Real Good Man



by Kim G. and silveryscrape







Chris pauses just inside the door, safely closed and locked tight behind him, and stares unabashedly at the two men in front of him.  He tries to remember how it got to this point, but his brain is kind of in the process of shorting out, and he's doing well to remember his own name at this point.


Flirting. Lot of flirting between Tim and JC. For the last three days.


Tim-fucking-McGraw, and JC. Yeah. He wouldn't have believed it either, if he hadn't seen it. Well, okay. He'd have believed JC flirting. But the other—was a surprise.


And when JC twined himself around Chris this morning and whispered in his ear, "I think Tim wants to fuck me," well. The mental picture of that made him shudder and grip JC closer, tighter, his legs spreading wantonly of their own accord. Because hell if that wasn't a pretty picture in his head.


"So, whatcha think?" JC asked later, after fucking Chris senseless.


"About what?" The smirk on JC's face was…hot. Really, really hot.


"Tim fucking me." The words were hot and damp and made his skin shiver.


"Yes," he managed hoarsely.


He rubs himself slowly as he makes his way into the room. Tim has JC pressed against the wall, licking and sucking at his mouth, hands buried deep in JC's hair. He tossed his hat onto the table in the suite's living room when they first came in, and now it's odd to see him, both without the hat…and halfway to swallowing JC whole.


He gets comfortable on the couch while they kiss some more, and it's a surprise when they move to the couch as well, staggering a little, falling nearly into his lap.  Chris loves the sight of them both in jeans, rubbing on each other. JC's got his legs wrapped around Tim, holding on to his shoulders, looking down between them, while Tim laughs a little, nervously, but he's got an arm around JC's hips, grinding up. Chris thinks he'd better unzip. It's getting tight in here.


"Need less clothes," JC says breathlessly, rubbing harder against Tim. Chris bites down on a growl, because it was his idea to stay and watch -- not that it's not freakin' HOT -- but dude.

Tim mumbles something that sounds vaguely like an affirmative, and Chris watches him shove an arm between them and tug at JC's waistband. JC laughs and leans in to kiss Tim, and oh, my fucking god, that's hot. Slick, red mouths, and JC's lips are kind of swollen from going down on Chris earlier, and just a flash of pink tongue. And the sounds...sweet Jesus, the sounds. Chris unzips and strokes himself over his shorts, feeling the heat coil inside him.


Tim finally manages to unzip JC's pants. Chris can hear the exact moment, because JC lets out a long guttural sound and tips his head back and pushes his hips in. Tim smiles, and Chris tightens his hand around his cock involuntarily because it's just as predatory as JC and he had always hoped.

Tim slides his hand down the back of JC's jeans and JC gasps. "Off, off," he says shakily, and Tim makes an amused sound and tumbles him off his lap, on to the couch. Chris makes a protesting sound. JC yelps.

"No! I mean, I meant." And Tim yanks on his pants and manages to pull them down far enough for Chris to see JC's ass, muscles tightening rhythmically, and then Tim pulls JC back onto his lap and takes hold of his cock and Chris is starting to feel tingles in the back of his own thighs.


He closes his eyes against the warm rush of pleasure through his body and grips his cock hard at the base, willing the sensations down. Too fucking hot, what's happening right in front of his eyes, and Chris doesn't want to come too soon.

He looks again when Tim moans, and oh, god. JC's unbuttoned Tim's shirt and is lapping at his neck, scoring it with his teeth, gently, then harder, and Chris wishes there was better light so he could see the marks. Tim's hand is still moving on JC's dick, slow and rhythmic, and the tip gleams wetly from moisture pearling up. While Chris watches, Tim drags the tips of his fingers across, gathering the droplets up. He wipes them over JC's mouth before leaning in to kiss him, a long, wet kiss, more licking and biting than gentleness. Chris isn't sure which one of the three of them moans louder.


JC's speeding up, making that shuddery rhythmic moan that Chris knows so well. He's writhing against Tim, pulsing and shaking, clutching Tim's shoulders. Holding his cock tightly, Chris hisses, "Don't let him come! Tim, don't let him!" Tim turns his head a little from where it's tilted against JC's shoulder and looks at him, and god, he's so hot, mouth open, his eyes dark and intent.

"Whatever you say," he growls.


