Ceramic

Title: Ceramic
Author/Pseudonym: ScrewTheDaisies
Rating: NC-17
Archive: The Art of Slash (www.theartofslash.com)
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, which means that, while the characters may be based on real people, the story itself is completely untrue. The story was written for the entertainment of the author; no impeachment of or malice toward the people mentioned herein was intended.
Fandom: Metallica
Pairing: James/Jason
Summary: James, Jason, shower, nudity, black album tour...if that doesn't get your attention, what on earth will?


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Jason came around the corner with soap, shampoo, and conditioner held against his chest and his other arm stretched out to hang his towel on the hook at the entrance to the shower room. The sight that met him stopped him cold, before he had a chance to get the towel on its hook.

He'd seen James before, naked and showering.

He'd even seen him grabbing himself before. He didn't, however, think he'd ever seen him doing it with this much abandon.

James stood with his feet planted against the shower's tile floor, his hips arched forward into the shower stream, his head thrown back, teeth bared.

Cock hard.

Arm pumping.

Mouth grinning.

Jesus.

"You gonna shower or fucking gawk?"

His voice shook Jason.

James, however, didn't break stride. He turned his face upward and just kept at it.

Jason's heart pounded. When he'd found himself frozen in shock, staring at..._this_, his worry had been that James would have a cow when he realized someone was in the room...instead, it was him having the cow. He _had_ been gawking. "Uh, sorry." His towel finally found the hook. He let go of it. Then, still clutching his toiletries, he padded across the wet tiles to an unused shower head to one side of the one James was using.

"Wanna give me a hand?" James asked as Jason set his shampoo and conditioner--small bottles, swiped from a hotel room--on the wire rack hanging from the shower head.

"Uh, no, that's okay. You, uh, look like you have things well in hand."

James snickered.

Jason, eyes forward, hands turning on and adjusting the water spray, felt his skin prickling, as though James was watching him. He turned his face up into the stream of water and closed his eyes. Then, blinking, he reached for the soap. He still couldn't see James, not even out the corner of his eye, but he got a sense that James wasn't smacking it quite the same way he'd been when he'd walked in on him. He wished he were. The lack of noise and lusty movement made it feel even more like James was watching him. Intently.

Starting at his own shoulder, he lathered an arm with soap, then the other.

"Do your chest," James said.

Jason straightened, aghast, but still didn't look over at James. "I'll do it when I get to it."

"I want to see it."

And now James did come into view, leaning his head and one shoulder against the wall their shower heads shared. Jason's gaze flicked toward him. James slid one large, wet hand across his own chest. His other hand still had a hold of his cock.

Jason looked up at his shower head. He didn't really need a shower this badly. They'd be going back to the hotel soon enough. It could wait.

"Go on. I'm not gonna molest you. Whadda you care if I watch?"

Jason soaped his face, closed his eyes, moved into the spray. Then he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before looking over at James, who stroked his dick lazily with one hand, rubbed his balls with the other. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't...anything. Just watching. Waiting. Wondering, maybe. Wondering if he'd do it.

Jason turned his attention back to the wall in front of him. The rack with the shampoo, conditioner, and bar of soap. The square green tiles. He could wait and take a shower at the hotel, but he was already here, already wet, and already started. By the time the van pulled up at the hotel, he'd be dead on his feet. He grabbed the shampoo and tried to block James from both his thoughts and his vision. Surely the man would come at some point--soon--and leave.

"Now your chest?" James asked after Jason rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair.

Maybe it would get rid of him if he just did it. He needed to anyway. Stupid to take a shower, wash your arms and legs and face and leave your chest. He closed his hand around the bar of soap. His gaze skated along the wall and then, as soon as it registered that James's pace had picked up, it ran back to the rack. The soap. His hand. It was creepy, James's jerking off beside him. Watching him. Affected by him. He raised an arm and began lathering his pit.

Then he slid the soap quickly across his chest, switched hands midway, and lifted his other arm to do the other pit.

Okay. Chest.

He pushed the bar of soap across it. And then again. Then down toward his sternum. Up to one shoulder, then down and up to the other one.

"Use your hand." The voice was a whisper, but still it carried over the sound of two shower heads spattering water on the floor.

It was perfectly normal to use his hand. It's what he would have done, in a normal situation: add soap, then work into a lather with both hands--one empty, one still clutching the bar of soap--then rinse and move on. However, he'd never performed before this kind of audience. Suddenly he felt uncertain how to proceed.

