Mardi Gras

by Karen and LB
© 2002

The chick with the beads is definitely checking him out, but Lance isn't paying her any mind. He's too busy staring at the guy behind her. The one with the dark hair and the full lips. The one who sort of reminds him of JC. That's when he decides he needs another drink. So he turns to Joey and asks if he wants anything, then leaves the balcony and weaves his way through the crowd, thick as the gumbo he'd had for dinner earlier.

Mardi Gras. Nothing like it in the world. The drinking, the sex, the music. Everywhere you turn, you could have all three. Right now, all Lance wants is another Jack and Coke.

JC dances in from the next room, a little drunk, a little disheveled and very, very happy. It's like he's drunk on the very scents in the air--the scent of New Orleans. The scent of sex. "Hey, Lanccce," He slurs. "Got one for me?"

"Depends. What do you want?"

"What are you offering?"

It's definitely the liquor, Lance tells himself as he speaks. "Something decadent."

"Sounds promising. How decadent?"

"It'll keep you wanting more."

"So, you're telling me it won't satisfy me?"

"Just try it. Trust me." Before JC can say another word, Lance signals to the bartender who lays two shots on the bar. Lance holds one up for JC.

JC takes the shot from Lance and raises it to his lips, not taking his eyes from Lance's until he tosses back the shot.

Lance drinks his just as quickly, a warm blush spreading across his cheeks as he surrenders to JC's intense gaze. "Want another?"

"I always want . . . more."

"Careful--you get drunk, someone's gonna take advantage of you."

"Maybe that's exactly what I want."

Lance giggles. "Anyone in particular? Because there are a lot of studs outside dying to get in."

"Yeah, like we could go pick up two of those studs and NOT have it all over the tabloids tomorrow."

"You think too much."

"What? I don't see you out there picking up any of those pretty, pretty boys, either."

"The bar's in here."

"Now that you mention it . . . " JC gestures with his empty glass. "Didn't you offer me another drink?" Lance gestures for two more drinks but before he can take a sip he hears Steve's voice booming across the room. "There he is! Lance! Get your ass over here!"

"C'mon." Lance commands, making his way over to where Steve and Joey are looming in the doorway. "What?"

"Follow us."

JC swallows his drink and trails after Lance, curious.

"Where we going?" Lance asks.

"We got you a surprise," Steve replies, with a leer.

"What kind of surprise?"

"You'll like it, trust me."

"The last time you said that I ended up handcuffed to the bus for an hour."

"No handcuffs, I promise." Steve has led them down the hall to a room at the end, and now he swings open the door. They enter a small, nicely furnished bedroom. A few friends are scattered around, drinks in hand, bopping to music. "You got me a roomful of people? Gee, thanks Steve. I don't know what to say."

"Shut up and sit down, Scoop." Lance complies, still clutching his drink. Steve gestures to a slender, dark-eyed boy who detaches himself from the shadows and glides over.

Everything about the kid spells sex, from his bedroom eyes to his cropped shirt to his skin-tight pants. JC's willing to bet there's at least one body piercing and shudders inwardly at the thought. JC grins at Lance. "I'm thinking you should drink that," he drawls, pointing at the forgotten glass in Lance's hand.

And drink he does. The liquid disappears down Lance's throat before Steve can cue the music, and when he does it's some electronica tune that sends the room into a frenzy. The boy begins dancing in front of Lance, raising his arms to reveal his tight abs. Lance, several unnatural shades of red, smiles and looks away, laughing. Yes, the boy is hot--but the first thought that came to Lance's mind when he saw him was that he looks an awful lot like a younger JC.

Joey pushes a beer into JC's hand and JC's is grateful for its coldness. The kid's hot, sure, but if JC were being honest with himself, he'd admit that the gorgeous flush on Lance's cheeks is turning him on more than the dance. And, as if he knows exactly what to expect, he looks over at the exact moment when Lance's eyes slide from the kid's face to his own.

As the kid undulates, Lance imagines that it's not this stranger dancing in front of him but the man beside him, his friend, his bandmate, the sexified JC Chasez. And drunk as he is, he knows how crazy that would sound. He and JC have been out to each other for years but the bounds of their friendship have kept them from ever crossing that line. Still, as the boy parts Lance's knees and wriggles between them, Lance can't help but picture JC doing that very thing to him.

JC watches Lance's eyes pull away to concentrate on the writhing wet dream in front of him. He takes a long, slow drink from his beer, then licks his lips, and when he looks up again Lance's eyes are on him, as he knew they would be. As he wanted them to be.

At the sight of JC's wet tongue on his lips, Lance feels a traitorous twitching in his groin. He silently berates himself, knowing he shouldn't be having these thoughts, but still he can't look away. Until the dancing boy in front of him rips his shirt off and snakes his body closer, temporarily blocking Lance's view of JC.

JC wanders away, looking for another beer. For some reason, he doesn't want to watch anymore. Doesn't want to watch some stranger doing what he wants to do. And he wonders where THAT came from.

More clothes are removed, and the boy wiggles his way down so his face is eye-level to Lance's crotch, and now that his view is cleared Lance searches in vain for JC. As the throbbing in his groin increases, he imagines JC's lips mere inches from his . . . but then he checks himself. This is wrong, he tells himself. But the images won't go away.

As soon as he's got his beer, JC is drawn back, watching because he has too. Lance. Is off limits. Best friends, bandmates. But . . . he's grown up damned sexy, and JC wouldn't be human if he didn't want that, even a little.

