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"I'm not afraid of anything."
He wasn't. What did he have to fear? He wasn't afraid of failure; he knew that he could handle it, whether it were a tiny step down or a long fall to the bottom. He wasn't afraid of the pitfalls of success; he knew where they were, and how to deal with them. He wasn't afraid of death, because he had a well-developed sense of humor, and death was the final cosmic joke. He'd lived long enough, and in such a variety of settings, that he was confident in his ability to live life as it came.
Chris wasn't afraid of anything.
He certainly wasn't afraid of Lance.
What was Justin talking about? What was Justin thinking? Afraid of Lance. Yeah, right. Like Chris made it a habit to fear the Mississippi albino. Not that Lance was an albino anymore. His hair was darker, with frosted tips, and he kept developing a tan. And Lance wasn't identified with Mississippi these days; now Lance was Hollywood Lance. Making movies, making connections. Yeah, things changed. People changed. But Chris was no more afraid of Lance today than he had been years ago.
Lance was, let's see. Now that he was a big star and everything, he had a tendency to party. He talked more in public. He had a little bit more of an attitude. Confidence. He looked better than ever. There was nothing scary about him. Nothing to fear.
They'd all changed, Lance no more and no less than the rest of them.
Justin wasn't accusing anyone else of fearing Lance. Joey treated Lance the same as always, which was one of the endearing things about Joey. JC, as usual, was living in his own world. Justin accepted Lance unconditionally, because it was Lance, because they were *NSYNC.
If anyone should take issue with Lance, it was Joey or JC or Justin. Joey was aggressively heterosexual. JC had so many suppressed and repressed and half-expressed sexual identity issues it was a wonder he didn't start his own sexuality. Justin was a well-mannered Southern-bred boy.
But no. Justin said that Chris was afraid of Lance. And why? Just because Lance was gay.
It was weird. Chris had gotten used to speculating about JC's sexuality. Back in the beginning, he'd thought maybe Lance, maybe JC. Then JC had made great strides forward, and caught Chris's attention, and Chris had decided that JC was gay (or bi or asexual or autosexual) and had forgotten about Lance.
And then Lance had, on his own, with typical Lance independence, made it known that he was gay. Not just said it, but done it, made it clear. Made it obvious. Made it something that couldn't be questioned and couldn't be doubted.
Lance was gay.
Chris didn't know how it had happened. Had Lance always suspected, and been ashamed? Suspected, but denied it for the sake of impending stardom? Had Lance known all of this time, and been perfectly okay with it, but hadn't done anything about it for his own reasons? Had Lance been overcompensating for years on purpose, or not on purpose? Had there been months, even years of quiet agony, personal anguish, soul-wrenching fear and pain? There must have been religious fears, must have been...
Lance didn't talk about any of that. He was gay. That was all that they needed to know.
It wasn't public, wasn't for the world to see. But Lance wasn't denying himself, either. He went out with guys. He had sex. Gay sex. With men.
Was Lance a top or a bottom? Did Lance give blow jobs?
Lance was gay. Really and truly gay. As in, homosexual. Attracted to men, having a**l sex, lusting after penises, gay. When they performed, when they slept on the bus, when they ate, when they had interviews, when they had photo shoots, every second of every day, Lance was gay.
Lance. Was. Gay.
Gay gay gay gay gay.
Lance.
It kept hitting Chris all over again. The weight of it, the impact of it. Lance was gay. For real. Forever.
It wasn't scary. It wasn't fearsome. It was...different. Mysterious. Alien.
He knew why straight men were homophobic. They were afraid that gay men looked at them, thought of them, wanted to do to them, what they wanted to do to women. But Chris wasn't afraid of Lance thinking of him that way. Lance didn't want him. Lance sure wasn't going to make a pass at him. Lance sure as hell wasn't going to jump him.
So he had no reason to be afraid of Lance.
He loved Lance. They were best friends. They were *NSYNC.
Justin thought that Chris was afraid of Lance. Had told Chris so. Did Joey and JC think so, too? Did Lance think so, too?
It wasn't true. Justin was misreading signals. Seeing tension where there wasn't any. Lance was gay. Hooray for Lance. End of story.
JC was curious, in an abstract sort of way. Lance was gay. What was that like? What was it like to be interested in men, to be attracted to men? To be a man, and to want other men? To have sex with another man, to share one's body with another man. To enter another man, instead of a woman. To be entered.
Lance certainly wasn't going to deliver a speech on the subject. But he might answer a few questions. The other guys had questions, simple, crude, almost rhetorical questions, but they respected Lance too much to ask. JC wasn't afraid of offending Lance, but there was always the possibility that Lance would refuse to answer.
Lance didn't have a boyfriend. Not yet. There was one guy, Mark. But he wasn't a serious boyfriend. At least, JC didn't think so.
Maybe JC could open the conversation there.
They used two tour buses for their personal space. Today, Joey and Justin were on the other one. That left JC with Lance. And with Chris, but having three of them together instead of all five felt like privacy. Any time they were down by one, it felt that way.
When Lance was awake, JC sat near him. "Are you seeing Mark tonight?"
Lance's eyebrows twitched in a split-second display of suspicion. "Yeah."
Really? JC hadn't expected that answer.
"He's coming around later."
Coming around. For sex? Did they have sex every time? Was their friendship dependent on sex? Would they be friends if they weren't having sex? Were they friends anyway, and lovers as well? "Are you in love with him?"
There was a small, explosive coughing sound from Chris's direction.
"No," Lance said. "We're just friends."
"Are you... Would you..."
"He's gay, he's cute, and he can keep a secret," Lance said. "I can trust him."
"Not with your heart."
"I don't think he deserves my heart." Arrogance, yet honesty.
"Then does he deserve your body?" JC asked. Sharing bodies without sharing emotional depth had its place, but Lance deserved better.
Wariness in green eyes. "Not everyone sees sex the same way you do, JC." An attempt to lighten the moment. "No one sees sex the same way you do."
"That doesn't mean I'm wrong." JC scratched his temple. "Who would deserve your heart? What sort of man?"
Lance hesitated, trying to gauge how serious JC's question was. JC seemed to want an honest answer, and no doubt a thorough one as well. Few people understood that as much as JC rambled, he wanted to be rambled at just the same. "He needs to be a match for me in every respect, if not my better."
"Wow." JC blinked. "As smart as you are, or smarter. As rich as you are, or richer. As handsome as you are. As talented? As involved?"
Lance nodded. "I have a lot happening. I have a whole, complete life without him, whoever he is. He needs to have the same."
"That's going to be some guy." JC tried to think of someone off the top of his head. It sure wouldn't be Mark. Hell, the only person he could think of was Justin. Or Joey. Or Chris, but...
JC looked at Lance.
