I really wanna dance tonight with you.

I really wanna do what you want me to.

Get it, get it. Get it, get it.

Get it, get it. Get it, get it.

 

Spin, twist, shimmy. Mmm, Wade could feel this in his bones—primal rhythm, the rush of blood, drums sex passion liquid—

 

Hey.

 

Wade stopped moving long enough to glare, and Britney shrugged apologetically, hand still on the stop button of his stereo. “Sorry, but I’m takin’ a soda break. Be back in a few.”

 

She pulled a shirt on over her sports bra as she walked to the door, and Wade wiped sweat off his forehead, calling after her, “Okay. But if you’re going out, make sure its Pepsi, okay?” Britney made some vague ‘fuck off’ gesture to him over her shoulder, and he laughed.

 

Okay. Alone now, and he could get back to figuring out how to tighten the routine a little so he could fit in everything he wanted to do with it. He turned the track back on repeat, going through the moves once before just deciding to take a break and freeform it. God, whoever’d written this beat must have loved him, had made this for him.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, he preferred these slinky, feline, female moves to the less subtle, masculine stuff he choreographed: the twist-writhe-shimmy as opposed to the thrust-slide-slam. Doing these moves he felt lithe, like an tiger. He could close his eyes and be in the jungle. Humid, hot, with plenty of wild—

 

Animals.

 

One minute Wade was moving to the music, the next he was moving through air and thudding against the hard surface of the mirror. He opened his eyes to see his own face staring back at him, to feel cold glass against his body. Before he could react, though, he felt hot, wet kisses sprinkled on the back of his neck. A tongue, pressed against the shell of his ear. “Hey, baby.”

 

Wade gasped. Straightened, or tried to anyway, but Justin’s big, warm hands were still pressing him against the glass. As he moved, one of them moved around from his back to his stomach, slipping beneath his tank top. With a half-frustrated, half-content sigh, Wade gave up and slouched against the mirror, arching his back against Justin’s body. “Hi. You’re early.”

 

Another lick, right beneath his hairline. “Finished recording early.” His fingers sprawled across Wade’s stomach, and Wade tried not to shiver.

 

“Hmm.” He cleared his throat. Focus. Think of something cool, calming, because hey, now the music really wasn’t helping him. Oh, right. Music. Britney. “You know, Brit’s gonna be back in five minutes.”

 

“Mmm,” Justin murmured, sounding unconcerned. He mouthed Wade’s shoulder, then licked him through his thin shirt, the heat of it blaring through Wade’s sweat-high. “She’ll just have to wait then, won’t she?”

 

And then Justin’s hand moved, making its way blessedly fast down the front of Wade’s pants, into his boxers around his cock god jesus—

 

There was a moan against his neck, and then Justin’s hand was snatched away, up to Wade’s hip, where the other one quickly followed. “Jesus, you…oh. Watching you rehearse that…same thing you do when I fuck you.” Fuck punctuated by a thrust of Justin’s hips against Wade’s ass. “Work the hips,” he instructed.

 

“You’re telling me to work the hips?” Wade muttered, but he complied, twisting and shimmying his hips to the routine he’d been teaching Britney minutes earlier, letting the music guide him, slithering up to Justin and then slamming back into the mirror with an orbit of his hips. Feeling Justin pick it up behind him, writhing against his ass, and wishing to god that he could see it. The way Justin moved.

 

Justin laughed into his ear, voice husky, breath hot, and then pressed his hips forward more, letting Wade stand straighter. “Yeah, that’s it,” he breathed, licking sweat from Wade’s temple. “That’s exactly what I want.”

 

Wade shuddered a breath and moved faster, taking Justin’s hand in his own to try and urge it back into the front of his pants. Justin laughed again. “Hey, wait a minute. You’re hard.”

 

If Wade had been looking at Justin, he’d have had a ‘no shit’ look on his face. As it was, his purposeful grinding back into the cradle of Justin’s pelvis should have been enough to get the point across, but Justin just gave a Michael-esque, “ooh!”

 

Wade gave him a look over one shoulder, and Justin smiled apologetically, pausing in his tease long enough to kiss Wade chastely on the lips and sheepishly whisper, “Sorry.”