A peculiar wave of relief washes over Lance when he once again sees JC nearby. The song nears the end, and the young dancer puts his hands on Lance's shoulders, giving him a long, deep kiss. "Okay, thanks," Lance says, when they finally part. "Very funny, Joey." Everyone applauds but Lance remains where he is, afraid that if he stands up everyone will see how turned on he is. And it's not from the lap dance.

"It was STEVE's idea," Joey insists, clearly very proud of their stunt.

JC slips out and returns quickly, carrying a very large Jack and Coke, which he silently hands to Lance.

"Thanks," Lance says, true gratitude evident in his voice. He needs something to curb this intense desire he's been feeling for the past ten minutes. "Joey," he mutters, shaking his head.

"So subtle, isn't he? So much for picking up guys on the street. He'll bring them right to you."

"What service."

"Only one problem." JC drops his voice and nods toward the dancer, now drinking a beer that, if JC is any judge, is as illegal as his dancing, given his youth. "That's not what you would have picked, is it?"

"No. I mean, he's cute and all, but he's not my type."

"And your type is?" JC backs away, knowing Lance will follow. And he does.

"You know, the innocent-type."

"Do I look like a reporter from Bop?" JC asks leading the way back out to the now deserted balcony.

Rolling his eyes, Lance sighs. "Okay--tall, dark, sexy . . . "

"That kid was all of those things."

"No way. He doesn't have . . . I don't know. There was something missing."

"He didn't really know how to move, did he?" JC pushes Lance into a chair. "Not . . . his hips. Not . . . like this."

"No . . . not like that." If Lance was getting hard before he's solid now.

"If I were going to give you a lap dance," JC says, moving closer, his movements fluid, subtle. "You wouldn't just be saying 'thanks' and walking away."

"Oh . . . mah . . . goodness. Wh-what would you do?"

JC straddles Lance's legs, then sinks down, so he's almost sitting on Lance's thighs. His mouth hovers over Lance's. "I'd make you wanna fuck me. Do you? Wanna fuck me?"

"Um . . . I . . . um . . . oh my gosh, yes."

JC pulls back, shaking his head. "I, oh, man. Too much booze, too much sex in the air. Too much New Orleans. We can't do this . . . can we?"

"We shouldn't," Lance stammers, trying unsuccessfully to rise from the chair.

"Lets get out of here. Let's go to a club or something."

"Yeah, right. A club. Okay." Lance wipes the sweat from his forehead. Air--that's what he needs. They slip out unnoticed and Lance leads the way to one of the less publicized gay bars. They get a lot of looks when they walk in, and not because they're pop stars, but because they're beautiful.

Lance is oblivious to the stares and instead focuses on getting them to the bar. The music in the club reverberates through his chest, masking the beating of his heart as he tries to push the enticing thoughts of JC from his mind. But the bar is crowded and they're forced to stand hip to hip. When Lance turns to JC to ask what he wants to drink, their lips practically touch.

"Beer," JC practically shouts, as he's pressed even closer to Lance. Lance gets the beer for JC and a Jack and Coke with LOTS of ice for himself. He wishes he could pour the ice down his pants. They manage to find a space where they're not jostled too frequently and sip their drinks, watching the crowd move past them. "See anything you like?"

"Uh huh."

"Which one?"

"I don't think I should tell you."

"How come?"

"You might know him."

"I don't know anyone here except you . . . " JC trails off. "Oh."

"But you know, it's not like I could just throw you down here and have my way with you," Lance says, trying to make light of the strange, sexual tension that's developed between them.

"There's probably a men's room . . . "

"Yeah, with a nice, big floor to slide around on."

"Or, like, a darkened hallway. Or a phone booth. Do they still have phone booths?"

"I don't know. We should find out." Boldly, Lance grabs JC's hand and starts snaking his way through the crowd.

"I think someone put a voodoo spell on us."

"I did. I had chicken feet for dinner. And I have this voodoo doll of you in my room."

"I knew it!"

"And I stick pins in it all the time."

"Is that what you really wanna stick in me?"

Lance stops in his tracks, causing JC to collide with him. "JC!"

"Well?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

"Just keep moving. There's gotta be someplace."

Lance obeys. He's completely turned on by this side of JC. This sexual side. This domineering side. Usually, JC is pretty laid back and mellow when they're just hanging out. "This place is so crowded!"

"Guess we should have stayed at the hotel. At least we'd have a bed."

"JC Chasez, you are one horny toad tonight."

"It's not my fault. How'd you get so hot?"

"I'm wearing layers?"

JC slides one finger under the hem of Lance's t-shirt and touches skin. "Uh huh."

Lance giggles and pulls back, but finds there's nowhere to go since there's a wall behind him. "Um, it's really hot in here?"

"Yeah, it is. And you're the one who's making it that way."

"Not me. You can't blame this on me. No way."

"I'm telling you, it's voodoo."

"It's YOU." Lance emphasizes the remark by poking JC square in the chest.

"It's . . . everything. The night and the drinks and the lap dance and you and me and voodoo."

"So we're acting this way 'cause we're DRUNK."

"And horny."

"And we're horny 'cause we're drunk?"

"Right. And because we're under a spell."

"And because we're up against a wall."

"Hmmm. I do have you pinned, don't I. And I owe you for before." JC presses against Lance.

"What'd I do?" But Lance makes no effort to fight JC. JC didn't even need to move so close--Lance was already rock hard from JC's proximity. Now he can feel JC's breath on his face and it makes him want to grab JC and kiss him right here.

"Not what you did. What I did. I got you all . . . excited and didn't finish things." JC closes his hand over Lance's erection.