"Go on."

He shot a glance over at James, who met his eye. Sucked his lip under his front teeth. Smiled a little. Jerked his cock.

Jason faced front. He lifted a bare hand to his chest and began to rub, across and back.

"Do your nipples," James said.

Jason had been moving above them, below them, generally avoiding them. And, apparently, noticeably so. Quickly he passed the heel of his hand over one nipple, then the other.

The bar of soap, clutched tightly in his other hand at his side, began molding itself to his fingers.

But he'd done his chest. He was done. He wouldn't normally spend a second longer on it and he didn't intend to now. He soaped and lathered his stomach. And his hips. And....

"Go on. Gotta wash there, too."

He lathered a thigh.

"That's what I was doing when I got horny, you know. Washing my dick."

"I think you've got it clean by now," Jason mumbled, lifting his leg so he could wash his shin, calf, and foot.

"Have you ever done that?" James asked. When a second passed without Jason answering, he said, "Of course you have. Who the fuck hasn't? You've got all the slick suds going and it feels good and next thing you know you have more surface area to wash...."

ut uut up, okay?" Jason had both feet planted on the floor again. "Just shut the fuck up and let me finish."

It irked him that James grinned at his words, but he couldn't complain because it did shut him up. But still...at the same time...James's free hand slipped down to grab his balls again and pull on them. Jason turned his head away. He had another leg to do. Another leg, his crotch, his back, and then he was out of there.

The leg and the back were no problem, though as he reached over his shoulder to get at his shoulder blades he kept expecting to hear James offer to help. He didn't, though. This thing James had going on wasn't like that, apparently. It wasn't something intimate, wasn't something that had to do with touching each other. Jason sneaked another peek. It all had to do with watching.

Controlling.

He lathered his hands and then, pushing his hips forward, he reached between his legs to soap under his balls. Fuck him and his need to control.

"Oh yeah. That's it. Slow down. Grab those balls."

Jason closed his eyes. Fuck him and his need to control. He pushed his soapy fingers over his asshole and back, then back up to his balls.

"That's it. Get hard. Get hard for me, baby. Even your fucking nipples are getting hard."

Yes. Yes he _had_ started out washing his dick before and had it turn into a quick jack-off session. He had it happen so many times it was fucking commonplace. He grabbed the bar of soap and plunged it into his pubic hair. He scrubbed it around the base of his cock, working up a fresh lather with his other hand, working the lather up his shaft, squeezing.

"Fuck yeah, that's it. Pull it. Come on. I'm fucking close. I'll be out of your hair in a minute just fucking _pull_ on it."

Jason squeezed a fresh lather of soap from the base up to the head and then pulled his fist back down to his pubic bone.

"That's it. Keep doing that."

He let his hand slip down over his balls, grab them into his hand with the base of his dick, squeeze.

"Fuck yeah, that's it, that's...that's gonna do it. Do that that. Fuck. Fuck!"

Jason watched James from under his eyelashes. He had one hand against the wall. His hip banged into the wall. His cock spurt along the wall. His head was down, wet hair falling across his face.

Jason could stop touching himself now. He was clean. He could rinse off. He dropped his hand and his dick bounced forward. He stepped into the stream of water and watched the soap slide away. The head of his cock was purple. Anxious. He'd be at the hotel soon enough. He could finish there. Alone.

"Hey."

He didn't look over but did catch James's movement out of the corner of his eye, James pushing off the wall. Jason stepped forward and reached for the faucet. Then James's hand was on his arm. He tried not to shrink away. He watched his own hand turn off the water.

"Hey, thanks," James said.

Jason, not knowing what else to do, nodded as he reached up for the shampoo and conditioner bottles.

"And, you know, if you--"

"No. No, thanks."

But James's hand had already slipped from his arm. His fingers brushed his hip. Jason fumbled the shampoo bottle. It dropped to the tile floor and rolled. James grabbed both of Jason's hips, half turning him, and dropped to his knees.

"James, don't--" He tried to hold him off by the shoulders, but at the same time he didn't wanttouctouch him at all. James pushed right passed his meager dses ses and closed his mouth around his cock. Jason, stricken, pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Come on, get off. I don't want--"

Fuck.

His cock disappeared completely. James nose pressed against his stomach. He tried to step backward, but James's hands had him by the ass. His mouth had him by the front.

His whole fucking cock, not that it was anything to brag about to begin with, but still. His whole....

