The Tattoo

He again pushed JC onto his back and when Justin reached for his belt this time, there was no resistance.

JC had been quiet, lost in whatever space their sex had taken him. He opened his eyes slowly and in them Justin could see desire, disorientation. He kissed him again and JC started to smirk and then to laugh gently, breaking their kiss.

“What?”

“That was -- great. Damn.”

JC laughed again. His face and neck were flushed and his eyes danced with mirth. Justin shook his head in mock disapproval.

“How am I supposed to feel when you laugh at me during sex?

“After sex," JC corrected. He stopped suddenly and they were both quiet. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Justin was quiet as if weighing how much to say.

“I was afraid, I guess.”

“Of what, Justin? You’re not afraid of anything.”

Justin laughed nervously.

“Of the whole thing. That you might not want this.”

JC pulled Justin down and kissed him.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I saw you that day. That’s why I stayed away. Half the time I was scared to death of what I was feeling and the other half, I was pissed off at you for making me feel that way.”

Justin held him close, wrapping their bodies together. JC continued.

“I’d never have done anything about it. I was too scared. I wanted you, but I was afraid. “

“Liar.”

“What?”

“Prove it. Here’s my proof.”

He pulled JC’s hand around until it covered his lower back. JC pulled away and lay back on the pillow, an arm covering his face.

“Did I say something wrong?”

JC lay very still and Justin reached over to pull his arm away. His eyes were pools of tears and Justin leaned in, kissing the lids and running long fingers down his cheek. He pulled JC’s whole body to him and rocked until he felt tight muscles relax. They both lay back again and Justin put his open hand across JC’s body. Possessive. Protective.

“Talk to me.”

JC’s response was guarded.

“Do you still have the drawing?”

“What?”

“My drawing? Do you still have it?”

Justin felt his stomach knot up. Was that it? That Justin had taken something that belonged to him and now wanted more? His head was spinning as he tried to control his fear. He finally had JC in his bed and nothing could jeopardize that.

Justin rolled to his right and sat up, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his nakedness. He pulled up his sweat pants and walked over to his dresser where a large manila envelope lay under a jewelry tray filled with expensive earrings and watches. None of them was more precious to him than the contents of that envelope.

He sat again on the edge of the bed and placed the envelope between them. JC’s face was calmer now and the tears were gone.

“Open it.”

Justin pulled the creased paper from inside and extended it toward JC. He shook his head and smiled slightly.

“Look at it, Justin.”

Justin looked down at the drawing like he had never seen it before. It was still aesthetically beautiful and emotionally stunning. But it was different somehow. Justin blinked his eyes and looked again. He wondered briefly if he was imagining it and, alternately, how he could have missed it. When he looked up at JC, he knew that he was right.

“Is it--?”

JC nodded.

Justin looked at the figures in the picture again and thought about how they had haunted him. How each and every person who had seen it, had been moved by its beauty. JC looked down at his hands, unable to meet Justin’s pointed gaze.

“I could never have told you. I had yet to admit it to myself. It wasn’t until I saw it on your skin, alive with sensuality, that I knew. It scared the shit out of me, Justin. I was so sure that I knew what I was about. It changed everything.”

Justin pushed the paper aside and pulled JC to him. They kissed until JC was again moaning and pulling at Justin’s hair, raking his back until red trails crisscrossed his shoulders. Justin smiled through the kiss.

“I guess I don’t need the drawing if I can have this.”

Justin lowered his face to JC's neck, nibbling contentedly and then stopped as if a random thought now kept them suspended like the painted lovers on Keats' grecian urn.

"Are there more?"

Understanding flooded JC's face with a smile.

"Yeah. A couple."

"I want to see them."

"Okay."

Before the events of this night, a revelation like that would have gone straight to Justin's libido, hardening his sex and arming him for battle. Tonight it went to his head and then to his heart. His kiss was gentle.

"Robert's gonna be a busy man."

"No."

Justin looked into blue eyes that burned and then soothed him.

"Not this time. These are for your eyes only."

Justin felt his blood race and his mouth go dry. This was a battle he would gladly lose. Especially since there would be more than just tonight.

There would be more drawings. And more of JC.

