Cruel Summer

by Karen and LB
© 2003-4

JC lies in his bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He tries to think of a good reason to get up. He can't. This should have been a great summer--his first not touring in years. But instead, he's miserable. Yeah, there had been some good times, but mostly . . . JC misses his boyfriend. He's tried hard not to let Lance hear the loneliness in his voice during their conversations. Lance has enough to worry about without JC whining to him. And the rest of the guys--that's another story. He's always believed in what they said in interviews--that they'd be friends even if they weren't *NSYNC. But now, they've all gone their separate ways, and JC feels rootless. Disconnected.

*****

An ocean away, Lance looks up from his Russian-language book to rest his eyes, and reminds himself that once he finishes this page he can take a break and make some calls. Because the one thing that gets him through these long days is his conversations with JC. He hasn't spoken with Joey much, because Joey is busy with the play. And he never seems to know where Justin is anymore, and Chris--every now and then he'll get an email from Chris from somewhere across the country. But JC is always there. Always there when Lance needs to hear a friendly, American voice. Someone who isn't giving him the runaround about the money, or who isn't making false promises. And when he talks to JC, JC really listens. He asks Lance about every detail of his training, but amid the myriad of questions, Lance always detects something else. Something . . . loneliness. Yes, that's it. And that just makes him long for JC even more.

*****

JC has finally dragged himself out of bed and is making coffee in the kitchen, trying to decide if he should spend some time in the studio. The last few attempts haven't been very productive but things have to get better eventually. He wishes he could talk to Lance about this. Lance always seems to know what to say to soothe him. To point him in the right direction.

*****

Things aren't looking good. Lance is trying desperately to convince everyone to let him stay, but the money still hasn't come through. He even paid for Houston out of his own pocket and they're still saying he can't go up in October. But he's not going to give up. JC keeps saying, "Don't give up, it'll happen." And he's trying to stay positive, but some nights, when he's exhausted and his brain feels like it's going to seep right out of his head, he just wants to go home.

*****

JC hangs up from a conversation with Lance, saddened. The sound of desperation in Lance's voice was almost more than he could bear. Lance needs him, and what's he doing? Sitting around feeling sorry for himself. JC picks up the phone again and calls the airline number he's had on speed dial for months.

*****

So that was it. They were kicking him out of Star City. After all he'd been through to get here, he was being asked to leave. They weren't messing around. Lance didn't want to hear any more, so he quietly and politely left, the rage boiling inside. No, he wasn't going to throw a tantrum and give the tabloids more fodder. He was going to pack his things, go back to Moscow and call his parents and JC.

*****

JC couldn't believe how quickly things happened. There had been a seat available on the next plane, and he'd barely had time to pack and get to the airport. He's on the plane before he could have dreamed possible, and he doesn't even have time to call Lance. He has no idea if Lance will even have time to see him, but he doesn't care. Lance will know he's there.

*****

Lance has tears in his eyes after speaking to his parents, so he takes a moment to compose himself before calling JC. He hesitates, though. Lately, JC's seemed so . . . evasive. He gets Lance talking but doesn't say much himself. But right now, he needs to talk to JC. More than anything. So when the voicemail picks up, Lance's heart sinks lower than it ever has. Why isn't JC home? Where is he?

*****

JC fidgets throughout the flight. He's too keyed up to sleep more than fitfully in spite of his exhaustion and the length of the flight. He moves, zombie-like through the airport and customs, and finally makes his way to the hotel he knows Lance uses in Moscow.

*****

It's early evening and Lance has just returned from dinner. Back to the books. It's all he can do right now. All he's allowed to do until someone comes to his senses. He tried JC's cell phone all day, but he couldn't get through. Frustrated, he curls up in a chair and focuses on the physics book, his Russian tapes waiting on the table. The bleep of the phone breaks his concentration, and he rubs his eyes as he picks up the receiver. When the front desk clerk tells him there's someone requesting to see him, Lance is puzzled. He'd left Jeffrey at the restaurant, and he wasn't expecting anyone. But he tells the clerk to send him up anyway. He could use the break.

*****

JC had been stunned when he'd been told that "the American gentleman" was in residence at the hotel. He'd known immediately that the news must be bad, and was more sure than ever that he'd done the right thing in coming here. He's impatient as the elevator rises, and he practically runs down the hall to Lance's door.

Curious at the knock on his door, Lance scratches his head as he pulls open the door, and his face turns from puzzlement to surprise. "JC?"

JC smiles crookedly, as if his face is too tired for a full smile. "Um, hi?"

"Hi!" Lance throws back, not quite believing what he's seeing, but immediately taking JC into his arms and hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad to see you. I can't believe you flew all the way here."

