Selfish: I Can't Help Myself
by Karen and LB
© 2002
The shrilling of the phone awakens JC. Early. Too early. Painfully early. He finally lifts the receiver, mumbles "five minutes" in response to Lance's inquiry and drops the receiver. Fighting the urge to go back to sleep, he peels himself out of bed and stumbles over to his bag, finally locating shorts and a tank top. After brushing his teeth and splashing some cold water on his face, he dresses himself and laces up his sneakers. As he finishes, Lance knocks on the door and JC trots over to open it.
When the door opens, Lance gives JC the once over. Slowly. He can't seem to take his eyes off the toned body before him, but he finally shakes himself out of his trance. "Morning. C'mon. We gotta run." He pauses. "Get it?" Then he starts laughing.
JC rolls his eyes. "Ever consider a career change to stand-up comedy?"
"That's next on my list. Right now, we're going for a run. Lonnie's gonna follow behind in the car."
The elevator opens and they step in. "Poor Lonnie gets the best jobs." JC props a leg on the wall of the elevator and starts to stretch.
Lance tries not to stare and instead watches the numbers descend on the panel. "At least we're not making him run with us." Relieved when the doors do open, Lance steps out and adjusts his baseball hat.
"I'd love to see any of us try to MAKE Lonnie do anything he doesn't really want to."
"Lonnie wouldn't crack if he was whipped with a wet noodle." They've reached the sidewalk, and Lance moves into a lunge.
JC watches, trying not to be obvious, as Lance's sweat pants tighten and relax with his exertions. To distract himself, he starts stretching again as well, working the night's stiffness out of his muscles.
Lance brings himself upright again and places a hand on JC's shoulder for balance while he stretches his quads. "Ready?"
His shoulder tingling where Lance's hand had lain, JC nods. They wave to Lonnie and take off at a leisurely pace, warming up. "I'm glad you decided to come. It's boring when I have to run by myself."
"Why didn't you ever ask anyone to come with you, then?"
"I used to go with Joey, like years ago, but we stopped. I just started doing it again and figured no one would want to come. I feel pretty good after."
"I saw you going out sometimes, but I figured you might want to be alone, you know, to think?"
"Sometimes I do. When I have a lot on my mind and need to organize my thoughts. But it's much more fun with company. I mean, with you."
JC smiles shyly and picks up the pace. "Yeah, it's, um, fun."
Lance matches JC's pace and smiles back. "The trick is, you're supposed to be able to carry on a normal conversation. That's how you can tell you're breathing properly and running at a good pace."
"Hello, I can sing while running from one end of the catwalk to the other?"
"Oh yeah. That's why you're the perfect running partner."
JC blushes. "Um, ready to pick it up some more?"
Without hesitating, Lance quickens his pace. He welcomes the challenge. He likes being pushed. "This is better than basketball."
"Well, duh. Lance, we SUCK at basketball."
"WE don't. I do."
"When was the last time you saw me sink a basket?"
"You do. You just don't notice. I notice."
"You must be watching pretty closely. Cause I don't hit many."
"I watch. I've been watching for a while," Lance huffs, as they round the corner.
"Really?" JC drops back a bit so he can admire the movement of Lance's muscles under his now slightly sweat-dampened clothing.
Lance senses he's being watched; he turns his head and blushes. "Uh, yeah. Last night wasn't just . . . I've wanted to do that for a while."
"Oh, um, that's . . . yeah." JC tries again. "Um, me too."
"Yeah? So you're not freaked out?"
"Freaked? No way."
"Really? Not even a little?" Lance holds up his thumb and forefinger to emphasize.
"You were THERE last night, right?"
"I was?"
"Looked like you. Sounded like you."
"Maybe it was my evil twin."
"You didn't seem evil. You didn't, um, taste evil."
"What did I taste like?"
"Mike's."
"That's not evil. Well, maybe just a little."
"I never said you were evil. You did."