The look JC gives him should turn him to ashes on the spot. Incendiary doesn't even begin to describe it, and it's a mixture of anger, lust, irritation, and need. But Tim's hand slows, stops, and JC's left writhing against him, growling in frustration.

"Please--" It's nothing more than breath hissed through his teeth, a sharp, hard sound that pierces the air around them. Chris watches Tim's eyes darken, watches him lean in toward JC.

"He said no." It's a low, raspy sound, and Chris shivers as it travels down his spine, lodges in his groin, pulsing hot and heavy. Tim licks at JC's mouth. "Bet you're pretty when you come, though. Probably pretty when you're getting fucked." He leans closer, licks the words along JC's neck, and Chris knows he can't actually see the hair on JC's neck stand on end, but damn, he's sure it is. He can see him shudder, watches the quiver run the full length of JC's body.

"Fuck him," Chris breathes at the same time JC grits out, "Fuck me. Please."

Tim nods curtly and grabs JC's hand, draws it down his chest to his pants, erection straining against the fly. Chris whispers a wordless prayer when JC curls his fingers loosely and strokes; Tim's eyes flutter closed and the sound that he makes is enough make Chris grab himself hard again, need pulsating through him.


"Where." Tim shoots a narrow, impatient look at Chris. He grabs JC's wrists, holding them tightly cuffed between them, and JC lets out a shaky sigh.

"Chris," he moans, clearly out of his mind, biting his swollen lips, barely able to keep his eyes open. Chris can see his cock standing up out of his open pants, against Tim's chest, so red and angry looking, and fuck he wants JC in his mouth or in his ass.

"There. There." He can barely get it out. He's pulling on his cock again, can't help it, so good. Tim growls out "yeah," satisfied, and abruptly stands, holding JC around the ass, then turns and shoves him roughly against the back of the couch. JC rests his head on the couch for a minute, groaning, then he tries to push back against Tim, but Tim holds him easily with a hand on his heaving back, and JC comes to rest with his head hanging low.

With one knee on the couch for leverage, Tim strips JC out of his jeans, jerking them down hard. He looks over at Chris again. "Lube?"


Chris is almost sorry JC is facing away from Tim, and can't see how good he looks: shirt open, jeans open and just pushed down a bit, cock rising from the fabric, completely erect. He licks his lips once, and blinks when Tim hisses, "Kirkpatrick."

"Fuck. Yes. Lube. And a condom." He scrambles off the couch and digs in the carry bag on the dresser until he finds them. JC's panting and rubbing back against teasing, probing fingers when he kneels beside him, and Chris isn't strong enough to ignore the urge completely; he leans in and licks over the swollen, wet head of Tim's dick before tearing the condom open and rolling it down over him.

"Fucker," Tim hisses, and Chris grins and nods. He watches Tim's face when he slicks his fingers up, and is torn between looking up at Tim and over at JC as he sinks two in, knuckle deep. JC groans and arches his back, and Tim grins, a sharp, predatory look. Chris knows the feeling. He wiggles his fingers once, then draws them out, reaches for himself as Tim lines up and pushes gently, but firmly. Both men groan, low and guttural, and heat spikes through Chris' belly, pumping hot and thick with each beat of his heart.

It's one thing to fuck or be fucked; it's something else to watch it. Chris shudders as JC opens, as Tim's dick slides in slowly, smoothly. His fingers are tight on JC's hips; Chris can see little where they're biting in, the skin red-and-white.

He doesn't think JC minds at all because his thighs are trembling and he's keening high in his throat and he keeps trying to push back into Tim, who's holding him still as he slowly slides his cock out a little way, then shoves in hard. JC chokes out a cry. He throws his head back and Chris can't resist the sweat running down from JC's agonized face; he licks a stripe up JC's neck and when JC breathes out a broken "Chris," takes his mouth in a fierce wet kiss. Tim pushes in hard again, grunting, and JC moans into Chris's mouth briefly before the force of Tim's thrust breaks them apart and JC's scrabbling at the back of the couch for balance.

"Tim." Chris grabs at his arm to get his attention. Tim turns glazed eyes on him for a second before looking back down at his cock disappearing into JC's ass. "Tim, hold on, man. Move. I want to suck him."

