by Cody

Take a ride inside my eye and this is what you will likely find.


If it weren't for JC, Justin would have nothing to fantasize about. Really, what would he have? Daydream about being Rich? Famous? Driving sports cars? Owning Mansions? Hit records? Adoring fans? Celebrity friends?

There was nothing he wanted that he didn't have, except maybe a Grammy or something. But even his Grammy fantasies ended with scorching celebratory sex with JC in a limo, on stage, in Eminem's dressing room.

Or maybe daydream about being a movie star, but that involved sex with JC on the sets after hours. Sports hero? Locker room sex. Photographer? Kinky model sex. There was no end to the possibilities. Fantasies lurked behind every corner, just waiting to unfold.


Driving home from a party at Trace's house he sees someone getting pulled over. The flashing lights, the stricken face of the woman looking up at the policeman peering into her window is all it takes.


Justin's speeding down a long stretch of road in the country, green hills rolling in every direction, sky clear and blue, sun warm and a cool breeze. He was driving his. Hmm. His Audi. Top down, of course. He let his foot press the accelerator until it went no further. The world blurred.

What was that? Was that? Oh, shit. Sirens. He checked his rearview. Lights. He was getting pulled over. Great. He slowed down, pulled over to the side of the road and looked in his side mirror as the cop got out of his car.

Mmm. Hey, there, Officer Yummy, he thought, lifting an eyebrow and licking his lips. The cop was young, thin but muscular, wild brown curls bouncing with the sway of his stride, lush lips set in a stern line. His navy blue uniform was appropriate for the hot weather, shorts that stopped high on his thighs, fitted shirt mostly unbuttoned exposing a defined chest, dark sunglasses. He put a hand on the door of Justin's car, leaned over, and Justin caught a glimpse of a nipple. "Where's the fire?"

Justin tilted his head coyly. "You tell me."

Officer, Justin glanced at his nametag, Chasez smirked at that. "Do you know how fast you were going?" Justin wasn't sure. "Weren't even paying attention? What's the rush?"

Justin shrugged, his gaze sliding leisurely over the cop's body. "No rush."

"Just one of those people who likes to speed, huh?"

Justin gave him a slow, smoldering smile. "I like to do all sorts of things."

Officer Chasez studied him a moment, then said, "I bet you do. I'm gonna need your license and registration."

"I don't have it on me," Justin lied.

"You don't have your license on you?" He frowned. "That's another ticket."

"Well, I mean. I don't think I have it on me." Justin laughed a little. "It might be in my wallet."

Officer Chasez waited for him to move. When he didn't, he said, "You should check."

Justin leaned up, his smile growing wickedly. "Why don't you check for me?" He lifted and angled his hips to show the bulge of his wallet in his back pocket.

"This isn't a joke, boy."

Justin's blinked innocently. "Oh, Officer, I'm not laughing."

"That's it." His hand thumped down hard on the car door. "Get out of the vehicle."

Justin obeyed eagerly, letting himself be positioned over the car, his hands on the hood. "Are you gonna frisk me?"

Officer Chasez stepped up close behind him, one leg nudging between Justin's. "Spread 'em."

"Gladly." Justin spread them wide, leaning over more to allow a better view of his ass. He looked over his shoulder mischievously. "If I say I don't have insurance, will you do a strip search? Please?"

The cop pressed his chest against Justin's back, crotch grinding into his ass. "Such a naughty boy," he said in Justin's ear, then licked it. "I think I might just have to," and bumping lewdly with each word, "Take. You. In."

Justin moaned, his head lolling back as he was turned around, a mouth sucking on his neck and hands tugging at his belt. He slid onto the hood of his car, laid back with his legs still on the ground, closing his eyes against the sun on his face and lifted his hips as he felt strong hands unzip his jeans and pull his clothes down past his knees. Then the hands were on his ass, and he was grateful for them because he could feel the heat of the hood through the material of his shirt and was glad his bare skin was spared.

