, a little breathy and just as quiet.
"You don't?"
"I want to be."
Usher ducks forward and kisses Justin's brow, moves low enough to catch his mouth. There's no tongue this time, but it feels just as private, teasing, and when Justin tries to catch Usher's lip, Usher pauses for it and chuckles.
He says, "You're always testing."
"But," Justin says, and then he clears his throat. "But you like it about me."
Usher kisses Justin again once, twice, a couple demure pecks, and he says, "You finished in the kitchen?"
God, yes. Yes, yes, there's not a dish or messy surface in the world that Justin cares about right now. He's turned on and wrung out with it, all of his senses working in overdrive. He nods, and Usher shuffles back, gets off of the table, and encourages Justin to follow. "Alright."
Usher's held his hand before, for other unrelated, less charged reasons, Justin's sure, but this is different. This is being led upstairs and past the boys' room, past the guest room, and Justin says, dumbly, "Where are we going?"
Looking over his shoulder, Usher doesn't even look smug. His is expression is kind of hazy, faded with the hour, and Justin yawns a little in sympathy. Ushers says, "You already know. Look, you're yawning and everything," making it sound completely casual.
Bed. That's it. Like it's not everything.
Once there, Justin's wonders if this is the moment where he needs to quit pretending like he knows what he's doing and really do it or chicken out, particularly because when he stops Usher inside the room, Usher turns to Justin and just looks.
Okay, Justin thinks, he's supposed to make a move here. He slides his hand under Usher's shirt, and then thinks -- off, get it off. He starts pushing it up, and Usher lets him do that too, even raises his arms until it's gone. Justin's holds it in one hand for no reason. It takes him a second to think to drop it, finally, because, well, okay. Now that's done.
Once it's gone, Justin doesn't know what to do. He's left sort of staring -- marveling, which is crazy, because it's not like this should mean so much, but it kind of does. Context is amazing, how it changes the meaning of everything so suddenly, and before Justin can do anything else, Usher touches his neck, kisses his head again and lets his hands trail to Justin's hips.
He walks Justin back to the bed, and Justin finds himself lying down again, going with it. This time Usher climbs over him with his legs on either side of Justin's thighs. When Justin reaches down, he curl his hand against Usher's thigh, opening mouth for the kiss. Usher lifts his head, and when Justin tires to follow him up, Usher moves out of range again, smiling softly. Justin groans, and Usher's chuckle is low, fond.
"Just sleeping, okay? That's all that has to happen," Usher says. "You can even go back to your spot if that's better for you."
Shaking his head, Justin says, "No, here's good. I can stay."
"Sure?" Usher asks, so casually that it takes a moment for Justin to realize that it's the first time Usher's asked him that quite so plainly.
Justin nods, swallowing. Usher slides back, off the bed, and despite the belt, Justin's pants are already low enough on his hips that Usher can work them off by tugging at the legs. Justin lifts his hips, and he feels like he'll just be perpetually half-hard at this point, feels a little strange lying out like that, but Usher doesn't comment on it. He pats Justin's ankle, says, "Be back."
While he heads into the bathroom, Justin turns over and opens his mouth against the comforter in a silent yell, because what the hell. What the hell. He's not sure how to take this, all of it exciting and too much, and his heart is still beating too fast. He's going to spend the foreseeable future turned on and out of breath at this rate, and when he climbs up to the pillows, Justin lies back and exhales.
Usher's pantless as well as shirtless now, coming to the bed in only his underwear. Justin rolls over and moves in to kiss him automatically. Usher's grinning against Justin's mouth. There's something amused about it, and Justin doesn't even care to analyze it right then, feeling so full of everything that he can't pick anything apart. Usher doesn't move away as the kiss gradually devolves, until Justin's just lying close, breathing against his neck and trying to be calm. He feels wired until suddenly he feels like an anchor, completely worn and drifting off with his hand on Usher's arm, steady.
part 2
Anyway, I went on to paitac in email about it in 2011. I thought it was just a few emails, but it turns out I lost my mind for like a week, and THIS IS NOT A FIC, but it's also 14,000 words, which means I have to break up the posts, so I gave it a title? But it's not a fic. It's super not! I would've put, like, way more work into it.
Should be tied
Justin Bieber/Usher. 14,000 words. R.
Justin comes to stay with Usher when they both have a few days off.
WARNING: BIEBER IS 16 BECAUSE I WROTE ALL OF THIS WHEN HE WAS 16.
Justin is more than a little awed by Usher in the beginning. It's easy to assume his attraction has to do with the fact that he still hasn't gotten over how someone like Usher genuinely thinks he can sing -- that he's talented. It's absolutely that kind of excited attraction people just get around celebrities, right? It has to be. That must happen with other people all the time. That's just how it is when people get around famous artists they admire.
But then it's been two or three years, and he still feels pretty awed by Usher for different reasons. He knows first hand that Usher is well-meaning, attentive, and dedicated to helping the people around him -- like Justin! -- succeed. They've seen a lot of success come out of their friendship, and Usher never talks down to him or treats him like he's "just a teenager," has always treated Justin like an equal, and Justin feels comfortable confiding in Usher, and if he's attracted to Usher now, it's because of how he's a great musician and a great person. Justin's attracted to people he wants to model himself after.
From what Justin knows, Usher loves his kids, and he really loved his wife, and he even told Justin a little about how heartbreaking that whole situation was, how it feels like you have everything together, and then one day you start thinking of that whole period as a time when you'd actually lost your head.
Justin -- Justin's never even been in love, not yet, but he thinks he gets it. He gets how important friendship is, even if he's a lot younger, and maybe Usher wants to be around people who can relate directly or something, but he never seems to act like that, like Justin's not on the level. A lot of Usher's crew are people Justin considers part of his own circle these days, and Justin has been to Usher's house plenty, and their families know each other. They've worked together countless times. It's no big deal if Justin spends a lot of time with Usher, or if he heads to his place in Atlanta to take a load off after tour instead of just going straight home.