Always more.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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	The Tattoo by Scotty __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The knock at the door was quick and unfamiliar. “Yeah?” “It’s Robert. Got a minute?” Justin pulled the door open and a small, dark-haired figure greeted him. “What’s up?” “This is kind of --awkward. Sorry to sound random.” Justin recognized the behavior immediately. He’d been through the familiar scene dozens of times over the past few years, especially since No Strings Attached. Only the requests varied. Concert tickets for a relative, an autographed picture for a girlfriend. Only once was it about money. That guy was no longer with them. But this wasn’t about a favor. “So Robert, what do you need?” When he again hesitated, Justin became impatient. “I’ve really got to go. Just say it.” The other man spoke quickly. “Did you get some new ink?” Justin had expected the question sooner or later. But word traveled pretty fast in the close-knit brotherhood of tattoo artists. Anyone who was any good at it knew everyone else who was any good at it. Streetside tattoo parlours were like fast food joints--riff raff who catered to riff raff. Guys like Robert Blass attended art school and had a regular, often lifetime, client list. But as close as the members of this elite fraternity were, they were also guarded and jealous. More territorial than any Great White. The style of an artist was like a finger print. Uniquely his own. It would be obvious that this was not his work. What Justin had done was not a mere breach of etiquette. It was a slap in the face. The worst of it was that Justin had set boundaries with him. Arms and legs only. This ink was on his back. Exactly what and where were still a mystery. Robert Blass wanted to see it. Badly. Justin had avoided eye contact, continuing to pack as they spoke. He’d even gone so far as to pull on the sweatshirt he’d been holding. It was abvious that he wasn’t going to offer, that Blass would have to ask. He wasn’t happy about it. “Can I at least see it?” The older man’s tone had been more demanding than he’d intended and it occurred to him that as friendly as they were, Justin was still his employer. “I mean, as a professional courtesy?” Justin stopped packing and straightened up but did not turn around. He reached back with his left arm and pulled up his shirt. Blass could find no words, but the rush of air that left his body was enough. Justin let the shirt fall and went back to packing. He heard the door close softly and took a moment to restore his own breathing to normal. There were only two people in the world who would care that he’d gotten a new tattoo. This one had been easy. The second was a quantum leap. What would happen when JC actually saw it was beyond consideration. He would recognize it. He just wouldn’t know why it was there. • • • “California?” “Yeah. Since Lance moved back from Mississippi, the house is never quiet. Between him and Tyler’s crowd, I haven’t been able to get any writing done, so I’m going to take off for a while. Why, are you coming out?” The wording had crept into JC’s vocabulary slowly. Like California was home now. While everything and everyone else was still in Florida. Including Justin “Or still waiting for an invitation?” Justin paused slightly then cursed himself again for daydreaming. JC meant Britney, of course, not himself. Justin’s thoughts cleared quickly. He’d never stayed at JC’s new house. But the idea put a smile on his face. It would make a nice fantasy in the shower tonight. “No, I thought I’d head home for a couple days then figure out what to do.” The conversation seemed to wind down pretty quickly after that. By Friday JC would be gone. If he was going to play his trump card, it would have to be soon. Or he could just give it up. He’d known JC most of his adult life and there had never been any indication that Justin interested him at all. I mean they’d practically grown up together and they’d been friends, but nothing more. Sometimes not even that. And ironically, the last six months had been the worst. Ever. Out on tour they hardly spoke. Not until Justin had been openly critical of Joey when he missed the San Antonio concert. Then their words had been hot and angry. When the confrontation ended, Justin was sexually aroused. Hard as a rock. That’s when he knew for sure. He wanted JC. Wanted all that fiery passion and emotion under his control. And under his body. • • • He’d found the drawing that inspired the tattoo by accident. JC never shared anything artistic until it was perfect. Justin knew that from trying to write music with him. He’d like to have a dollar for every melody JC had rejected over the past five years. And his lyric notebook was off-limits to everyone. So when he’d found the creased paper stuffed between the mattress and the wall of the bus, Justin had expected nothing. He’d been wrong. It wasn’t the black and white ramblings of a fan or a discarded crossword puzzle. It was a drawing, or the beginnings of one. The fusion of color and form had mesmerized him. He knew at once that it belonged to JC and that he would have wanted no one to see it. Not yet. But he couldn’t help himself. Justin remembered every detail down to the point where he brought the paper up his face and sniffed it, confirming once and for all its ownership. It smelled like JC and Justin had squeezed his eyes tight, an erotic flush consuming him. He’d tucked the paper inside his shirt, afraid that folding it again would cause ruin. He knew that JC would miss the drawing and that he should give it back. That was his plan. • • • They were all marked in some way, except JC of course. That last time in Hawaii, everyone had gotten some new ink to celebrate the end of the tour. Joey, the masks of comedy and tragedy and Lance, a Chinese ideograph that he said meant “Faith”, but that Chris had insisted was really something pornographic. All four already shared the flames of NSYNC