"Well," said JC, rather uncomfortably. "Um."
"Um? Um?" Joey did not sound pleased.
"Well," JC repeated, helplessly. "Um..."
"Yeah. Remind me again whose idea this was."
JC opened his mouth to speak—
"And if you say well again I will have you killed. Seriously. I'll tell Lance."
"Oh." Joey was looking at him with tightly-frowning eyes. JC felt miserable, and stupid, and unfortunately also rather turned on, which in the circumstances Joey was soon going to notice and then, well, JC didn't quite know what would happen but he was fairly sure it would be cataclysmic. That was the right word, he thought. Cataclysmic. "Sorry?" he ventured.
Joey sighed, and suddenly the ire seemed to deflate out of him. "No, I'm sorry. It isn't your fault. Not exactly, anyway. Not all of it."
"I was the one who bought them," JC admitted, willing to assume the entire burden of guilt.
"Yeah, but, I shouldn't have tried them on, I guess. It on. Is this an it or a them?"
"I don't know. Maybe if you're wearing both ends it's a them. But I shouldn't have tried them on either."
"And if we'd realised it, they, were caught round the rail..."
"Or was."
"What?"
"It was, or they were." JC coughed, wishing he'd kept quiet.
"Whatever," said Joey, tolerantly. "Or, if we'd realised that neither of us would be able to reach the key from here..."
"Yeah."
Silence fell. JC shifted uncomfortably, angling his body away from Joey's.
"Why do you have a bed with rails at the bottom, anyway?" Joey asked after a short pause, and JC could feel himself blushing scarlet, which was silly because he hadn't even said anything, but... "Kinky fucker," said Joey, sounding amused rather than alarmed. JC looked studiously elsewhere. There was nothing wrong with a little light bondage, and the rails were convenient, that's all. He'd like to see Joey—or anyone—spread somebody out and tie them to a sleigh bed, or one of those tiresome hotel beds with a padded headboard and nothing at the foot at all. His rails were practical, dammit.
"So," and Joey seemed to have edged a bit closer, and JC would have edged away if he could, but his arm wouldn't stretch any further. "You have a thing for being tied up, hmm? Gets you hot, does it?"
"It's not a—eep! Joe!"
"Yep, it does," said Joey, sounding unreasonably smug for someone who'd just groped his bandmate without so much as a May I?
JC was in real trouble here. Refusing to meet Joey's eyes, he stared at his broad, comfortable, entirely masculine chest instead. Only Joey was wearing his 'Orgasm Donor' T-shirt, so that didn't really help, because it wasn't like JC needed reminding that Joey was one sexy guy. One big, strong, just-a-little-bit-but-not-too-much sweaty, smiling, sexy guy. Who was nuzzling his neck right now! JC attempted remonstrance, but what actually emerged sounded a lot more like encouragement. Which was bad. Really. Encouraging a bandmate to, woo hoo! nibble your incredibly sensitive earlobes was... um... was...
Joey stopped. JC offered his neck, and made more encouraging noises. Joey's right hand slid round JC's waist, and pulled, gently but decidedly, until they were aligned all the way down, at which point JC's left hand twined itself round Joey's neck, and tugged until their mouths aligned too, and that was just fine, because oh, yes, Joey was really good at this. Kissing. Thing. Hmm...
It was, um, rather erotic, JC noted, being handcuffed to the bed and only able to use one hand to, to explore. His right hand fished about, rattling the short chain against the bedrail, until Joey made a grunt of protest. JC pulled away from the kiss for a moment to explain. "Just wanted to hold your hand, Joe," and plunged right back into Joey's hot, delicious mouth. Their cuffed hands met, and grasped, and their free hands roamed. Joey was pushing JC's T-shirt up, hot fingers sliding across his stomach and chest, capturing a tiny, excited nipple and doing wicked things to it that made JC wimper happily. JC reciprocated with an eager examination of Joey's chest, coarse wiry curls, yum, and a broad, strong back with, yes, beautifully sensitive places just below the waistband of his pants.
Joey broke away from the kiss this time, and nuzzled along JC's jaw to his ear again. "We could probably," he murmured, warm breath tickling, "lie down. Would you like to lie down, JC?"
JC would. It involved climbing over the bedrails, since they couldn't handily get round (yes, it was a big bed—JC had never expected to be handcuffed to it in quite this way, most of the time it was just nice to have the space), but there was plenty of incentive. Lying wrong-way-up on the bed with Joey lying next to him was infinitely better than standing at the end of the bed, even if they were still partly immobilised.
Actually, that was definitely hot too. Not being completely free to do as he pleased. Not being able to shrug out of his T-shirt. Having to collaborate on the double task of undoing flies and buttons and getting pants down to knees so they could be kicked off. And then boxers too. And only one hand for Joey's bounteous gifts, thick and hard and hot and a nest of black hair, and magnificent thighs and that fabulous ass he'd been coveting silently for a very long time, and it was his left hand too, and he probably wasn't as good with his left as Joey, definitely, was with his right, though to be fair Joey didn't seem to have any objections.
JC couldn't get his mouth to where he would really, really have liked it, but hey, still kissing Joe, no complaints. Joey grasped JC's arguably inferior ass—JC wasn't exactly worried about it, but he himself appreciated a firm handful and wasn't sure that his skinny little butt qualified, still, Joey wasn't complaining, Joey was pulling their bodies close so they could rub against one another and wasn't that just fine. It was very fine indeed. Beyond fine. Fabulous. Fa-bu-lous. They thrust frantically, synchronising without thought, sweaty and sticky and so, so hot, clinging tightly with their free hands, and biting, almost fighting with their lips and teeth and tongues. And Joey made such blissful, eager noises, and strained motionless as he came, a hot gush against JC that set off his own orgasm so that he panted and cried out Joey's name.
Wow.
Luckily, JC was quite adept at picking up things with his feet, so they were able to haul pillows down to their end of the bed, and insinuated themselves under the comforter too. Though at that point JC managed to end up on top of Joey, which was such a very good place to be that the repetition of the kissing and the exploring and the thrusting really was inevitable. After which, JC managed to retrieve his discarded boxers for cleanup duty.
"Our arms are going to be awful sore tomorrow," JC muttered sleepily as they lay snuggled.
"Uh. I think maybe... can you reach my pants?"
After something of a struggle, JC did. Joey fished in the pocket, and triumphantly retrieved a cellphone. "Lance," he explained, as he pressed speed dial. "Also known as the cavalry."
JC meeped in horror, and hid his face under the comforter, and thus missed the details of the telephoned exchange, and the subsequent in-person conversation between a vastly amused Lance (the laugh was audible even through goosedown) and a not at all embarrassed Joey. It was, he admitted to himself, a relief to have his hand released from the cuff, and he brought his arm under the cover for a quick massage. But if JC was released, then so was Joey, and he would go back to his own place now, and JC would have been perfectly happy to settle for sore arm muscles if it meant he got to sleep snuggled up to Joey all night.
A hand reached under the comforter, ruffled through JC's wild hair, and with a cheery "G'night, 'C!" Lance left.
The mattress shifted. Two warm, strong arms wound their way round JC. "Joe?" he asked, tentatively.
"Hmm?"
"You wanna stay?"
"I'm not passing up the chance to get both my hands on you, Chasez. Why do you think we got handcuffed to the bed in the first place?"