They don't live that far from one another, really, in Atlanta, but it's still different, feels freer somehow, even more adult than he already does half the time, working so much. It's relaxing, easy -- killing time, bouncing around ideas, unwinding. Usher's still pretty busy, actually. He's planning performances, in and out of the house, but he's around enough that Justin doesn't feel like he's imposing by staying over or taking up space for no reason. Even with so much time spent busy and surrounded by people, Usher can still manage to come home at night with enough will to hang out for a while.
The kids are with Tameka, so it's really just them some nights, and it's all easy, fun. Justin feels good, feels independent, and he lets that easiness carry him through each day. He doesn't worry about going home too soon. He eats, laughs, plays basketball, and spends time with Usher in his place, lets himself kiss Usher in the garage while they're talking about how Usher wants to buy motorbikes or something. He doesn't even know the first thing about riding or going off-roading or any of that, not really, but it seems like the kind of vacation he's into these days. Could be fun. So it's not even an obvious lead in, doesn't have to happen, but Justin feels confident, relaxed and welcomed, like he can do whatever, and then his mouth is touching Usher's and his heart thuds as a chill spikes through his stomach.
"Hey, J. Hey. Justin -- hold on," Usher says, voice laced with surprise.
When he speaks to Justin usually, it's always with a brightness, the words pressed through a smile. He sounds cautious now, and Justin's eyelids flutter, unsure of where this is going now, or if he wants to see.
"Sorry --"
"Don't apologize." Usher's firmer about that. "You don't have to."
Justin feels overwhelmed again, like the beginning, like always, but he's never been this kind of nervous about it. He touches Usher, thinks better of it a second too late and can't figure out how to pull back without looking scolded. Usher doesn't flinch.
Justin thinks he probably should have thought this out more. He hadn't expected to go for anything, though. He says, "I don't know what else to say."
"It's… fine. It's just -- if it's just an accident."
"Well, I, uh," Justin says, because it kind of had been -- not enough. It wasn't unintentional enough, he knows, because he's too aware of the pads of his fingers on Usher's skin. He's still anxious standing in front of him, breathing deliberate, trying to stay normal. "Probably."
Usher's brow furrows, either not understanding or unsure of what move to make. He hasn't tensed up yet. Still. It's a confusing kind of calm, and Justin has to push up on his feet to get closer to him -- slowly, slowly.
He somehow didn't think about it during the first attempt to close in, but he feels every single inch of empty space now. They're too far away, this move is too obvious, and then the gap is completely gone, lips brushing again. Justin flexes his fingers, curls them against skin and the sleeve of Usher's shirt.
Usher parts his lips to do -- maybe to say something, but Justin stumbles a little. Usher catches him at his side, steadying him, and without words, it's just reciprocating a kiss -- once, and then again, and then again, the small sounds of it amplified in a quiet space.
Justin's used to rolling with it. That's what he's done for the last few years, so he sticks to what he knows now, except this is also totally surprising for once, because well. Well.
But it doesn't even go farther than kissing at first. Justin's testing this whole new territory, but Usher stops things. He's responsible, and this is -- what is this?
"It's an accident," Usher repeats. It doesn't have to be a problem.
So he stops it, but he doesn't even pretend to scold Justin. That's not how they work. That's not the kind of influence Usher's ever wanted to have on Justin, and luckily it's not starting now. They're friends.
;;
Justin continues to spend time at Usher's place, unwinding, and they hang out in Usher's home studio. They listen to some of the material Usher's been working on and start to work out a new track of their own that may or may not ever become anything. It's normal. It's as ordinary as creating music can ever really get, the two of them taking turns in the booth.
Justin laughs in the middle of a few takes, because Usher keeps dancing every time he starts the cut over for Justin, saying things in between like, "Aww, you gotta groove on it. You gotta jam it out to make it feel right."
He demonstrates while Justin sings, unheard through the glass while the music's on but mouthing along with every word.
He holds out his hand for a low five when Justin steps out, and then there's that tense moment when somebody misses a cue, when Justin doesn't immediately sit down, where Usher then doesn't immediately go into the booth for his next pass, and Justin reaches out again, unsure of what he's intending, but his fingers skim Usher's forearm and catch his side.
Justin's fingers feel a suggestion of muscle through Usher's t-shirt, for a second, and then Usher's hands come up. He sets them on Justin's shoulders, holding him off. When Justin moves again, Usher flips them around, not really pushing Justin, but still setting them apart, until there's no where to go. Justin's back is against the wall.
Usher looks at him, expression inscrutable, and Justin touches Usher's wrist but doesn't try to move the hands on his shoulders. Instead, he rolls them, and there's a slight give, enough to make him try a little more, hunching close, tipping forward to get nearer, to tilt his chin up, and get -- somewhere, get there, touch their mouths together, part his lips, and not even breathe for a moment, because what if -- what if Usher doesn't -- but he does, finally, finally. He kisses back. He changes the angle of his head, and Justin almost feels awkward about making even a small sound then, a soft, surprised reaction, because it feels like there's been nothing but silence for so long somehow, and he disrupts it briefly, but Usher doesn't pull away, thank goodness, which might also be a strange sentiment here, to feel relief at that, but Justin does.
He touches Usher's sides again, barely, fingernails poised along Usher ribs through fabric and slipping lower. The back of Justin's hand slides over Usher's stomach, feeling the muscles jump there, a little, maybe, and Usher does freeze then, but he doesn't move back as Justin's knuckles bump across his belt.
He still doesn't have any specific aims, just thinks about what he's seen in movies, what he's imagined someone might do with him. Their lips come apart as Usher touches his forehead to Justin's, inhaling. Justin braces his fingers on the front of Usher's belt, tugging, and everything is quiet -- steady. Justin's not sure what to do but continue, so he does, undoing the buckle without looking, eyes closed.
He breathes kind of shallowly with his mouth so close to Usher's.