Tim thrusts in hard at that. He exhales a rough dark "yeah," sliding his hands up JC's back and around his body to pull JC up flush against him. JC gasps wildly, undulating against Tim's body, and tips his head back on to Tim's shoulder. His cock is so hard, jutting out from its nest of dark hair, so beautiful, that Chris immediately takes JC's tight balls into his hands and sucks his cock into his mouth as far as it will go.

Tim says "fuck yeah" in a tone Chris has only imagined in his dreams. He wants to hear more but JC's hands are cupping his head and tugging his hair urgently, and his own cock is throbbing, and pleasure rushes through his body every time Tim pushes into JC and JC pushes into his mouth, and there's a roaring in his head.


The roaring in his head becomes a cacophony of sightsoundsensation, his heart pounding double-time, the blood rushing hotly, pleasure coiled hot and slick in his belly. Chris closes his eyes because if he looks up, if he watches Tim thrusting in and out of JC, he'll lose it even faster.

His hand is stickyslick with pre-come, with sweat, and it adds just enough friction to each stroke he makes. JC's cock throbs against his tongue, hot and hard, and Chris sucks him deeper, breathing roughly through his nose so he doesn't gag or choke. He can feel JC getting close; figures Tim is too, from the erratic, rough thrusts that push them both forward, into Chris. The noises are just as sexy as the visuals would be; pants and grunts, and the slick slapslide of cock into ass and back out again.

He feels JC swell against his tongue a split second before hands tighten in his hair, painful but welcome, his scalp throbbing in time with his dick. The first rush is warm and saltbitter and spreads thick and heavy over his tongue and he swallows greedily. His fingers tighten on himself almost too tight, too rough, and then Chris can't stop it, the whitehot spike of pleasure exploding low and spreading outward.


It's so good, so fucking good, that Chris is whining around JC's cock, whining and moaning as JC pulses into his mouth and it's too much, spilling out and down his chin. JC laughs wildly, like he does when he can't handle the pleasure, gulping in huge drafts of air and raving, and Chris can hear his name and Tim's and god and cursing, as JC continues to thrust into his mouth from the force of Tim plowing into him from behind.

But suddenly Tim's bending JC over, knocking Chris out of the way so he can fuck JC hard, holding on to the couch around JC's body, so close to the edge that he's shaking. JC says "fuck yeah, fuck" in a voice filled with crazy wonder, and Tim bites him on the shoulder and comes.

He jerks into JC for a long time, grunting, until finally he stops, panting against JC's shoulder, pushed in tight against JC's ass. JC turns his head, panting himself. He opens his eyes to find Chris, and smiles.


"Fucking sexy, both of you," Chris mutters, shifting around so he can reach up and kiss JC. It's a soft kiss, their lips salty with sweat and come, breathless since none of them have caught their breath yet. He feels JC's wince when Tim pulls out, and then he's kind of melting forward onto Chris, body boneless and limp with pleasure.

"Goddamn." Tim's still breathless, voice deeper than usual, and a little rough, and it makes Chris' dick twitch in spite of being limp and spent. He's standing awkwardly in front of the couch now; Chris can see him over the blanket of JC spread over him. He motions Tim closer and slides his fingertips up the wet condom, stroking very gently. The shudder he gets is gratifying. "Y'all're...he's--"

Tim snorts and shivers again before reaching down to strip the condom off, and if Chris could reach, safe sex or no, he'd lean over and suck him clean. He can't, though, and has to content himself with the armful of Chasez and a good eyeful.

"Not too bad yourself," JC slurs quietly, still slumped against Chris. "God, man. One wild cat." He giggles softly and arches up when Tim strokes one hand down his back. Chris laughs and follows the stroke, grinning when JC purrs.

"Sexy," he repeats softly, looking up at Tim. There's an odd shine in his eyes, and for half a minute, Chris lets himself believe it's envy. In spite of...everything -- including what Tim has -- Chris is the one who gets to go home with JC. Who'll go to bed with him.

JC shifts over and reaches for Tim. "One for the road, cowboy," he says, winking. It's kind of sexy, and kind of silly, and Tim and Chris both laugh, even as Tim leans down to kiss JC. It's different, this kiss, a little bit tender, and Chris feels an odd prickle of jealousy, for just a moment. Then it's gone, and Tim's kissing him...and then Tim's gone, hotel door clicking closed behind him.