 

Wade glared momentarily, but turned back to the mirror. “Anyway. You’re hard too, if you hadn’t noticed—” he worked a hand back to grab, but Justin made a laughing ‘hey’ noise and moved it back to the mirror “—and besides, what’s wrong with that? I thought you liked me hard.”

 

“I do.” One of Justin’s hands moved to cup Wade’s cock. Through his pants. Dammit. “But you were hard before I got here. What’s up, you gettin’ a thing for Britney or something?” He punctuated each of his words, especially Britney, with a squeeze.

 

Wade shut his eyes and tried not to groan, really not needing the association of ‘Britney’ and a warm hand wrapped around his dick. “The music,” he managed to say, actually not moaning or, well, coming.

 

“Aw, yeah,” Justin practically purred, his other hand moving from Wade’s hip up beneath his shirt, running over the muscles of his abs. His fingers circled Wade’s navel almost carelessly, and he leaned in to nip at Wade’s ear. Chuckled, “I forgot what sort of effect it has on you. Kinda weird, yo,” he offered, licking a little to show he was kidding. “Actually…” he leaned over to turn the volume up enough that it was pounding through the floor, and Wade flipped around to face him.

 

There, that was better. Now they were on even footing…sort of. At least he could look at Justin’s face, his low heavy eyes and amused smirk. Now he could feel Justin’s warm palms heavy against his chest, pressing him into the mirror. Justin’s lips, hovering just above his. “Did I tell you you could move?”

 

“Did I tell you I gave a damn if you want me to move?” Wade shot back, and took a mental note to do this to Justin next time they were running through *NSYNC moves.

 

“Well, I dunno.” And yeah, that was definitely a smirk, both in the deeply amused crook of Justin’s mouth, the self-assured glow of his eyes, and in the hands that were running up and down Wade’s biceps, squeezing the muscle. “You were sure movin’ for me when I asked you to.”

 

Ah. That was the key. Wade gave a little shrug and then bucked his hips suddenly into Justin’s, careful to cover his grin when he saw Justin’s mouth open in a silent gasp. Justin narrowed his eyes teasingly, hands straying to the hem of Wade’s shirt. “If that’s how you wanna play it…” He whipped the shirt up over Wade’s head, throwing it to one side and running his hands over Wade’s chest, pausing to pinch a nipple and watch Wade shudder. “That’s what I thought.” And then he leaned down to mouth, suck, lick. “Mmm. You taste like sweat.”

 

Wade grit his teeth, trying not to moan. Moaning gave it away. Of course, Justin was at perfect eye-level to look down and see the bulge in Wade’s pants, the one right beneath the skin that he was lightly running his fingers over. And, of course, he’d already had Wade’s cock in his hand, had run his fingers over its blood-swollen length and smirked at the effect he could have, that he always had, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

 

But then Justin was sliding his fingers down, so lightly that at first Wade didn’t even know he was doing it, and his hands hooked in the waistband of Wade’s loose pants and pulled. Pulled them down, slipped to the ground with them, and the he was on his knees in front of Wade, and Wade was. Naked.

 

And Justin was still fully clothed, of course. Bastard.

 

But then there was hotwettight around his dick, and hell if he cared about anything. He would thrust-twist-shimmy his hips and beg for the privilege to do it, if Justin wanted him to. He would fuck his way into Justin’s throat while naked, tied up, begging, whatever the fuck, if only Justin would keep doing this forever—

 

And then, of course, Justin stopped. Rose from his knees gracefully to look into Wade’s eyes with a sweet little smile, cloaking his wicked tongue and sharp teeth with his cute soft babymouth. “What do you want to do?” he prompted softly, one hand on Wade’s chest.

 

“What you want me to,” Wade whispered, catching on.

 

And then Justin was there, pressed against his body and devouring his mouth, ripping his own shirt off at record speed and letting Wade unbuckle, unbutton, unzip him, and then he was blessedly hard and thankfully naked, pressing Wade into the mirror. “Now, how’re we gonna do this?”

 

Wade smirked a little—jaded as Justin might pretend to be, he still had a lot to learn—and snaked his leg around Justin’s smooth thigh and shifted, tilting his hips against Justin’s. Justin gasped, then made a noise amazingly like a growl, and apparently all those hours Wade had advised against at the gym were paying off because he lifted Wade’s entire body off the floor, letting him wrap his other leg around Justin’s hips.

