For lallybroch.

Because apparently she owns me.



The nice thing about being friends with Joe was that he could hang out at his house even after they weren't roommates anymore.

It was good - eating the food Mrs. Mauer still dropped off whenever they had a string of home games, stealing the comics out of his paper, playing Guitar Hero until they could barely move their fingers - but this was better.

Warm light filtering through curtains, soft, worn sheets wrinkled under his back and tangled around his feet - their feet - as Joe hitched himself a little higher on his elbows and nudged his head back to bite along the line of stubble on his neck. Justin groaned, going limp at the sensation of sharp teeth nipping at his skin. He felt Joe smile against his throat before another bite distracted them both.

Justin got as much of a hold on Joe's dumb-ass hair as he could and pulled his head away from his neck - if he let him, Joe wouldn't stop until there was a hickey the size of baseball - to bring his mouth within kissing range. Kissing Joe never got old; the feel of his mouth, the way his hands almost always ended up pulling at Justin's hair, how he reacted to Justin.

It was awesome.

He licked at the soft skin on the inside of Joe's lips, loving the way his lanky body shuddered against his. He kicked at the sheets until his feet were free, squirming until Joe was completely settled against him, his dick riding the crease of Justin's hip. He planted his feet on the mattress, brushing Joe's legs with his knees and pushing their hips together.

Having Joe's weight on him, pushing him down against the mattress, being covered in him, was seriously hot. Joe took over the kiss again, pushing his tongue into Justin's mouth and tracing the ridges of his hard palate. His hand slipped down along the back of Joe's neck, massaging gently, then dragging back up against the grain of his short, stupid hair.

Joe's moan vibrated against his mouth and Justin draped his ankle over his, twining his leg with Joe's good one. Joe shifted a little to take some pressure off his knee and it was just enough to get them lined up perfectly. It was good to have Joe's dick rubbing against his, painting a hot, wet stripe on his stomach. It was good to have Joe on him, against him, kissing him like he was the only thing that mattered. It was so good Justin couldn't remember why they didn't do this all the time.

It was cool in the room - Joe loved his AC - but there was still sweat pooling up in places; sticking the sheet to the small of his back, the backs of his knees, wherever Joe's skin was pressed against his. He dragged his fingers down the long muscles of Joe's back to the swell of his ass and their rhythm stuttered off beat. Joe wedged his hands under Justin's shoulders and held on, moving out of time for a minute until they shifted back into rhythm, and then it was just there, perfect, and his knees squeezed on Joe's thighs involuntarily.

He let his hands ride Joe's hips, let his hands know the way bone and muscle and skin felt as their bodies moved slowly against each other. They were both pretty quiet - force of habit - but it only made it that much more intense to Justin. He could hear Joe breathing and the soft, sub-vocal groan on the end of breath. He could hear the rustling of the sheets and the slide of their skin. He thought he could almost hear Joe's heartbeat.

There was stickiness between them, their skin catching and sliding on sweat and precome as their movements slowed and softened, drawing everything out to a fine point. Joe's mouth went a little slack against Justin's and he burrowed his head down into the space between his neck and shoulder, his breath hot and damp against his skin. Justin traced his hands up Joe's back, wrapping his arms around him and holding on as the tension twisted a little higher.

Joe ground his hips down against Justin's, his breath catching as he came in long pulses against Justin's stomach. The extra slickness made it easier for Justin to push up against Joe and it only took a couple of extra thrusts before he was adding his own come to the mess between them. He ducked his own head down into the curve of Joe's neck, licking at the salty skin under his mouth, and held him a little tighter as they both came down.

He knew that, in a few minutes, Joe would slide off him and sprawl face down on the sheets, one arm stretched over his chest and the rest of his limbs taking up more than their fair share of the gigantic bed Joe had special ordered last winter. Justin would find something, probably Joe's t-shirt, to mop up most of the mess on his chest and stomach and then he'd curl up next to Joe and they'd both doze until they got hungry. They'd scavenge in the kitchen for leftovers wearing only their boxers. Then they'd fire up the Playstation and resume their ongoing Guitar Hero rivalry.

And maybe he'd been practicing and was ready to school Joe with a completely kick ass version of "Cowboys from Hell", but this was better.