He presses a thumb over the button of Usher's jeans when the belt's loose, undoing that too and folding his fingers over the waistband of Usher's underwear, feeling the ridge of Usher's hip bones against the back of his fingers.
He flexes them once, and then Usher touches Justin's face, pausing, and it's not exactly a kiss when their mouths brush again, but Usher's still not retreating, not getting upset, at least not the way Justin expects. His pulse is a heavy thud in him, and he's so near to -- there's just skin now, as Justin pushes his hands down more, flips them to flatten the pads of his fingers against Usher's hips. Justin lowers his head to see what that looks like. Usher presses his face to the top of Justin's head as he looks, sees his hands in Usher's pants up to his wrists.
It's when Justin starts to push the fabric down that Usher finally breathes, "J, J, J..." hollowly, the only suggestion of a warning.
But Justin wouldn't know how to come back from this as it is, so he waits a moment, until there's quiet again, and then keeps going, pushing down. He slips one hand to the side and sees the underwear dip low, sees Usher's dick as he gets a hand over it. Usher's own touch changes, becomes more deliberate, tilting Justin's face up enough to kiss his temple.
It's not -- that isn't what Justin wants though, not when Usher's half-hard in Justin's hand, so he moves to get their mouths aligned again, and Usher drops to close the half-second of space between them, kissing Justin again, and that's the thing that throws the whole scenario into stark relief for Justin, that it's just them here, and he's kissing Usher -- kissing, and Justin's so hard, because the grip isn't ideal, but he's jerking Usher off in his studio.
He's imagined a lot of things, mostly about his career and how things could continue to change for him, even now, and how Usher would be around to support him through all of it, because he believes in Justin. So he's become used to imagining Usher there, for so much, and he once had this lame dream, where he and Usher were out, nondescript version of places they've really been, and Usher kept Justin with him, and things were different.
In the dream, Usher never broke off to pull some beautiful woman along by the hand. He just stayed at Justin's side, even when they were sitting finally, watching something -- on TV? a movie? a show? -- it hadn't been clear enough, but Usher's hand on his hip was. The way it made Justin shiver a little, when his fingers skidded underneath the hem of his shirt, catching skin, unthinking -- that was vivid.
Justin remembers that well. He remembers how it felt every time Usher would lean in to whisper something to him, laughing, so near a few times that Justin felt the shape of his smile against his cheek before Usher pulled back all the way. And it was the rush of being out, being around people he admired, who thought Justin had something worthwhile.
Or maybe it was about something different, closer to what he feels standing in the middle of this studio now, because now he's got that same feeling in him that he got in the dream, that he's gotten actually being out with Usher, warm and twisting in his stomach. It's heavier now, coiling tighter in Justin, and he keeps stroking, feeling himself gravitate closer as Usher's mouth grazes along his jaw, shaped differently than how he'd dreamed it might feel there, breath fanning out.
Usher still has his hands on Justin's face mostly, thumb pushing back and forth across the skin below Justin's left ear. When he finally moves one arm, it's to wrap his fingers around Justin's on his dick, squeezing tighter, showing him. Justin groans at the shock of it, seeing Usher's fingers around his and taking in the weighty absence of Usher's hands elsewhere, because he's touched Justin's fingers, shoulders, and face, and nothing more, and Justin wants him to so much right then -- anywhere, anywhere else.
But Usher doesn't. He keeps his hands to steady places, moving to Justin's arm when he lets Justin's fingers continue on their own. He only touches somewhere new when he comes, finally, bested by a few short moans as he gets there. He kisses Justin one more time, slipping his fingers over the ridge of Justin's collar bone, dipping under the edge of his t-shirt and out and down again, and Usher steps back, pulls his underwear and pants up as he finds a chair and sits. He rubs his hands over his face, dropping his head back and exhaling, and Justin doesn't know what to think about that, what it means that Usher's there while Justin's got come on his fingers, hard in his jeans and frozen to the spot.
Usher zips his pants up, buttons them. He doesn't redo the belt, and when he looks at Justin, he looks worn at the edges, severe but not angry.
Justin wipes his hand on his own thigh, swallowing hard.
"Are you, uh --" Usher asks but then stops, dropping his head down, and then exhales. The silence that swells then is enough to make Justin start to feel nervous, but Usher just sound normal when he speaks again, voice slightly rough. "We should eat something, right? Let me go see what we have in here."
His eyes go to Justin's hand when he flutter it a little, fingers clenching against his jeans, and Justin can see Usher's eyes slide the couple inches over, directly at Justin's fly, and it's probably obvious. It's probably so obvious that he's still hard, feeling like the knot in his stomach just gets bigger and bigger. "I'll, um -- let me find something."
Usher gets up, leaving.
Justin turns his head to track his movements, watches him step out. He doesn't follow. He hangs back, stuck inside the silence. The padding on the wall doesn't make sliding to the floor easy, but he lets himself drop down, breathing quick. He curves his hands over his knees, exhaling deliberately, and Usher doesn't come back, so he undoes his own pants and reaches to fix his situation.
;;
“What’re you thinking about?”
Justin taps his index finger against the table, centering his thoughts with that sound. Trying to. He says, “About downstairs…”
He could lie, but there’s no point. Usher doesn't look like he expected anything else anyway. He asks, “Are you embarrassed?”
“I don’t know,” Justin says. “Should I - I don’t know.”
“You can be straight with me,” Usher says. “That’s all the time. That doesn’t change.”
“Are you embarrassed?” Justin asks. “Or mad? I can. If I should be getting stuff together to -”
Usher says, “No, no. It doesn’t matter if I’m good.”
But that doesn’t really sound right to Justin. It matters to him, he thinks. He needs to know, because he’s trying to figure out what having dinner now means, after that, and he doesn’t really have any ideas. He says, “But if I’m honest with you, then… Trade.”
Usher looks up, like he’s considering something. He runs a hand over his head, bowing it, and when he looks up again, he rests his elbows on the table, folding his hands. Justin can see his eyes over his fingers, most of Usher’s expression hidden. He says, exhaling, “I should be telling you it was a mistake. That we can’t. I can’t -”
“You’re not going to?” Justin says.