He didn't know whom Lance would find. Or when. But he hoped, he prayed, that Lance would find someone worthy. He didn't want to see Lance settle for anything other than that one perfect match.
Mark was around all day. He wasn't exactly in the way, he was just... JC couldn't turn around without seeing him. And he wasn't as subtle as JC would have liked, as subtle as someone respecting Lance's privacy needed to be. JC wanted to pull him aside and offer a few words on discretion, but it was Lance's business, not JC's.
JC wondered what Mark did in bed. With Lance. To Lance.
What Lance did to Mark.
Seduction? Roughness? Groping? Tenderness? Soft kisses, hard kisses, perfunctory kisses, wet kisses? Slow or fast? Did they say anything? What would they say?
JC didn't want to think of anyone treating Lance...roughly. But would two men be inclined to sweet caresses and lingering looks of love?
He'd seen them kiss once. It had looked like a regular kiss. Maybe a kiss was just a kiss.
JC licked his lips. Touched them. They felt like lips. He could use a little chapstick. What did Lance's lips feel like to the touch? What did Lance's lips feel like in a kiss?
Lance had a nice mouth. An attractive mouth. Kind of shaped like Justin's, only less pouty and more symmetrical.
Did Mark like Lance's mouth? Did he ever just touch it? Or was he too busy taking care of business to take care of loving Lance?
Loving Lance. Did Mark love Lance? JC wasn't qualified to answer that question. Lance didn't love Mark.
JC didn't want Lance to love Mark. Lance deserved better.
There were people in the room. Not really staying, just in and out, doing whatever random stuff random people did. Chris wasn't paying them any attention, because he was busy looking at himself in the mirror. He was staring at his chin. The little beard on his chin was crooked. It went up higher on one side than on the other. That was seriously ******** up. And these people claimed to be professionals? From this day forward, Chris was taking care of his own personal face and his own personal facial hair, himself.
The room was emptying out, gradually. Most of the extra people were on the move. Justin was long gone, and Joey was leaving for something, somewhere. Lance was near Chris, looking into the mirror, adjusting his collar. JC was in the room, too. As a matter of fact, the three of them were the only ones in the room, now.
Chris looked down the countertop, hoping to glimpse a razor or something. He could even out his lopsided face.
JC was hovering around Lance. Lance tipped his chin to one side, looking at himself in the mirror, apparently checking for something. JC hovered millimeters closer, being ever so subtle. Lance tweaked one of his spikes of hair, which changed his look drastically, in Chris's opinion.
No razor in sight. Chris would check drawers.
Lance looked over at JC. Very calm curiosity. Not an ounce of suspicion or defensiveness. "Can I help you?"
JC blushed, running his fingers past his temple, backing up a step or two. He mumbled something.
JC was cute when he was nervous. It was an established fact. And comparing nervous JC with onstage JC was like coming right out and saying that the man had multiple personalities. Which was something that Chris had suspected for some time now.
JC was nervous. Lance wanted to know what JC wanted, so he could get on with his life. Chris wanted them to move so that the razor hunt could resume, but Chris's presence in the room seemed to be more of an afterthought at this point.
Lance, who'd been frowning for a minute there, one of those concerned and confused frowns, now was putting on his "okay, whatever you want, you're nuts but I'm the designated humorless one so I'll put up with it" look. It wasn't at all true that Lance was humorless. Actually, Lance had a good sense of humor. A damned sarcastic one, sometimes. It was just that Lance didn't choose to share his humor with one and all. Not everyone appreciated it. Lance's sense of humor struck a different note from Joey's, Justin's, and Chris's, and in the middle of an interview, it didn't always match the tone that their more dominant dialogue set.
Lance was looking at JC with skepticism. JC was embarrassed. Chris wanted a razor to amend the facial hair disaster, but that plan seemed to have been put on hold by a larger drama.
Ah, screw that. Chris wanted a razor. He opened the next drawer in the row.
Something was different. Chris looked up again. Hello, what had he missed? JC was standing close to Lance. Closer than before; that much was certain. Apparently, Chris shouldn't have blinked. Or else he shouldn't have looked up at all. Should have stayed in the drawer. But, too late.
He could look away...
Nah.
JC was standing close to Lance. Something was afoot. JC was reaching up to Lance's face. What, did Lance have food on his face or something? Hello. JC's fingers brushed slowly over Lance's mouth. In a follow-up move, JC's thumb swept across Lance's lower lip in slow motion.
This was new.
Ostensibly, guys touched Lance on a fairly regular basis. Of course, those guys weren't JC. And JC didn't touch guys. Certainly not like that.
Lance was all business, all professional, unruffled. He checked his collar again and left the room.
Chris picked another drawer.
JC wasn't doing anything. Not a thing.
"What'd it feel like?"
JC glanced at Chris. Chris looked back at him, waiting, unreasonably irritated. JC smiled a little and frowned a little, wanting to answer but not sure what to say. "Soft. Smooth." He frowned more, dissatisfied. "Smooth," he repeated.
Soft. Smooth. Pliant? Not too soft. Not plush. Not at all feminine. More like... He didn't know. He didn't know, but he wanted to touch Lance's mouth again.
He wondered what Lance's skin felt like, in general. The skin on Lance's cheek. The skin on Lance's shoulder. Innocuous places. Lance's chin, the brush of stubble. Lance's back, hard and strong. Sure, he'd touched Lance in the past. They'd touched on purpose, had brushed against each other by accident. So he should know how Lance's skin felt to the touch, against his own. He shouldn't care.
But he wondered. He wasn't sure. He wasn't feeling it for himself, right that second. So he didn't know. He couldn't recall. And not knowing, wondering, wanting to know, curiosity and desire, ate at him.
JC watched Chris. He wondered what Chris's lips felt like. Chris's skin.
There was hair on Chris's chin. Under his lip. What was it like to kiss someone with facial hair?
Not just facial hair. Body hair. Chris was a man, masculine.
Did Chris's lips feel smooth like Lance's?
JC ran his fingers through the hair on Chris's forearm.
He liked it.
When he pulled his hand away, his fingertips were tingling.
It had just occurred to him to touch the hair on Chris's chin when he realized that everyone was staring at him like he was crazy. Including Chris. Most of all Chris.
JC smiled and lowered his hand.
Justin changed the subject.
Joey messed with Lance onstage. He did because he could, because he was Joey, because he always had. Chris didn't have that luxury. No, not luxury. Chris didn't have that... Chris didn't have Lance's permission. Joey was Joey, and Joey messed with each one of them onstage, offstage, whether they were gay or straight or JC. That was the way it always had been, the way it always would be.
Chris didn't mess with Lance onstage. He and Lance just didn't have that dynamic.
It wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't a deal at all. Each one of them had a different personality, and Lance wasn't Justin, and Chris could hang out with Lance in different ways, at different times.
Except he never seemed to hang out with Lance much at all. Certainly not on a one-on-one basis.
But that was fine. They spent a lot of time together anyway. In the group. It wasn't like Chris never saw Lance. He saw a lot of Lance. He saw Lance all of the time. And no doubt Lance was blissfully happy about that, as anyone would be.
Chris glanced over. JC and Lance and Joey were across the room, talking. Or, Joey was talking, and JC and Lance were laughing. JC was doing that "you're the funniest person I've ever met" laugh where he acted like he was about to fall over and collapse into giggles. It could be a lot of fun making JC laugh. He was too serious sometimes, and Chris liked to break him out of that. Chris had used to think that Justin was better at making JC laugh than anyone, but lately, Chris seemed to be winning. He didn't know why that was, but it was kind of nice. He really enjoyed personally turning majestic JC into a pile of hysterical laughter.
Lance was doing his laugh out loud thing. Lance had a laugh out loud thing, and a low chuckle thing, and a small smile thing, and several other things Chris personally had classified and memorized. He'd used to be the number one, and sometimes only, cause of the low chuckle thing becoming the laugh out loud thing. He and Lance weren't as close anymore as they had been, though, and now Lance thought that Joey was the funny one. That didn't bother Chris at all.
Not at all.
Not a little, not in the slightest.
"Lance."
Lance turned, eyebrows raised, attentive.
JC was arrested by the green of Lance's eyes. They were a light green, but a sharp green. Clear. He wondered what people who didn't know Lance saw when they looked into those eyes. JC saw Lance's history, saw pain and dreams and intelligence and ambition and knowledge and sex appeal. A lot of sex appeal. A lot of Lance. So much Lance he could stare forever.
Lance's eyes weren't green like emeralds or green like grass or green like wet leaves in spring. They were unique, they were different from everything else, they weren't conforming to the stereotype but they were just as wonderful all the same. Just like Lance.
"Uh, JC?" Polite, uncertain, tolerantly amused smile. Lance could blend ten emotions into one look, one word. "Can I help you?"
Chris was in his bunk, half-asleep. Sort of dreaming yet aware of his surroundings. Both his alert half and his reality-impaired half were pondering Lance. Lance and Mark. Lance and men. Lance and sex. Lance and gay sex. Lance liking men. Lance wanting to be with men. Lance being attracted to men.
Chris was attracted to women. Lance was attracted to men. So the feelings that Chris had for women, Lance had for men. Which meant that it wasn't all sex-based. It was emotions and desires and yearnings and deep stuff like that.
Lance liked men. Lance wanted to spend his time, his life, with a man. A man. A guy. A male human being. A man. One of those muscular hairy persons. With genitals outside of the body inside of tucked away neatly inside. Balls and such. Lance probably gave head. Good head?
Chris wouldn't mind getting head from Lance. If he was any good. That could be convenient, having Lance on tour. If Lance gave good head. Chris could get some every day. Maybe even more than once a day.
Justin laughed.
Chris jerked awake with a start. s**t.
First things first, as they should be. Chris did not think of Lance in cheap, degrading ways. He didn't think that way about women or about gay men or about anybody. He'd been half-asleep, indulging in flights of fancy. He sure as hell did not expect that just because Lance was gay, Lance wanted to service every guy available. That was wrong and stupid.
Second, he didn't want Lance to give him a b*****b. He didn't want guys. He didn't want Lance. Sure, it would be nice to get off, but he liked women, and women were available.
Of course, a b*****b was a b*****b. A mouth was a mouth. Anything Chris could stick his d**k in to orgasmic effect, he considered a good thing. Did it matter if the mouth belonged to a male or a female? It wasn't like real sex. It wasn't like he was doing anything to the person. And if the person liked d**k, so much the better.
Chris wondered whether there were a big difference. Of course he thought that women would be better than men, but that was because he was straight, and he liked women. No doubt it was, in truth, a personal thing. Some women were better than some men; some men were better than some women. It depended on the person, on the individual, not on the person's gender.
JC gazed at Chris across the room. Chris was talking to Justin, gesturing, poking, and Justin was listening, nodding, laughing, feeding Chris straight lines. Not that Chris needed the help; Chris could get a ten-minute comedy routine from someone simply saying, "Hello." JC loved that about him. Chris pulled zany, off-the-wall comments out of thin air, incited physical comedy sketches at will, made fun of anyone and everyone, found a way to make the mundane hilariously bizarre, and could be bitingly sarcastic without being deliberately hurtful. In short, he was the funniest person JC knew.
All five of them had different senses of humor, but for some reason JC had never quite grasped, Justin and Joey and Chris all found humor in making fun of him. He didn't mind, because he knew there was love under everything they said. It almost seemed like making fun of each other was a way for them all to bond, anyway. Besides, he liked it when Chris made fun of him. Maybe because it meant that Chris was paying attention to him. Maybe because he liked seeing himself through Chris's eyes. Chris saw him in odd, unique ways he never saw himself. Elevated, aloof, eccentric. He thought he was normal, just like the rest of the guys, just like everybody else, but Chris didn't. He liked that. It was...touching? Flattering? Pleasing. Oddly pleasing. Or maybe not oddly, after all.
Lance was breaking up with Mark. It was going slowly, but even Mark could see the end. Mark was hanging around anyway. And Lance was still having sex with him, off and on.
One afternoon, Lance was busy but Mark was still hanging around like anyone gave a s**t about him. No one but Lance did, and if Lance's affection was waning, it was a sure bet the rest of them weren't going to kiss Mark's a**. But Chris was curious about him. Curious about his relationship with Lance. So Chris and Mark talked. After a while, they went up to Chris's hotel room.
Mark gave good head. Not the best, but it sure was satisfying.
It wasn't like Chris had planned to do anything. He hadn't plotted and schemed. He'd just been talking to Lance's boyfriend. And they'd gone to his room for privacy. Not privacy privacy, just...privacy. And then it sort of happened. His d**k fell in Mark's mouth, and Mark swallowed it, and there they were.
Lance was about to dump Mark for good, anyway. And they all knew it. So it wasn't like a huge transgression. More of a minor one. More like, bad timing.
At any rate, Lance's (soon to be ex) boyfriend gave decent blowjobs. Chris had gotten off in a man's mouth. It didn't make Chris gay. It just meant that sexual stimulation was sexual stimulation. Oral sex was oral sex, a mouth was a mouth, suction was suction, and an aroused d**k was a happy d**k. Chris's p***s couldn't tell male from female based on the way a tongue licked.
If Chris could get off on a good b*****b regardless of the blower's gender, that opened up a lot of sexual possibilities.
