"You said my clothes were in here, Timberlake. I don't see my bag."

Justin closes his eyes and takes a breath before he says, "I put it up." Nick doesn't say anything so he hurriedly adds, "Your clothes are hanging right there." The last thing he wants is a sulking session tonight; it's late, he's tired, he just wants to finish reading this chapter in his book and go to sleep.

Then Nick comes out of the closet, back into the bedroom, and Justin carefully bookmarks his page and lays his novel down on the bedside table. He takes his time, smoothing the cover and shifting his water-glass before he turns back, but it's no use. One look at Nick, standing naked at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, and Justin gets that sizzling, coiling feeling deep in his belly that he's helpless against. He bites back a groan as Nick smiles a bit, sideways, and says, "What about my underwear?"

"You won't be needing any," Justin says, then gets out of bed and walks over to Nick, reaching out to press his palms greedily against Nick's thick hips. The feel of that warm, slightly damp flesh makes him hiss in desire, makes his fingers curl up and away from Nick's skin as if in self-defense from sensory overload.

"Is that so?" Nick murmurs. He's smiling, still, and Justin leans in to lick an upturned corner of that mouth, suck that bottom lip in — no, no. No, he has to slow down.

Forcing himself to pull away, Justin curves an arm around Nick and angles them both back towards the closet. Nick cocks a quizzical eyebrow, but Justin nods in what he hopes is a take-charge fashion and says, "Trust me." Everything is so warm in the room, now. He can smell the olive-oil soap on Nick's skin, he can smell the jonquils and daffodils on the dressing table, he can practically taste the salty-bitter scent of his own arousal. Nick follows him.

Once they're in place, it all happens fast, in clicks of time. Justin handcuffs Nick's wrists to the high closet rod and he backs out while Nick's still realizing what happened; he's back with the mirror before Nick's fully come to a conclusion about what's going on. He works efficiently and sets the threefold mirror up with a certain amount of speed, but now Nick's seen it, now he knows and Justin finishes putting the mirror in place only to find that Nick's got his head hanging down, chin on his chest.

"No no no," Justin tells him urgently, moving in to thread his fingers through Nick's hair, "…open those gorgeous eyes."

"I can't," Nick mutters. "You know I can't."

Justin yanks on the handful of hair he's got in his fist and Nick's face comes up, eyes open and flaring. "Yes," Justin tells him, injecting steel into his voice. "I want you to." He lets go, and Nick keeps his head up so Justin says, "Don't look down. Look in the mirror. Tell me what you see." He allows himself to unclench one hand and press it against Nick's chest, the warmth of Nick's body spreading right through to his fingertips. Nick scowls.

"I see you," he says grudgingly. "Touching me."

"What am I touching?"

Nick gives Justin an unamused look. "My chest," he says. "My tattoos — I don't know. What am I supposed to say?"

Licking his lips, Justin slides around until he's behind Nick, draped across his back. "Now tell me what you see," he says, mouth dragging against the side of Nick's throat so he can feel it when Nick says, "I see us," and then he can see the intensity in Nick's eyes when he continues, "I see your hands on me. I see…me."

"Don't look at me," Justin urges. Blood is heating up inside him and it makes his face flush as he watches in the mirror, as he watches Nick's cock fill and darken and rise up against his stomach, as he watches Nick's eyes go glossy with lust.

"yesss," Justin moans, digging his fingers into Nick's flesh. Nick doesn't seem to notice the pain, although Justin knows there will be polka-dot bruises there; he's just tipping his head back and forth, eyes sweeping hungrily up and down his reflection.

"I want him." Nick's voice is roughened and his wrists jerk in the cuffs holding them to the closet rod. "I wanna touch him, yank his nipple rings—" Justin takes the cue and immediately brings his hands to Nick's nipples, pinching and pulling and tugging until Nick gasps out loud. Gasps hard, with his cock jerking at the sound of his own voice. Nick watches the movement of his own body in the mirror and says, "I wanna fuck him."

Justin's been waiting for this and he doesn't waste any time sliding around to the front again and unlocking Nick's hands from the cuffs. Nick's shoulders must be screaming pain but he doesn't show it, unless you count the way his mouth is slack and reddened or the way his thigh muscles keep clenching, and he reaches past Justin with one big hand and gives the mirror a push.

"Nick, no—" Justin yelps but he's already too late, and it's a goddamn miracle the glass doesn't shatter and the threefold mirror lies flat out on the floor. "Wanna fuck him," Nick says again, thickly, and pushes Justin to his knees. He doesn't have to try very hard. Justin sinks down and opens his mouth and leans in, head already swimming with the high sharp smell of Nick's sex, but Nick is dropping to his knees as well and then he's got his hands on Justin's shoulders and is pushing him back, shoving him down across the mirror.

The glass is cold and Justin's back arches when it makes contact with his skin, but Nick is staring past him, staring into the mirror and touching his own fingertips. Justin is fast when he wants something and he gathers his feverish mind enough to adjust his spine, move flatter and lower and raise his knees and guide Nick's cock to his ass until all Nick really has to do is stare into his own blue eyes and push.

Silver glass stretches all around them like a pond and Nick fucks deeper and deeper as Justin wraps around him, reaching up to clutch at Nick's big body and raising most of his own off the mirror. "Do you see it?" he pants into Nick's ear. "See him fuck you? See you fuck him?" Nick grunts and grinds his cock into Justin, right all the way in and mutters, "he loves it, the cocksucking little cunt," and Justin's mind dissolves into flashing strobes as Nick's hips circle and stab.

Justin comes, hard, with his teeth in Nick's shoulder, but Nick's not there yet and he doesn't seem to register the bloody mark Justin leaves. He crams every last inch of himself inside Justin one more time and drops his head to lick his own reflection, nose and chin leaving a sweat-trail of grease that makes Justin's cock twitch again. But Nick has different ideas, now; he pulls out of Justin and gets to his feet, standing carefully at the end of the mirror so he can see his whole image in it. Justin makes himself small and watches Nick watching himself jerk off, two miles-long naked bodies that are all golden skin and damp blond hair and Nick's big, hungry fingers.

The Nick-in-the-mirror pants and comes; the Nick standing up groans and comes; white semen splatters on Justin and the mirror. Nick hardly seems aware that Justin's even there, he's so enraptured with the sticky, satiated giant in the mirror and under his own fingers, milking the last drops from his cock and viciously twisting his nipple ring. And when somebody moans Nick's name, Justin's not sure if it was him, or if he's just an echo.