"Oh my gosh. I-I guess you do owe me." This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong . . . but it feels SO good.

"Best friends, right? And this isn't gonna mess that up?"

Lance is too intoxicated to fight off JC, but somewhere in his mind he knows JC is right. This COULD mess it up. "Ummmmmm, maybe?"

JC massages the hardness in his hand and rasps into Lance's ear, "Promise."

How can he promise something even he's not sure of? How can he tell JC that nothing will change, when things have already changed? When Lance is already starting to fall madly for his sexy bandmate. And he's helpless in JC's hand. "Promise," he croaks.

"Good," JC purrs, already struggling with the buttons on Lance's jeans. "You won't be sorry," he promises as he sinks to his knees in front of Lance.

Lance glances around nervously, but no one is paying them any attention. It's not like they're doing anything unusual. No, JC Chasez is just giving his gay bandmate a blow job. No big deal. Riiiiiiiiight. Sorry is about the farthest thing from his mind. He's just sorry they waited so long to do this.

JC frees Lance's organ from his pants, stroking it with his hand for a moment while smiling up at Lance. He's seen Lance naked before but never excited, and he's very pleased with what he sees. He touches his tongue lightly against the hot, twitching flesh, then blows on the wet patch he's left.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. Lance knew JC was talented, but not like this. Pictures of all the times JC must have done this to someone else fly fleetingly through his mind, and somewhere in the fog of his drunken state is the realization that JC is doing this to HIM. And drunk as he is, Lance feels EVERYTHING JC is doing to him. The fingers, the tongue, the coolness of his breath on his erection. "Ohhhhh, Jayceeee," he moans, tangling his fingers in JC's long hair.

JC smiles again, and slowly, slowly ventures another touch, feeling Lance, already impossibly hard, getting harder still under his tongue. He seems completely focused on Lance, but his mind is also aware of the risk they're taking. How easily they could be spotted, even in this dark corner, among these similarly occupied pairs.

The danger is what excites Lance the most. He's a risk-taker professionally, but he's never been one personally. And the things JC is doing to him is more exciting than skydiving or parasailing or any of the sports he's tried.

JC waits till the sounds coming from Lance, the trembling of his thighs, tell him that Lance can't take much more teasing. Then, only then, he takes Lance slowly into his mouth.

Lance grunts his assent, gripping but not pulling JC's hair. It's almost as though he's getting to know JC for the first time. Lance tries to hide the feeling of vulnerability that's building up inside. Instead, he surrenders to JC's skills.

With delicate, feathery strokes of his tongue, JC urges Lance in deeper, consciously relaxing his throat muscles to take Lance in completely.

Lance's body takes over where his mind stops, and he thrusts rhythmically into JC's warm, inviting mouth. Lance can barely comprehend how deep he's going, how willingly JC takes him in. And when he climaxes, his cry is muffled by the thrumming music around them.

Between the size of Lance in his mouth and the pungent, pumping fluid, JC almost chokes, but hangs on. When he finally feels Lance relax, he sinks back on his heels, looking up at Lance's flushed, sated face.

For a long moment, Lance doesn't move. He hears the music, he smells the smoke in the air, but all he can focus on is the elation that penetrates every nerve in his body. Soon, he feels eyes on him and looks down to see JC, a twinkle in his devilish eyes and a wicked grin plastered on his face."You're amazing."

JC rises, tucking Lance back into his pants as he does. "Does that make up for . . . before?"

"And before that and before that . . . "

"Okay, I know I'm good, but I'm not THAT good."

"You're that good. I wish you could know how good."

"Maybe someday you'll show me how good you are," JC says, forgetting that this was supposed to be a one-time, spur-of-the-moment thing.

Lance puts a hand behind JC's neck, drawing his face close. "Count on it."

JC hesitates. It's not like they're dating or anything. But he wants to kiss Lance, so he does, pressing the length of his body against Lance's.

Lance doesn't expect this at all and never anticipated it would ever go this far. Especially after they'd set those ground rules. Right now, though, he's not thinking of rules--he's thinking only of what a great kisser JC is and why didn't he ever kiss him before this?

JC knows he should stop, but it feels so good. Kissing Lance. Pressing his aching erection against Lance. The kiss is sweet and sexy at the same time.

Lance again tells himself it's the liquor, but he knows deep down that it's not, that he's been attracted to JC for a long time now. "We should stop," he says, breathless.

"Easy for you to say."

Breathing heavily against JC's face, Lance fights the desire to rip off JC's clothes and do him right here. He fights, but his body doesn't listen. Slowly, his hand travels down JC's body to his groin, where a sizable bulge has formed. Despite his alcohol-induced state, Lance manages to flick open JC's pants and lower the zipper, allowing his hand to slip easily inside.

"Ooh, yeah," JC sighs appreciatively as Lance's strong hand enfolds him. His head drops to Lance's shoulder and he breathes humidly against Lance's neck.

To anyone watching they look like two guys hugging. But to Lance, he can't get over the power in his hand--the burning sensation of JC's thick, pulsing organ.

"Faster," JC gasps, then kisses Lance's neck.

Lance complies, stunned by the lips touching his neck, knowing that there's nothing he wouldn't do for JC right now. He strokes firmly, quickly, the way he likes to when he's alone.

JC leans more into Lance, letting Lance and the wall hold him up. "That's it," he rasps. "Just like that."

Gazing over JC's shoulder, Lance watches the crowd, oblivious of their activity, as JC's hot breath tickles his ear. He uses his free hand to steady JC, but at this point they're holding each other up.