"You . . . you sounded like you needed me."

"I do. I need you so much." Lance doesn't let go, but brings his mouth close to JC's ear and whispers "I love you" in Russian.

"That sounded sexy," JC says, holding Lance tighter. "It means something good, right?"

"It means everything. I still can't believe you're here."

"I couldn't believe it when they told me downstairs you were here. I mean, in the hotel."

"I, um, got booted out yesterday. I tried to call you, but I guess you were on the way."

"Yester . . . ? I, um, yeah, I guess so." JC looks up helplessly. "I don't even know what day it is."

"It's Wednesday. And it'll take a day or two to adjust. You must be tired." He releases JC from his grip but takes hold of his hand and leads him to the large bed. "You must be starving. I can order up some room service."

JC looks confused as he tries to make the days make sense in his head. He wonders if he really is hungry and decides he is. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Lance reaches for the phone, still holding JC's hand. He orders a selection from the menu, along with a bottle of vodka, and then turns his attention to JC. "Did you get a room?"

Reaching into a pocket, JC produces a key. "Before they told me you were here."

"Wow. So, um, you have your stuff brought there, but you're staying here, okay?"

"Is that okay? I don't want to, like, cause problems for you."

"It's great. No one has to know. How long can you stay?"

"As long as you want."

"I don't know how long I'll be in Moscow, but, um, I'd, you know, like it if you'd stay until I can go back to training."

"That would be . . . that would be good." JC gazes at Lance for a long moment, then jumps at the knock on the door.

Lance pays the bellhop and waits patiently as the cart is wheeled in, and when the door closes he pours two shot glasses of vodka. He raises his glass and makes a toast in Russian.

JC drinks, then grins lazily as the vodka hits his already exhausted system. "What else can you say in Russian?"

"A few dirty words."

"You don't even say dirty words in English."

"So, talk dirty to me."

"Eat first, then we'll talk."

JC examines Lance's face, shrugs and reaches for the tray. "I missed having you to order me around."

"Do I really do that?"

"No, I was just teasing you, babe. Except for the missing you part. That I meant."

"What about the parties?"

"Just something to do 'cause you weren't there."

"So, um, I wasn't imagining it."

"Imagining what?"

"You sounded sad, the last time I talked to you."

"I just . . . there's a lot. . . . Eat first, then we'll talk."

"Okay." Lance watches quietly as JC eats, the two falling into that familiar, comfortable silence that a couple shares when they've been together for a long time. He senses JC wants to talk.

JC eats slowly for him, not wanting this companionable time to end. Not wanting to hear what went wrong enough that the Russians kicked Lance out. Not wanting to tell about the growing rift between him and Justin. Not wanting to think about any of it. Just wanting to crawl into his boyfriend's arms and sleep for days.

"Better?" Lance asks, when JC puts down his fork.

"Yeah," JC says. "I feel almost human again."

"What would make you feel completely human?"

"If I could sleep for a month. But I don't wanna waste our time together."

"I don't know how long that will be. I'm hoping I can go back this week." He stares at his hands and starts fidgeting with a hotel memo pad on the table.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" JC asks, pouring Lance another shot.

"Nothing to tell. No one's paying up."

"Can I help? You can have anything I've got."

Lance grins, knowing how serious JC is. "You'd have to eat, like, McDonald's every night."

"I could do that."

"You'd get sick of it. I couldn't do that to you."

"If it would help you get your dream, I wouldn't care."

"I would. If I have to pay for it myself, I will, but I'm not gonna burden anyone else."

JC reaches for Lance's hand. "It wouldn't be a burden. You'd do the same for me."

"I would. But right now neither of us has that kind of money."

"This sucks. Are they, like, telling you anything, or just telling you not to worry?"

"They're telling me as much as they want to tell me. Which is pretty much nothing. I just want to go back and finish the training."

"I know you do," JC says sadly.

"I have to do this. I have to."

JC's expression turns fierce. "You're so close."

"I really believed I was going up next month."

"I did, too. What will you do if, if, if it doesn't happen? Try for April?"

"You bet. That was the plan all along. I just hoped it would be October."

"Yeah. April seems so far away," JC replies, a little wistfully.

"I know. I feel like I haven't been home in months."

"You haven't. Not really."

"I miss everyone. I feel like I don't know what's going on anymore. I haven't spoken to Joey in, like, a week."

"That's okay. I don't know what's going on, either."

"But you talk to him, don't you? And Chris? And Justin?"

"Not really. Everyone's scattered. No one's talking much."

"Well, I know Joey's busy with Rent, but what about Justin?"