Not that he was going to explore or take advantage. He'd done enough experimenting as it was. He'd been curious, he'd learned, and that was the end of that.
Chris had never had sex with one of Lance's significant others before. He'd never tried to. He'd never even made a pass at one. Because Lance was his friend, and trying to hook up with Lance's girlfriend (or boyfriend) was a shitty thing to do, whether out in the open or behind Lance's back.
Should he tell Lance? Confess? But what Lance didn't know wouldn't get Chris in trouble. But what if Chris didn't tell Lance, and Mark did? That would make Chris look even worse. Would Mark tell? Should Chris say something?
Mark was about to be history, anyway. It wasn't like Lance was going to keep him around. So there was no real harm done. Chris was just picking up Lance's leftovers. That wasn't the same as screwing Lance's girlfriend.
There was a double standard at work here. Apparently Chris was sexist or homophobic or something. If it had been a female, a girlfriend, he wouldn't have done anything, even if she'd come on to him. But Mark was a guy. Somehow that made a difference.
Lance's boyfriend had given Chris a b*****b. Voluntarily, with a smile.
Lance's boyfriend had given Chris a b*****b. The same way he did it to Lance? The same way Lance did it to him? Did Lance give good blowjobs?
There was only one way to find out.
Chris would never know.
JC had touched Lance's mouth. He wondered how it would feel against his own mouth in a kiss. He wanted to know.
There was only one way to find out.
He kissed Lance.
One slow, burning moment, winding heat through JC's veins, sending an electric sizzle down to his toes. His flesh was hot, his d**k was hard, there was a steady tingle setting up in the base of his skull. For one extended glimpse into perfection, Lance's head tilted to the side, and suddenly they were at the ideal angle, an ideal fit. Then JC felt Lance's touch, hand on his shoulder, fingers on his neck.
Lance stepped back from his kiss.
JC wasn't ready to stop. Kissing Lance had felt good, had felt right. He wanted more, again.
He took a step forward to match Lance's step backward, looking directly into Lance's eyes, wordlessly asking, challenging.
Lance kissed him, kissed him deep and hard. Lance's hand was on the small of his back, and Lance was pressing him back into the bunks a little. JC had never been kissed like this, this aggressively, by someone who could take him.
He loved it. He kissed Lance right back, just as hard, welcoming Lance's aggression and answering it. It was a whole new way of feeling wanted. Feeling wanted not through romantic ideals, not for his star power, not for elevated reasons. He was wanted because he was JC, because he was a man, for the hard reality of his body.
He'd known Lance for years. He'd watched Lance come into manhood. They were friends, they loved each other, they were *NSYNC, but there had always been a degree of separation between them. They'd never bonded with each other or played together in that trademark *NSYNC way.
Maybe this was why.
Chris got out of his bunk, stretching, scratching his balls, and froze.
Had they forgotten that he was on the bus with them?
Lance and JC were kissing mere feet away from him, standing right there. They seemed fairly involved in the kiss. He could have stripped naked and gotten out his hula hoop and they wouldn't have noticed.
Their eyes were closed. They were kissing. When Lance switched angles, Chris could see his tongue.
JC was backed right up against the bunks's support post. There couldn't have been one air molecule between his hips and Lance's. The two of them weren't doing much besides kissing - - no clothing removal, no X-rated groping. But the kissing seemed to be doing a lot for them. Chris had never seen anyone be that into kissing since, uh, never.
Periodically, they made noises. Hungry noises, encouraging noises, turned-on noises. Male sex noises.
It occurred to Chris that he should stop watching.
Maybe he could call for an emergency stop and change buses. He was pretty sure that Joey and Justin weren't sucking face on the other bus.
There seemed to be more hard evidence for the "JC's gay" argument, now. Maybe bisexual. Definitely interested in Lance's tongue.
Was this going to be the start of something? Were JC and Lance going to re-enact this scene off of the bus? Were they going to start screwing each other? JC wouldn't think twice about it; JC was weird about sex, being very casual about it but being very serious about it. JC would screw anyone in *NSYNC, any time, if he wanted to. And he wouldn't worry about it changing the group or affecting relationships. JC was a nut.
Lance would be more cautious. Lance would gauge the situation. But only an asylum-worthy idiot would turn down JC, and Lance was nothing if not intelligent.
If JC wanted Lance to do more than kiss him on the bus, Lance would do it.
"Wait! Stop the bus!"
JC heard Chris yelling, but he ignored it in favor of keeping all of his attention on Lance, kissing a little harder to make sure Lance wouldn't step back from him at Chris's interruption. Lance began to pull away, but JC wasn't prepared to stop; his fingers crept under Lance's shirt, brushing the skin above his hip. Lance shivered, pushing back into their kiss, committed to the moment.
"I forgot my suitcases back there!" Chris said. "And my toothbrush, I need my toothbrush! And my mother's phone number, I left it at the venue, stop the bus!"
JC's hand curved down over Lance's a** while his brain leapt ahead to their next overnight hotel stay. Images flickered, shadowy and shocking, of himself in Lance's bed, naked, his body and Lance's entwined, joined.
"And my watch! My watch, has anyone seen my watch? I left it behind, we have to get it - - stop the bus!"
JC breathed, letting his eyes open slowly, as Lance stopped kissing him. He stayed there, unmoving, waiting for Lance to get back to him. Lance's skin was flushed, lips kissed red, and JC thought he'd never looked hotter.
"What is wrong?" Lance demanded of Chris. He began to pull away, but JC kept him close, fingers curling in his belt loops.
"We have to stop the bus," Chris said.
JC shifted his hips an inch to the left to fit his erection against Lance's. Oh, god, that felt incredible. He let his eyes drift shut again, shutting out all distractions, focusing on feel, sensation, memory, fantasy.
"Why?" Lance asked Chris.
"I don't like this one."
"You can change buses when we stop."
"That won't be for hours."
"You can wait."
JC's fingers traced up the seam of Lance's jeans, the one dividing Lance's a**. He traced it up to the waistband and, more slowly, down again.
"Anyone feel like playing Scrabble?" Chris asked.
"We don't have Scrabble," Lance said.
"Yahtzee?"
"Go back to sleep," Lance said, and then his mouth was on JC's again.
Lance Bass. Lance b*****d. Chris wasn't afraid of him; Chris hated him.
And JC, too.
Maybe JC and Lance should start their own group: NSucking Each Other's Dicks.
They were. They'd been screwing each other for a week. They hadn't done anything on the bus since that first ten-hour kissing session. But they were doing each other. Having sex together. Lance and JC. Having sex. Together.
Naked.
Joey and Justin were okay with it, of course. ********.
Mark, Lance's little boyfriend, was gone. Not that anyone was sad to see him go. And if he was gone, Lance never had to find out about Chris's indiscretion.