JC's head falls forward and hits the wall with a thud as he explodes into Lance's hand, moaning his pleasure into Lance's ear.

"Hey, hey," Lance whispers, concerned, but unable to stifle a giggle. "You okay?"

JC smiles slowly. "Not okay. Great."

"It was just a hand-job."

"Talented hands." JC strips off his stained shirt and cleans himself off with it, then takes a dry sleeve and wipes Lance's hand.

"JC! Put your shirt on."

"Look around you, dude," JC says, indicating the many shirtless guys. "Besides, maybe it'll score us some beads on the way back to the hotel."

"That's what I'm afraid of--all these guys checking you out."

"Isn't that why we came here?"

So it was just the alcohol. And JC really doesn't want to make more of this than what it was. "Uh, yeah, right."

JC lets his eyes roam over the many attractive men surrounding them. His gaze lingers occasionally, but finally comes back to Lance. "Not one of them comes CLOSE to you."

Lance smiles and looks away. "Whatever. You're drunk."

"Yeah. But I can still recognize hot."

"You've still got the rest of the night to pick up someone."

"You really think I'd do that?"

"You could if you want to. It's not like we're, um, a couple."

"That doesn't mean I'm gonna treat you like shit, dude. Best friends, remember?"

"Yeah. Friends." Why does he suddenly hate that word?

"Wanna dance?"

"Sure." Lance puts his hand on JC's back and steers him toward the dance floor, which is crowded with writhing, sweaty bodies. The music changes to a familiar dance mix and Lance gets right into the groove.

A few more dances, a few more drinks, and it's time to walk back to the hotel. Or stumble. JC does manage to gather quite a collection of beads on the way, and he playfully drapes them around Lance's neck. When they get back to the hotel, JC pauses, confused. Does he invite Lance to spend the night? Probably not a good idea. "Well, um, goodnight. I had a great time." Shit. I sound like a guy on his first date.

Lance tries to take the pressure off JC--after all, they were both involved in stepping over that line between friendship and . . . whatever it was. "Yeah, me too, dude. Guess I'll see you tomorrow." But he doesn't move. Should he kiss JC goodnight? No, he decides. That's too much like a date.

JC grins. "Yeah. If I can see you through my hangover. We're gonna be hurtin'."

"Take some aspirin before you go to bed. Works every time."

"I don't know if there are that many aspirin in the world." JC pauses as he opens his door. "But it was worth it. Good night, Lance."

"Good night, JC," Lance leers, but doesn't move. He stands close, the scent of alcohol wafting in the air around them, the muffled thrum of the still-partying crowd outside.

JC doesn't turn, but he's very aware of exactly how close Lance is. "Your room's over there, dude," he says, not very convincingly.

"Oh. So it is. I guess I should go then."

"Yeah," JC says, turning, his movement bringing their bodies into contact.

Lance draws his face close so their lips are almost touching. His heavy-lidded eyes gaze at JC's cheeks as he whispers. "Okay, so I'm going now."

"I can tell." JC's lips brush against Lance's as he speaks.

Lance's eyelids flutter against JC's cheeks as he breathes, "So I'll . . . see you tomorrow." But the last word is muffled as his mouth closes over JC's beckoning lips.

JC almost falls through the open door, but manages to brace himself against the door jamb and returns the fiery kiss.

Lance grabs JC's face as he intensifies the kiss, pressing JC against the doorway.

This is one of the reasons why JC prefers being with men. With a guy, you can kiss hard like this and not worry about hurting him.

And Lance is not normally so rough in his everyday life, but with JC he feels this enormous freedom to release all his pent-up testosterone. He presses his body tightly against JC's bare chest, the heat from the taller man penetrating his shirt.

JC hears a deep, primal sort of groan, and it takes him a while to realize he's the one making that sound. He can't believe how aroused he is, so soon after the powerful orgasm he'd had in the club. He can't believe it's Lance who's doing this to him.

Lance thrusts his tongue in JC's mouth, stifling the groan and probing the wet recesses that he's never explored before this moment.

JC finally wakes from his lust induced trance and pushes Lance away. And into the room. He slams the door behind them. "So, you were leaving?" he growls.

Stumbling back a step, Lance catches himself on the edge of the bed. "Do you want me to?"

JC moves closer, cat-like. "Do you?"

"I, um, probably should." But he stays right where he is, paralyzed by JC's feline grace.

JC shrugs. "Do what you want." He practically crawls over Lance to stretch out on the bed, one hand playing over his bare chest.

In one swift move, Lance spins and lands on top of JC, causing the bed to bounce. "I really should go before things get out of hand."

"Things are already out of hand," JC says with a lazy grin. "Look, Lance, I don't know how far you're really ready to go with this. But if you stay, we WILL be doing it. Just so we're clear on that point."

Lance decides he's had enough talk for one night and proceeds to quiet JC by capturing his tongue with his mouth.

JC is a little surprised by Lance's quick move, but makes no protest. Instead he moans contentedly, drowsily, into the kiss. Lance's lips cover JC face with kisses, the insistent bulge in his pants not allowing him to take his time. His mouth close to JC's ear, he whispers hotly, "Oh baby, it's gonna be so good." Waiting for a response, Lance continues. "JC?"

JC makes a contented sound, halfway between a sigh and a snore. He tries to force his eyes open, tries to respond to the throbbing of his crotch, the pure-sex voice calling to him, but the alcohol he's consumed doesn't allow it.