"Busy conquering the world, I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just . . . nothin'. I'm just a big baby."

"No, you're not. Tell me what's wrong. I can tell something's wrong. I could tell the last time I spoke to you."

"It's . . . it's nothing compared to the crap you're dealing with."

"It's different crap." He stands and moves behind JC, placing his hands protectively on JC's strong shoulders and rubbing gently. "Tell me."

"It's just . . . I don't know, everything's changing. I'm so used to being around you guys, it's like I don't know what to do without seeing you every day. And when I do see the guys, it's just, you know, different. You and me, it's like we were never apart. But everyone else? Just changed."

"Everyone's just trying new things. Maybe . . . you're feeling left out?"

"Maybe. But it feels like more. Like I can't even talk to them."

"Have you tried?"

"Yeah. Justin, man. It's like I'm an annoying fan or something."

"He's been pretty weird lately. I only talked to him, like, once."

"If it's not a photo op, he can't be bothered."

"It's that bad?"

"Worse. I . . . I hear stuff. Stuff about him and Jive and why they won't help me do any solo stuff."

"Have you talked to Johnny?"

"He just says to be patient. Like I'm some little kid or something."

"That's not fair. You've worked really hard on your songs. And they're GREAT songs."

JC smiles ruefully. "I'm glad someone thinks so. I guess I'm just gonna put them up on my webpage."

Lance wraps his arms around JC and crouches down so his mouth is near JC's ear. "We'll burn CDs ourselves if we have to. We'll get your music out there."

"You can sign me to Free Lance and we'll be all set."

"You know if I could, I would. I know--I can take your CD to space and blast it all over the planet."

"In space no one can hear you sing."

Lance throws his head back and laughs. "I'll make sure everyone hears you sing. Even the aliens."

JC guides Lance around his chair and onto his lap. "Do aliens like pop music?"

"They will after I'm done with them."

JC wraps his arms around Lance and rests his head against Lance's chest. "You're cute when you're all determined."

"I must be really cute right now, because I'm determined to get your music out there and I'm determined to go to space, no matter what."

"You are. And you will."

"Maybe not now." Lance looks down, then at the wall. "But I will in April. I have to."

"Can I do anything? Are there, like, people I can call when I go home?"

Lance presses his lips together and studies JC's face. "Do you know how special you are?"

"Me? No. I'm just . . . me."

"Well, I like you."

"I like you too," JC says with a soft giggle.

"I'm, um, sorry I've been away so much."

JC pulls back to look into Lance's face. "You HAD to be. I understood that."

"I know, but it can't be easy. It's not easy for me."

"No. But if it was twice as long, I'd still be here when you're done. A hundred times even."

"We're both gonna get what we want."

"You sound very sure."

"I am. We'll make it happen."

"Yeah, we will," JC agrees, laying his head against Lance's shoulder.

"And don't discount the fans. Once they find out about your new music, they'll be all over it."

"You think?"

"I know. You should see the letters I get from all over the world, and my website isn't even up yet."

"Yeah, when are you gonna get that thing going, anyway?"

"I don't know. Freddy's working on it. He doesn't want to put anything up until we have the go-ahead."

"That doesn't make sense. The fans want to support you now."

"I'm sure once he gets it going it will be great. But if we put it up now and I don't go, the fans might be more disappointed."

"Maybe." JC tightens his arms around Lance. "I'm just really sorry that you've been disappointed."

"It sucks. There's no denying that. It really sucks. I have worked SO hard for this. But I'm going back."

"And you're not mad that I just flew over without asking you?"

"No, I'm not mad at all. I love that you surprised me. I, um, needed to see you. I missed you a LOT."

"Me too. I just had to be here, you know? Like, even if you were too busy to see me."

"So you won't mind if I have to study and stuff?"

"Mind? It's what you're here for."

"Thanks for understanding. And when I'm not studying, we can go out and do stuff."

"Or we could stay in."

"Or we could stay in."

JC smiles and rubs his head, catlike, against Lance. "Now, why didn't I think of that?"

"That's why you need me," Lance jokes back.

"That's not the only reason."

"No," Lance says, the smile disappearing.

"Now would be a really good time to kiss me."

Lance puts a hand on JC's cheek, tilting his face up. "It would, would it?" And he brings his face close, his mouth barely grazing JC's plump, moist lips.

"More."

This time Lance closes his mouth over JC's lips, tasting the remnants of the zesty Russian dinner.

"Better," JC murmurs against Lance's warm mouth.

"For me too." Lance realizes it's been too long since he's kissed JC, and his body responds accordingly. JC's hands move over Lance, getting accustomed to the new slimness, the unfamiliar muscles.

