“What’s it like to be the best at something?”

The question is posed to the back of his head which is all you’ve seen of him for the last hour, stealing glances at him as you tried out a new recipe and then cleaned the kitchen. He cranes his neck and looks over his shoulder at you, taking his eyes of the television which has kept his attention during your little culinary experiment. You feel a little embarrassed at your question. He looks around your empty apartment, almost as if you might be speaking to someone else and then grins lopsidedly at you, emitting a chuckle.

“What?” his voice is high, disbelieving.

“You know,” you say, leaning over the counter separating your kitchen from your living room. “You’re like ubertalented.”

He snorts, grabbing onto the back of the couch as he shifts his body to where he can see you better. “Thanks.” He grins.

“Seriously Jus,” you say, your eyes boring into him. “What’s it like?”

“Well, I dunno,” he says, kind of flustered. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Yeah but I’m not the best,” you say.

“Well neither am I!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes at him.

“Oh fuck you Timberlake, yes you are!” you exclaim, fisting your hands at your hips.

“No,” he says, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow as he shakes his head, looking away. “No I’m not.”

You give him a disbelieving look. “Who has the number one album in the country right now?”

“What? I don’t know!” he exclaims, confused.

“You do,” you tell him and his brow deepens again, thinking. “And who has the number one single in the country?”

He looks at you blankly and you point at him, raising your eyebrows. He points to himself and mouths ‘me?’, a look of mock astonishment covering his features. You smile at him and shake your head.

“Okay so I sell a lot of records,” he concedes, opening his palm to you in one of his signature “you-got-me” gestures. “But that doesn’t mean I’m the best.”

“You’re the best,” you say, throwing your dish rag into the sink.

You watch him as he climbs to his knees and leans over the back of the couch, sticking his butt out in a way that reminds you of a little kid. He’s resting his elbows on the back of the couch, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, fingers curling over his mouth. He looks up at you boyishly and you smile as he watches you for a minute. He turns his hand to the side, still holding his chin up with his palm, splaying his long fingers across his cheek.

“You’re good at stuff too ya know,” he states matter-of-factly. You sigh and walk around the counter, leaning back against it.

“Yeah but I’m not the best,” you say and he purses his lips.

“I think you’re the best,” he replies huskily, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You laugh and smile, blushing a little at the way he’s looking at you. He chuckles too, looking you up and down, licking his lips.

“Come’ere,” he says, licking his bottom lip slowly.

You shake your head at him, grinning and he raises his eyebrows. He pulls himself to full height, sitting tall on his knees and crooks a finger at you. “Come here,” he says forcefully, with so much dominance you almost do it. Instead you jut your chin out defiantly and cross your arms over your chest.

“Girl…” he trails, leaping over the back of the couch and you squeal, barely having time to take a step before he’s pinned you against the counter. “You come when I tell you to.”

“I usually do,” you smile, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively and he lets his head fall back, an easy laugh bubbling from his throat.

“That’s right I do,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your waist, his lips hovering above yours. “Cause I’m the best.”

Your giggle is cut short by his lips pressing sweetly on yours. His arms tighten around you as your kiss deepens, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting entry. You open your mouth to him and he slides his tongue against yours sensually, your mind flashing to past encounters that started just like this, anticipation curling in your stomach and slicking your panties.

Your hands bunch in the soft cotton of his shirt before sliding underneath, skimming up his back to curl your fingers over his muscular shoulders. He pulls back, your lips making a smacking sound as they detach from his. His fingers go to the hem of his shirt and he pulls it easily over his head and flinging it into the depths of the room. You bite your lip and run your hand down his torso, tickling your fingers over the grooves and bumps of his chiseled abdomen. He smirks at you, fingering the strap on your tank top, sliding it from your shoulder and replacing it with a kiss as he smoothes the fabric up your torso and then over your head, sending it to mingle with his shirt across the room.

Nuzzling his nose with yours, his fingers deftly undo your belt and the fly on your jeans pushing them down over your hips, chuckling a little as you impatiently kick them from your feet. You give him a mocking glare and swat his chest. He puckers his lips in a silent “ooo” and mutters “Feisty” as his strong arms lift you effortlessly onto the counter.

You part your legs to let him stand between them and wrap your arms around his neck, as he kisses you languidly, letting his fingers play across your sides and back before a flick of his thumb and forefinger unhooks your bra. He pulls it from your body and looks at it for a moment before grinning at you and placing it on his head, one of the cups fitting on his crown like a cap. You laugh out loud and he does too, dropping his head to your shoulder, letting the bra slide to the floor.

His breath fans your neck and as his laughter subsides, he places soft dry kisses along the expanse of your shoulder, pressing his denim-clad arousal into your center. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, letting your head fall back as he opens his mouth over the hollow of your throat, tonguing the skin there and causing another flush of pleasure between your legs.

Your hands move between you as his lips find the valley between your breasts, your fingers undoing his belt. They stutter at his fly as his mouth finds one of your nipples, flicking it with his tongue before, blowing softly, causing it to harden painfully. He mimics this motion to the other and your hands delve into his soft curls, using your feet to push his jeans and boxers to the floor. Bringing his face back to yours, his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips, aiding him in tugging them off. You snatch them from him before he gets the chance to put them on his head. He pouts for a moment, and you kiss him, sucking on his bottom lip which elicits a groan of approval.

Nuzzling his nose with yours again as he smoothes a hand up your calf and guides it around his waist. His lips find yours as he slides in evenly, and he sighs into your mouth when he’s buried to the hilt. His thrusts are languid and slow, you allowing your head to fall back so he can press feathery kisses to your shoulders, neck and chest. You love it when he does it like this, relaxed and leisurely, as if you have the rest of your lives to do this.

His teeth nip at your collar bone as his rhythm quickens, his breath coming in short pants. You bring your other leg up around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, allowing him deeper penetration. He hums his approval, his strokes becoming hard and erratic.

Your fingers fist in his hair, tugging his lips away from your neck and pulling his face to yours you shove your tongue in his mouth, plunging in and out in the same rhythm that his body is entering and leaving yours. His hands grip your hips as the tingle inside you is building. You’re close when he rips his mouth from yours and says, “Come for me baby.”

You groan at his words, panted confidently and huskily, laced with want. You moan leaning your forehead against his, tightening your legs around him as he hits that spot inside you that makes you scream. You call out his name as your body spasms around him, causing a low growl to vibrate in his throat. He follows you over the edge a few strokes behind, breathing your name into your ear, almost making you come all over again.

Your arms are still around his neck and he leans heavily into you, supporting his weight on shaking arms. He pulls back a little, his eyes dilated from pleasure.

“You’re the best babe,” he grins and you can’t help but laugh, hugging him close to you.

“Nah Jus, you are.”