Dare
by northern

Part of the 100 Ways challenge. Thank you to Pierson and Lily.

Truth or Dare was a lousy game, Justin decided. He should never have agreed to play it in the first place, but he had been so bored. Bored enough to play Truth or Dare, in fact.

JC's giggling was audible even through the hotel room door. Justin sighed, pressing down on the thoughts that kept surfacing, of how he could back out of this. He couldn't really back down, though. You didn't, not in Truth or Dare, which was why it was such a lousy game.

Chris's door was just down the hall. It was closed, of course, which wasn't very surprising, since Chris had claimed his advanced age demanded some extra sleep tonight.

Which was why Justin had been so bored in the first place.

He wasn't bored now.

He knocked on the door and spent the last long seconds perfecting his mindset. When it opened, and a rumpled Chris became visible, Justin was already lounging against the door post, arm above his head to show off skin and body lines, head tilted, lashes slightly down.

"Room service," he said, lifting his other hand to pick at something invisible on Chris's t-shirt.

Chris stared bemusedly at Justin's hand on his arm, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Really," he said, after a few moments. "How nice of them to give me just what I wanted."

Justin started inwardly. But he should have known, yes, Chris would play along.

"Compliments of the house," he purred. "So, can I come in?" He smiled slowly.

Chris smiled back, just as slowly, but there was something unfamiliar in his smile, something hard.

"By all means. Do come in."

Chris kept his hand on the door handle until Justin was in the room, giving him the opportunity to brush against him as he passed. Justin made the most of it, even smiling over his shoulder while Chris closed the door.

The dare hadn't been specified further than this, so technically Justin could stop now, but he figured he'd keep it up as long as Chris did. Which wouldn't be very long. He was surprised Chris would act out something like this, with him, even though it was just that — acting.

But Chris didn't seem ready to give it up. In fact, Chris looked him over once, casually.

"You can sit on the bed," he said. "If you're complimentary, you should be on my pillow."

Justin almost laughed at the familiar humour of it, but he wasn't sure if that would be too out of character or not. In the end, he decided on smiling another of those slow smiles and sauntering over to the bed, where he made a big production of stretching, to show off his back and waist. The he bent from the waist, fluffing the pillow for a while until he deemed he'd shown enough of his ass, sat on the bed and lounged back with his elbows comfortably on the pillow, one leg bent at the knee.

He looked up at Chris, feeling pleased with himself.

Chris was standing very still. For a moment, he almost looked as if he were going to laugh it off, box Justin's head and turn on the TV, or something, but then... he didn't.

"So what does my present do, mm? You look good on a bed, but that's not all, is it?"

"Anything you want." Justin looked up at him through his eyelashes. Chris looked a little rattled. Maybe.

Chris sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes locked with Justin's. "Strip."

Justin's breath caught in his throat. This was definitely as far as it went, and he should stop this now. Chris had always been good at waiting him out, keeping his own masks on. But he wasn't sure he was ready to give up yet. It didn't feel like enough. He wanted to see the shock in Chris's eyes, to break through his straight face. And so he sat up on his knees, making sure his thighs were spread, and pulled his t-shirt over his head, slowly, as if he was used to teasing.

This would be when Chris said 'what the fuck are you doing, Justin?', right? When the tight shirt collar had scraped its way across his face, and he could see Chris again, he would see through him. And he would have won.

Except, when Justin put the shirt down, on the bed, Chris wasn't looking at his eyes anymore, and he still had that distant air about him. The only thing that had happened was that Justin felt more naked. Was more naked. He had trouble holding on to his resolve, his image of how he should act, and that hadn't been a problem in a long time. He had to deliberately make himself put his hand where Chris was looking. Trail his fingers down his chest to the waistline of his jeans. He let it rest there, fingers curled loosely near the top button.

He looked at his hand, the way it didn't seem like part of his own body anymore. This had become something else. He didn't know what he was still doing on the bed. Why he couldn't stop. Only that his shaking hands were unbuttoning his jeans. In a moment, Chris would see beyond doubt that he was turned on by this. That his body meant it, even if Justin himself had no idea what he meant and his mind kept repeating 'What are you doing? What are you doing?'

If Chris were to stop him now, Justin would still have lost, he thought detachedly. He had lost his cool, if he had ever had it, and he didn't even care. He thought back on the dare, and on how he'd felt outside the door, and couldn't recapture that state of mind at all.

He looked helplessly at his tented boxers, and then back up at Chris. After a moment, Chris looked back.

"Well?" Chris said, his voice strangely hushed.