"JC?" Lance gives the man in question a gentle shake, then rolls off him and moves off the bed. "Great." Staggering around to the other side of the bed, Lance manages to heave JC's body so his head is resting on the pillows. He pats JC's cheek with a crooked smile and stumbles out the door, ready to take on his own bed. It's all for the best, he convinces himself, as he, too falls fast asleep.

Morning comes very painfully to JC. He hadn't drawn the drapes last night, so the sunlight is streaming in, hitting him full in the face. He turns away from it, relieved to see he's actually in his own room, alone, since he doesn't really remember much. Who knows what stupid things he could have done? Besides drinking way, WAY too much. That much he knows. And even more stupidly, he didn't even take aspirin before he went to bed, like Lance advised. Lance. Shit. Suddenly, he remembers quite a lot. He groans into the pillow.

Lance hums as he washes off last night's party residue. Joey wanted to go out for breakfast and Lance considers asking JC, but figures it might be too weird. What they did . . . he smiles at the memory, but as much as they agreed it wouldn't change things between them Lance wonders if that's possible. He also wonders if JC even remembers what they did and if he's awake and if he's naked and if his hair is tousled that way it always is when he falls asleep on a plane. By the time he's toweling himself off he decides to just play it cool. Act like everything's normal. Or as normal as it can be after your bandmate has given you the best blow job of your life.

The ringing phone forces JC to take the pillow off his head, and he winces again as the light hits him. After several misses, he finally manages to snag the phone and bring it to his ear, only to pull it away again as Joey's cheerful voice booms out. "Breakfast," it announces. "New Orleans has the BEST breakfasts."

"Um, yeah?"

"So you wanna go?"

JC stifles a groan. After all, lots of the sweet milky coffee they serve might be just the ticket. "Yeah, sure."

"Good. Get your skinny ass out of bed and into the shower. Me and Lance are leaving in fifteen." LANCE?? But JC can hardly say no now. Besides, Joey will provide a good buffer zone for their first meeting since . . . "Yeah, I'll be ready." JC drops the phone back into its cradle and crawls out of bed to seek the healing properties of aspirin and hot water and beignet.

It's not like Lance is deliberately avoiding looking at JC as they walk to the café. There's so much around the streets to look at. Joey is busy being his usual chatty self, so it takes the pressure off Lance to make conversation. Still, he can't but help FEEL JC's presence. When they arrive at the small eatery, there's a moment of awkwardness as JC and Lance both reach for the same chair at the same time, but Lance relinquishes it and takes the seat next to him. The table is small and round, so it's unavoidable that their feet keep bumping.

The aspirin are starting to kick in and the coffee gives them a nice boost, and by the time the food arrives, JC is actually feeling human again. A few bites of the delicious food and he's actually feeling great. Light, buoyant. He can laugh at Joey's jokes, and he doesn't even mind that his heart does a little flutter when he looks at Lance.

Lance is in the middle of telling his friends a story when his foot knocks JC's for the tenth time. "Sorry," he grunts, then continues talking and does it again, this time purposely. "Sorry."

JC doesn't mind, not at all. But he growls an angry "Hey!" and glares at Lance. And notices that he's got powdered sugar from his french toast on the tip of his nose. "Hey," he says in a very different tone, brushing at the sweet, white powder. "You got some sugar there."

Joey, engrossed in his plate of eggs and sausage, is oblivious to the exchange. "Wanna taste? My toast?" Lance asks.

"Your toast, your sugar . . . "

"My sausage?"

"I'll take your sausage if you don't want it," Joey finally chimes in, stabbing at Lance's plate with his fork and capturing the greasy links. Lance rolls his eyes, sliding his foot up JC's calf under the table.

JC giggles at Joey's cluelessness, at his little conspiracy with Lance."Lance's sausage is worth having," JC says mysteriously as he adjusts his chair so his thigh is touching Lance's.

And so the breakfast goes, and the flirtation spills out into Bourbon Street and beyond as they wander the town. Lance even buys a dark- haired voodoo doll and playfully threatens JC with it, so by the time the parties begin that night Lance is more than ready for a little action.

Considering that he has every intention of telling Lance that there's no way they can pursue this, JC takes an unusual amount of care with his appearance as they all get ready to hit the parties, making sure his hair is perfectly tousled, and choosing his tightest leather pants and a shirt he knows Lance will like. When he's satisfied, he goes to join the others.

Lance is engaged in conversation at the bar when he sees JC out of the corner of his eye on the dance floor. As much as he tries to focus on the words being spoken, his attention keeps drifting to JC's slinky, sexy body. He manages to excuse himself and make his way to the edge of the dance floor, where he does his own signature dance.

JC had decided not to drink tonight, at least not much, so he's spent a lot of time on the dance floor. His hair isn't so perfect anymore, the curls tightening with the heat and humidity of the crowded bodies. His shirt has several more buttons open, and his skin is damp and flushed with exertion. And he feels great.

Then he sees Lance at the side of the dance floor, and he feels even better. In spite of his resolutions, he dances over to Lance and sweeps him into the crowd.

Before Lance can protest, he's dragged into the throng, which is so thick he's forced against JC's body. Not such a bad place to be, all things considered. "You wanna dance, Chasez? Is that what you want?" he yells in JC's ear.

"That'll do for a start," JC yells back, grinding against Lance and enjoying the feeling of Lance's firm, sturdy body against his own.

Lance is fully aware of JC's . . . fullness at this moment. He doesn't pull back and he doesn't draw any unwanted attention to it. He just enjoys the feel of it against his own arousal. "What about after?"

