NOTES: Happy Birthday Shana, and yo, borrowed all your themes and kinks. Thanks to Younger, Jenn and Kelly. And Nikki for farfetchual.

GREAT LEAP FORWARD

You used to be not so pretty, or more accurately, you were way too pretty and not very hot. And they'd airbrush you or put make-up on you and you'd look like a fucking girl. And fucking a girl is something you've finally learned you're completely not interested in so looking back at the pictures is almost adding insult to injury. Now you're not that kind of pretty and they don't need any kind of airbrush to make you look buff and hot and it's almost funny that the girls scream louder for you. Almost funny and mitigated by the way that some of the boys look at you twice and lick their lips.

Big words, you're trying to use big words and use them correctly. You're not uneducated and you do like to read and it's like studying for the SATs you never took because taking the SATs would have been a confession of lack of faith back when you should have taken them. But it's now and you'll never need college and you still pick up books with big words and look up the ones you don't understand. You look them up on the net and look over your shoulder to make sure no one can see you're at dictionary.com while you read Truman Capote. Metaphorical, mitigated, melancholy, and no matter what Joey says, "farfetchual" is not a word.

You used to be in love with JC and you were an idiot and weak and held back by a million things and couldn't say the things you meant to say. So you slept with him a few times and it was all fucked up and all you really learned was that he'd never be yours because JC needed someone with balls. In the metaphorical sense.

This is you, twenty-two going on twenty-three and the time of the great leap forward. You don't give a fuck who laughs, you're going to go into space and you're going to do one other thing because you can. Because it won't kill you to try but it will kill you not to. You won't talk yourself out of this one, not like JC or other things that fell by the wayside. Won't happen. You won't let it.

After the show and Justin is glowing because he's covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He brushes against your arm and says, "We should go out." Says it to you because you lacked the balls to hold onto JC but Chris didn't and those two are already whispering to each other. They won't go out tonight, they'll be in a room and fucking until the cows come home. And Joey has Brianna with him tonight, and Kelly, so Justin's amusement is reduced to you and whoever else he can find to play with. But mostly you.

In your room you put on leather pants and really, it all works out, because you need to do this. You're listening to Dolly Parton, because you won't admit it, but you really like Dolly Parton and you know she likes you. Not you specifically, but you know Dolly has a soft spot for all the southern fags who think she's a dream. If you met her, she'd kiss your cheek and you'd say, "You're the greatest," and she'd say, "No, honey, that's you." Or so you like to tell yourself. It's a way to psych yourself up. Dolly's singing Collective Soul and it sounds amazing, much better than when those dorks performed the song themselves.

Nice leather pants and you wear them well, better than Justin really, whose legs are a shade too skinny. You like his hips best, anyway. And you smile and rub your thigh and walk out with the bodyguards already in tow and knock on Justin's door.

"You look fine," he says, almost laughing, and walks out two seconds after your knock, and you add two more bodyguards to the retinue, retinue is almost definitely the right word, and the elevator goes down and the car doors are opened by someone else and it's the two of you in the backseat.

You've fucked boys in bathrooms, in closets, in hotel rooms and backstage in corridors but never in the back of a limo. But it's not something you feel you have to and this is too important to ruin with moving too fast. If Justin would even say yes anyway. You know he fucks boys at least sometimes because there was that almost year with Chris. He's not eighteen anymore, though, so maybe he gave it up. You don't think anyone could give up something as wonderful as fucking boys so you don't dwell on that.

And he broke up with Britney and you don't know why. Even with being his new designated party buddy, you two haven't really talked. But it's not a bad sign. You don't want him because he's Justin fuckin' Timberlake, you don't want him as a notch on your bed. If that was all you wanted, it wouldn't be scary, it wouldn't be a leap. You want him because Joey's straight, JC is gone and you'd kill Chris in two minutes. And Justin's the only one left who understands and cares. And it's a lot more than that. It's everything about him. He loves his mother. He's sweet and not spoiled and very very serious about being taken seriously. He loves to perform. He's a kind of beauty and always has been, he's so beautiful it's surreal. Surrealism, dadaism, you looked up that word today and it made you think of Justin.

"You worry too much," Justin says as you both get out of the car. "Everything's gonna be alright," he sings, Bob Marley in your ear. It's not worry, it's fear. Because Justin takes things seriously and he'll want a lot from you if he wants anything from you. He'll want fidelity, you think, fidelity is the opposite of infidelity so it's easy to remember. He'll want you to be honest and you really don't have a problem with that, but. It's a lot. Justin's not a small thing, he's everything. He's almost bigger than space.

