It’s been two weeks.
This thought has skittered in and out of my brain all day. It was the first thing that came to mind when I reached consciousness this morning and it lingered throughout the long, lonely bus ride to a city I can’t quite recall the name of. It tortured me during the two hours I watched him on stage and it’s haunting me now as I try to discuss the remnants of the Kares tribe found on a beach in Mykonos and how it relates to my thesis topic. But I can’t concentrate.
Because it’s been two weeks since Justin and I… well since I’ve seen him at all really. I’ve been banished from his presence, forced to work through handlers and security, not allowed to speak to him face to face, not even permitted to be in the same room.
All because two weeks ago while I was explaining the concept of co-emperors after the division of the Holy Roman Empire, I sneezed.
It’s no secret that the people who handle the group are a little intense when it comes to keeping the band happy. I’ve watched in horrified amusement as people from their management team hovered around them, leaning over Justin while he was eating, asking if everything was okay like some overzealous wait staff, stacking mountains of books in front of Lance whenever he’d finished whatever it was he’d been reading. I’ve seen them wheeling a grand piano through the lobby of a hotel at three o’clock in the morning for JC so he could tinker around without an audience and Joey sampling twelve different kinds of Italian sausages so they’d get the kind he liked in the catering service. And don’t even get me started on Chris and his turntables.
But none of this compares to the lengths that they go to in order to keep the group healthy. It is not uncommon to see people walking through hotels sanitizing door handles or barring access even to the guys’ own family members for so much as hinting at feeling under the weather. It was maniacal and borderline psychotic, the degrees that these people went to in order to make sure that the show went on and everyone in the group was in perfect health.
Two weeks ago, I sneezed and Justin barely had a chance to bless me before we were descended upon by three people from his management team who practically dragged him from the room. For two weeks I’ve been forced to give him homework instructions over the phone or through one of his handlers, only seeing him when he’s on stage or forty yards away and the fact that I feel like I’m slowly dying inside scares the shit out of me.
But before I even have the chance to conjure up some kind of distraction from this thought, the phone beside the bed rings. I’m slightly sickened with myself at the haste with which I throw myself across the room, my body launching itself onto the bed, the hotel comforter scratchy against my bare legs. I snatch the phone from the cradle, pulling a stray piece of hair out of my mouth as I breathlessly answer:
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
One simple word is enough to cause butterflies to let loose in my stomach, the tone of his voice warm and easy. A tingle travels down my spine and settles in the pit of my stomach. I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that not only have I not been with him for the past two weeks, I’ve not been with him.
“Hey,” I say back, my fingers twirling in the phone cord, biting my lip as I try to push down the butterflies.
“Any assignments for me?” he asks and his voice sounds tired, pulled from the back of his throat and I can imagine him laying on his back across his bed, his long body stretched as far as it will go, arms reaching high over his head before he sighs, letting his body fall limp against the mattress.
“None tonight,” I say and his sigh of relief crackles over the line.
“Good,” he replies with relish and I can hear the springs creak in the background which I assume is him rolling over. “What are you doing?”
“Thesis,” I respond, picking at the comforter awkwardly. He and I don’t usually do much talking.
“Don’t lie Skylar, you know you were thinkin’ about me,” he says and I can hear the grin in his voice even over how tired he sounds.
“Always, Jus,” I reply with a roll of my eyes but that giddy grin still pulls at my lips. Dammit.
“I miss you,” he says quietly and his sincerity steals my breath, causing me to shift awkwardly and bite my lip.
“Oh I’m sure you do,” I say but my sarcasm isn’t as heavy as it used to be, not since-
“It’s not like that….” He pauses. “I love you.”
I press my lips tightly together and close my eyes as if the action would actually keep the words from sinking into my brain. The silence after his proclamation stretches on and I know he’s waiting for me to fill it, fill it with those three words and I can’t do that. I don’t feel that way about him, I tell myself, and saying the words would be lying and I don’t want to lead him on.
Wouldn’t wanna do that. Keep sleeping with him though. Don’t want mixed signals.
“One of these days you’re gonna say it,” he says with a sigh, breaking my train of thought.
“Don’t-”
“-count on it. I know,” he says and I can just see him rolling his eyes.
That wasn’t what I was going to say however. What I was going to say was “don’t do this to me.” Don’t do this to me, don’t make me keep telling him “stop.” Don’t make me feel bad for hurting him over and over and over again. I wish I still had what it took to say “don’t count on it” when he told me he loved me.