After a pause, Usher says, “I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
Justin bites at his food a little roughly, leg restless in his chair. He says, “Say whatever, then.”
The corner of Usher’s mouth lifts once, a laugh that gets tempered right away. He’s still weighing things carefully, Justin can sense that much. He feels like he’ll never be able to sit still.
“I am embarrassed,” Usher says with his mouth stretching. Justin can’t quite figure out if it's supposed to a smile or wince. “I’m not mad. Definitely not mad.”
"Okay," Justin says. He nods. "I was worried."
But it's sort of reassuring to know that Usher is, possibly, just as out of sorts as he is here. Maybe this whole thing is weird, but he's not the only one unable to categorize how to respond to it.
It might not be solved, but Usher does throw his arm around Justin later, the way he's done a thousand times. Though being in close proximity feels different now, doesn't it? If Justin notices, then Usher has to as well.
Justin's aware of how easy it is to tilt his head up now, and so he does, pressing his mouth against Usher's, both their smiles freezing on whatever made them laugh last.
"You know what you're doing here?" Usher says, like they're just talking about music or picking photos or something. It sounds almost the same, Usher telling Justin to always choose for himself and then to stick to it, because that's the what makes people realize you have opinions about what works for you and are serious about them.
And he's not -- he's not sure, sure of anything here, okay, but he says, "You don't have to remind me. You know..."
He starts to rethink speaking up at all when the pause in his words drags out a beat too long. Then Usher's nose touches his, and Justin inhales, like air expanding in his chest is what he needs to bring them right against one another, like they weren't already there, and this many times has to say something, right? If they've ended up in this position -- Usher's mouth on his, kissing in different rooms, it has to mean something. Right?
Justin feels like it means something. He feels like he's established something about what he wants here and completely remixed how exciting it is whenever he gets to spend time around Usher. A lot of what they're doing is all new and shaky and tense, but then it's also suddenly awesome too. He's kissed Usher multiple times -- Usher, who Justin loves for how great he is, and who's never hesitated in his friendship. Justin feels the muscles around his mouth give him away, grinning into the kiss again.
Usher's breath hitches a little, like something about Justin's caught him off guard. Justin tries to use it to his advantage. He tries to push closer, tries to shift as if he's ready to hoist himself over to get into Usher's lap, but he's not quite quick enough. Usher's reflexives are better for these circumstances. He lies Justin back on the couch. Justin sinks into the couch cushions, legs falling apart. Usher kisses him again while he hovers over Justin's body, and Justin feels the gap between their chest and hips like a physical blockade. He wants to even closer. He just wants to feel something other than the space, and he reaches up to pull at Usher's shirt, tugging to encourage Usher to meet him halfway.
Usher takes Justin's hand, traps it between their bodies and moves from Justin's mouth to kissing his cheek, moving down to graze Justin's neck and then biting his earlobe lightly. Justin inhales sharply, says, "Come on."
"What?" Usher says. "I don't know unless you know."
"Come down," Justin says, breathier than he likes.
When Usher does slide back some, letting his body stretch out against Justin's, almost too close, too -- Justin's caught off guard even though he asked for it, can't help but push his hips up at the same time he wraps his arms around Usher, because it's all right there, like he could do this now, if he wanted, and --
"Wait," he says, even though Usher's barely moving. But Usher obliges.
"Let me know," he says in this unfairly calm whisper, but Justin can tell his breathing's shallower, so there's that, at least.
He clings to Usher, hugging him, and even that's somehow a lot, because Usher's body is still there, and he can probably tell that Justin's turned on, and it's hot, so Justin's not sure why he can't stop the shivers that snake through him at random.
After a while, Usher starts to pull up, but Justin grabs on tighter and says, "No, hold on."
He hopes it doesn't sound like he's scared or not ready or anything, He thinks maybe he's botched it, but then Usher doesn't go anywhere. Instead, Usher hugs Justin until his heartbeat slows again, and he feels heavy and tired, lying there.
Eventually, Usher says, "Sleepy?"
When he moves now, Justin lets him, and Usher takes Justin's hand and pulls him along. He leads Justin to the guest bedroom he's been staying in, hugs him again. He says, "Go 'head and crash."
"Alright."
They don't sleep in the same bed, but Justin doesn't even know if he could right now anyway, if Usher lying with him on the couch is enough to make him start shaking, anxious and wanting and now knowing what to do all at the same time.
So Justin goes to bed by himself, but it doesn't stop him from thinking a lot about it either. He finally gets sleep but wakes up too early, stifled by blankets. He can't say he expected to be thinking about anything else -- anyone other than the obvious -- when he woke, but he's definitely not, mind already halfway down the hall before Justin's even gotten out of bed to use the bathroom, gargle, and then follow his instincts.
Usher's door is open. He doesn't come awake until Justin kneels on the edge of his mattress. Under Justin's scrutiny, he drags his face against his pillow, groans tiredly, and wipes a hand over his eyes. He watches Justin, and Justin feels uncomfortably new, then, without the sun up all the way, poised carefully like some kid who's just had a nightmare.
Usher doesn't say anything like that, though. He doesn't even ask if him if anything's wrong. He says, "What time is it?"
Justin has no idea. He doesn't have a clue. He just gets up to push the blankets back and crawls under them, and it's still as warm here as in his own room, but sitting on the edge feels silly after a couple minutes. He slides closer to Usher and extends his arms to nearly recreate their positioning from last night, the hug.
Lifting his head, Usher says, "Hey," with a little confusion but not startled enough that Justin freezes.
Instead Justin thinks again and again that he needs to keep going, keep going, and he kisses Usher's cheek first. Usher's thigh slips against Justin's legs, warm and bare below the hem of his underwear.