Another club and Justin dances way too close to a girl with long brown hair and his hands are on her but it doesn't bother you. He's like that. You have only one drink because big things don't count if you do them drunk. That wipes out half of your history with JC but it's okay, because you know that now. JC is officially a lesson learned, a healed scar and over. JC loves Chris, Chris loves JC and everyone flirts with Joey because he doesn't get turned on by dick.

After a lot of dancing, Justin is by your side, resting, another sheen of sweat on him again and he glows. Like an angel. You need to stop thinking that because an angel is otherworldly and you know it's just you, talking yourself out of things. Justin burps and like everyone else, you can smell it on him when he gets the runs from crappy food sweats too much from nervousness because he's human. You rub your thigh and feel the leather and the muscle underneath and smile at Justin.

You decide to start this now, he's looking at you, he's paying attention to you and here goes. "I've been reading these books," you say, "and then I have to look up the words I don't know because I want to improve my vocabulary."

Justin grins and if he laughs, you won't want him anymore. You take a deep breath and know you're doing it again, getting ready to talk yourself out of it because Justin won't laugh. He doesn't. He grins and says, "That's cool. That's good. Because, you know, not to diss our tutors or public education in Mississippi, but we did miss some things. It's good to talk all educated and not sound like an idiot. Not that you do," and Justin looks down and maybe blushes. "You don't, at all. You sound smart."

"S-M-R-T. I is smart." Make it a joke, you think. And then you stop. "No, I don't know that I sound smart at all. And maybe it shouldn't be important to me, but I want to sound smart. As smart as I am, maybe, though maybe I already do."

Justin looks serious because you know he understands. Justin gets wanting cred. He says, "You are smart."

You could do it now, push him into a bathroom stall and against a wall and fuck him right there and he'd maybe do it, but Justin is bigger than space, after all, and a bathroom for the first time is just wrong. The second time, maybe. So you say, "I don't know if you want to answer, but I did wonder. And we don't talk sometimes, so. Yeah. Wondering why you broke up with Britney?"

Justin still looks serious. He says, "Well. She wanted. Here's the thing, she's, you know, bi. And after she broke up with her dancer, she suddenly wants me. And she's one of my best friends, she's very important to me, but not that way. And she made it easy, you know, pushing me into these fights and talking about how she wants to get married. Which really sucks. Because we had this stupid fights and it doesn't change that I miss her and here I am. That's the lowdown, yo." Justin's grinning and he says, "Why'd you wait so long to ask?"

"I don't know." You don't. You sit there and your legs are spread under the table and Justin bumps his knee against yours and everything's hovering. If there were a soundtrack, if you weren't in this asinine club playing a techno remix of Brandy for fuck's sake, the soundtrack would be building tension. You hear the building tension in your head and in your blood and that's close enough so you say, "Let's go home. Come back to my room, at least. At the hotel."

Justin stands up and nods and then cocks his head and says, "At least?"

"I said home and I meant the hotel. That's all." Not backing down, not freaking out, just doing this. Justin puts his feet up on your thigh on the ride home and you rub his ankle.

He follows you to your room and you think, have at it. Cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war. You try not to sing in your head and there's eight million songs in your head right now, isn't this the oldest story ever told? So you say it. You say, "Justin, I'm falling in love with you." It just comes out and without the hesitations and additions of the other scariest thing you ever said to him. But you said that one to all of them and you were only seventeen and it came out wrong, really, you're still embarrassed that you said, "I'm a fag," and not just "I'm gay." You're thinking about that and the carpet weave because you might be brave but you're not that brave and you're looking at the floor.

Justin says, "Oh." And you're still looking at the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed and not looking up and waiting for more. So you don't notice or hear that he's sitting next to you until he puts his hand on your thigh. He says, "Okay," and really, you need something way more fucking concrete at this point. His hand moves up and down but not up enough for you to get a message from it. And you're waiting and waiting. You're gonna die and turn thirty before Justin actually reacts.

Justin says, "Well." Another centuries long pause. "That's good. I mean, I'm glad you told me." His hand stops moving and just clutches your thigh.

"Is the part where you let me down easy? Because, fuck, Justin, just do it." Maybe not the most eloquent thing you've ever said.

"I. Whoa. Gimme a second." Justin moves closer to you and rubs your thigh again. "Not letting you down easy. I mean." Your heart is in your throat. He says, "What do you want me to say here?"

You swallow and keep looking at the floor. "Ideally, you'd say that you've loved me for forever and were just waiting for me to confess it for some reason I don't know and that would be a nice thing to say."

Justin taps your thigh. "Okay, but. Look, I'm not shooting you down or anything. I had pretty much decided to jump you tonight, I am pretty fucking attracted to you, but I wouldn't say in love with you. I'm not ruling it out. Not ruling it out happening. But yeah."