I shake my head hard. “Can you come over?”
The words leave my mouth before I even really have a chance to stop them and they hang on the silent line between us. I try to convince myself my tone wasn’t at all desperate. I do a poor job.
“I…I don’t think I should,” he says and the regret in his voice is evident. Annoyance burns strong in me, stronger than it usually would because of the conversation we’re having.
“Justin I fucking sneezed! It was two weeks ago,” I spit, my voice raising and I press a hand to my forehead, trying to control my temper. It’s not his fault.
His voice is quiet as it comes through the line. “It was two weeks, one day and about…” he pauses and I hear the rustling of his clothes against the bedspread as he moves to, I assume, look at the clock, “…eight hours ago.”
“You’re kinda pathetic you know that,” I say with no conviction at all so I’m not so much worried about the sting it may cause him. He laughs and I shiver.
“Hey you called me,” he says and I scoff.
“No actually you called me,” I reply and I can practically see him pout.
“Well you asked me to come over,” he argues somewhat petulantly, “which I can’t,” he mutters hotly and I know I’m not the only one who’s been dying inside.
“It was two weeks ago,” I say again, sighing and rolling onto my back. “I’m not sick! I just sneezed that once!”
“You had a cough for awhile,” Justin says and I scowl.
“Look if you don’t wanna come over then just fucking say so,” I snap, my tone a little sharper than I intended because he never tells me no. “Don’t use your management as an excuse.”
“I’m not,” he insists peevishly and I scoff. “Skylar I cannot get sick. I can’t. We have five fucking shows over the next seven days and I haven’t had a day off in two weeks. We’re already over worked which puts us at higher risk of-”
“Fine,” I say cutting him off flippantly. “You sound tired. I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Don’t be this-”
“Bye,” I say, promptly dropping the phone back on the cradle and flopping back against the mattress.
Okay maybe I’m being slightly dramatic. But god the mere sound of his voice through the line has my heart pumping harder than usual, my skin tingling among other places. I roll onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow and try to force down the want that’s curling insistently in my belly, try to push away all the memories of him taking me in a bed just like this countless times over the past few months.
My brain churns with thoughts of his mouth on mine, his hands sliding underneath my clothes, long fingers pressing inside my body. Remembrances of his body laying over mine, his shoulder pinning one of my legs against my chest as he drove into me, testing my limits, testing his own. The way his eyes roll back just slightly before they fall shut when he comes and I press my legs together, trying to quell the ache between them.
My breathing hitches when a pounding sounds on my door, pussy still throbbing as I pull myself off the bed, hands smoothing over my stomach and arms as if to wipe away the impure thoughts lest they be visible on my very skin. I open the door and Justin stands before me, setting my heart off at a run at the sheer closeness, three feet away. I can smell him, clean like soap and water and I note that his hair is still just slightly damp from his shower. He’s dressed for bed, basketball shorts and a black wifebeater, his feet bare against the patterned hotel carpet.
“You fucking hung up on me,” he accuses and that’s when I notice the hardness in his eyes, the way his jaw is set. He’s pissed, and the want in my stomach deepens. “Seriously you hung up on me!”
I roll my eyes. “Yes Justin it’s what people do sometimes when they don’t want to talk to whiney brats like you anymore.”
The words leave my mouth before I really know I’m saying them, frustration and pent up tension making me peevish and easily irritated. I need to get laid. His eyes flame and he advances toward me, causing me to take a cautious step back as his fingers grip the door and give it a shove, slamming it shut behind him. His chest heaves, his hands on his hips as he glares down at me, leaning his weight from foot to foot trying to decide what to say but each switch moves him minutely closer to me.
“Whiney brat, huh?” he questions and he’s close to me now, a breath away, looking down his nose at me.
“Yes,” I say, jutting my chin out defiantly and refusing to step back anymore, annoyance burning in my chest, want throbbing between my legs.
“You’re the one that flipped your shit because I wasn’t gonna come over,” he argues and I growl at him.
“Because you blamed it on your job instead of manning up and-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa I wasn’t blaming shit,” he says, gesturing wildly as his face screws up in annoyance.
“You’re trying to tell me you’re actually that fucking paranoid about getting the sniffles?” I ask scoffing in disbelief and his arms cross over his chest, his biceps bulging and it’s almost hard to remember why I’m yelling. Almost. “We’ve been working through countless other people for the past two weeks. I’m not even allowed to hand you a fucking piece of paper for fear of contamination like I’ve got goddamn Ebola-”
“God I fucking missed you.”