James slid back on it and Jason's whole cock--or almost the whole thing--came back out. James let go of Jason's ass with one hand so that he could make a fist around Jason's shaft.

Jason grabbed his wrist. "James, I can--"

Fuck.

James's silver skull ring glinted in the shower's overhead lights.

Jason grabbed a hold of James's wet hair and yanked. Forward. "Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck it. Fuck it." He was talking to James, not himself, pulling James's head forward again. _Fuck_ it. And James was listening, grabbing Jason's balls, swallowing his cock for him.

"Fuck it," Jason said again, watching James follow his directions. James on his knees on the hard tile floor. James with his lips circled around his cock, sucking.

Jason tipped his head back, closed his eyes, surprised himself with the first image that came to him in the red darkness behind his eyelids: James's mouth--not the one sliding up and down his shaft, but his furious, yelling mouth, the one with all the teeth. The one that looked like it was literally going to bite your head off. He had that mouth sucking him off now. THAT mouth.

"Suck it," Jason groaned. "You fucking asshole, suck it hard."

And there he was in the same stance James had been when he'd walked in on him: hips thrust forward, head back, grinning. His fingers were shoved in tangles of wet hair instead of wrapped around his cock, but he was still jerking off. It was still the same thing. He was just using James's mouth to do it.

He panted. His words were clenched in his teeth: asshole, fucking asshole, suck it off fucking asshole, suck it, suck it. He tore at James's hair, thrust his hips toward him again, and then again until, with a cry, he gripped James's head to keep from losing his balance as orgasm ripped through him.

And James sucked it all down. That thought bubbled up into his consciousness as the last waves of orgasm retreated. He'd swallowed his cum. Jason pried his eyes open and looked down.

James shook his head, freeing his hair of Jason's loosened fingers. "Jesus," he said. "Man, you've got some pent-up issues, hu

Jason watched him rock back and come to his feet. His knees and r shr shins were marked with red lines from the tiles. Raising his eyes, Jason saw James shake his head again, tug his own fingers through his tangled hair.

"What?" James said, a trace of that dangerous irritability in his voice.

Jason shook his head.

"See ya out there." And with that--and three long strides--James was gone.

A drop of water slipped free of the bottom edge of one of the shower heads. Jason watched it freefall. As it landed with a smack against the wet tile below, Jason turned, leaving his soap, shampoo, and towel behind.

In the locker room, James was tucking himself into his jeans, his back toward the showers.

Jason took a step toward him.

James pulled up the zipper, coming up onto his toes a little as he did and then quickly dropping back down.

Jason took another step, and then stopped short as James whirled, his index finger jutting out. "I don't want to fucking discuss it, okay?" He took a step forward himself, snatched his t-shirt off the bench. "Just leave what happened in the showers in the showers." He blotted his face with the shirt before shaking it out and starting to put it on.

"Talk about someone with issues," Jason said.

"Fuck you," came the reply from under the black fabric, and then James head popped through the hole. His hands worked the shirt down over his chest. It got caught up in itself in the back, up between James's shoulders. Jason resisted the urge to step over and tug it loose--something he would have done without even thinking on a normal day. Instead he watched James twist to reach for it, arching his back to get a thumb underneath so he could set it free.

"Okay," Jason said finally. "I guess...."

"What?" James snapped as he sat on the bench. He reached underneath to pull his boots forward.

"I guess I'll see you out there. I still have to get dressed."

James turned his head. Jason couldn't quite read the look, but there was a little surprise in it, that was for sure.

After all, Jason thought, I wasn't the one on my knees with another guy's cock in my mouth. I can be easy with this. "I'm gonna get dressed now," he said. He was energized. It was difficult to keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet. He so had something over James--he had something to hold over his head if ever he wanted to _and_ he'd gotten an incredible fucking blowjob.

He heard a rustle behind him, then the metal clang of a locker being closed. "See ya out there," James said again, once more striding away. Jason listened to his footsteps. His smile grew as the sound of the steps faded.

God, that had been an incredible blowjob. Jason couldn't decide which would be more prudent: using the fact that James had sucked his dick to blackmail him into giving into him on some band and music issues...or using it to blackmail him into doing it again.

Nine years later as he lay in bed one morning with absolutely no place to go because he'd just quit the band--citing, of course, irreconcilable differences...very irreconcilable--the day before, his thoughts wandered back to that day in the locker room and he thought to himself, "I should have gone with getting my way on some band and music issues."

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