He cried out at the first brush of lips against the head of his cock, reaching down to fist those wild brown curls. The lips sucked in the head, but just as a tease. Then a tongue was lapping at the underside of his cock and he gritted his teeth because it felt. Good. The tongue probed at the base of his cock, flicked against his balls, and he groaned and growled, "Just fucking take it. " And then, "Oh God! " as he was swallowed whole, hitting the back of an endless throat. "You fucking. God. " He bucked frantically; his movements encouraged by the hands gripping him and the humming of the mouth around him. "Oh! God! Fuck!" He screamed and thrashed and came so hard he felt like his skin might rip.

He collapsed against his car, rolling his head and still moaning mindlessly even as he felt himself being dressed. He didn't lift his hips helpfully this time and barely registered the jarring when his clothes were tugged up roughly. Hands twisted the material of his shirt and made him slip lower on the hood of the car, lips met and his opened invitingly. He could taste himself in the kiss and it just made his head swim more. Vaguely he heard static and voice, the walkie-talkie on the cop's belt speaking up. The body on top of him was lifting away from him now and he reached out to pull it back. "I've got to go." Justin's hands were brushed away. "Duty calls."

Justin tried to sit up, got as far as propping himself up on his elbows, and looked at the cop dazedly. "That's it?"

Officer Chasez smiled, pushed his sunglasses to sit on in his hair so Justin could see his eyes. Big, brilliant blue eyes with long, long dark lashes. He reached down to Justin's crotch, squeezed until Justin groaned. "Consider this a warning," he said, before going on his way.

Justin watched him get in his car and drive off, nodded to the hand lifted in farewell. He was glad his mother had taught him to always take note of badge numbers.


Inspiration was everywhere, really. The trick was to watch for it, find it. In a song, in a movie. Even in, let's say… a postcard. A stupid postcard. One Justin glimpsed at his mom's house, on a side table in the den. It had a picture on it of a big white daisy with a bee drinking from it. A bee.

A honey bee.



JC splayed out on the grass like a wild flower. He's wearing only a lazy smile, laughing softly as touches himself, runs his hands through his hair, over his neck and chest. Justin lays beside him, just as bare and blithe, resting his weight on one arm while the other reaches for JC's hip.

No, past his hip… to the jar by his thigh. A jar of honey.

Justin dips his fingers in and lifts out slowly, drizzling thick, rich sweetness over JC's skin, all the way up to his throat, wiping there before sliding his fingers into JC's mouth. JC's eyelashes fluttering like nervous butterflies as he sucks eagerly, and Justin bends to lick at his neck, lick hard and drag his tongue down JC's chest, to sticky nipples and along the candied ridges of his abdomen.

A mellifluous moan, a gentle hand twining in Justin's hair.

Justin laps at the jut of JC's hipbone, where rides a rivulet of syrupy gold, and his voice is low with want and tender with truth when he promises, "You belong in my mouth."


Recurring daydreams came in handy, especially on airplanes. When the in-flight movies were lousy and everyone he felt like talking to was sleeping, it was nice to close his eyes and let his mind roam. Visit places he created and set aside for just such occasions.


Justin drummed his fingers against his steering wheel impatiently; his eyes locked on his rearview mirror. He'd called the police station almost half an hour ago, giving a badge number and claiming he was "Officer Chasez's little brother. My car broke down about thirty miles down Farm Road 12. Could you get a hold of him and let him know? I'd really appreciate it."

Now he was waiting. Anxious. Ready. More than willing.

Finally, he saw it. His pulse sped as the police cruiser came closer and he hoped to god they hadn't just sent some random officer. The car pulled to a stop behind his, and when Officer Chasez stepped out, Justin's stomach tightened in anticipation.

He swaggered slowly towards Justin's car, his hips rolling deliciously. Justin licked his lips, his eyes hot with lust as he got out of his car and leaned against the door, and the cop stepped too close, pressed against him and said, "You're not my brother."

Justin slid his hands into the open uniform shirt, tweaked the nipples he found there. "I'm whoever you want me to be."

