There’s a game all the local kids play in Millington. It all started out as a practical joke but for the past three years, every weekend from the time school let out until it was back in session, the Water War was fought. There were rules of course. You had to be between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one. All water guns had to be bought at the General Store. If you’re hit, you’re out. Any cheating and you’re banned from the game. These were the rules.

 

And after a long semester at university, it’s your first weekend back in Tennessee and the first Water War of the summer is tonight. You have the radio blasting as you speed down the country lanes towards the General Store. Tearing around the corner you can see the store, and you sneer when you see the Escalade truck parked out front, and see the crowd of people standing around the two men sitting on the tailgate. Apparently Millington’s Greatest Child and his best friend have returned home.

 

Pulling up, you turn off your car and climb out, waving to a few people, your eyes meeting his briefly before bounding up the stairs and into the store. You go straight to the toy aisle and find that the pickings are rather slim, everyone apparently having gotten theirs when they came to catch a glimpse of the Great Justin Timberlake.

 

You grab your piece and grab four water bottles from the cooler, taking them to the front. Doug is behind the counter as usual and rings up your merchandise.

 

“Britta! Back from the wide world I see,” he says and you smile.

 

“Yep, college is great but being home is better. Especially when it’s Water War season.”

 

“I hear ya,” Doug replies, handing you your change. “I’ve gone through fifty bucks worth of these little guns just this afternoon, and we’re about to run out of water. Watch out for the Turkin boys. They bought food coloring with theirs.”

 

You laugh. Billy and Conrad always tried to bend the rules.

 

“Hey Doug, you got any more of that soda?”

 

You turn around and find Wonder Boy surveying the cooler, shirtless and wearing dirty cut off pants that probably cost him a fortune to look that ratty. He reaches inside, pulling out a bottle and you notice his nipples pucker from the cold.

 

“Boy, what are you doing?” Doug exclaims and Justin looks at him bewildered. “Put on a shirt before you come in here!”

 

“Sorry man,” he says sheepishly, walking to the counter as he reaches into his pocket. “Hey,” he says to you smiling, and you see a glint of a gold tooth.

 

“Someone knock you in the mouth?” you ask, as he drops a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

 

“Huh?” he asks and looks at you. “Nah, it’s a cap,” he replies, pulling his cheek away to give you a better look.

 

“Nice,” you say and roll your eyes, grabbing your bounty and walking out.

 

“Hey!” You turn around and see him coming after you, but you are distracted when your best friend practically tackles you.

 

“Britta! Can I ride shotty with you for the War tonight. My transmission is fucked!” Then she suddenly puts a cool look on her face and sticks out her chest. You look at her for a moment before realizing she’s looking past you. You turn around to find the Pop Star, waiting patiently for you to speak to him.

 

“What War?” he asks, looking from you to your friend.

 

“The Water War,” your friend exclaims and then gasps. “You should play! I’m Anna by the way.”

 

“Hi. Justin,” he says, holding out his hand, and Anna shakes it a little too enthusiastically.

 

“It’s only for local kids,” you scoff and he looks at you, his brows knitting.

 

“I’m from here. I live just down the-”

 

“You live in LA, or Orlando, or somewhere,” you reply and he nods his head, looking a little dejected.

 

“Britta!” Anna exclaims out the side of her mouth. “Stop being a bitch!”

 

“Yeah, stop being a bitch!” It’s Conrad Turkin, who is now holding onto you from behind. “She giving you lip, JT?” Conrad looks at you and grins. “She’s better at givin’ head.”

 

“Ugh Conrad, you wish okay,” you reply, shoving him off you.

 

“How’s college life?” Conrad asks and you shrug.

 

“Conrad, he’s a local right? He can play in the War?” Anna asks, nodding toward Justin and you roll your eyes.

 

“Of course he can play!” Conrad exclaims with such force that you’re sure he’s been drinking.

 

“See, I can play!” Justin says, grinning at you, his gold cap gleaming in the afternoon sun.

 

“Fine,” you concede, grabbing Anna’s arm. “Just stay outta my way Noob.”

 

“Noob?” Justin questions, as you and Anna head towards your car. You don’t even respond but you hear Conrad explaining the concept of a newbie to the War.

 

“Why were you such a bitch to him?” Anna asks as you pull away.