A more direct heat spikes in Justin's stomach, and he moves to press a close-lipped kiss to Usher's mouth. He gets the upper hand, getting Usher to twist back so that Justin's the one looming this time. He kisses Usher again, and then moves down to his jaw. Justin kisses his chin, his neck, and his fingers graze the skin of Usher's stomach, shirt raised from movement against the sheets.
"Hey, hey," Usher breathes again, regaining the control. He rolls Justin to his back and inhales, holds Justin there for a moment, with both his hands against Justin's face, fingers in his hair. Justin can't get his arms around Usher like this, so he does the best he can beneath the covers, reaching for the waist of Usher's boxer briefs.
It's hard to actually get into Usher's underwear when they're lying together. Justin rolls his hips as a consolation. Usher makes a soft, vulnerable sound, and Justin tries to do it again, tries to build it up, but Usher bears down to still him again.
"What are you aiming for?" he asks, and Justin wants to keep doing that, is what he's currently focused on. He just wants to touch in some way.
He tries to tell Usher that. Flexing his fingers, says, "I'm gonna --"
The words seem pointless when he could just move. Justin works his hand out of Usher's grip for a moment, but Usher catches him again, makes sure to pin Justin's other hand down as well, and Justin moans once, something stifled and frustrated.
Usher lets his mouth drag along the underside of Justin's chin, and then his neck, and Justin registers that Usher's slipping back because the way the movement ghosts over Justin's dick makes him bite down on his bottom lip, exhaling in a rush of breath. He gasps, takes his next breath in too sharply when Usher kisses Justin's ribs through his t-shirt and inches farther along, heading down until he kisses Justin where his shirt has folded over, planting one at a halfway point between fabric and skin, and then it's all skin, right against his belly. Something bright concentrates there, and then again an inch away from that when Usher does it another time, in a new place.
Justin can't see Usher clearly. Even when he lifts his head some, the blankets are bunched up in a way that doesn't leave everything completely in the open. But Justin clenches and relaxes his fingers in Usher's grip, holding on and letting go, and he says, "Are -- is this --" as Usher releases one of Justin's hand to tug the waistband of Justin's underwear back.
He holds his breath and waits, but Usher stops before he's really gotten very far, just low enough for Justin to see the curve of his own hip bone beneath skin. Usher kisses that too. He kisses it once and stays, letting his teeth skim there, and then Justin feels the wet heat of his tongue as Usher moves inward slightly.
The way Usher's got a grip on one of Justin's hand and a finger hooked in his underwear stuns him, so close to his cock, so unbelievably close. Justin's thighs tense as Usher keeps his focus on the same place, right in the fold between thigh and pelvis. He curls his free hand in his own t-shirt, breathing and bending one knee, fidgeting in small ways to keep himself distracted enough to keep from groaning, but it's futile like this, because when Usher pauses a moment, turning his head, Justin feels his breath over the skin of his cock, sending a sensation through him that's cool and warm at once.
Usher's eyes catch Justin's for a moment, and once he drops his head again, he's shifted his attention inward even more but never where Justin's started to crave. Justin doesn't want to move too fast, doesn't want to make too much noise, doesn't want to do anything in case of -- just in case, but he can't not bring a hand down to press against himself, to have something before he's worked up to some impossible point.
And Usher -- it's torture when Usher crawls back up along Justin's body then. He's so lit that he can't be ashamed of the way he whines, wrapping his fingers around himself then, if this is the best he's going to get. It doesn't even take much after that, just a little concentration, with Justin's hand caught between their bodies.
Usher touches his wrist, not guiding, just there, and he kisses Justin's collarbone, and it's enough, finally. When Justin turns his head, immediately searching as he comes, Usher lets Justin find him for a moment, running a hand over Justin's hair and parting his lips for him, until Justin can comprehend anything again.
He tangles his fingers in Usher's, like he's searching for something to anchor himself to, and then only lets go to move one hand up to Usher's neck while the other goes to his back. Justin has his eyes closed, smothered in the feel of it. As Usher shifts, Justin angles in. He buries his face against Usher's neck and holds on tighter, awed and paralyzed by the thought of what happens when Usher moves away.
Usher says, voice low, "You got it. You got this; it's okay."
The way he says it makes Justin wonder what he looks like, if that's the kind of thing Usher knows to say to him right then.
"Yeah?" Justin says.
"Mhm."
Justin tightens his grip even more for a second, and then finally loosens. Usher doesn't roll away immediately or anything either, still lying between Justin's legs. The implications of their positioning hits Justin belatedly, making him trail his hand back down as he says, "Do you want me to help you?"
"No. No, I'm good," Usher says. He runs his knuckles along Justin's side. "We're good."
Justin doesn't think either of them can be certain about what they are now, actually, but he'll take that answer while all his nerves still feel fired up and raw.
;;
They won't get to stay in the bubble forever. Justin kind of wishes he could keep dragging out the time -- these fairly vague days of rest and relaxation, and whatever the word might be for the rest of it. He thinks it would be worth it just to have the time to figure out what that other word might be, but Justin knows better than to get his hopes up too high on that. Usher is a parent, and they both have too many people around them to sustain something like this, in this way. It's not like they can start going out on dates and hold hands, and Justin can plan to be the stepparent for Usher's kids.
Justin's 16. He has to go home at some point.
For now, though, he dozes off again, and he feels completely rested when he wakes up and the sun's out. He feels loose-limbed but alert, and Usher's not too far behind him in opening his eyes.
Justin looks at him for a minute, and Usher doesn't stop him. He laughs suddenly, shifting his hips a little under the covers and saying, "My boxers are pretty bad right now, man."
"Oh, god," Usher says and buries his face in a pillow.
Justin laughs louder. Taking a breath, he says, "Yeah, I should get out of these," and peeks underneath the blankets. "I'm, um --"
"You want to use my bathroom?" Usher says.
"Yeah," Justin says, feeling strange about sitting up to go. He jerked off against Usher a few hours ago, but somehow walking around his bed and to the bathroom feels weird. But Justin sucks it up and does it, trying his hardest to move as if everything is ordinary, even though it really isn't.