on their ankles. But Justin’s tattoos were mythic, legendary things. Since each of them was hidden under his clothing, speculation ran wild. Chat rooms across America lit up the night that he unveiled a gothic cross on his arm last spring. It was the first visible artwork for any of them. And its size and color spawned questions and arguments about its authenticity. But it was real. And permanent. A part of him. Each piece of living art represented something significant in his life. That had made the decision to use JC’s artwork easy. He hadn’t thought much beyond that point. • • • It was already Thursday. Justin had been unable to formulate a workable plan. So he had simply called and left a non-committal message on JC’s voice mail, and then gotten out of the house hoping a game of basketball would clear his head. Part of the problem came from having no one to talk to. For serious things, he always went to JC. This time he was on his own and the truth was, he didn’t trust his own judgement. Not on something this big. And this was huge. He was, in essence, telling the world that he was gay or at least bi and that the object of his affection was one of his own friends. Someone that he wasn’t even sure liked him anymore, let alone loved him. Justin stood suddenly still, rhythmically bouncing the basketball in place. He was in love with JC. That’s what he was saying. No preliminaries, no feelers, no encouragement. A whistle from Chris got his attention. He had stopped mid-court and five other faces now stared at him, wondering what he was doing. He passed the ball and the game went on. But he couldn’t concentrate worth a damn and was relieved when it ended quickly. He poured the rest of his water over his head and had, out of habit, just pulled up his t-shirt to wipe his face, when he heard JC’s voice behind him. “Justin?” He froze as if tethered to the moment, afraid to move. The shirt was still gathered in his hands, exposing the tattoo and there was nothing he could do. This wasn’t the time or the place, but it was happening anyway. For a moment his eyes filled with tears and he thought about pretending not to have heard him. To simply jog back onto the court and try to push it all away. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He owed JC an explanation. He wiped his eyes quickly and let the shirt fall back before turning around. JC’s eyes had been hard and Justin had babbled, completely unprepared for the most important revelation of his life. It was over in a matter of seconds. His attempt at an explanation interrupted several times by Chris who, in the only positive event of the day, had not seen the tattoo himself. There was stilted small talk and then he was gone. Justin walked away from Chris and stood, bent over at the waist, letting a wave of nausea pass over him. When he straightened again, Chris was watching with concern, but said nothing. With instinct locking off emotion, Justin felt able to breathe again. Without a word, he picked up his keys and left the park. • • • Days and then weeks went by. Justin had lost more than his nerve. Convinced that it had all been a mistake, that what he’d felt for JC was merely sexual frustration, misplaced anxiety, he’d gone as far as to check into a cover-up, a new tattoo meant to hide the image that now haunted and shamed him. But when he found that it could be done, he’d balked. The artist had urged him to reconsider because he too had found the image beautiful. And, in all honesty, Justin had been unable to bring himself to do it. The movie tonight had been Joey’s idea. Like the old days, he said, all of them together. Justin had spent the entire night trying his best not to touch JC. Acutely aware of every move. And then there was contact. His leg touching and not moving away. Adjusting to pass popcorn, when other movie goers wanted in or out. But always going back right where it was. Touching him. JC touching him. JC was standing at the open refrigerator in Joey’s kitchen when Justin came up from behind and leaned into him, both hands on his waist. “I don't remember much about the movie.” Neither of them moved. Justin kissed his neck softly and then gently licked the spot where his mouth had been, tasting its sweetness. JC let his head fall back, breathing deeply. Justin turned him slowly and without waiting for permission pressed his mouth to JC’s. The kiss at first was gentle, then demanding. JC struggled to regain control. “Don’t Justin. Someone’s gonna come in here. We can’t.” “Then let’s go. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” “We can’t. You know we can’t.” “Can’t what?” “What do you want from me, Justin? JC’s voice was strangled with emotion as he pushed at Justin, trying to walk away. “I don’t get anything you do anymore. We haven’t talked in two months and tonight you fucking kiss me? And I don’t even stop you. What the hell, Justin?” For a long moment they just stared at each other. “Don’t be afraid of me.” “I wanted to look at you--at your body, Justin. That’s when I knew to be afraid.” Joey pushed open the door suddenly and stuck his head in. Looking at their flushed faces, he mistook arousal for anger. “What are you two lookin’ all pissy about?” JC spoke without taking his eyes off Justin. “Just talking about the movie, Joe.” “I swear. I never knew two people who could argue about nothing. Bring the beer.” The rest of the night was a blur. Joey wanted everyone to sleep over, including the girls but Justin begged off. He tried more than once to catch JC’s eye before he left, but it never happened. • • • He had brushed his teeth and was turning off the lights downstairs when the knock came. This one he recognized. He found JC leaning against the wall, staring at the ground. Without speaking Justin pulled him into the house and up the stairs to his room. He pushed him back onto the bed, holding him down with his body. They stayed that way for a long time, with Justin kissing him softly. He reached under his sweater and rubbed gently across JC’s exposed