 

“Because he’s an arrogant ass,” you reply and Anna’s protests fade into the background as you remember the way his body looked. His broad shoulders slimming into a narrow waist. Tight pecks and chiseled abs. The boyish face, the perfect smile, marred by the gold tooth. You hated his guts, but not for anything he did. Because you would never be able to have him and not getting what you want makes you a bitch.

 

By eight o’clock the War is in full swing. You can hear cars peeling out in the distance from drive bys and laughter echoing through the trees. You and Anna are currently stalking Graham and Hannah Abbot who have abandoned their car and tore off into the Macon’s pasture. You park and decided to split up as you jump the fence.

 

You’re crouched down, listening with all your might, stalking through the tall grass, trying to stay unseen. You make it to George Macon’s old broken down Ford pickup next to the abandoned barn and hear a sound from inside. You pop your head over the back end to look in the bed of the truck and finding nothing but brambles and rusted fencing. Then you see movement in the cab.

 

Slinking around the side of the truck, you crouch under the window taking a deep breath before popping up and exclaiming:

 

“Surrender now bitch!”

 

Your jaw drops when you see Justin Timberlake, on his stomach across the seat. He holds up his hands, his finger off the trigger of his gun as he rolls over slowly. You gasp slightly, the sight of him laid out in front of you like that, causing you to press your legs together tightly.

 

“Got me,” he says grinning sheepishly, his head resting on the arm rest of the driver’s side door. He closes his eyes. “Go ahead, take me out.”

 

You are frozen to the spot, your mind racing through all the things you want to do to him. How you want to lick the lines of his abs, tasting his sweat. How you want to suck on his bottom lip, or somewhere a little lower perhaps. He opens one eye hesitantly and then asks:

 

“What? Aren’t you gonna shoot me?”

 

“Um…” you stutter and point your gun at him, your mind imagining the water dripping down his chest and into the top of his cut offs. You swallow hard.

 

A slow realization is coming over his features, and you know you’re busted. He pulls himself up a little leaning back against the door of the truck, bringing his water gun over his head, the other reaching down to adjust himself. You nearly moan out loud.

 

“See something you like?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at you and you glare at him. “Oh don’t go getting’ all surly on my now, girl.”

 

“You are such an arrogant ass,” you spat and he throws his head back, letting out a throaty laugh.

 

“This is very true,” he concedes, twirling the watergun through his long, elegant fingers. “But I think you like that.”

 

You make a soft “pft” sound and look away, silently cursing your hormones, because god damn him if he wasn’t making you wet as hell right now. And by the cocky smirk on his face he knows it. His hand is still on his crotch and you watch him press the heel of his hand against his fly, a rather prominent bulge growing underneath his palm. That’s when you decide, fuck it…he’s gorgeous and willing and you only live once right?

 

You smile seductively and lean in through the open window of the truck, accentuating your breasts through your thin, white wifebeater. His eyes drop immediately to your chest.

 

“Oh I like it do I?” you ask lowly and his eyes meet yours again, giving you a cocky grin, his gold tooth glinting in the fading light.

 

“You want me,” he says, his face beaming at you, his palm now kneading steadily on the crotch of his jean shorts. You don’t say anything for a moment and just watch.

 

“Could be,” you finally reply and he grins licking his lips.

 

“Then get in here, girl,” he says and you shake your head.

 

“Maybe I just wanna watch,” you challenge and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Why don’t you take it out Timberlake? Show me what ya got.”

 

He smirks at you, slowly undoing the button of his jeans and easing down the zipper. You almost groan when you see that he’s not wearing underwear and his cock slides out freely. So maybe he’s got a reason to be arrogant. He’s just holding it, watching your face as you survey him.

 

“You wanna get in here now?” he asks, as you watch his hand squeeze the base, and his eyelids flutter.

 

You don’t hesitate, just grab for the handle of the door. It won’t budge. You look and see that it’s not locked. It’s just stuck. You tug hard and he laughs, tossing his gun onto the dash and pulls himself forward, crouching on the balls of his feet in the passenger seat. He grabs your arms and then lets himself fall back, pulling you in through the open window. It hurts and you’re pretty sure you have a scrape from your collarbone to your hipbones but you’re flush against him now, feeling him hot and pulsing against your thigh, just beneath the cut off of your shorts. His lips are centimeters from yours and he smirks at you, twitching his hips so his length caresses your thigh.