Officer Chasez let his tongue trail across Justin's jaw, his hands reaching for Justin's waist just as the dispatcher radio in his cruiser blared. He stepped away abruptly, leaving to open the passenger side door of his squad car and kneel across the seat to pick up the little speaker there, say something in response to the codes being transmitted.

Justin wasn't about to be forgotten so easily. He went up behind the cop, leaned in behind him and snatched his handcuffs out of their leather holster; pulling one cuff open and clicking it closed over an unsuspecting wrist quickly. Officer Chasez looked back at him, surprised. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Citizen's arrest," Justin grinned, pushing him so he fell onto his back on the car seat, grabbing his free wrist and slipping the handcuffs through the steering wheel before locking it so his hands were caught above his head.

Officer Chasez yanked his arms until the steering wheel shook, but he was caught. He looked at Justin steadily, his voice low and severe. "I hope you know what you're doing, boy."

Justin's hands went to the cop's belt and he went to work undressing him. "My name's Justin." He tugged off Officer Chasez's shorts, throwing them on the car floor where he'd already discarded his socks and shoes. The uniform shirt would have to stay on; there was no way to get it off without unlocking the handcuffs, but it was undone and splayed open so it wouldn't get in the way. Justin stretched his own shirt over his head, tossed it on the pile of clothes and started on his jeans, licking his lips as he studied Officer Chasez's naked body glistening with sweat. "In case you were wondering what name to scream when I fuck you."

Justin savored the lithe frame beneath him, taking his time to taste and touch before grasping strong thighs, pushing them up and apart so he could brace himself against them as he eased fingers into the man panting for more. "You like that?" Justin voice was low in his throat; everything seemed soaked in sensuality. The heat of the sun beating against their bare skin; the heat of two bodies crushed so close together, confined in this little space; it felt like the whole world was melting.

Officer Chasez squirmed, his arms flexing helplessly above his head, his eyes clenched shut, and he gasped as Justin's fingers were replaced with, "Fuck!" He pressed his face against his bicep, opened his mouth to bite himself but couldn't at this angle, could only grit his teeth and hiss like a cat, rocking his hips into Justin's thrusts, driving him deeper, faster, harder. "God, come on," he urged. "You can do better than that, boy. Give it to me."

Justin grunted as he pushed closer, on his knees with one hand gripping a thigh, the other tugging at moist brown curls, and he cried out when suddenly hot-wet streaked across his chest and hot-tight gripped tighter, and he was lost in a shuddering, blinding, screaming climax that felt like it would never end.

He collapsed on top of the cop, and as he caught his breath his hand reached lazily for the set of keys in the ignition. "You got your cuff key on you, I hope?"

"It's the little one." Officer Chasez was still panting, but lightly now. He waited while Justin unlocked him, rubbed his wrists as soon as they were free and gave Justin a teasing grin. "So, that all you got?"

Justin let the cop shift into an upright position, straddling his lap and said, "No, sir. Not even a start..." His mouth hovered over the grin, and he let their eyes lock. "That was just a warning."


Even when Justin got a vacation, it wasn't really a vacation. Even here, sunbathing on a large, level rock in a tropical paradise, there were paparazzi on the beach, not even bothering to hide a little as they snapped pictures of him. Justin hated them, wanted to beat the crap out of them, scream at them to, Let me fucking be! But why bother? It would just give them more fuel for their fire; something to write about in their stupid, trashy magazines. He could see the headlines now: Timberlake Tantrum! or maybe When Good Teen Idols Go Bad!

No matter how he tried, he could never really get away from it all.


Justin sat up as he saw it coming, gliding under the water as a fleshtone blur. "What the fuck?" His eyes squinted, trying to make out exactly what that could be… it looked like, but it couldn't be... Because how could a human stay underwater that long? Justin crawled to the edge of the rock, peered into the water, startled back when it broke the surface right in front of him. "Shit!"

"Shit?" It, he, echoed curiously.