Chris wondered what would happen if he tried to get a b*****b from Lance's new boyfriend.
Not that JC would do it. JC didn't want him. JC wanted Lance.
Having sex with Lance didn't seem to have changed JC in any way. Like he'd been having gay sex for years. Which he hadn't. But he was JC, who stayed unruffled at the oddest times.
Chris had always been fascinated by JC's personality.
Apparently, Lance was pretty fascinated by JC's body. Probably JC's a**. Or was JC ******** Lance? Did they take turns?
Lance being gay was no big deal. No deal at all. JC's sexuality was an enigma, and that would probably never change.
But Lance and JC doing each other, that part Chris didn't like. He wasn't grossed out by it. He wasn't jealous. He just didn't like it. He didn't want it to be happening.
He tried to be in denial, but that didn't last long. It started out okay, but then JC fell asleep curled up against Lance, and Chris's brain started to whisper about what JC looked like asleep in Lance's bed, and his denial was shot to hell from there.
He had to break them up.
Not that they were a couple. They weren't. They weren't in love or anything. They were just friends who were screwing.
He could stop that.
Simple process.
First step, tell Lance that Mark had sucked his d**k. Apologize, act regretful, the whole nine.
That would plant a precedent in Lance's mind. Chris had screwed around with Lance's sex partner before.
Second step, get friendly with JC. Mess around with JC. Get Lance to notice.
He'd just take it naturally from there.
With slow deliberation, JC ran his fingertips up the side of Lance's neck, then along the curve where neck blended into shoulder. He loved Lance's neck, Lance's shoulders, Lance's skin. Pale, smooth, taut, and Lance was as familiar to him as his own reflection but he still got a thrill out of a simple touch. Being able to touch Lance, being allowed, in this sexual way, it was special to JC, it was important. It wasn't to be taken for granted.
Lance kissed him, capturing mouth with mouth, and JC closed his eyes, kissing back. He still wasn't used to this; he'd spent years upon years not kissing Lance, and now that their friendship was being redefined after all of this time, it was a little surprising to remember that Lance was his lover.
Lance had come into himself since coming out. He was adult now, sexy, confident. Assertive. Even aggressive, in the right moments, like when they were in bed and JC wanted to indulge in foreplay for another three hours but Lance wanted to move on to the main event. Whenever Lance took over, JC gave him what he wanted, because JC admired assertiveness. Confidence was sexy. Especially on Lance.
Everything was sexy on Lance. A smile. A laugh. Jeans. The color blue. Beige sweaters. Everything.
JC kissed Lance with increasing heat, cupping the curves of Lance's a** in his hands, licking across Lance's mouth while Lance lowered him back onto the bed. "I wanted you," Lance said, "all night."
JC's flesh burned where Lance's knuckles brushed his skin as Lance raised his shirt. "I know," he panted, shuddering under Lance's touch. "All night."
Chris made sure he got on the same bus as Lance in the morning. At the first opportunity, he sat down with Lance.
He put on his serious demeanor. His business face. "I should have told you before, long ago. When you stopped seeing Mark, I thought it wouldn't matter anymore."
"What?" Lance asked, obviously not understanding what Chris was leading up to.
Oh, well, then. Lance couldn't follow the line of thought? He couldn't assume what might have happened? He didn't think that Mark would want Chris? Plenty of people wanted Chris. Screw Lance. "Mark gave me head."
"Oh, that."
What pissed Chris off more than anything was that now he was the one looking stupid, and Lance was the one with the information. "You knew?"
"He told me. It's okay."
"You don't care?" Chris asked, trying to make it an accusation. Lance should care. What kind of person wouldn't care?
"I didn't mind," Lance said. "We weren't exclusive. I thought you knew I knew."
Obviously, he hadn't known that Lance knew. Lance had known. "I didn't realize he'd told you."
"He was disappointed he didn't get more from you," Lance said. Chris must have looked surprised or something, because Lance said, "Chris, it's okay. I don't mind. Mark didn't give good head, anyway."
Mark didn't give good head.
Mark didn't give good head?
It had felt pretty good to Chris.
Mark didn't give good head.
Then who did? JC?
Only Chris's deepest respect for JC kept him from snapping the question at Lance.
Mark had wanted more from him. Mark had told Lance.
Lance's sex partner had wanted Chris, and told Lance all about it.
And Lance was okay with that.
Lance didn't mind.
Chris was sorely tempted to see what else Lance wouldn't mind.
Maybe Lance wouldn't mind if Chris screwed Lance's current sex partner.
Except that Lance's current sex partner was JC. And Chris loved and respected and really, really, truly liked JC. And if he was going to use anyone to get back at Lance, he didn't want it to be JC. Especially if it involved sex acts he didn't want in the first place. It would be a lot easier to use someone for sex if he didn't actually care about him.
They were sitting around the table, eating burgers and fries, just the five of them. Joey was telling them about this girl he'd met in a club, who'd gone down on him in the restroom.
The ladies' room.
Chris was trying to find out how Joey had gotten in the ladies' room in the first place. Justin wanted to know how good it had been. Lance was laughing at Joey. JC was dabbing french fries in ketchup.
"Did you ever get one of those girls who takes it, and then spits it out?" Justin asked. "I used to think that was the sexiest thing. Now it seems gross."
JC opened his mouth.
"Yes, that was all a long time ago, before I used condoms every day, every time," Justin said.
JC closed his mouth.
"Condoms ruin the spit-or-swallow test," Joey said.
"There's a test?" Lance asked.
"Swallowers are always better than spitters," Joey said.
"Deep-throaters are always better than head-lickers," Justin said.
"And if she's kinky enough to try to put her finger up your a**..." Joey began.
"...keep her," Justin finished. They slapped hands.
"You're weird," JC said.
"I want to write that down," Chris said to Joey and Justin, patting his pockets as though searching for a pen. "I should be taking notes here. Hand me that napkin."
Justin threw the napkin at him. "Let the masters tell you how it's done, Little One."
"It is not little," Chris said, bristling. "It's a normal size. It's bigger than normal. It's huge."
"You wish," Justin said.
"What about you?" Chris asked Lance. "When was your last good b*****b? I know it wasn't Mark."
For one second, the table was dead silent. Lance's sex life had not been a topic of conversation since the whole "Hi, I'm gay" revelation. Lance's sex life had been downright taboo since JC had started being a part of it.
"Mark wasn't good?" Joey asked, continuing the conversation to keep it from becoming awkward.
"Not at that," Lance said.
"Who is good?" Chris asked. He didn't care how hard Justin kicked him under the table; he was going to push Lance into that corner.
Lance cleared his throat. Cough "JC" cough.