"I am."
"You are? What have you done that's evil?"
"You'll find out."
"That's not fair. That's . . . evil." With a grin, JC starts to run full out, not even looking back to see if Lance is keeping up, knowing he is anyway.
Lance watches JC race away, then sprints to catch up, laughing. "Exactly." He pulls ahead, gaining speed with each step.
JC pushes himself harder, catching up with and passing Lance. "Evil, but slow," he tosses over his shoulder.
"Slow? We'll see about that," Lance calls after his friend, working his muscles till he feels that all-too- familiar burn. JC slows down a little to allow Lance to pull up even with him again.
"Good run, Evil Boy."
"Watch it, or I won't let you buy me breakfast."
"And that would be a bad thing how?"
"Fine. You don't want a Denny's Big Breakfast, you can eat by yourself."
"I want a Grand Slam."
"You're buying. You can have anything you want."
JC glances quickly at Lance, then back at the street in front of him. "Anything?"
"Sure."
"What if what I want isn't on the menu."
"We can go somewhere else."
"Oh." JC decides he's not very good at this flirtation thing, because he can't think what to say next. So he concentrates on running, matching his pace and stride to Lance's.
"You want to hit that diner instead?"
"Um, yeah. Less likely to have families in there, right?"
"Yeah. I bet no one will even notice us."
"I like diners. Every one's different."
"Me too. They're so . . . real."
"Yeah," JC says, his eyes lighting up. "That's it exactly."
"Don't get me wrong--I like eating in nice places like the next guy, but sometimes it's nice to have some greasy eggs and bacon. And a big chocolate shake."
"Yeah. And pie for breakfast. Are we supposed to be talking about food while we're running?"
"The faster we run, the faster we can get to the food."
"Now you sound like Joey. Except for the running part."
"Hey, running works up an appetite. And you can eat more."
"Funny, I never heard Maurice explain it that way."
"Shhhh, don't tell him. He's been riding me about my french toast habit."
JC looks over at Lance assessingly."It doesn't seem to be doing too much damage."
Lance pats his stomach, glad that the blood circulating through his body hides the blush he feels spreading in his cheeks. "I probably should cut down on the fats. He's trying to get me on this high- protein diet."
"He usually gives good advice. It can't hurt to try." JC grins. "Tomorrow. Today you get whatever you want."
"Really? Anything?" Lance repeats back to JC in the same way the older boy had a few minutes ago.
"Anything you want."
"Right now, I want some french toast. With a big side of bacon. And grits."
"You got it. Even the grits." They run for another mile, talking easily, laughing, until they finally cool down and end up at the diner, Lonnie watching them from the car. Lance gives the bodyguard a wave and holds the door open for JC.
JC walks in and manages not to look at Lance until they're seated in a booth with cracked old seats and looking at menus that look equally old. Then he smiles across the table. "I had fun."
Lance smiles back, then returns his eyes to the menu. He can't seem to look directly into those beautiful blue- gray eyes across the table. "Me too. It's much more fun having someone to talk to."
"Well, anytime you want company . . . " JC offers shyly.
"How about we see a movie later," Lance interjects.
"Um, oh, I. Yeah, that would be . . . yes." JC is relieved when he sees the waitress coming over to take their order.
"Cool." Lance studies the menu as though it were some important document, and when the waitress finally comes to take their orders he'd almost forgotten where he was.
JC teases Lance as he orders, urging him to add more and more to his breakfast. "You KNOW you want home fries. Are you sure that's enough bacon? You should have pancakes, too."
Lance rolls his eyes and ignores JC, placing his order even as the waitress smiles and plays along. "Home fries are a must."
"Whatever," Lance finally relents, closing his menu and leaning back against the seat. "You make fun of me now, but don't come crying to me when you want my french toast."
"I'm not making fun of you. I just want to make sure you have everything you want."
"I have everything I want."
