Technique
by Helen

"You did not just say that. I did not just hear those words come out of your mouth," Chris shouted.

Justin laughed, and shook his head. He felt a little light-headed from the amount he had drunk, but he wasn't slurring or anything, so he was probably okay.

"I'm just sayin', Chris, that I've had sex with more girls than you, so my, uh, technique is better 'n yours."

"Like you know how many girls I've had sex with, Shithead."

"I've done it with more," Justin said again.

Chris took another drink and shook his head in disbelief. "Look, you little idiot, I lost my virginity before you learned how to ride a bicycle, so I think—"

"I'm just a breakout star," Justin said and watched as Chris jumped up and moved furiously around the room. Chris was hilarious when he was outraged, which was part of the reason he'd started this in the first place. "Also," Justin added, "Who're you calling little? I mean, I don't know what's going on with you, but I got the skills to pay the bills, if you know what I mean."

"You're pissin' me off, Justin," Chris said.

"Just callin' it like I see it."

"Fuck. I can't believe I'm even letting you—why did I agree to buy you booze in the first place?"

"'cause I'm cute—" Justin said, batting his eyes.

"Shut up—"

"And I'm hotter in the sack than you—" Justin continued, giggling when Chris smacked himself on the forehead and scowled in irritation. "I got dexterity," Justin said.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, I bet."

"Uh-huh," Justin said.

The annoyance dropped off Chris' face, and he snickered and said,

"Yeah, that's it. You're dynamite in the sack, Justin."

"That's what I hear."

"You're a stud."

"Damn straight."

"Chicks dig you."

Chris had crossed the room and was standing in front of him now, regarding him thoughtfully, and Justin felt faintly uncomfortable and remembered, suddenly, that Chris could be kind of a mean drunk, remembered the time last summer when Chris had hissed in JC's face, "yeah? You're gonna be alone your whole fucking life," and the stricken look on JC's face.

"Chris," he said, thinking he should probably say that he didn't mean it, although he had meant it, kind of, because it was hard to even picture Chris having sex, Chris, with his funny hair, who was going just slightly soft around the middle—not fat, exactly, nothing like that, just a little tubby, because Chris never worked out, never, and Justin had never seen him do even one pushup. Justin thought of how the last girl had touched his stomach, her small hand against the tight ridges of muscle and decided that he wasn't going to apologize.

He took another drink, and Chris took the bottle out of his hand and put it down on the coffeetable and leaned over Justin, putting one hand on the back of the couch.

"What are you—"

"You're pretty," Chris said, almost conversationally, smiling appraisingly at him.

"Oookay," Justin said. "Maybe you've had enough to drink now."

"Maybe," Chris said, ignoring him, tracing a finger down his cheek, and now he was nervous, because he'd reached that stage of drunkenness where pretty much anything made you horny, and they were drinking tequila, and Chris wasn't even touching him now but he could still feel the path where the finger had traced, which was fucking insane.

Chris laughed mirthlessly and put one knee down next to his thigh, and before Justin knew it, Chris was crouched over him, one hand in the middle of his chest, holding him down. Chris was little, but he was fiercely strong, and Justin didn't think he could get free without exerting a lot of effort, and he didn't want Chris to see him struggling. Kneeling up, Chris was at face level with him and when Justin reached out to push him away, Chris caught his wrist and held it tightly, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that Justin knew that it could hurt if he pissed Chris off enough.

The best thing to do, he'd found, in situations like this, was to sit tight and wait it out, because Chris' moods changed quickly, and Justin knew it was only a matter of minutes until Chris would be shouting with laughter, or tickling him, smacking him affectionately on the shoulder and calling him 'kiddo,' and he closed his eyes most of the way, so he wouldn't have to look at Chris' hard eyes, slouched down a little and there was silence for a moment, and then Chris leaned forward, and said, quietly, breath hot on his ear.

"You ever had to work to make a girl come—you ever been with a girl who didn't just come in her pants from being near you, baby?" Chris said, and he felt one of Chris' hands twining gently in his hair, "those eyes, those lips."

"Stop it," he said uneasily.

"Yeah. They love you. You ever been with someone who wouldn't lie to you about what a terrific time she had, wouldn't fake it?"

"Of course I have—"

"How would you know?"

"You're drunk."

"Yup," Chris said, sounding satisfied. There was a radio on somewhere, and Justin could hear the slow heavy beat coming up through the floor, and Chris was still touching him, one hand fiddling with the collar of his shirt, slipping slightly beneath it, fingernails scraping ticklishly at the back of his neck, just lightly enough that it made him want to press back into them, Chris' legs tight on either side of his thighs, and Chris was hot against him, Chris, who always ran several degrees hotter than the rest of them, who called them all wimps when they turned on the heat, who told stories about his childhood in Pennsylvania which, inevitably, featured long walks to school and piles of snow. Justin shivered, and felt Chris' thumb settle in the hollow of his collarbone, and he felt himself blushing, felt heat creeping up his chest and Chris chuckled knowingly.

"Get the fuck off me," Justin snarled.

Chris leaned forward and he thought for a moment that Chris would kiss him, and he twisted his face away and felt Chris laugh, hot breath against his throat, and then he felt Chris' tongue trace up the side of his neck.

"Stop it," he said, again, and this time he shoved Chris hard, and Chris caught his shoulders and threw him back against the couch, holding him tightly. He felt himself starting to panic, and Chris looked at him for a moment and then leaned forward again, and Justin flinched away from him, but Chris only said, quietly,

"You wouldn't have to lie with me," and kissed Justin softly on the cheek, and got up.