I barely register the words before his hands are wrapping back in my hair, his mouth pressing hard to mine and it’s almost embarrassing, the savage moan I exhale into his mouth. My hands rake back into his hair, tangling in his curls and pressing my body hard against his. I feel him pressing against me, half hard in his shorts and I’d almost forgotten the effect that me yelling has on him.
His mouth is feverish on mine, tongue sliding wetly against my own and my arms curl around his neck, pressing my body hard against his but I can’t get close enough, can’t feel him through his clothes and all I want is his skin. He makes a sound of surprise as I lock my arms around his neck and pull myself up, hooking a leg around his waist and his arms move under my ass to support me, holding me against him as I ravage his mouth.
He stumbles towards the bed, our mouths bumping painfully as we fall backwards and his sheepish chuckle is apology enough as my hands grapple for every part of him I can get. Hands are desperate and mouths are impatient, shirts ripped over heads and underwear yanked down legs until we’re skin on skin bodies sliding warmly against one another.
We’re on our sides, legs tangled in each other sucking at each others lips frantically. I feel him hot and solid, trapped between our bellies and I try and wiggle, try and move against him, to get him inside me. He moans softly, his mouth pulling from mine for the first time in what seems like forever and he does the single most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. He brings his hand up, licking the pads of his fingers and then brings them down between our bodies and my eyes roll back in my head as he rubs against my folds, fingers stumbling over my clit. My mouth falls open, tiny whimpers escaping my lips as he rubs slow circles and I can see him watching me intently, his blue eyes focused on my face with curious concentration. My leg curls around his hip, giving him better access and he smiles biting his lip and I swear I could come right then just watching him let it slide free from between his teeth.
I whimper pitifully when his fingers leave me and he slides back, my leg slipping off his hip and I don’t have time to question him as he applies the lightest pressure to my hip, turning my body so I lay on my stomach. I always thought it was kind of ridiculous how romance novels would say that “she was trembling with anticipation” but my entire body is shaking, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as I feel him straddle my calves, one large hand smoothing from between my shoulder blades down over my ass and around my hip, guiding me up onto my knees. My legs widen, moving so that my calves press against the inside of his knees feeling his fingers drag up and down my spine as his other hand guides his dick against my entrance, rubbing along my slit teasingly.
My hips wiggle restlessly, my head hanging forward, breath coming in harsh pants. I feel him slip the head in and the hand that had been moving up my back now clamps on my shoulder, a hiss pulling from his lips. My mouth falls open as he continues to press forward, my body sucking at his in a pre-orgasmic shudder that lets me know this isn’t going to last long.
He draws back slowly and I can feel every inch leaving me, a low moan pulling from my chest at the loss and I have to clench my teeth tight when I hear his accompanying moan as he slides back in, my thighs trembling as he presses deep inside, hitting all the spots that have missed him desperately for two weeks.
“Fuck, Skylar,” he groans, his hips drawing back and tipping forward a little quicker this time, causing my breathing to hitch.
His fingers dig into my shoulder, his nails leaving halfmoons in my skin as he sets a rough, steady pace, each thrust punctuated by a quiet cry from my lips, my head hanging loosely on my neck. The hand on my shoulder smoothes across my neck, under my hair and he holds me there, fingertips pressing to by pulse point so I feel it drumming hard against my skin, fire racing through my body.
“J-Justin,” I whimper, my mouth opening in a silent scream and I don’t know how I’m going to hang on, not sure why I really am except for the fact that it just feels so damn good, I don’t want it to end.
He growls deep in his chest, his fingertips digging harder into my neck and where he holds me at my hip. “Say it again.”
I shiver hard, lungs aching from panting so hard and the sound of his voice…god…
“Please,” he whimpers softly and I feel his hand drag down my back, nails curling in as his hips speed, scratching all the way down my spine and my arms give out, falling down to my elbows. “Oh god,” he chokes, the new tilt of my body sending him deeper into me and I’m burying my face in the comforter to keep from screaming.
“Justin,” I groan, muffled by the bedspread but he still hears me. I know because the push of his hips has turned savage and I see stars, every exhalation of my breath punctuated by a squeal of pleasure.
“Say it again,” he demands, his voice gravely as it’s pulled from the back of his throat and my entire body is trembling.