"Good." JC meets Lance's eyes fully for what feels like the first time all morning. "Look, Lance, about last night. I kind of, well, I kind of put a lot of pressure on you. And I didn't mean to. I was just . . . I don't know . . . weird?"
"Yeah, you were. But that's okay--I like weird." He grins, hoping to alleviate some of the tension he notices creeping into JC's face. "It's just important that you know--whatever happens between us we have to take slow. We're really busy right now. But I'm glad it happened."
"Yeah, me, too. It was nothing like I imagined it, but, it was . . . a start," JC says, hopefully.
Lance just nods and gazes out the window. He's not exactly sure what's going on here, or what he wants to go on. He likes JC, he really does, but now that they've crossed the line from friendship to . . . whatever . . . he's unsure of what to do or what he wants.
"Am I making you nervous? Cause I don't mean to. I don't want to."
Turning his attention back to JC, Lance smiles, even though his leg IS bouncing and he has this urge to chew on his fingers. "No, dude. I've known you for years. Why would you make me nervous?"
"Oh, I don't know. Because of what happened last night?"
"I'm glad that happened. I mean, I knew it would be a little weird the next day. That's why I thought the run would be a good idea."
"And it was. Even if we had to get up at the crack of dawn." JC smiles and leans back to let the waitress deposit their plates on the table.
"Sorry. Next time I'll wait till the sun rises at ELEVEN." The smell of the food overtakes Lance; he thanks the waitress and greedily digs in.
"Oh, thank you. You're too good to me," JC says as he bites into a crisp slice of bacon.
"Don't say I never do anything for you." Lance devours his breakfast. It's like bacon and eggs never tasted so good. Even the greasy french toast disappears quickly. It's one of the best breakfasts he ever had. And he realizes, as he swallows the last bite, that it's not the food, it's the company.
JC grins at Lance across the plates that had held his own very substantial breakfast. "How's that appetite? Satisfied?"
Lance pats his gut. "My stomach is."
JC looks at Lance with round, innocent eyes. "What else would I be asking about?"
"You tell me."
"Nothing else I could ask about here."
"Here? So, if we were somewhere else you'd want something else?"
"Well, we were talking about you." JC looks down at the table, then up again at Lance. "But, yeah. You know I'd be interested in . . . more."
Lance shifts in his seat and puts his arms on the table. "Look JC," he starts, picking absentmindedly at a crumpled paper napkin. Then he looks up and meets JC's eyes. "You want to go back to the hotel and get cleaned up?"
"That sounds like a good idea." JC digs in the pocket of his shorts and comes up with some crumpled bills, which he tosses on the table.
"Thanks for breakfast. I guess I, like, owe you one."
"Yeah, you do," JC says, getting up. "And don't think I won't collect."
As they head down the street, Lance smiles at the ground. "Good. I always pay up."
"I'm counting on it," JC says, blushing. They walk in silence back to the hotel, Lonnie following a short distance behind. As they near the building, Lance playfully bumps JC.
"You tryin' to start something?"
"Who, me?" Lance nudges the older boy once more. "You better cut that out before we get inside. This is a prestigious hotel."
"You are SO asking to be tickled."
"I didn't hear me say anything about being tickled," Lance says perfectly innocently as he pushes JC through the door.
"Actions speak louder than words, dude."
They reach the elevator, and Lance continues pushing. "I don't see you acting, dude."
"It's a stealth thing." The elevator doors open and JC lets Lance enter first. He follows, and as the door closes, he moves closer, backing Lance up till Lance can feel the wall against his back. JC leans in, his breath warm against Lance's cheek. "Just when you least expect it . . . "
"Oh my goodness." Lance whispers, as a tremor of arousal wracks his whole body. "I'm in for it now."
"You are," JC whispers, trailing his lips along Lance's cheekbone, his temple, and down to his ear. "Give up?"
Lance swallows, closes his eyes, and shakes his head. Then, without warning, he nudges JC once again.