"That's what we gotta figure out," JC says, quietly, but directly into Lance's ear. "But for now . . . " he continues to move perfectly to the music, his body a rhythmic temptation against Lance's

Too tempting. Lance wants JC to rip his clothes off right now and take him right here on the dance floor. As a silent invitation, he turns and grinds his ass into JC's groin, the music pounding out the beat as his thighs undulate in time.

JC can barely breathe. He grabs Lance's hips, holding him tightly against himself. "I want you," he growls in Lance's ear. "NOW."

Lance reaches behind and takes JC's hand. He searches around frantically then leads JC off the dance floor to the back rooms, where they find a private bathroom. Without saying a word, Lance locks the door and pushes JC against it, kissing him hard.

JC breathes in the scent of Lance's cologne, along with Lance's own underlying scent, musky and masculine. He practically chews at Lance's mouth, they're kissing so hard, and if they don't get out of their pants soon, JC's going to burst right through his zipper.

Lance fumbles for his zipper and then JC's, managing to get it down without breaking the kiss, except to breathe. He reaches inside JC's pants and frees his erection, hot and throbbing in his hand.

JC lowers Lance's jeans and boxer briefs, learning the shape of his hips and the curve of his ass before finally, finally allowing himself to reach for the long, thick erection that fits perfectly in his hand.

"JC," Lance whispers in JC's ear. "Do me."

JC strokes Lance's erection and grins "Do what, Lance?"

"ME," Lance emphasizes, his frustration evident in his tone. "Here. Now."

JC turns Lance against the door and pushes against him, his erection pressing against Lance's ass. "Like this? You want this?"

"Yes," Lance moans, startled by JC's aggressive move but incredibly excited at the same time. "Do it."

Before he drops his own pants, JC fishes in the pocket for a condom, which he quickly puts on. He moistens his fingers in his mouth and wets the area around Lance's opening and then pushes his throbbing heat inside.

Lance grunts loudly at the initial penetration but pushes back against JC nonetheless. It's painful and intense and delicious at the same time, and he knows this is something secret and dangerous that they're sharing, and that makes it all the more exciting.

JC groans happily. Lance is so damned tight, so hot. He steadies Lance's hips with both hands and drives into him more deeply, more quickly.

Each time JC thrusts into him, Lance groans, his head pressed against the door. He can hear the droning beat of the music beyond, and it's almost as if JC is thrusting in time to the beat.

Tightening his grip on Lance's hip with one hand, JC reaches for Lance's neglected erection with the other. He strokes it quickly, roughly, just as he thrusts into Lance over and over.

Lance pushes back further, giving JC more room. Sweat pours down his forehead as his engorged erection is held captive in JC's wonderfully talented hand. "Oh yeah," he moans. "Harder." JC doesn't need much coaxing. He does exactly as instructed, pounding into Lance, holding nothing back. JC is grateful that Lance is strong enough to take it, and secure in the knowledge that Lance would tell him if he couldn't. Without fearing that he could hurt Lance, he's able to give himself over completely to the physical pleasure of their coupling.

It's the ferocity of the act that drives him over, and with what sounds like a loud cry, Lance comes in JC's hand. JC's cry is muffled against Lance's shoulder, but is no less exultant. Lance doesn't want to move, but he does, because he knows if they stay like this it will seem intimate and it's not supposed to be about that. So he frees himself and smiles, embarrassed, zipping up his pants and running a hand through his hair as he exclaims, "That was great. Really great. Thanks. I guess I'll see you out there." There's a moment of hesitation as he decides whether to kiss JC, but in the end he just leaves.

JC stays for a few minutes, cleaning himself up. burying the condom in the trash. He splashes water on his face and rejoins the crowd, languid and sated. He looks around for Lance and locates him, but doesn't approach.

The game continues this way for the next week or so, neither boy speaking about it but both drawing great pleasure from the moments they steal together. Sometimes it's only a few minutes in a dark closet. Sometimes it's a steamy bedroom encounter. But always it's unspoken, spontaneous, and purely sexual. When it's over, they resume their professional and personal lives as though nothing has happened. Because neither wants to cross that line. Yet.

Until that day. The scheduled meeting with the Grammy talent coordinator. There was something about him JC didn't like the moment he walked in the door, and it didn't improve when he started talking. He started with all the standard stuff about how great it was going to be, how the Grammy Awards loved the collaborations. "So, let's play this one up more. Now, you've only got four minutes, so why not just skip the second verse. You've got Justin, you've got Nelly. Play with it more."

"Aw, c'mon man, we can't skip JC's verse," whines Justin.

Lance's eyes are fixed on JC, trying to gauge his reaction. JC wears his heart on his sleeve so it's no surprise when a shadow of pain darkens his expression.

"Let's listen to the man," Johnny says quietly.

"Middle America has never seen a pop group and a rapper together like this. We want to play that up."

"Gee," Chris says, innocently. "When did this go from being us with a special guest to Nelly, featuring Justin?"

"That's your real strength," the coordinator tries again. "Why not play it up?"

Amazing. After all the years of fighting for their independence they still have to play by someone else's rules. It's not that Lance doesn't want to do these collaborations with other artists, it's that they shouldn't take away from their own strengths, their own voices. JC's voice, in particular. For some reason, it really bothers him more now than ever to see his friend in pain.

Seeing that no one much likes this suggestion but unwilling to give a flat no, Johnny says, "We'll get back to you." They're all silent as they walk to their cars. JC drives straight home.