In the master shower, he looks down at his body, taking in what he sees, skimming fingers over his tattoo and then the places where Usher had his mouth. He thinks about that feeling, what it was like, arousing and foreign, and he can see how his skin has reddened, how he might have a couple hickies, it looks like, and Justin feels himself smile some, because that's crazy. That's insane, but it had felt amazing, too, had been him and Usher, and coming was good -- really good.
He might have a little more swagger getting out of the shower. It's nerve-wracking but confidence boosting in the aftermath, because Usher had his head between Justin's legs, hadn't pushed him away or placated him, had participated and been there with him, so maybe he's onto something, he thinks.
Usher isn't in the bedroom when he comes out of the shower, wearing one of Usher's bathrobes. Justin walks through the house to find him, and Usher's dressed leisurely, standing in the living room with a remote in his hand.
When he sees Justin, he says, "Better?"
"Yeah," Justin says, and he walks toward Usher, brings his arms up like he's done hundreds of times to get a hug, but this time he goes for a kiss too. He wonders if it could be that simple, if he can pull that off now, something easy, and he's a little awed when Usher obliges.
His arms wrap around Justin instinctively, lifting, and Justin reaches behind himself when his legs bump against the back of a couch. He sits on the arm, balancing, and Usher steps back and looks at Justin with his a hand on his hip.
"We should be outside today," Usher says, and Justin shifts his legs under the casual survey Usher seems to be taking of him.
"Or we could stay here," Justin says, even as he covers his leg, fixing where the robe has fallen apart slightly.
Usher half-smiles at him, chuckling low. He says, "You're too much for your own good."
"I learned from the best," Justin says, grinning, laughing along. "You gotta know what to say to the ladies."
Usher shakes his head, saying, "I'm not some young thing you brought on stage, dude."
"I know," Justin says. He starts to wiggle one foot, restless. "Wait." He lifts his chin before he speaks. "Am I?"
Usher presses his lips together, still considering Justin with the same focused but friendly ease. He places his hands on Justin's legs, leaning forward, and he rests his cheek against Justin's hair and exhales.
Justin's not sure if he can really sense Usher's pulse this close or if he's imagining it, but trying to figure it out makes him think about how many times he's felt it for sure in the last day. He thinks about the garage, the studio, the bedroom, and he thinks hard about not saying what comes to mind, because it would be too much right now, for this, and Usher still hasn't answered the question, which could also mean something, right? But Justin still touches Usher's arm and says, "Man, I love you."
Usher kisses Justin's head softly, mouth against his hair. He's not speaking, and he's not speaking, and then he says, "I love you, too," like always, murmuring it against the side of Justin's face. He kisses there too, and then pulls back, patting Justin's leg. "For real, let's get out for a while. Get some fresh air."
And Justin's wondering if he's made things better or worse, and what the criteria for either would even be for this.
;;
Justin isn't completely clueless. It takes him ten minutes to really get it for certain, but he knows that Usher getting them out of the house is his attempt at getting some kind of breather for them. It's not a bad idea, but Usher's also still the guy the who didn't quite but totally almost could have given Justin a blowjob earlier. That's tough to shake from his brain, no matter where he's standing -- insid or outside.
Justin makes an honest effort to go along with distraction, but when he jumps on Usher's back like he always does, his arms don't drape quite the same way. It's hard not to graze neat fingernails against the back of Usher's neck discreetly or run a thumb against Usher's collarbone as casually as he dares, partly to see if he can and more because he wants to. He wants to pick at the edges of this, figure out exactly where it makes him get nervous, what makes Usher stutter for a moment in return. It's frustrating that Usher doesn't really seem to initiate in the same way, and so Justin only pushes so far, simultaneously reckless and careful.
He tones it down completely as they run some errands. Justin calls his mom while Usher stops at a bank, lets her know that he loves her. They hang out for the day, and Justin goes with Usher to pick up his sons from Tameka's. He's going to spend the next few days with them until he has to fly out for a couple appearances and performances.
It's almost strangely mundane. It's just like the kind of normal they were before too recently, before Justin spent more time glancing at Usher and thinking about what-ifs and acting on some of them. With the exception of Justin's mind and the way Usher has let Justin's hand linger here and there, it's almost like nothing's happened, easy enough to laugh and talk, humming along to the radio.
;;
Usher is an okay cook, but it's never been something he actually enjoys doing all that much. Justin wants to help make stuff for the boys, because he's kind of fond of making meals alongside other people, something he associates primarily with his mom, the two of them cooking together. It feels grounding. It's like the reward for a day well-spent is eating well. Plus, Naviyd and little Usher are picky eaters, so it's like winning a challenge if they eat something and then want more.
He and Usher make a pasta dish that the boys devour even with all the vegetables in it. The only reason they don't really finish off third helpings is because they start to doze off at the table, and Justin rinses plates while Usher herds both the small dudes to bed, glancing up and half-smiling when Usher comes back into the kitchen and stands to the side of the sink, watching Justin's hands.
When Justin finishes, he dries his hands on a dish towel and turns around, leaning back against the edge of the counter. He says, "Is it time for 'the talk'?"
He drops his voice low on the end of the question, some mock foreboding.
"Which one is that?" Usher says, sounding sincere, though Justin knows that's what this is. They both must.
"The one where you say I'm too young. I won't be able to handle it. I should go with something different," Justin says.
"Is that what you want me to say?"
"I'm just familiar with it," Justin says.
Usher exhales, head tilting. He says, "Then I probably don't need to say it." He reaches out at bumps his hand against Justin's elbow. "Besides, anybody who tells you that is wrong. You know that right?"
Justin nods, because he knows what Usher means. With the music -- with work, he's always reminding Justin that he can take it. There's a difference between pushing it and not letting people convince him that he can't roll with what's thrown at him. Justin agrees and appreciates the vote of confidence, except -- "But this is different?"
"There's no good answer for a double-edged sword," Usher says. He folds his arms, and then drops them again. "What about your girl?"