Justin gaped openly. This man, this creature, was. Ocean in his eyes and dripping curls falling across a smooth, lightly tanned forehead; lush lips set in a soft, whimsical smile. "Are you… how did you do that?" Dark eyebrows quirked as pretty face tilted questioningly and Justin explained, "How did you swim so far without coming up for air? And so fast? Shit, it was like, you were like…" Justin zipped his hand through the air to demonstrate, and ocean-blue eyes followed the movement. No answer came but a wider smile, and Justin returned it, enchanted. He found himself telling the creature his name, hoping to hear him say it. "I'm Justin."

"Justin." The creature said, placing a hand flat on Justin's chest, and Justin felt inordinately pleased. The creature took Justin's hand and brought it to his own wet chest. "JC."

"JC." Justin leaned close, felt himself being pulled closer and before he knew it he was tumbling into the water, held tight in JC's arms.

His eyes went wide with panic, heightened further when he realized that he wasn't breathing, that he didn't need to. He was just floating, maybe ten feet underwater, and he looked up and all around him and then back at JC, who was stroking Justin's body, undressing and learning him at the same time. Justin grinned, delighted as he ran his hands over JC's bare flesh, eyes closing as their mouths came together in a deep, sweet kiss.

But he opened them quickly, not wanting to miss a moment of this. Everywhere around them was blue, blue water and bright, clean sunshine breaking through. It was like flying; the sea an enveloping freshness cradling him. JC's curls swayed gently with the tide and his eyes seemed to tell stories of places hidden far below the ocean's waves. He sunk low, kissed Justin's navel, then lower, kissed his ankle. He swam further down, their gazes locked all the while, and his arm extended; an invitation.

Justin looked up towards the surface, thought of the world above and all the worries that lay waiting for him there. Then he took hold of JC's hand.


Justin had a penchant for motorcycles. Chris loved them, too. Joey and Lance thought they were cool, but JC thought they were dangerous. "Don't forget your helmet," he'd say every time Justin or Chris brought their bikes on tour to ride around the venues.

Justin thought it was cute how JC got all nervous around the big, growling cycles. But he thought it was pretty hot, the idea of JC as a mysterious leather-clad biker.


"Ooh! Scratch on the eight ball!" Chris danced around triumphantly, always a sore winner. "I win! You lose!"

"Fucker," Justin mumbled, always a sore loser. Pool wasn't fair. Chris still had half his balls on the table, Justin had nothing left but to sink the eight ball to win and a lousy scratch had lost him the game. Fucking stupid ass rules. He threw his cue on the table roughly, heading to get another beer as Lance picked up his discarded cue to join the game.

Justin bought a Bud at the bar, turning just as the bar doors swung open. A burly man, who looked friendly despite his dusty clothes and the motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, held the door open and watched the motorcycle parking beside his outside. "Hurry up, dude."

The second man, slighter than the first and dressed in leather, used on booted foot to shove the kickstand of his bike into place before dismounting and pulling off his helmet. Justin's breath caught as he watched the man shake out damp, crushed curls, blink pretty smirking eyes. His shirt, clinging like a second skin and sleeveless, flaunted a lean, defined torso, and his leather pants seemed painted onto muscular legs. His shirt rode up as he tucked his helmet under his arm, and the trail of dark hair on pale skin revealed made Justin's mouth water.

He looked up into the man's face and was shocked to find him staring back. He quickly turned away, tense as the men walked past him and sat on stools at the bar. "Give us a round." The burly man told the bartender, who smiled and said, "Sure thing, Joe. How's the old lady? She had that kid yet?"

Joe and the bartender talked easily, but Justin wasn't paying attention to their conversation. He was studying, and trying not to seem like he was studying, the man beside Joe. The man who was chugging his beer; a tiny stream leaking from the corner of his mouth and running down his neck, disappearing under the collar of his t-shirt. Justin wanted to taste that stream, chase it as far as it dared flow. The man finished his beer, set the mug on the counter heavily and dragged the back of his hand across him mouth. When Justin glanced up, there he was again. Looking him dead in the eye.