Lance taps mindlessly at the keyboard on his laptop, debating what to do. Should he talk to JC? Their relationship lately has been mostly based on sex, so would it be too awkward? Isn't this what they were afraid would happen? JC has always been his friend first. Always. So now it's time to play that role. With resolve, Lance picks up the phone.

JC hears the phone ringing and doesn't even feel like he has the strength to peel himself out of the chair and answer it.

When the voicemail picks up, Lance doesn't bother to leave a message. JC could be out, driving around, or he could be sitting at home in his favorite chair that faces the large picture window overlooking the ocean. Since Lance is at the Happy Place headquarters, he borrows Wendy's car keys, deciding to drive over to JC's house to see for himself. As he often does before an important meeting, Lance plans out exactly what he's going to say.

JC sighs and lets his head fall back against the chair cushion. Normally he loves the view from this spot, but it's not giving him much pleasure now. He knows he shouldn't let what was said at the meeting get to him, but it's impossible not to. He feels useless, talentless.

On the drive to JC's house, Lance muses how anyone could possibly be depressed on a sunny California day like today. But when he pulls into the drive and sees that JC's car is indeed here, he knows at least one person is. With determined steps, Lance approaches the door and rings the bell, chewing his nails as he waits.

JC considers ignoring the doorbell as he had the phone, but he finally, slowly, pulls himself off the chair as painfully, as tentatively, as if 25 had suddenly turned into 95. He slowly makes his way to the door and looks out, then pulls it open. "Lance," he says expressionlessly. "Hey."

Everything Lance planned to say to JC, every word so carefully laid out in his mind like the many buffet tables they'd seen over the years, washes out of his mind like soap residue down the shower drain. He wasn't expecting JC to look so . . . haggard. Without even thinking about it, Lance takes JC in his arms and holds him right there in the doorway. "Hey."

What's Lance here for? What's Lance ever here for these days? "If you're looking to get laid, I'm really not up for it." Before the words are even out of his mouth, JC knows how wrong they are. He clutches Lance tightly. "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me. You're nice enough to come check on me, and I . . . " JC draws in a long breath. "Thank you."

Lance lets the remark slide. Something must be very wrong for JC to snap like that. JC never snaps unless he's really pissed off about something. "It's okay. I'm not here for that. I'm, you know, here as your friend."

"Thank you," JC says again, softly. "I'm sorry," comes even more softly. JC releases Lance, steps back. "Would you like to come in?"

"Better than standing in the doorway."

JC attempts a smile. "Yeah. Though I have some pretty good memories of doorways." He ushers Lance in. "I, um, I don't have much to offer you. There might be a beer in the fridge."

"I don't want anything, thanks. I just came here to talk."

"Okay." JC leads the way to the living room, then hesitates, looking around as if he'd never seen the room, before dropping back into his favorite chair. "You must think I'm being a total baby about this."

Lance takes a seat on the couch. "No. Not a total baby. Just a little." He smiles at his own lame attempt at a joke, then grows serious. "I know how disappointing it must be."

"It's just, you know, things build up. It was one thing when my songs got dropped from the album, and then when none of them got picked for singles, and now this. And Johnny, man."

"You think he should have fought harder."

"Or at all. I didn't hear anyone saying 'No. That's out of the question.' "

A pang of guilt shoots through Lance. "We'd already asked Nelly to do the song with us."

"I'm not saying he shouldn't. But we already have an arrangement that includes him. One that lets me do my job, too."

"There's still time to fight it. I could call Johnny right now." Lance demonstrates by holding up his cell phone.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. For all I know, you don't think I should sing, either."

Lance almost throws something, but stops himself in time. "You did not just say that."

"I . . . I mean, I just don't want you to feel obligated." But for the first time, there's hope in JC's eyes.

Lance shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he dials, exasperated that after all these years he still has to prove his loyalty. "Hey, Johnny. It's Lance. Fine. Um, listen, we need to meet. All of us. Can you call the guys and set something up for this afternoon? No, it's nothing we can't fix." He looks directly at JC as he says this. "Thanks, Johnny. Talk to you later."

JC's eyes shine with gratitude or unshed tears or both before he shuts them and whispers "thank you" around the lump in his throat.

"Look, if there's a problem, we talk about it. Okay?"

JC turns his head toward Lance's couch, then opens his eyes to gaze at Lance. "You're the only one who cared."

"Of course I care. Why would you even doubt it?"

"I didn't. It's just . . . We don't always show it. You know, typical guys. It means a lot to me that you made that call. It means more to me that you came here."

Lance moves from his place on the couch to JC's chair. He reaches with one hand to caress JC's cheek. "You would have done the same."

JC puts his hand over Lance's. "Yes," he says, as if Lance had asked a question. "Yes."

Lance's hand moves to the back of JC's head, intertwined with JC's long, wavy hair. "So we're cool, right?"

"We're always cool," JC says, feeling like he's forgotten how to talk to Lance when they're not flirting, when it's not just a preamble to devouring one another's bodies.

Any other time, Lance would have hungrily kissed JC, but now he's not sure what to do. "Well, I, um, guess I better go."

"You don't have to. We could . . . " JC tries desperately to think of something. "Have lunch," he brings out triumphantly.

Grateful for any excuse to stay, Lance answers, a little too eagerly, "Okay!"

"We might have to, like, order in. I didn't stock up, since we're only here for a few days." JC knows he's babbling. "I've got menus."

"That's fine. I don't think I've had more than bottled water in my fridge lately."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

"Why did you, why did you come?"

"I was worried."

"Nothing more?"