"That's it." JC presses closer, pinning Lance to the wall. "You're in trouble."
People often underestimate JC's strength because of his slight build. But Lance is feeling it now. He's trapped against the wall with no recourse but to surrender. "What are you gonna do about it?"
JC feels the elevator stop and steps back. "I'm gonna get off this elevator, of course."
Lance remains pressed against the wall. "Oh. I'm on the next floor."
JC moistens his lips, tasting the saltiness of Lance's skin clinging to them. "You could get off here instead."
"Are you inviting me to your room?"
"Yeah?" JC clears his throat and makes it a statement. "Yeah."
Lance shrugs and steps through the doors as they open. "Okay."
JC leads the way silently, fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his key. He manages to insert it correctly on the first attempt in spite of a slight tremor in his hands. Inside, JC glances around as if confused how he got here, then crosses to the refrigerator. "Want some water?"
"Sure. Thanks. Nice place you got here," remarks Lance, trying to alleviate some of the tension that crept into the room when they entered.
"Thanks," JC gestures with a water bottle at the clutter accumulated on the dresser. "I decorated myself." He sits in a chair and gestures for Lance to sit on the couch. ""Lance, I, um. I shouldn't have pushed you last night. I'm sorry."
Lance sits, but his leg immediately starts bouncing. "Uh, it's okay. Look, I like you. Like, more than just friends. But I don't know if I want to start anything heavy right now."
"Does it have to be? Heavy?"
"No. But I don't want to, you know, use you or anything."
"Couldn't we just, um, you know, give it a try and see where it goes?"
Lance takes a long swallow of water. He sees the hope in JC's eyes and he feels his own heart quicken. He remembers Danielle, and how she wanted so much of his time. But JC's his best friend and they work together--wouldn't that make it easier? He nods silently. "No expectations, okay?"
"Okay." It comes out in nearly a whisper, a rasp of voice and breath and nerves.
Both are silent for what seems like several minutes, then Lance asks, "Hey, okay if I use your shower?"
"Oh. Yeah, of course."
Lance stands, then gazes down at JC. "Thanks." He bends down and kisses his friend on the lips, tasting his insecurity and sweat and sweetness all at once.
"I could, um...Want me to scrub your back?"
Lance considers this for a second, then a slow smile spreads across his lips. "Sure." He puts down the water bottle and holds out his hands to JC, pulling the taller boy to his feet.
"Good. 'Cause we're both pretty stinky."
"Who you calling stinky?" Lance asks, lifting his arm and sniffing his armpit. "I'm just sweaty."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, dude." JC leads the way to the bathroom, not dropping Lance's hand. Lance follows, his heart pounding almost as much as it had when they were running. The bathroom is large, with plenty of room to spread out, but he remains joined by the hand with JC, even as he kicks off his sneakers. JC does the same, clutching Lance's hand for balance, until he finally lets go after a squeeze, reaching into the shower and turning on the water.
He turns back to Lance, reaching for the hem of Lance's shirt, willing his nervous hands steady.
Lance had just been about to remove his shirt when JC's hands touched it, so he raises his arms as he tries to still the twitching in his crotch.
JC peels Lance's tank top off, tossing it quickly aside, and his fingers entwine in Lance's still-raised hands. He leans in to brush his lips against Lance's.
Lance closes his eyes, forgetting his apprehension, momentarily forgetting that anything else exists outside this room. JC's lips are so soft and so enticing that he doesn't want to think about anything else right now. Lance's lips reach out to meet JC's as he lowers their arms and pulls JC closer. When their hips touch, he can feel his erection straining against his warm-up pants and he knows JC is well aware of it.
JC parts Lance's lips with his tongue, venturing in until just the tip of his tongue touches the tip of Lance's. Then he pulls back, gesturing toward the shower. "We should, um . . . "
"Oh. Yeah." Lance laughs nervously, looking down at the floor. When he looks back up he reaches for JC's shirt but doesn't touch it, not yet. "You, um, want some help?"