JC turned bright red and refused to look up.
Joey burst into laughter.
Chris hated Lance.
Chris hated Lance a lot.
JC's fingers drew a delicate line down Lance's voicebox. "You were right. Chris doesn't want us to be together."
"I'm sorry about that," Lance said. He shifted closer in bed, his arm coming around JC's waist. The weight of his arm, the warmth of his body, his nearness, his scent - - JC kissed him, feeding on his mouth, his tongue. He drew JC closer, moaning quietly, pressing his thigh against JC's.
The naked flesh of Lance's chest was too tempting; JC put his hand on it, stroking smooth skin, warm muscle, hard nipples. Lance was beginning to push JC onto his back, and JC rolled easily, pulling Lance over himself, one hand crawling up into Lance's hair, the other hand pushing at the sheets to get them out of the way. There was something tickling the back of JC's mind, something about something, but JC decided to worry about it later. He'd rather pay attention to the way Lance's right thumb was circling his navel but not venturing lower. JC loved foreplay, but hated being teased, and Lance had already figured that out, and was using it against him. JC pushed Lance's hand farther south, and Lance chuckled, raising his head. "What were we saying?"
Saying? JC was so aroused he couldn't make his eyes focus, and Lance was trying to talk? "What?"
"Something about...Chris doesn't want us to be together?" Lance prodded, shifting to one side, mostly off of JC but maintaining physical contact.
Since Lance apparently was interested in resuming conversation, JC tried to remember what he'd wanted to say. He turned towards Lance, trailing his fingers across Lance's naked chest. "Why does he have to deny what he wants?" JC asked. "It's part of who he is."
Lance's voice was too strictly maintained to sound bitter, but JC knew Lance well enough to hear the anger and pain. "He's homophobic. He's in denial. He won't admit that he's gay because he doesn't want to be gay. And the only reason he's acting like an a*****e right now is that he's angry with me. He hates me for being with you."
JC didn't like that. "He doesn't have to be jealous."
Lance almost rolled his eyes. "Of course he's jealous. The planet is jealous. I have JC Chasez in my bed."
JC blushed and dismissed Lance's comment as a joke. "He might not be gay. We might be wrong about this whole thing. If we are wrong, but we act on what we think is true, we're going to-"
"We're not wrong," Lance said. "We're right. You want Chris, and he wants you."
"I want you," JC said, and kissed Lance, sliding his hand up Lance's thigh.
JC was good at blowjobs.
JC gave blowjobs.
JC gave blowjobs to Lance.
That information made Chris so furious at the world and its injustices, so furious at the very wrongness of it all, that he wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to hurt Lance. He could kill Lance.
He had to stop them.
He had to stop them, get JC away from Lance, wash JC's mouth and keep JC away from Lance, from men, forever.
He hated Lance.
He wasn't going to sit by, feeling powerless, doing nothing. He was going to do something.
His earlier plan had begun with telling Lance about Lance's former sex partner having given him a b*****b. Step one hadn't really worked out as planned. But the next part of the plan had been to get friendly with JC.
Getting friendly with Lance wouldn't work for two reasons. Number one, he hated Lance, and the idea of going near Lance was repulsive. Number two, it would hurt JC. He didn't want to hurt JC. He was trying to protect JC.
Getting friendly with JC would work much better. And hurting Lance would be a side benefit.
Chris got on the same bus as JC.
JC went right to his bunk and fell asleep.
Now Chris was alone with Lance. Damn it. He hadn't counted on this. How could he have forgotten that he was dealing with JC? Now he was stuck with Lance. JC wouldn't wake up for a good long time.
Chris got into his bunk.
JC slept while he waited.
He didn't know how long they'd been on the road when Lance reached in and nudged him. Lance whispered his name and rubbed his shoulder. "Get up. Chris is asleep."
JC forced himself awake and got out of his bunk.
Lance kissed him, rubbing his hip. "Make me proud."
JC laughed.
Chris was asleep, melting into dreams, when he felt the presence of another person. He opened his eyes in time to see JC crawling into his bunk with him.
There really wasn't enough room for both of them to be comfortable. Chris squashed against the bus wall, deciding not to tell JC to get lost before he knew what was going on.
"Ssshhh," JC said. "Lance is asleep."
Okay. He could be quiet. He'd quietly wonder what the hell JC wanted. He respected JC's eccentricities, but JC had never been in his bunk before. Justin had, but that was Justin.
JC was awfully close to him right now.
"I don't know if you're confused, but you're supposed to wait until I'm asleep and get into Lance's bunk, not the other way around," Chris said, trying to clear things up. "I know I'm sexier than Lance is, but-"
JC kissed him. A slow kiss, JC's hand rubbing his thigh. Up, down, up, down. Chris had to close his eyes. He didn't exactly kiss JC back, because that wasn't his thing, but he didn't stop JC, either.
This whole getting friendly with JC to get him away from Lance thing was going a lot faster than Chris had expected. And when Chris'd planned to get friendly, he really had not meant this friendly.
JC's hand was on his a** now. JC, sexy-beautiful-sexy JC, was feeling on his booty. He had to say something. "JC." It was hard to talk while JC was still kissing him, but the question had to be asked. "JC. You can pretty literally have anyone you want. Why are you grabbing at me?"
"I want you," JC said, kissing him again.
Chris turned his head, breaking the kiss, taking in some air. "I'm not fishing for compliments here, but I have to ask, why me?" Maybe if he understood the insanity, he could cure it.
"You're sexy," JC said. "I've always found intelligence so sexy..."
Only JC would want to freak somebody based on that.
"I love the way your ears stick out. I love the way you always fidget and never sit still."
None of that was remotely sexy. And JC needed to stop saying "love" or somebody might get the wrong idea.
JC needed to stop kissing him, too. Whoa, with tongue now. JC's tongue. JC's tongue in his mouth. JC's hand on his a**. JC's hand sliding up, skimming down. JC's tongue licking, stroking.
JC had a hard-on. It was right there, growing against Chris's thigh. Chris hoped that JC wasn't insulted that he wasn't hard. But JC couldn't expect him to be hard. JC knew he was straight.
Which didn't explain why JC was kissing him. On the other hand, distinctions like "straight" and "gay" didn't mean much to JC.
And distinctions like "male" and "female" weren't starting to mean much to Chris's libido. Being kissed, being felt up - - Chris's body was starting to enjoy itself. Familar heat crept through his blood. His c**k stirred, hardening. And JC's hips were settling against his, JC's arousal right beside his.
He had to stop it. It was JC, and he couldn't hit JC, shove JC out of his bunk roughly, rudely. But he had to stop it. He put his hand on JC's chest, levering JC away from him. "We can't."
"We can," JC whispered, stroking his ear with a gentle fingertip.