It was all Justin could do to keep his eyes on Chris. It wasn't fair. Chris still didn't look anything like shocked or embarrassed. Justin suspected he was the only one who looked like that. He felt hot, and something like panicked, and unable to move, or maybe it was unable to keep still.

"What are you doing, here, Justin?" Chris had a little furrow between his eyebrows.

The question was much too late, and sounded more bemused than anything else, and though Justin couldn't wait for it before, now the words only made him burn with embarrassment. And still Chris was watching him.

"I —" he cleared his throat. "I... I don't know." Saying it made him feel helpless. His hands fell to the bed and he was trapped, pinned under Chris's searching gaze. He could no longer see what would happen next and there was nothing, nothing in his head at all, except the sense of falling, out of control through darkness.

Chris scooted closer on the bed, ending up almost between Justin's thighs. Justin thought he could feel a hint of Chris's breath against his face. He couldn't bear it anymore, the tight, untethered feeling, and closed his eyes. But after a moment of silence, where all he could feel was his heart speeding crazily and how his swollen cock rubbed against the cloth of his boxers every time he shifted, he had to open them again.

Chris's hand was so close to Justin's face that he almost flinched away from it, but then he stared at it instead until it touched him, touched his cheek and caressed him in a slow move. Where Chris touched him, he felt like fire, too much sensation, and he shivered violently, drawing air into his lungs reflexively. Chris's hand continued down his chest, so slow, and Justin had to fight not to curl himself around it, get more of what was already too much.

Chris paused with the back of his hand against Justin's stomach. Justin wondered if he could feel how tightly wound he was, muscles so tense that he felt he must be vibrating like an engine.

"You want this. Don't you."

It never sounded like a question, but still surprised, as if Chris had doubted what was so obvious.

Justin swallowed, and nodded jerkily before he could think of how needy that would make him look, but Chris didn't seem to mind, as he smiled a small smile and shifted up on the bed until he was half behind Justin. Justin wondered what he should do, and started turning towards Chris, no longer frozen in place, but Chris turned him gently back, until he was pressed against Chris's chest, with Chris's hands around his waist.

"You want this so much, don't you," Chris said quietly into his ear, and Justin could only moan in reply, shocked at the sound, but revelling in the hot flow of air against the side of his neck.

Chris moved his hands, and suddenly Justin didn't care what he sounded like, as long as Chris didn't stop what he was doing. He unhurriedly slid his hand down into Justin's boxers, and though Justin suspected what was coming, he still felt it like an electric shock as Chris's hand closed around him. He jerked his head back, only marginally aware and thankful of the fact that it was onto Chris's shoulder and not into his face.

"Just like this," he heard through waves of static as he tried to breathe, and not come. The pleasure was too much, much too much. He wished the steady strokes and hot, quick breaths against his neck could go on for ever, but the shivery feeling in his thighs and back rose in an ruthlessly swelling wave that had him panting and staring unseeingly up at the ceiling as Chris held him tightly through the jolts and shudders, never stopping his strokes until Justin whimpered and tried to twist away.

Chris guided him down to lie on the bed, and Justin stayed there, his mind empty and body humming with small aftershocks. They finally died down, and he turned on his side and looked at Chris, who sat on the edge of the bed, still dressed, looking at him.

"Do you want me to...?"

Justin didn't know how to finish that sentence gracefully. Why he would feel concerned about grace he had no idea — not after what had just happened — but still, he needed to pick himself up and put himself together again from what Chris had left him with.

Chris said nothing, for a long moment. Just looked at him, with the same little furrow between his eyebrows, as if Justin were a puzzle Chris needed to understand. That same look that had made Justin want to see what was behind the mask, before.

"I think you should get back to your room," Chris said at last.

Justin blinked and listened to the words echo through his thoughts. Then he nodded slowly.

He got up and got himself together, buttoned his jeans and took the outheld t-shirt from Chris's hand and pulled it on. Chris caught his arm just when he was about to turn around and leave, and Justin looked at him again. He looked like someone he didn't really know.

"You don't have to," Chris said.

Justin stared at him. There was something in his eyes.

"You don't have to go back to your room," he clarified. "You could sleep here. It's just, if someone wondered. It's not exactly what we should be doing." Chris released his arm, and his mouth quirked in something not really a smile.

"No. No, you're right." Justin's thoughts rushed to find something that made sense. "I shouldn't sleep here."

He studied Chris's face and decided that he might still know him, after all. He was still there, just in a different context. Maybe this was how Chris's shocked face looked.

"I'm coming back tomorrow night," Justin said, suddenly surer of himself again. "I want to kiss you."

Then he turned and went out the door, not quite hurrying enough that he was running.