JC smiles encouragingly. It's not just me. He's nervous, too, he realizes. "Sure."
In one easy movement, Lance has JC's shirt off and on the floor. And now he's facing that toned, smooth chest he loves to look at so much. He almost has to literally tear his eyes away from the sight, and he blushes when he realizes he's been staring. Now there's only one more thing left to do. Lance reaches for the waistband of JC's shorts and slides them over his hips.
JC blushes as Lance lowers his shorts, knowing that his boxer briefs do not disguise in the least how aroused he is. The shorts drop to the floor once they're past his hips, and he kicks them away. He reaches for Lance's waist, and his pants soon follow JC's shorts.
Lance sighs as his erection springs free, and he fights the urge to cover himself. Instead, he turns toward the shower and opens the door, testing the water with his other hand. He steps inside, then holds the door open, smiling.
That smile thrills JC more than any touch could, and his answering smile is sweet and open and very, very happy. He quickly follows Lance into the shower, closing the door behind him and letting the water pour over him.
Lance reaches for the soap and a washcloth and begins to work up a rich, creamy lather. He brings the cloth to JC's chest and begins studiously to rub the lather over JC's smooth, tanned chest. He massages first one shoulder, drawing the cloth along JC's long arm, and then does the same to the other, lingering on JC's long, delicate fingers. He does everything he can to avoid looking down at their twin erections.
JC purrs as Lance rubs the washcloth over him. When he opens his eyes and looks at Lance's intent face, his heart actually throbs, as does a lower portion of his anatomy. He takes the soap and cloth from Lance's hands, saying "my turn," and works up more lather, with which he washes Lance's arms and chest. "Turn around," he whispers. "I promised to scrub your back."
His breath quickening, Lance does as ordered, feeling both vulnerable and deeply aroused. Every touch excites him more and more, and he's actually glad to be facing away from JC so that JC cannot see the deep blush that has spread through his cheeks.
This time JC works up a lather in his hands, and when he washes Lance's back, it's as much a massage as a cleansing. He presses his strong hands hard against the long muscles of Lance's back.
Lance's head falls back and he groans in delight as JC's fingers work the tension out of his muscles. "That feels SOOO good."
JC brings his mouth to Lance's ear. "That's the idea."
The hot breath on his neck mixes with the hot water trickling down Lance's back, sending a chill up his spine. He grows silent then, hypnotized by the power in those strong hands on his back.
JC kisses Lance's neck and shoulders as his hands continue to work the muscles of Lance's back. He can feel Lance practically melting into his hands, relaxed and pliant. Lance's head falls forward and he pants quietly. He's so relaxed he could fall asleep in those hands. JC slides his hands around Lance's waist, pulling him close, letting the water beat down on them both.
Lance starts at the touch, not prepared to have the massage end so soon, and his eyes widen as he feels JC's erection pressing against his ass.
"Hey," JC says softly, pulling back. "It's okay. I didn't mean to scare you."
Now Lance is embarrassed for both of them. What are they doing? "It's okay. I'm sorry I freaked."
"This . . . it's new to both of us. Hand me the shampoo and I'll do your hair."
Relieved that JC has switched gears, Lance reaches for the bottle and hands it over his shoulder. "It's just that . . . this is nice. What you're doing."
"It's nice, just being here." JC pours some shampoo into his palm and works it into Lance's wet hair. With his long fingers, he massages Lance's scalp as carefully and thoroughly as he had Lance's back.
Lance purrs softly. He doesn't usually fuss with his hair but the way JC's fingers feel--he's like a cat having his head scratched. He stares at the tiles as his whole body relaxes like a strand of cooked spaghetti.
JC continues what he's doing, enjoying Lance's reactions very much. He's ready to do this for as long as Lance wants, or at least until the hot water runs out.