Lance intensifies the kiss, breathing heavily against JC's face, his hands slipping under JC's shirt. With one arm wrapped firmly around Lance's waist, JC runs the other up and down Lance's strong thighs, each time getting closer to but stopping short of the developing bulge at Lance's crotch.

Practically squirming in JC's lap, Lance boldly takes JC's hand and slides it between his legs to rest on his obvious erection. "I like a boy who knows what he wants," JC says, smiling and then nipping at Lance's lips again. His hand massages Lance's erection.

"I know I want you," Lance whispers.

"I flew halfway around the world so you could have me."

"Then I better make it good."

"You always do."

Lance caresses JC's cheek before kissing him again, and this time he uses both hands to raise JC's shirt up over his head, revealing the smooth, slightly tan chest underneath, accented with just sprinkling of hair.

JC continues to caress Lance's erection through the fabric of Lance's jeans. His own erection, trapped against Lance's thigh, throbs almost painfully.

Lance kisses JC for a long time, his fingers rubbing and gently pinching JC's tight nipples. Soon, his mouth moves down JC's chin, his tongue leaving a wet trail, and he lingers at JC's long neck.

His fingers shaking with desire, JC releases the button and zipper of Lance's jeans. He reaches into the opening and slides his hand under the waistband of Lance's boxer-briefs to grasp the hot flesh within.

Lance almost comes right then, but the months of training and learning to control his body help him to relax and just enjoy the touch he's craved for so many weeks. He licks and kisses JC's neck hungrily, his hands roaming JC's chest and back.

"Is this all for me?" JC asks playfully, his voice trailing off into a sigh. He lets his head fall back, giving Lance easier access to his neck.

Smiling against JC's throat, Lance murmurs, "Mmm hmm." He rises, JC's hand falling away from his erection, and kneels between JC's legs. He returns his mouth to JC's chest as though it never left, this time using his tongue to massage each delectable nipple.

JC practically purrs as Lance's tongue caresses him. He smoothes his hands over Lance's hair, then begins tugging at Lance's shirt.

Taking JC's cue, Lance removes his shirt, then resumes kissing JC's chest, his hands resting on JC's thighs.

JC shifts and stretches his legs out on either side of Lance, embracing the kneeling boy with the outstretched limbs.

Lance's tongue travels down to JC's navel, and as he traces the fine line of hairs to the waistband of JC's pants, Lance deftly flicks open the button and slides down the zipper, freeing the imprisoned erection.

JC moans out loud at the sensation of being released. He smiles down at Lance, who's wearing an expression of concentration as he performs this task, and touches Lance's hair and face.

Without breaking momentum, Lance licks around JC's hardness. He tugs at JC's pants, a signal for JC to raise his hips so he can remove the rest of JC's clothes. Which he does, with the same intense concentration he applies to any other task.

"Want you so bad," JC murmurs, settling back into the chair and squeezing Lance with his knees.

Lance pushes against JC's thighs, spreading his legs wider. He licks his lips, eyes turned upward toward JC's face, and then flicks his tongue at JC's fiery organ.

JC jumps slightly at the teasing, delightful touch. He grips the arms of the chair to keep himself from grabbing Lance's head.

Slowly, Lance traces the contour of the long, hot erection with his tongue. It seems like minutes before his mouth engulfs the moist tip, and just as slowly he takes the length into his mouth.

JC slowly exhales. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath during Lance's exquisite torture. Now, only now, does he allow his hands to reach for Lance's head, but the touch is guiding, gentle.

With deliberate ease, Lance moves up and down the throbbing erection, swirling his tongue around the thick organ, wanting JC to experience as much pleasure as possible.

Although resisting the urge to actually thrust is difficult, JC manages, but he does rock his hips in time with Lance's perfectly timed movements. JC's breathing quickens with every touch, and he's sure his heart is going to burst out of his chest.

After weeks of separation, Lance would gladly spend all night doing this. He's missed the taste of JC, his scent, his whole being. He's missed his presence and now that he's here, Lance doesn't want to let go.

"Lance," JC gasps as he feels himself getting close to his orgasm. And then he explodes.

Lance grips JC's legs, taking in JC's essence, aware of every sound, every movement, until at last JC relaxes. Lance lifts his head, licking his lips self-consciously, still flushed with desire.

"That was . . . that was . . ., " JC trails off happily. He draws Lance up and kisses him, tasting himself in Lance's mouth. "Make love to me," he says softly, entreatingly as they separate. Taking JC's hands, Lance pulls him easily to his feet and embraces the slightly taller man. He leads him to the large, plush bed, and lowers him carefully to the mattress. JC never takes his eyes off Lance as they move to the bed, studying the newly slender body, the way the muscles play under the skin.