Justin grabbed his Bud hastily and wandered off towards the jukebox; anything to distract himself from getting into trouble. He stared at the list of songs dumbly, poking a finger against the glass like he was considering a choice, just to make it more convincing. He forced himself not to look over his shoulder.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he sensed someone behind him, did not let himself turn and see. Because he knew, he knew who was there. And no way was he about to turn around and maybe have to talk to-- "Hey." A quiet voice in his ear. Justin froze. "You come here often?"

Justin still didn't turn around, just shook his head. "No, um. This is… my first time."

The man stepped closer, his hip bumping Justin's ass for the briefest of moments. "You like bikes?"

Justin nodded, wondering where this was going.

"You wanna take a ride?" A hand on Justin's waist, squeezing and then dropping away, and Justin found himself nodding again. The next thing he knew, he was following this man outside to his bike and accepting his helmet, sliding it on. It smelled like sweat and soap and cologne. He settled in behind the man on the bike, holding him loosely, sitting as far back on the seat as possible so they wouldn't touch more than necessary.

The engine roared to life and the man took Justin's arms, drew them snug around his middle and said, "I'm JC. Relax, you're gonna like this."

Justin did like it; he liked it a lot, when they pulled out of the parking lot and went flying down the street at what felt like a million miles per hour. When JC made a turn, Justin's grip pulled so tight that JC laughed, called, "You scared?" and though the sound was eaten by the wind, Justin shook his head, pressed closer and wanted more.

After a while, JC detoured off the road, down a narrow dirt trail that lead through the woods lining the main road and into a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky and the stars were bright. Justin took his helmet off and waited until JC turned the engine off and parked before sliding off the bike. "Where are we?" He asked, but he didn't really care.

JC got off the bike, too, and didn't answer. He put his hands on Justin's hips and guided him onto the motorcycle, leaning with his back against the handlebars and straddling the seat. Justin waited, his breath coming shallow in anticipation. JC straddled the seat himself, facing Justin, put his hands on Justin's thighs and his kiss was surprisingly gentle, indolent and simmering.

Languid tongue licking into his mouth, at his lips and collar bone, and Justin was trembling, wanting it so badly he couldn't help but cry out when he finally had JC's hands in his pants, taking him out and into his fist. Fondling him with a rhythm that started achingly slow and built, spikes of pleasure shooting through Justin's veins, each one more electric than the last, more vibrant and persistent until he was gasping and moaning loud, harsh as he came. "Oh, yes. "

He felt like he was falling, and then realized he was, because JC was getting off the bike and taking Justin with him, lowering him to the grass and pulling off his pants. He gazed up at the moon, feeling disembodied as JC shifted between his legs, unzipping his leather pants and peeling them down his thighs, and that roused Justin, gave him the sense of self to lift his legs and wrap them around JC, drawing him closer and right there.

Justin's head fell to the side as their bodies aligned and he readied for it; that first push, that initial intrusion. He willed himself to calm down, to go lax and just let it happen. JC had given him a hell of a ride and he was intent on returning the favor.


"What are you thinking about?" When people asked that, Justin usually just shrugged. It was nobody's business what he thought about. Everyone knew fucking everything about him; most of his life was chronicled by the media. It's not like he didn't encourage it, want fame… but couldn't he at least keep his thoughts for himself?

He was hanging out in the green room at MTV, killing time before an appearance on TRL to promote his next single, and one of his new assistants-- he couldn't remember her name, something with an R or a K maybe-- asked him, "What's on your mind?" because she was polite and had noticed the glazed look in his eyes, thought maybe he was stressed and would want to vent. He didn't tell her about the cave deep in the ocean; a sort of underwater lagoon alive with flowers as exotic and gorgeous as the man beneath him, or the way their kisses lasted forever because they never had to stop to catch their breaths. He didn't describe the positions they writhed into easily, nearly weightless in the tide. He just smiled at her, accepted the coffee she held out to him and said, "Nothing."

lyrics credit "Little Puffy Shoes" The Presidents of the United States of America


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