Normally, when Lance showers it's a matter of efficiency. Get in, get clean, get out. Too many other things to do. Now, he wishes he could stay like this all day. "You better watch out--you keep doing that I'm gonna make you wash my hair every day."
"I told you earlier you could have anything you wanted. You thought I just meant breakfast?"
Lance turns his head slightly. "You're too easy, you know that?"
"I just wanna make you feel good. You got a problem with that?"
"No. No way. No problem here."
"Good," JC says and resumes his effort. Redoubles actually, as his fingers learn every inch of Lance's skull and he begins to know the little sounds Lance makes when he's pleased.
Lance closes his eyes once again and begins to fall into a deep, relaxing trance. And it isn't until he begins to lean backward that he remembers he's in the shower with JC. JC's hands drop to Lance's shoulders to support the younger boy. "You okay?"
"Huh? Oh, I think I just fell asleep," Lance replies, laughing.
"Maybe we better get out of here before we both drown."
"We didn't finish." Lance turns to face JC, shampoo still running from his hair.
"What did you have in mind?" JC steers Lance under the shower head to rinse the lather from his hair.
"Legs, feet . . . "
JC tilts Lance's chin up so the soapy water doesn't run into his eyes. And he can't resist kissing that upturned mouth.
When they break, Lance licks his lips. "That too." He reaches behind JC for the discarded washcloth and, while bringing his lips JC's again, runs the cloth down the curve of JC's back and over the swell of his tight ass.
Still holding Lance's chin in one hand, JC runs the other through Lance's hair, making sure the shampoo rinses out completely. He could step a little closer and press against Lance, but he doesn't, remembering Lance's reaction earlier. He holds back, waiting for some sign from Lance.
Lance pulls away, not out of annoyance, but to drop to his knees, drawing the wet washcloth down with him, slowly rubbing it down one long, lean leg and up the other, rising as he does so. And as he kisses JC once more, he wraps the cloth around JC's erection.
JC moans into Lance's mouth as one hand reaches out to steady himself against the tiled wall. Again he resists the urge to crush Lance to him, opting instead to run his hand over Lance's smooth, wet chest, teasing at the small nipples.
How could something so small feel so good? Lance has never experienced a touch like that, so gentle and playful. In response, he begins to stroke JC's erection, using the washcloth to create a soft friction. JC pulls out of their kiss to look at Lance's face, which appears almost vulnerable with the hair slicked wetly back. The green eyes are almost luminous in the soft light of the shower, diffused by both the frosted glass of the door and the flowing water.
Lance strokes more insistently, unable to hold the gaze, so instead he buries his head in JC's shoulder and places wet kisses along the surface.
"Feels so good, Lance," JC whispers, letting his head fall back. His hand edges lower, toward Lance's own erection.
Lance kisses his way down JC's shoulder, then back up to his neck, licking the tight tendons and sucking gently. His other hand is wrapped securely around JC's waist, providing support, while the hand stroking JC's throbbing erection increases its tempo.
JC's hand detours, stilling Lance's hand and taking the washcloth from it, dropping it. "Too rough," he says apologetically.
Lance pulls his hand away as though he'd burned it. "Shit, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? That was stupid--of course I did."
JC grabs for Lance's hand. "It's okay. You didn't."
"Show me. What you like."
"I liked what you were doing. Just not with the washcloth."
Deeply embarrassed, Lance looks down, away, before tentatively bringing his hand back to JC.
JC lifts Lance's chin. "Hey, we're just getting to know each other this way, okay? We're BOTH going to make mistakes."
"Not a good way to start off."
"Shhh." JC covers Lance's mouth with his own. He reaches down to cover Lance's hand with his own, moving Lance's hand over his own stiffness.