His body stretched on top of JC, Lance captures JC's mouth. After, he gazes into JC's eyes, softly panting as his need increases. "I'm so glad you came."

JC grins as if he's going to make a smart comment, then he whispers, "I'm only sorry I stayed away so long."

"You had to. I never would have time for you--us. And that's not fair to you."

"I know that. I...I was just . . . It's just another way to say how much I missed you. And how good it feels to see you."

"It feels great to see you," Lance replies, nuzzling JC for emphasis.

"It feels great to feel you."

"I'd like to feel me inside you," Lance whispers.

"Yes. Now."

"Okay. Just . . . don't go anywhere." Lance pushes off the bed and searches his bags for the lube he knows he packed but never unpacked. There was no need to, not with JC so far away. "Good, you're still there," jokes Lance, when he returns to the bed. He's only half-kidding. Ever since JC arrived, Lance hadn't been entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

JC hears the subtle tone in Lance's voice and reaches for his hand. "I'm always here, even when I'm not, like, physically here. No matter what else I'm doing, I'm thinking of you, too."

Lance looks from their entwined hands to JC's face. He leans in and closes his eyes and kisses JC softly, then stands and removes his pants and socks, and stretches out next to the man he loves. "I just can't believe you're really here."

"Me neither. I don't think my head's caught up with my body yet."

"It will. You'll crash tomorrow. But for now . . . " Lance nibbles JC's earlobe and runs his hand down JC's chest, and resurrects his limp organ.

"For now . . ., " JC echoes, reaching for Lance's erection again. It feels so good to be lying here with Lance, touching him, holding him.

Lance rolls over, spreading JC's legs with his knees, and pouring a generous amount of the slick lubricant into his hand. He lifts JC's legs, resting JC's feet on his shoulders, and very slowly, very deliberately, inserts a finger inside JC's hot opening.

"Yes," JC sighs, looking up into Lance's face. "Harder."

Surprised by JC's aggression, Lance does as ordered. "Just . . . tell me if it hurts."

"You'd never hurt me," JC says with perfect trust.

"No, never," Lance agrees, pushing a second finger in to join the first.

JC pulls Lance's head down and kisses him, hard. Keeping his mouth busy is the only way to keep from begging. He wants Lance that badly.

Lance feels as though his heart will burst through his chest, so intense is the kiss. He gently removes his fingers and coats his own burning erection. Cradling JC in his arms, he pushes inside, JC's hot tightness surrounding him, causing him to cry out.

JC lifts his legs even higher, inviting Lance to penetrate him even more deeply. He keeps kissing Lance, his tongue deep in Lance's mouth, his connection with Lance complete, absolute.

Sweat trickles down Lance's back as he thrusts deep inside JC. He never forgot how it felt, not during the time they were apart. But now it feels better than it's ever felt.

"So good," JC murmurs against Lance's neck as he matches Lance's thrusts perfectly. It's always been like this with them, this perfect attunement. "Missed you so much."

"JC," Lance whispers hotly, kissing JC's cheek and ear. "I love you." It's too much for JC, the words and the press of Lance's body against his. He comes, hard and sweet, gasping out his words of love in return.

Lance keeps thrusting, faster and faster, his face buried in JC's shoulder, until he too comes, the pleasure blinding him. JC holds Lance tightly, fiercely, until he's done, and then still does not let go.

Sated, Lance rests his head on JC's chest and sighs, content. "We have got to do this more often," he mumbles.

"Any time you want, baby," JC replies, smiling foolishly.

"Wake me in an hour."

JC starts to giggle, and it develops into a full-bodied laugh that shakes Lance as well as himself. "I love you to pieces, but in an hour, I'm gonna be so asleep that a marching band surrounding our bed, playing the 1812 Overture complete with cannons wouldn't wake me up."

Lance steadies JC, then replies, "Then you'll sleep tonight, and we'll get busy tomorrow." He leaves the bed momentarily, pulling the covers over JC, and retrieves his training manual and a couple of cold bottles of water. As he climbs back in, he finds JC nearly asleep. He pulls JC close, then flips open the book, more content than he's felt since he was asked to leave Star City.

JC moves, curling himself instinctively around Lance so they're as close as possible without his presence interfering with Lance's studying. He knows now--as if there had been any doubt--that coming here was exactly the right thing to do. They both needed the solace of the other's presence, and, as he drifts into deep, satisfied sleep, JC knows that nothing life throws at them will tear them apart.

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