Joey does it because JC wants him; JC knows this. It has more to do with JC being a warm body to use and touch and fuck, but never kiss, than it does reciprocity.

This never stops JC from smiling back, becoming pliant, when Joey smiles, tugs on his belt loops from across the couch, pulls JC into his lap.

Joey does it because it's convenient.

This doesn't stop JC's from being the first shirt to hit the floor, or JC from shivering in guilty pleasure when Joey's fingers trace down his ribcage, softly, down to the curve of his hip. Joey's touch is almost reverent.

Joey does it because he thinks it makes JC happy.

It's Joey's shirt that goes next, followed by JC's pants. Soon enough, JC finds himself pressed against the cushions of the couch, beneath Joey. JC is hard before it even really starts.

Joey does it because he thinks JC appreciates it.

It's when JC slips a cool hand into Joey's pants that they come off, and everything else gets discarded into a wrinkled heap on the floor.

Joey does it because it's fun.

It doesn't take any conference, really, for Joey to slip a rude finger into JC, and another, while JC jerks violently against Joey's hips.

Joey does it because it gets JC off.

It's quiet, then, as JC's legs twine around Joey's, and Joey curls his fingers inside JC; sudden movement is punctuated only by JC's ragged breathing, as he presses his head back into the arm of the couch, and wants to kiss Joey, but knows he can't.

Joey does it because it gets himself off.

There's no exchange now, either, when Joey pushes at JC's hips a little, angling him up, enough so he can replace his fingers with his dick - which is when JC's thrashing begins in earnest. JC's never ready for it, but he never complains.

Joey does it because it's not like it isn't sex.

JC is complacent, now, as Joey pins his wrists down on either side of him, against the couch, arching his back into Joey. Joey's thrusts are hard and fast and JC whimpers, sometimes, and Joey can feel JC's harsh breath on his cheek. JC likes the pain: the grating thrusts that rub the wrong way, the roughness, the sting of Joey's fingers gripping at his wrists.

Joey does it because friends are allowed to do that kind of thing.

JC always comes first, clenching around Joey, with a yell muffled by Joey's hand, and sometimes with tears springing to his eyes. Joey pretends he doesn't notice those; he never asks why.

He does it because JC's never told him to stop.

When Joey comes, he closes his eyes slowly, leaning into JC, so sweat-soaked skin slides against sweat-soaked skin. He presses his nose into JC's neck; his chin rests against JC's shoulder. JC's hands come up to Joey's hair, and he laces his fingers through it.

It's in these moments that JC can pretend it means something.

It never lasts, though, and once Joey comes, he slides off JC, usually landing unceremoniously on the floor. JC sits up, stiffly, and retrieves his underwear.

It seems anticlimactic just to get dressed, to JC, afterwards.

Sometimes Joey will look up at JC, after, and lay a hand on his wrist with a smile. Gives JC a look of appreciation, maybe, or it could be encouragement.

JC doesn't like it.

When they're dressed again, and clean, and evidence of sex on the couch is gone, Joey slides his arms around JC's waist, and tugs him close. JC threads his arms around Joey's neck, so Joey can't pull away, and they stay in an uncomfortable sort of embrace. Which is when JC kisses Joey, wetly, on the mouth - even though he knows he shouldn't.

Sometimes, he just has to.

Joey's usually unresponsive; just lets JC lick at his lips, at the corner of his mouth. Sometimes, he'll part his lips, and JC's tongue will slip inside, and there will be the barest hint of slickness in his mouth. It's then that JC pulls away.

And it's then that JC can pretend it's about more than sex; more than everything. He can pretend he means something to Joey.

But it's not, and he doesn't.

But that knowledge is never enough to stop JC from doing any of it.