 

And then he was there, hot and hard and pressed right against Wade’s ass, pulsing with want and just waiting for Wade’s permission, and Wade almost wanted to refuse him just to see what he’d do, but everything was so hot and wet and it was like a fucking jungle and shit.

 

Britney. The whole time this had been going on her panting vocals on the track were echoing their own, and he hadn’t even thought of her. Freaky, man. He pulled Justin’s mouth away from his neck and gasped, “If we break this mirror, Britney’ll kill us.”

 

Justin’s pupils were dilated, and he didn’t seem able to stop running his tongue across his mouth, staring at Wade’s lips, Wade’s collarbone, where there was probably going to be a mouth-shaped suckmark tomorrow. It seemed to take a minute to sink it, but then it registered and he shook his head. “I’ll buy her a new one.”

 

And then he was pressed back into the mirror and Justin was in, sweat for lube and hot and burning through Wade’s nerve endings like a lightning bolt, and he was being slammed, and his cock was so hard that it ached, pressed against the silky iron of Justin’s stomach. Justin leaned in to kiss him, hips still working magic, moving in time to the beats of Wade’s heart, the thrum and pulse of his blood through his veins, and Justin’s cock was hard but his mouth was soft, and so were his eyes when he pulled back to mouth, “Love you.”

 

And then he was gone, and everything was all heat and sweat and the pulsing, pounding rhythm that was making his body thrum in all the right ways, and it was the drums and his heartbeat all at once. The mirror was warm now, heated by his skin and slick with his sweat, and trembling in its moorings beneath the force of Justin’s thrusts. Just like Wade was.

 

He knew he was making those needy little, “oh, oh,” noises, but he couldn’t stop and he didn’t care. He just twisted his hips down on Justin’s cock and groaned at the burn, and then Justin was moaning panting coming, inside of his body, and one sweat-slick hand was wrapping around Wade’s cock and he was coming. Light heat wet, and Justin there the whole time, keeping him solid. Bringing his hand up to Wade’s mouth so that he could taste himself, and then to his own, so that he could mouth his own fingers.

 

With a final little shudder, Justin released his death grip on Wade’s hip and they slipped slowly to the floor, legs entangled as Justin pulled himself carefully, gently from the grip of Wade’s body. Wade mumbled a protest but allowed it, throwing a leg over Justin’s hip to keep him there, close to him.

 

“Mmm.” Justin carded his fingers through Wade’s sweaty hair, gripping it tightly, and Wade returned the favor, running his knuckles and then his fingernails over the fuzz on Justin’s scalp. “That was good.”

 

Wade laughed, pressing his face against Justin’s neck. “Good? I melted your spine, boy.”

 

Justin’s fingers dragged themselves lazily over Wade’s spine. “Heh. I’d make a smartass remark, but I’m too exhausted.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He stretched cautiously within the bounds of Justin’s arms and winced. “Ouch. I’m gonna be no good for a week. Britney’s gonna—” He sat straight up, ignoring Justin’s little whimpery puppy noises. Oh, shit.

 

“What is it?”

 

Wade reached over Justin’s body to turn off the music and yep. That pounding noise at the door was pretty much Brit. And the yelling definitely was. “If y’all get sweat on that mirror, I’m gonna kill you!”

 

“Shiiiit,” Justin groaned, looking around for his pants. “She’s gonna kill us.”

 

“I told you,” Wade pointed out, pulling on his own pants. Justin was scrambling into his, and Wade stepped up, forcing Justin to let him zip, button, buckle. Run his palms over Justin’s chest as he pulled Justin’s shirt over his head. Smirk, and lean in to give him a gentle kiss with rough tongue. “See you later.”

 

Justin moaned and tried to pull him back towards the mirror, but Britney’s knocking was becoming both louder and more rapid, and he just knew that she was about to get Rob to break the fucking door down. He gave Justin a final kiss and guided him to the door, unlocking and opening it to admit Britney, who shoved her way past them with a glare.

 

Another kiss and a look from under his eyelashes and then Justin was grinning sunnily and waving goodbye to him and Brit, who just flipped him off and rolled her eyes. Wade shut the door and turned back to look at Brit, who growled at him. “Just for that, I get to watch next time.”

 

And then she was flouncing off, back towards the stereo to turn on the music and start the dance again.

 

THE END

 

Lyrics from Britney Spears’ “I’m A Slave 4 U.”