skin. It was all that he could do to go slowly. What he really wanted to do scared him, so it was sure to scare JC. He wanted his mouth there. To kiss JC’s soft stomach. He wanted control of him. And he wasn’t willing to wait any more. He pulled gently at the belt on JC’s pants and then tugged at the zipper. JC’s hand stopped him. “Wait.” Justin wasn’t sure what to do next. He’d never made love to a man before and JC was saying no. He felt his face start to burn and he rolled away. Again JC’s hand stopped him. “I want to see it up close.” Justin looked at JC in wonder. Then he rolled over, pulling his t-shirt up over his head and lay back down on the bed. Very still, his face turned away. At first he wasn’t sure what was happening. And then sensation began to radiate across his body. JC’s mouth was on his skin. To be exact, he was kissing the very artwork that had brought them to this moment. Then he was kissing down Justin’s back and across his hips, pushing his sweat pants down as he explored. When he felt JC’s fingers slowly circle the soft opening at the base of his spine, Justin relaxed into his touch, allowing himself the pleasure he had only imagined was possible. He again pushed JC onto his back and when Justin reached for his belt this time, there was no resistance. JC had been quiet, lost in whatever space their sex had taken him. He opened his eyes slowly and in them Justin could see desire, disorientation. He kissed him again and JC started to smirk and then to laugh gently, breaking their kiss. “What?” “That was -- great. Damn.” JC laughed again. His face and neck were flushed and his eyes danced with mirth. Justin shook his head in mock disapproval. “How am I supposed to feel when you laugh at me during sex? “After sex," JC corrected. He stopped suddenly and they were both quiet. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” Justin was quiet as if weighing how much to say. “I was afraid, I guess.” “Of what, Justin? You’re not afraid of anything.” Justin laughed nervously. “Of the whole thing. That you might not want this.” JC pulled Justin down and kissed him. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I saw you that day. That’s why I stayed away. Half the time I was scared to death of what I was feeling and the other half, I was pissed off at you for making me feel that way.” Justin held him close, wrapping their bodies together. JC continued. “I’d never have done anything about it. I was too scared. I wanted you, but I was afraid. “ “Liar.” “What?” “Prove it. Here’s my proof.” He pulled JC’s hand around until it covered his lower back. JC pulled away and lay back on the pillow, an arm covering his face. “Did I say something wrong?” JC lay very still and Justin reached over to pull his arm away. His eyes were pools of tears and Justin leaned in, kissing the lids and running long fingers down his cheek. He pulled JC’s whole body to him and rocked until he felt tight muscles relax. They both lay back again and Justin put his open hand across JC’s body. Possessive. Protective. “Talk to me.” JC’s response was guarded. “Do you still have the drawing?” “What?” “My drawing? Do you still have it?” Justin felt his stomach knot up. Was that it? That Justin had taken something that belonged to him and now wanted more? His head was spinning as he tried to control his fear. He finally had JC in his bed and nothing could jeopardize that. Justin rolled to his right and sat up, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his nakedness. He pulled up his sweat pants and walked over to his dresser where a large manila envelope lay under a jewelry tray filled with expensive earrings and watches. None of them was more precious to him than the contents of that envelope. He sat again on the edge of the bed and placed the envelope between them. JC’s face was calmer now and the tears were gone. “Open it.” Justin pulled the creased paper from inside and extended it toward JC. He shook his head and smiled slightly. “Look at it, Justin.” Justin looked down at the drawing like he had never seen it before. It was still aesthetically beautiful and emotionally stunning. But it was different somehow. Justin blinked his eyes and looked again. He wondered briefly if he was imagining it and, alternately, how he could have missed it. When he looked up at JC, he knew that he was right. “Is it--?” JC nodded. Justin looked at the figures in the picture again and thought about how they had haunted him. How each and every person who had seen it, had been moved by its beauty. JC looked down at his hands, unable to meet Justin’s pointed gaze. “I could never have told you. I had yet to admit it to myself. It wasn’t until I saw it on your skin, alive with sensuality, that I knew. It scared the shit out of me, Justin. I was so sure that I knew what I was about. It changed everything.” Justin pushed the paper aside and pulled JC to him. They kissed until JC was again moaning and pulling at Justin’s hair, raking his back until red trails crisscrossed his shoulders. Justin smiled through the kiss. “I guess I don’t need the drawing if I can have this.” Justin lowered his face to JC's neck, nibbling contentedly and then stopped as if a random thought now kept them suspended like the painted lovers on Keats' grecian urn. "Are there more?" Understanding flooded JC's face with a smile. "Yeah. A couple." "I want to see them." "Okay." Before the events of this night, a revelation like that would have gone straight to Justin's libido, hardening his sex and arming him for battle. Tonight it went to his head and then to his heart. His kiss was gentle. "Robert's gonna be a busy man." "No." Justin looked into blue eyes that burned and then soothed him. "Not this time. These are for your eyes only." Justin felt his blood race and his mouth go dry. This was a battle he would gladly lose. Especially since there would be more than just tonight. There would be more drawings. And more of JC. Always more. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ home I email