He likes it when I say his name. He likes it when I breathe it against his ear and he likes it when I spit it in his face when he teases the shit out of me. I used to think that it was just his way of reminding me he was the one fucking me, another way to lay his claim but more and more lately I’m beginning to think it’s his ego starting to run amok, that cocky ass swagger he’s got going on coming into the bedroom. I open my mouth to speak but the pleasure steals my breath and all I can manage is a gargling sound, my fingers winding in the comforter, searching for anything to hold onto as he drives into me hard and fast. I choke on my own breath as I feel the sting of his open palm against the roundest part of my ass, the pleasure shocking me with its intensity.
“I said say my name,” he growls, his hand skimming roughly up my spine, fingers winding in my hair and tugging my head back and I can’t hold it back anymore.
His name rips from my throat, my voice echoing harshly off the walls and I’m only acutely aware that I’m screaming it over and over again as my body convulses, pleasure seizing my muscles. His hand leaves my hair, slipping around my jaw and clamping over my mouth, muffling my screams as his hips still push against mine viciously, riding out my orgasm.
Each smack of his hips is accompanied by a whine from him and I can tell by the quick stutter of his hips he’s close. His hand is still clamped over my mouth and I bite at his fingers, his hips jerking ferociously as his fingers smooth down, cradling my chin between his thumb and forefinger and all it takes is me sucking his thumb into my mouth for him to choke on his own breath. A deep growl rumbles from his chest and I whimper softly as he releases into me, his body falling over mine, shaking and shuddering as his orgasm wrings him dry.
We’re both panting hard, muscles weak and trembling as we come down, just a heap of limbs in the middle of the bed. I let my elbows slide forward slowly, lowering us to the bed and a giggle forces itself from my throat because Justin doesn’t even move, just lays against me, his body covering mine completely, breath panting against my shoulder blade.
I lay still for a moment, resting my cheek on my folded arms and just enjoy the feel of his weight pressing me down into the mattress, our skin slick with sweat, his heartbeat thrumming steadily against my spine.
“Are you asleep back there?” I ask after a moment, my eyes narrowing and I feel him move finally, a quick jerk of his muscles.
“Almost,” he replies drowsily and he raises himself on trembling arms, sliding his body off of mine and I shiver at the loss, turning towards him, my arms curling against my chest.
He lays next to me on his back, his chest still heaving slightly and I watch as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. His eyes are closed, his face serene and sated as if he didn’t have a care in the world and he’s so young. A stab of guilt lacerates me.
“Sorry I hung up on you,” I say quietly and one of his eyebrows raises before his eyes creak open slowly. A goodnatured smile pulls at his lips and he rolls onto his side, reaching for my hip and I wiggle closer to him, pressing my nose against his collarbone.
“I forgive you,” he says and then so quietly I almost don’t hear it, “I love you.”
I press my lips together tightly, looking stubbornly at his chest and the silence stretches between us. I do my very best not to move, not to give him any sign that this causes me discomfort, to give away any kind of signal. I don’t want to send him the wrong message. I don’t want to give anything away. After a moment he heaves a sigh and his lips press sweetly to my forehead in the way that I’ve come to associate with him saying “one of these days…”
His arm curls around me and I wiggle closer still until our bellies are touching, until his every exhalation stirs the hair at my temple and every breath causes his chest to expand against the backs of my arms that are still curled against my chest. He holds me as I try to hold onto myself. How long can this keep happening? How many more times can he tell me he loves me and I just keep my mouth shut and pretend I didn’t hear?
I close my eyes and try to push the thoughts away, wiggling my wrist so that back of my hand rubs against the soft skin of his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against my skin. My mind starts to blur as the cadence lulls me and I find I don’t have enough energy left to worry.
And just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, he sneezes.
Story Notes:
For my best friend BA, who if I hadn't forgotten to call her on her birthday (facepalm) this story never would have exsisted. The plot was hers and I just brought it to life in a humble attempt to atone for my EGREGIOUS best friend fail. Hope you all enjoy.
Completed
SomethingBlue42 is the author of 59 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 5 members. Members who liked Sneeze (A Skystin Flashback) also liked 189 other stories.
This story is part of the series, Continuing Education: ALWL Shorts. The next story in the series is Little Moments.
This story is a favorite of 5 members. Members who liked Sneeze (A Skystin Flashback) also liked 189 other stories.
This story is part of the series, Continuing Education: ALWL Shorts. The next story in the series is Little Moments.
Story Tags: companionstory doggiestyle weeb