Chris shivered. He shivered again and had to push away JC's hand. "I can't."
JC's knuckles brushed his cheek, a loving touch. "I want to. I love you, Chris, and I want you." JC's touch withdrew. "I understand." He was slipping away. "I'm sorry." And then he was gone.
Chris was shaken.
"I love you, Chris, and I want you."
"I love you, Chris, and I want you."
No, no, god, no! No!
It couldn't be.
He hadn't...
Oh, god. He hadn't.
When they were alone, JC told Lance what had happened.
"It was kind of hairy. The hair on his chin, under his lip."
Lance nodded, all of his attention concentrated on JC, his expression focused.
"I always wanted to touch him there," JC said. "His lower lip is smooth, so smooth. And inside his mouth it's sensitive. I licked the roof of his mouth and he gasped. He sounded surprised at how good it felt. His gasp, it sounded sexy, soft and high-pitched."
"I've wondered what he'd sound like before he came, when he was excited," Lance said.
JC had, too. He wanted Chris, on the verge of orgasm, to sound sexy. He wanted Chris's voice to be high and breathy, panting, about to come... "He liked it. He liked kissing me. He didn't kiss back at first, and he never did touch me. But he got a hard-on. I felt it against me. It felt...thick."
Lance ran his tongue over his lips.
JC smiled at that. He was tempted to say more, but he didn't want to tease...too much. "His kiss wasn't sloppy, it was dry, but not too much, just right. He still tasted like toothpaste underneath. He didn't understand at first, he didn't know I wanted him, he didn't know why I was kissing him. I told him and he didn't say anything."
"Chris didn't say anything?" Lance repeated.
"He didn't know what to say to me. But then he did speak. He told me that we had to stop. He said that he couldn't do it. I told him that I wanted to, that I loved him, but I understood. And then I left."
"You told him," Lance said, soft, surprised, respectful.
"We agreed that I should," JC reminded Lance. They'd talked about it at length, deciding which route to take, how to make their approach.
Lance kissed him. "Don't worry about what will come next. No matter what, he loves you. He won't want to hurt you."
JC trusted Chris, but, "Why does he try to protect my feelings if it's all right to hurt you?"
"He thinks that there's only sex between us. He doesn't know that there's more."
"A lot more," JC said. Much more. The sex was incredible, but he wasn't there for sex. He was there for Lance. Pure Lance, all of Lance.
"If you smile like that at me in front of him, he'll hate me forever," Lance said. "And I won't blame him."
Chris forgot the words.
Chris forgot the steps.
Chris forgot which city they were in. Also, which country.
JC had kissed him, and he had liked it. A kiss was a kiss. JC was JC. Of course he'd liked it.
JC had touched him, etc., etc.
That much, he could have handled. That much, he could have made himself live with.
But the rest...
He didn't want to know. He hadn't wanted to hear. But it had been said, and he had heard.
He couldn't accept the information. He couldn't keep it. It had to be rejected.
It wasn't true. It wasn't true.
What could he do now? Deny it? Pretend that it hadn't happened?
It had happened. It had happened with JC, of all people. If it had been no one, if it had been someone he'd never see again, or someone without importance, he could reject and deny. But it had been JC. JC, his best friend. JC, whom he loved. Loved and respected.
Since it had been JC, he couldn't reject and deny.
But he couldn't accept it.
JC had been wrong. JC had been confused, mistaken. He could dismiss the incident as having been a misunderstanding.
JC didn't want him.
Chris's brain processed and accepted the information to that point, then closed off all other related thoughts. That was how things stood in the reality he chose.
Justin had said that Chris was homophobic.
Justin had said that he was afraid not only of Lance but of JC, now, too.
He wasn't. He wasn't! He wasn't afraid of Lance or of JC. He hated Lance. He loved JC. He avoided them because he had to. He didn't want to be near them, or see them, or hear of them. Whichever bus they were on, he rode on the other one, even if it meant being on the bus alone. And he hated being on the bus alone, damn it.
He'd been okay when Lance was gay. He had, no matter what everybody said.
And JC being gay, that had been on the horizon for years.
But the truth of it all. JC being gay in fact, not only in theory. JC being with Lance, and Lance being with JC. It was wrong. There was something almost painful about it. Like this dull ache in his brain stem. When Lance had been with guys in general, transients like Mark, it had been irritating. Now that Lance was with JC, and they were lovers, it felt like everything had changed and no one had warned Chris. And it hadn't been a happy change, either. It had been dark and ominous, like looming disaster. Chris was waiting for tragedy to strike.
Maybe it already had struck.
When he was finished talking to Joey, Chris went to his hotel room. He unlocked his door and began to open it and Lance's hand was on his forearm. He turned his head. Yeah, it was Lance.
"We need to talk," Lance said.
"You need to get off me," Chris said.
Lance pushed through the door, entering the room. Chris, pissed that Lance was walking right into his room, went in, too. Lance looked at him, grown-up Lance, adult male Lance. Lance wasn't a kid anymore, and irrationally, Chris hated him for it. "JC loves you."
"Then why is he screwing you?" Chris asked, and now he got to hate himself, too.
"Because he loves me, and he wants me, and I'm not a homophobic jerk like you are. I'm smart enough to love him and want him. I'm smart enough to take this chance and be with him and try to make him happy."
"You must not be trying hard enough, if he still wants me."
"I know he was in your bunk. I know he kissed you and I know that you rejected him."
"Funny how everyone you're sleeping with wants me."
"Funny how you always try to keep it from me. You think I won't know? You think they won't tell me? Is it because you're ashamed of it?"
"I'm not ashamed of anything."
"Are you afraid someone will think you're gay? Maybe you are. Maybe that's it."
"I am not gay!" Chris wanted to hit Lance. Seriously, truly strike him.
"Then why did you ask Mark for a b*****b? Why did you let JC stay with you instead of pushing him off right away?"
"It was one b*****b, one time. And JC - - I don't have to explain myself to you. You're awfully calm for someone who thinks I'm gay and thinks JC is in love with me. Maybe you should worry more about that."
"You just said that you're not gay. If that's true, I don't have anything to worry about."
******** Lance and ******** logic. "JC is in love with me. He's only with you because he can't have me."
"JC is in love with me," Lance said. "And I have him."
That was going to change, even if Chris had to break bones to do it. "Don't be too smug," he snapped. "I can take him away from you any time I want to."
"But you don't want to. You're not gay."
********. "I'd do whatever it took if it meant keeping JC away from you."
"You're welcome to try." Lance left Chris's room.
Chris hated Lance. Passionately.
JC had said that he was in love with Chris.
Lance thought that JC was in love with Chris.
It wasn't true, because it couldn't be true. But if they thought that it was true, Chris would work with it. To get JC away from Lance. To protect JC.