 

“Hi,” he says softly and you giggle in a girlish way that would usually embarrass you. You shift your leg and watch his eyes slide shut, biting your lip, his skin so soft, his dick so hard.

 

His hands move to cup your breasts through your shirt and pressing them together, chewing his bottom lip. You reach for the hem and pull it over your head, tossing it against the windshield. You sit back and reach behind you watching his face light up as you unhook your bra, laying across the steering wheel. His hands grip you immediately, kneading your mounds, tweaking your nipples. Your hips grind against his, your eyes falling closed as his mouth finds your peaks.

 

“Like that baby?” he mutters, his tongue flicking at your nipple, his hands skimming up your back.

 

You hum your approval and lean back as reaches to undo your shorts. You slide your flip flops from your feet before sitting back and allowing him to pull them and your panties off before climbing back on top of him.

 

His eyes are black with lust and he’s licking his lips as his eyes travel from your thighs, up your stomach, to your breasts and finally to your face. He smiles and says: “Show me.”

 

You look at him confused and he takes your hand and places it between your legs. “I showed you mine. Show me what you got.”

 

You smile licking your lips as you slide your fingers between your folds and find yourself soaking. Your fingers find your clit immediately and begin to rub in slow, soft circles, your touch light, teasing. He’s panting, watching your fingers play over your flesh.

 

“Put them in,” he says breathlessly, and you oblige, sliding two fingers deep inside, and he moans for you. “Just like that,” he whispers as you slowly fuck yourself.

 

You could get yourself off just like this, with him watching, hard and straining under you and you know that he would love nothing more than to see you do it. But it’s not the way you want it. You want him inside you. His lips form a pout as you remove your fingers but it turns into a smirk as your bring your fingers to his lips. He snakes out his tongue to lick your digits, grabbing your wrist when you try to pull away, sucking your fingers in. You groan, scooting back so that his cock is pressing intimately against you. He moans and you feel it vibrate through your fingers all the way to your pussy.

 

“Do it,” he moans, his hands going to your hips. You shake your head at him, and he cocks his head to the side, his expression going dark. “I said, do it.”

 

His hand comes down hard on your ass and you gasp slightly, disorienting you enough to give him the time to slide you down onto him. Your eyes roll back in your head as you feel him deep in you. He moans lowly, his fingernails digging half moons into the skin on your hips.

 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groans low, his hips twitching forward.

 

He lifts you easily, his strong arms guiding you over his dick slowly, allowing you to get used to his size. But you can tell he’s holding back, and while it’s slightly unpleasant right now, but you know that in a few moments its going to be so good you won’t be able to see straight. The faster you move now, the faster you’ll get there.

 

You take his hands and pry them off your hips, bringing them to your breasts. You almost giggle at how easily distracted he is, his eyes riveted to your chest, watching his fingers play with your nipples. Your hands grip his shoulders giving you leverage to slam yourself down onto him. His head falls back, his mouth falling open as you set a steady pace, rolling your hips in a way that causes sparks to shoot down to your extremities.

 

“Fuck…me,” he moans, his hands massaging your breasts roughly and its your turn to laugh.

 

“I am,” you reply, quickening your pace and watching him grit his teeth. “You close?”

 

“Are you?” he breathes and you can tell he’s thinking about something to keep from popping.

 

“Justin look at me,” you say softly, and he opens his eyes slowly, his mouth open, panting. “You wanna come?”

 

“Oh god yes,” he moans his eyes rolling back in his head as you grind your hips sensually against his.

 

“Not yet,” you chide, which elicits a whine from him, his fingers skimming down your stomach, fingers sliding between your bodies to pinch your clit.

 

You moan loudly, slamming hard down onto him, and you are so close. With one more pinch of his fingers you are thrown over the edge, your entire body shaking over him. He presses up into you, moaning as he lets himself go.

 

You collapse forward onto him, his skin damp beneath yours, his smell of musk and earth invading your senses as your lips press soft kisses on his shoulder.

 

“Is the Water War always this satisfying?” he asks breathing heavily into your hair.

 

You laugh. “I guess you’ll have to hang around and find out.”

 

“I guess I will,” he says, reaching for his water gun and spinning it between his fingers again. “I didn’t even get anybody wet.”

 

You return the smirk he’s giving you. “Come around next week, maybe you’ll get another chance.”