At that, Justin shrugs. He doesn't really know. Sometimes he's dating Selena, and sometimes they're really close friends. When they can be around each other, it's great, and when they can't, it's complicated.
When Justin doesn't offer more of answer, Usher says, "You've got better things to do, man. Better places to be."
"I want to be here," Justin says.
"Really?" Usher says, skeptical. He gestures over his shoulder. "Cleaning dishes, watching kids, dealing with tantrums --"
"Not just them," Justin says. "And, come on, you like this --"
Usher says, "After most of my twenties celebrating not having the responsibility, though. You're haven't even let yourself hit 18, yet."
Justin huffs. "I'm too young."
"Your age isn't a bad thing, dude," Usher says, nudging Justin's shoulder. Justin catches Usher's wrist, halfway guides his hand up, until Usher's got his palm curved along Justin's neck, gentle.
Justin says, "What about right now?"
"What do you want, J?" Usher asks, leaving his hand where it is.
"It'll sound cheesy."
Usher's mouth picks up at that, a faint lopsided smile. He says, "I won't laugh."
"Kiss me," Justin says. "I mean. I want to know if you want to."
Usher sighs, exhaling through is nose, and the movement seems to bring his shoulders down, just that fraction of an inch closer. Justin tries not to read into it too much.
Usher curls his fingers against Justin's neck, stroking back and forth softly. He says, "I probably can't tell you what you want to hear."
"But you did it already," Justin says, pushing up on his toes. Usher doesn't have quite the same height on him that he used to, but it's still enough to feel like an effort. Justin raises up slow, anticipating, not hoping -- he is hoping.
Usher says, "Justin --"
"No, don't. Don't, please?" Justin says. "You don't have to, then. Forget I said --"
Usher brings him in close and wraps his arms around Justin's shoulders. He's warm, hugging tight enough that Justin knows it isn't sympathy. At least, he knows that it's not only sympathy. He doesn't need pity. Usher kisses the side of his face, at his temple, which is tease enough as it is.
"Again," Justin says, and he worries for a second that it might sound too much like a question. Usher pauses only momentarily, and then he gives another kiss, this one over Justin's hairline.
"Again," Justin repeats, angling his face up more. Ushers lips catch the bridge if Justin's nose this time.
Justin keeps encouraging Usher, repeating a single word as Usher gets his eyelids, his cheeks, his jawline, until Justin tilts his head the way he's been envisioning the whole time, murmuring nonsense, too anxious to focus, because it would take nothing, almost nothing for Usher to lean forward, for him to initiate the next one, for it to be all him if Justin hasn't actually said a word at all.
Justin can feel the slight stretch of lifting himself all the way through his toes. He could drop back down, could let it go if Usher's not going just do what he's thinking, what Justin's thinking too, but then he really is resting back on his heels, and it's because Usher's craned in, following Justin down.
And this -- this is a real distraction. Justin loses himself in the feel of the kiss until remembers that Usher still hasn't told him what he wants to hear. He wants to know what Usher's thinking. Justin has spent years listening to the music, watching the videos. He's been around in rooms full of grown folks, sometimes hearing things he probably shouldn't -- stories. He knows a little bit about the things Usher's gotten up to in his life, with women, and where his mind can go, and Justin wants to know exactly what Usher's thinking about him.
After a minute, Justin murmurs, "Did you want to?" against Usher's mouth. Even if he knows the chances of a simple yes are slim, it's still what he needs, just once, because his head's full of images and possibilities, and he wants to know he's not alone in that.
What Usher says, after some push-pull where Justin tries to get closer, Usher holds him off, and then lifts him to pin him against the fridge, to get control of the moment again -- Usher says, "If you were anybody else--"
It could be in reference to Justin's squirming, a chastisement, but Justin says, "What? Say. If I was anybody else, what?"
"What do you think?" Usher asks, their lips still so near, brushing lightly as they converse.
"I don't know," Justin says, but maybe he has an idea. He hopes he does. He's got his legs hitched up around Usher's waist. It's difficult not to have some theories.
"You want me to say I'd kiss you?" Usher asks, and then does, soft and pretty chaste. Justin licks experimentally, testing, and Usher opens his mouth wider, lets Justin's tongue get farther until the kiss isn't too wet but undeniable.
He feels bereft when Usher pulls back and mutters, "Want me tell you how I'd touch?"
He tightens his grip on Justin's thigh and slides it along until his hand's nearly curved over Justin's ass, as much as possible while holding him against the metal of the fridge. Justin's back is chilly against door, T-shirt nowhere near thick enough. He's cold at the back and warm along his front, making breathy noises as he tries to kiss him again, and Usher only lets him get so far.
He lets Justin's body slide down some, and Justin tries to buck his hips against that, stay longer. Usher hunches in to make up for the slack, like it's on purpose, and when Justin bucks this time, their hips are more aligned, the friction the perfect kind of suggestive, and Usher says, with his mouth brushing the edge of Justin's ear, "Hoping to hear how we'd fuck?"
Justin chokes on an exhale, like his body isn't sure what it wants to do next. He groans, the sound quick and jagged, and Usher reels back some, bracing Justin. He says, "Is that how you feel?"
There's something searching about the way Usher's looking at him, heavy -- unavoidable. Justin tries get his arms around Usher's neck.
He says, "I'm slipping."
"Nuh uh," Usher says, canting his hips forward, reminding Justin that he's pinned there.
Justin thinks that, under the circumstances, they could laugh here, an easy pause where nothing's really funny but it just feels appropriate. The faint smile that starts to shape across Justin's own mouth stalls when the backs of Usher's fingers touch the underside of Justin's chin.
"Your turn," he says. "Is that what you think about?"
Justin's pretty sure his angle in this has been transparent from the start. He gets the smile to work this time, huffs a little, a quiet laugh and says, "I'm 16, man. What do you think?"