He'd known that someday, somehow, JC would need his protection. JC was too beautiful, too brilliant, too much of an enigma, to survive in this world alone. Sure, JC was an adult, and intelligent, and blessed by fortune. But that wasn't enough.
Right now, JC needed to be rescued. From Lance, from the things that Lance was doing to him. And it looked like Chris was the one chosen to come to the rescue.
For JC, and for JC only, Chris would do whatever he had to do.
It took Chris forever to get ready that morning. He had to shave extra-extra carefully, despite knowing that as soon as he walked out of the door he'd have a five o'clock shadow. He couldn't decide what to wear, so he mixed and matched clothes like he was playing dress-up Barbie with himself. Finally, he was running so late he had to get on the bus in whatever he had on at the moment.
Joey smacked his a** in passing.
That might have been a bad sign. Chris wanted to go back and change one more time. Then he stepped onto the bus, and JC looked at him, and he decided never to change clothes again in his life.
Lance raised his eyebrows. "What are you wearing?"
"What, this old thing?" Chris asked, and did a slow model turn. The sandals showed his feet. The jeans invited everyone to check out his basket and his a**, a two-for-one sale. The T-shirt had been a gift from Justin; it was a close fit, and there were haphazard slashes cut across the back, showing strips of skin.
When he finished turning, he found himself face-to-face with JC, who hadn't been that close a minute ago. JC, looking very interested and slightly amused, reached behind Chris. He felt JC's fingers on his back, feeling over his shirt, seeking the holes. He felt JC's touch on his naked skin, then through the shirt, then on his skin again. He couldn't watch, could only wait and guess where JC would touch him next. He found himself looking into JC's eyes, their gazes locked. JC was standing very close to him.
JC stroked the small of his back.
Chris shivered.
"I didn't know straight guys wore shirts like that," Lance said.
First Chris was pissed at Lance for interrupting. Then he remembered that Lance's bitchy attitude was a good thing. He was supposed to make Lance mad. "They don't. But I'm so cool, I can pull off anything."
"JC can wear whatever he wants and look good. You always end up looking like you woke up in the gutter," Lance said.
JC whispered, for Chris alone, "No, you don't."
Chris slid his right foot forward an inch, meeting JC's foot. He whispered, too. Their private conversation. Right in front of Lance. "I don't?"
"When you wear bad clothes, you look cute."
Chris slid his left foot forward two inches.
"You look sexy."
Chris felt JC's fingers find his spine.
"It makes me want to ******** you."
If JC's fingers hadn't been there, that slight touch steadying him, grounding him, Chris would've dropped back onto his a**.
"It makes me want you to ******** me."
******** JC. ******** JC. That concept was more than Chris could handle. Huge, forbidden, foreign. Shocking in the pull of its temptation.
JC kissed Chris, touching lips to lips, and then stepped away, letting go. He went to his bunk.
Chris was alone with Lance, their feud, and a lot of sexual tension he hadn't bargained for.
JC rolled to his side. He licked his lips, wanting to taste Chris there. He shouldn't have done that in front of Lance, done what Lance couldn't do, but he knew that Lance understood.
Lance wanted the same thing he wanted.
Chris.
Chris pretended that he didn't have a hard-on. In front of Lance. In jeans that already displayed the goods.
He pretended with twice as much energy that he didn't have a hard-on over JC.
Fantasy World was fun.
Lance was looking disgusted. Judging. Disapproving. Like Chris needed Lance's approval? Like Chris had to have Lance's okay to hold a conversation with JC? He walked down the bus aisle, not caring if Lance got an eyeful of Mr. Winky's happy state. Let Lance see. Let Lance know. JC wanted Chris.
"I always forget how small it is," Lance said, turning away.
"What?" Unexpected reality stopped Chris dead in his tracks.
"Most men grow to a more impressive size when they're aroused," Lance said. "I keep forgetting that yours doesn't grow much."
The - the - that - "Bullshit!" Complete utter total ******** bullshit!
"I guess JC never noticed. If he had..."
"He's in love with me, remember? He's noticed everything about me."
"Maybe he's willing to overlook your deficiencies. I hope he loves you enough to make up for-"
********! "After being with you, he's going to love what I've got."
"So you are planning to have sex with him."
What? Wait! Chris felt like he was being jerked around. But he had to say yes. "We haven't set a date."
"You'd better do it soon. The longer he stays with me, the less he'll be inclined to be with you."
"He could shack up with you for years and still jump the second I snap my fingers."
"You overestimate yourself," Lance said, rising. He stood right in front of Chris, close. "You underestimate me."
Ooohhh, big dramatic punch. You underestimate me. Wow, how would he ever recover from that revelation?
a*****e.
Chris was going to have to do something real, something final, to get JC away from Lance. It shouldn't be too much trouble, since JC certainly seemed receptive to the idea.
The problem was, Chris knew what he had to do. There was no beating around the bush, no trying, no almost. He was going to have to go ahead and do it.
He was going to have to have sex with JC.
He didn't want to have sex with JC!
But what else could he do? Leave JC with Lance? Let Lance continue to draw JC into whatever it was Lance was doing?
He couldn't let Lance keep JC.
He couldn't let JC stay with Lance any longer.
He had to do it.
His d**k was not small. It wasn't small when it was soft, and it definitely wasn't small when it was hard.
He didn't doubt that, over the years, Lance had gotten a glimpse of his hard-on, maybe even naked. He'd seen everyone else's. It was just one of those things.
Of course they'd seen each other naked, anyway. Going to bed with JC wouldn't give him any surprises, in that aspect. JC had a better body than he did, but JC was more perfect than the majority of the population in most ways.
Sex with JC. Plan of attack.
First, he'd have to wait until they were in a hotel. He wasn't going to do it on the bus.
He'd have to head JC off before Lance got in the way.
He had to have lube and condoms, everything ready.
He knew the basics of male-on-male sex, or thought he did. There shouldn't be much trouble there.
All he had to do was go for it.
It was JC. Sex with JC. There weren't two words that went together better than "sex" and "JC."
Chris made a mad dash to his hotel room. He had to get ready! Ready! Ready now!
Slightly insane with panic, he made a second mad dash, this time into the hallway. JC! He was in luck! And, no! He was out of luck. Lance. JC and Lance, right there, at the same time. If he was going to get JC into his hotel room tonight, he was going to have to do it in front of Lance.
Lance be damned.
Chris walked right up to JC. "Do you have any big plans for tonight?" Well, s**t. He sounded like he was running an interrogation. A rude interrogation.
"Why?" JC asked.
Chris tried to soften his tone this tim
JamieRawxx · Mon Nov 14, 2005 @ 12:04am · 0 Comments |
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