Lance makes a sound as though to speak, but it's captured in the kiss and ends up as more of a moan than anything else. His fingers once again wrap around JC's length, trapped beneath his hand, between the heat of the palm holding him and the heat of JC's passion, now in his hand. He strokes gently, slowly this time. It hits him how different this is, doing it to someone other than yourself. How JC's moans are high-pitched and echo off the bathroom tiles. How his body sways rhythmically, like the way he dances.
JC releases his grip on Lance's hand. This time, when he reaches for Lance's erection, there's no detour. His hand encircles the hot stiffness, stroking it even as he is being stroked.
Lance grips JC's shoulder for balance, feeling his knees grow weak. He's so hard it's almost painful, and he never imagined it would be this intense with JC. Breaking their kiss, JC lets his head fall to Lance's shoulder, where he kisses the younger boy's neck, whispering against the wet, warm flesh, "So close, Lance, I'm gonna, I'm gonna . . . " before he explodes into Lance's hand.
Lance holds JC tightly, steadying him through his orgasm, letting the water wash away the traces of his climax.
JC clings to Lance, gasping. He tries to keep his hand moving on Lance's erection, but he's lost any sense of rhythm except the pounding of his own heart in his ears.
Cradling JC's head against his shoulder, Lance places a trail of wet kisses in JC's wet hair, breathing heavily, trying to move against the hand still holding him.
"Wow," JC says when he finally lifts his head, smiling at Lance. "Wow." He quickly, gracefully drops to his knees, and takes Lance's twitching hardness into his mouth.
"Wow!" Lance yells, not expecting this sudden move. He braces himself and caresses JC's head, smiling in amazement as he gazes down at his friend. JC's talents never cease to amaze Lance, and this one is no exception.
JC slides his hands up Lance's legs to grip the twin globes of his ass, pulling Lance to him, as his mouth devours Lance's erection.
Lance moans loudly each time JC's mouth engulfs his hardness. His orgasm hits him without warning, and he bucks against JC, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the cry welling in his throat.
JC holds onto Lance, swallowing carefully, until Lance is nearly limp in his arms. He releases Lance's now flaccid organ and rests his head against Lance's stomach.
"I'm sorry. That was gross. I didn't mean to . . . " Lance stammers.
JC looks up at Lance with a sweet smile on his face. "Um, that's what's SUPPOSED to happen."
Lance smiles back. "Not THAT way."
JC grips Lance's waist and pulls himself up to his feet.
"EXACTLY that way."
Lance shudders jokingly and smiles. "It's still gross. But thank you."
JC shakes his head. "Not to me. I wanted to make you feel that good."
"You did." To prove it, Lance touches his lips to JC's, tasting the soap still lingering on JC's skin and the slight, salty taste left over from his own fluids.
"Good. That's all I wanted."
"I thought you wanted to get clean." Lance reaches for the bar of soap and finishes washing, then hands the soap to JC and steps out, grabbing a towel for himself and one for JC.
"That too," JC says as he quickly washes himself then steps out of the shower, turning off the water as he goes. He takes the towel from Lance and begins to rub himself dry. Lance already has a towel wrapped around himself and takes JC's towel from his hands, brushing it along his skin and towel drying his hair. "Can I borrow some clothes so I can get back to my room?"
"Of course you can," JC says, a little hurt that Lance wants to leave so quickly, but careful not to show it. "Sweats and a t-shirt okay?"
"That's fine. I'll give 'em back to you later. I just have a lot of phone calls to make."
JC walks out into the bedroom and sorts through his bag until he locates a clean t-shirt and sweats. He tosses them to Lance when he comes out of the bathroom. "Those should do to get you up there," he says, smiling.
"Thanks. At least it's not your purple pants." He dresses quickly and gives JC a quick kiss before heading to the door. "I'll catch you before sound check."
"Yeah, see you then." JC stares wistfully at the door as it closes, then curls up on the bed. He knows now that he lied. Not so much to Lance, because he'd believed he'd been sincere, but to himself. What he feels for Lance is not light, not just for fun. He wants something more, but he'll take what he can get.