Managing to turn Usher's own words around is just a bonus, really, and he's smiling so hard he has to bite his lip to control it. He feels unexpectedly giddy somehow, and then Usher hoists Justin up again, gets both arms around him, high enough that Justin can look down a fraction, air gone again. Usher says, "Tell me."
He's stepped back from the refrigerator, and Justin feels completely suspended, clinging. He says, "It's not like --" "Tell me," Usher says again, soft-spoken but direct.
Justin remembers that he doesn't have anything to hold back, didn't want to in the first place, and he says, "It's only more recent -- curious --"
"J."
"Yes, I think about it," Justin says, finally -- okay, okay, yes, and he closes his eyes as his head drops forward, because his pulse has sped up. It's one thing to know they both know, but it's another say something. Except dropping forward to hide his head just brings him closer to Usher, and Usher kisses his neck affectionately.
Justin holds on as Usher starts to walk, takes in cautious, deep breaths as he's carried across the room. He's set down sooner that he anticipates, Usher setting him down on the table. Justin lies back slow when Usher comes up after him, planting his hands on either side of Justin.
Usher leans in, kisses the ridge of Justin's cheek and trails back, says, "Where? -- like here? You want us to do it like this, after dinner, everything cleared?" He sounds like maybe he's smiling now, but Justin can't really see his face in this position. He curls his hand around Usher's arm and flexes his fingers.
"I could stand at the edge, pull you to me," Usher says, and he drags one hand down Justin's side and back again. "Or I'd lay back and let you set the rhythm. You want that?"
Justin fixes his mouth to say something, but he loses it and ends up moaning around a single, aimless syllable.
"Unless you want it on your back. Do you? You want me from behind?" Usher asks. His voice is warm and secretive. He wraps his fingers around one of Justin's forearms, like a point of reference while Justin's mind races. It's so hot in the house to him now, even with all the open space. "Might have to move if you want it on your knees. The couch, the bed -- up to you. It's what you want. You're in charge. You ready for that?"
And Justin -- Justin doesn't know. He hitches on leg up, rolling his hips. Usher moves both of his arms in to brace Justin's head, fingers in his hair so that Justin has to look at him. He repeats himself, says, "Would you be ready?" "I don't know," Justin confesses, a little breathy and just as quiet.
"You don't?"
"I want to be."
Usher ducks forward and kisses Justin's brow, moves low enough to catch his mouth. There's no tongue this time, but it feels just as private, teasing, and when Justin tries to catch Usher's lip, Usher pauses for it and chuckles.
He says, "You're always testing."
"But," Justin says, and then he clears his throat. "But you like it about me."
Usher kisses Justin again once, twice, a couple demure pecks, and he says, "You finished in the kitchen?"
God, yes. Yes, yes, there's not a dish or messy surface in the world that Justin cares about right now. He's turned on and wrung out with it, all of his senses working in overdrive. He nods, and Usher shuffles back, gets off of the table, and encourages Justin to follow. "Alright."
Usher's held his hand before, for other unrelated, less charged reasons, Justin's sure, but this is different. This is being led upstairs and past the boys' room, past the guest room, and Justin says, dumbly, "Where are we going?"
Looking over his shoulder, Usher doesn't even look smug. His is expression is kind of hazy, faded with the hour, and Justin yawns a little in sympathy. Ushers says, "You already know. Look, you're yawning and everything," making it sound completely casual.
Bed. That's it. Like it's not everything.
Once there, Justin's wonders if this is the moment where he needs to quit pretending like he knows what he's doing and really do it or chicken out, particularly because when he stops Usher inside the room, Usher turns to Justin and just looks.
Okay, Justin thinks, he's supposed to make a move here. He slides his hand under Usher's shirt, and then thinks -- off, get it off. He starts pushing it up, and Usher lets him do that too, even raises his arms until it's gone. Justin's holds it in one hand for no reason. It takes him a second to think to drop it, finally, because, well, okay. Now that's done.
Once it's gone, Justin doesn't know what to do. He's left sort of staring -- marveling, which is crazy, because it's not like this should mean so much, but it kind of does. Context is amazing, how it changes the meaning of everything so suddenly, and before Justin can do anything else, Usher touches his neck, kisses his head again and lets his hands trail to Justin's hips.
He walks Justin back to the bed, and Justin finds himself lying down again, going with it. This time Usher climbs over him with his legs on either side of Justin's thighs. When Justin reaches down, he curl his hand against Usher's thigh, opening mouth for the kiss. Usher lifts his head, and when Justin tires to follow him up, Usher moves out of range again, smiling softly. Justin groans, and Usher's chuckle is low, fond.
"Just sleeping, okay? That's all that has to happen," Usher says. "You can even go back to your spot if that's better for you."
Shaking his head, Justin says, "No, here's good. I can stay."
"Sure?" Usher asks, so casually that it takes a moment for Justin to realize that it's the first time Usher's asked him that quite so plainly.
Justin nods, swallowing. Usher slides back, off the bed, and despite the belt, Justin's pants are already low enough on his hips that Usher can work them off by tugging at the legs. Justin lifts his hips, and he feels like he'll just be perpetually half-hard at this point, feels a little strange lying out like that, but Usher doesn't comment on it. He pats Justin's ankle, says, "Be back."
While he heads into the bathroom, Justin turns over and opens his mouth against the comforter in a silent yell, because what the hell. What the hell. He's not sure how to take this, all of it exciting and too much, and his heart is still beating too fast. He's going to spend the foreseeable future turned on and out of breath at this rate, and when he climbs up to the pillows, Justin lies back and exhales.
Usher's pantless as well as shirtless now, coming to the bed in only his underwear. Justin rolls over and moves in to kiss him automatically. Usher's grinning against Justin's mouth. There's something amused about it, and Justin doesn't even care to analyze it right then, feeling so full of everything that he can't pick anything apart. Usher doesn't move away as the kiss gradually devolves, until Justin's just lying close, breathing against his neck and trying to be calm. He feels wired until suddenly he feels like an anchor, completely worn and drifting off with his hand on Usher's arm, steady.
part 2