"If," you say, because this is the big thing, no cutting corners, "if you loved me, I'd be a good, I'd be good to you. I wouldn't lie to you or cheat on you or give up on us." You mean it.

Justin laughs a little and when you flinch he grabs your face and forces you to look up. "I'm not laughing at you. I am, a little, but Lance, I know. I know those things. Even if you don't." You blink and look away because that's more than you deserve. He can't be that sure if you're not. Then he gets up and almost sits between your legs. He forces you down on the bed and pushes you up the bed a little. He's on top of you and he says, "Let's fuck, you know? I get if you don't want to, but I think it would be good."

He's wearing these baggy jeans with patches on them and you can barely feel him through the fabric as he rubs his legs against your legs. You can feel the seams against the leather pants but it's not the same. You start tugging at his jeans to get them off and stop. You say, "Why wouldn't I?"

Justin says, "No reason." He reaches down between the two of you and unzips his jeans, takes off his belt. And you get it. You open your mouth and start to roll away from him. He narrows his eyes and places a finger over your lips. He says, "Yo. Stop that. Let's review. You love me. You're a good person. I do love you, I could fall in love you. In the meantime, I really want to fuck you. And you want to fuck me. And we're gonna do that. And it's okay if it's not great because I haven't done this in years and you're nervous. This is not a pity fuck and barring an unexpected accident that breaks our legs or something, we're gonna do this again. After tonight." He replaces his finger with his lips. A deep kiss. A long kiss. He's on top of you pushing down and you let him get his pants off and shimmy out of them, denim replaced by the heat of his bare legs against the leather.

He says, "We're doing this for you and for me, but. Anything you want? Any particular kinks I should be indulging here?"

You smile and close your eyes. You say, "Just, you know, curse a lot. I love to hear you say bad words."

Justin says, "Kinky motherfucker," and you'd swear you get even harder.

He sits up and says, "For me, I need you in these pants. A lot. So," and he unzips them and tugs them down just a little. As far as they'll go with your legs still spread like that and Justin between them. His hand is on your balls and warm against your hair there and he says, "Fuuuuck," drawn out and beautiful. "You're so fucking hot."

You open your eyes as his pretty red mouth skims over the tip of your dick and fuck, that's amazing and who knew great leaps had such great rewards? It's not perfect, he doesn't love you, but he said yet so you have hope.

His lips are stretching over your dick and you just won't close your eyes. You realize Justin sucks cock like he performs, with evident joy and ease and he's also a fucking tease. He pulls off and then licks again, he whispers "motherfucker," so close to your dick you can feel his lips and he's really good for being out of practice. He stops and sits up and adjusts his dick in his boxers. He says, "Okay. Not to be mean," and it is mean, you're so close to coming, it's just fucking cruel and he's stopped. He says, "I want you to fuck me, so yes. But leave the pants on."

He strips off his shirt and his boxers and lies down next to you on his stomach. There's a scrabble to find lube and a condom and you shove a pillow under his hips and get between his legs, your pants rubbing against him. He moans at that and again when you push in just one finger. It has been a while and it's almost funny, from what he's said, you're way more experienced at this than he is, but he's in charge now anyway. You move slowly until he tells you it's okay, he wants it hard and then it's two fingers and three and then you push in your dick and he just sighs. Sighs and says, "Fucking A. Keep doing that."

Thrusting in and out and you're braced on one arm with the other one almost underneath him, stroking his dick and your legs are between his, your stomach against his back, it's all of that. There are no words. You've never been one for the romance of sex, for being inside someone, your doctor's stuck his finger inside you and it didn't make you feel bonded to him. But this is Justin and suddenly you do feel closer and he's so fucking special. You're falling from a great height and it's okay, because you can't back out now. You won't.

Justin comes and the way he says your name as he does makes you come and the two of you roll around a little and then you're lying next to each other. Justin tugs at your pants and says, "You don't have to sleep in 'em." You grin and he takes them off like a promise, somehow, gently and his fingers feel soft against your skin.

He's not in love with you. Yet. And it would make sense to not sleep here and feel so good but it's the great leap forward and you're going to do this right. No matter how scary.

Justin says, "If we're all in love, would you balance my checkbook and give me financial advice?"

You say, "Even if we're not. Even if it's just me."

Justin says, "Wow." You need to read more books, or poetry to find the right words to describe that wow, more than a promise or a blessing, it's magical and it's everything. Justin pulls the covers over the two of you and kisses your cheek and you think, yet. He'll maybe love me someday. He's bigger than space and he fits right in your arms.

THE END

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