Now Lance's fingers find their way to his mouth again, and he nervously chews on them. "Um, well, um, I, um, wanted to make sure, you know, you were okay."

"Oh, um, okay." JC feels the depression settling over him again.

Lance picks up on JC's mood change immediately, in the way that people who have spent so much of their lives together connect. "What's wrong?"

Oh, I've just been told that I'm pretty much unnecessary in the one thing I care about doing. And then I realized I have feelings for my best friend, who I've been screwing around with for weeks. And he doesn't feel the same. "Rough day."

"It's only . . . " Lance checks his watch, "2:00. It's bound to get better."

"I'm not holding my breath," JC says, getting up and going to a small table. He rummages in the drawer and locates some menus, which he hands to Lance. "Here. Pick whatever looks good."

Lance approaches from behind and wraps his hands around JC's slender waist, peering over JC's shoulder at the menus. "I know what looks good."

"Lance. Don't."

As if he just touched a hot stove, Lance removes his hands and thrusts them in his pockets, backing away quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . I'm sorry."

JC can hear the hurt in Lance's voice. He turns around slowly. "I just, I . . . can't handle it if you don't mean it."

"Mean what, JC? That I like you? All right, if that's what you want to hear, I'll say it. I like you, JC, and not just for sex. What we've been doing lately . . . it's been great, but, um, it's been more than that for me."

"Me, too," JC says so softly that Lance almost can't be certain he's spoken.

"Really?" Lance's eyes begin to soften from the tension he felt earlier to something else--hope.

"Really." JC steps closer, putting his hand on Lance's shoulder tentatively. "I was, I was afraid to say anything."

Lance's eyes travel from the hand on his shoulder to JC's face. He can't yet look into those intense blue-gray eyes. "Um, I'm sorry if it seemed like all I wanted was sex. It started that way, but, you know . . . "

"Oh, I know. I know very well."

"So, um . . . ," Lance stammers, returning his hands gingerly to JC's waist and bringing his face close, but not close enough for their lips to touch.

"Um," JC's lips brush Lance's cheek. "We give this a try?"

Lance nods unable to speak. This is not at all the contact they've had before. This is so tender, so sweet.

JC smiles, so close that Lance can feel the full lips curve into shape. "You were right. This day just got a whole lot better."

"I told you it would. Stick with me, and I promise you I'll always make your day better."

"I like the sound of that," JC says as he finally allows their lips to come together.

And Lance likes the sounds of their lips mashed together so perfectly, so sweetly. His hunger forgotten, he concentrates only on the kiss, on his hunger for JC.

Their passion for each other, their heat, is like it's always been, but the underlying emotion makes it deeper and more precious. If JC had feared that falling in love would take the edge off, he'd been wrong.

Lance can taste JC's affection, his tenderness, his . . . love? Yes, love. It's unspoken, but it's there. And Lance conveys his love back through the kiss as it intensifies.

JC breaks the kiss, stepping back and taking both of Lance's hands in his. He leads Lance to the couch, pulling Lance against him comfortably before claiming his lips again.

Lance cradles JC's neck as he parts his lips and flicks his tongue against JC's swollen, luscious mouth.

JC opens his lips, closing them over Lance's tongue, drawing it into his mouth, pushing his own tongue almost roughly into Lance's mouth.

With a deep breath, Lance matches JC's pace, his passion, every move that he's learned over the weeks they've been together.

JC knows Lance's reactions so well now. When to kiss, when to touch, when to slide his hand inside Lance's shirt. But it's more electric now, now that they've moved beyond mere sex.

Lance leans back, drawing JC down with him. He's deeply aroused, but there's none of that urgency he normally feels--felt--before this moment.

JC breaks their kiss, pulling back enough to look down into Lance's face. He smiles and brushes Lance's hair back from his face with both hands, cradling that face with tender care.

"You know, I didn't come here just for sex. But it's a nice bonus."

"Pretty sure you're going to get lucky, aren't you?"

"I think the odds are pretty high," Lance says with a mischievous smile, pressing his knee against JC's crotch.

"Lucky for you you're so irresistibly hot."

"Yeah? What would you do if I wasn't?"

"You couldn't not be. You're you."

"I'm yours."

"Wow. Just wow. I never thought I'd hear those words."

"You think I'd just sleep with you and that's it? Sorry, can't get rid of me that easily."

"How about if I just never let you go? How would that be?"

"Ooo," Lance purrs, "what are you gonna do? Keep me prisoner here?"

"I've got handcuffs."

"JC! And I thought I knew you so well. Okay, but just call my mom now and then to let her know I'm okay."

JC lifts one of Lance's hands, grazing the wrist with his lips. "You'll get phone privileges."

"Mmm, maybe being your looooove slave won't be so bad."

"I'll try to make it worth your while."

"How?"

JC lowers his mouth to Lance's, kissing him long, hard, sweet. Lance growls into the kiss, sending a low vibration into JC's mouth. He matches JC's intensity, thrusting his tongue into JC's mouth, tasting his passion.

Clothing goes sailing as JC strips Lance and himself. He nibbles at exposed flesh as he goes, feeling Lance shiver and writhe.

Lance can't hide his excitement, and he doesn't even want to. He wants JC to know just how aroused he gets when he's around JC, how the simplest touch can send him into a frenzy.

JC grinds his hips against Lance's, his hands everywhere. Finally, he pulls back, peeling himself from Lance. "Don't move a muscle," he instructs, racing to his bedroom to retrieve lube and condoms. He pauses in the doorway on his return, enjoying the view.

While JC was out of the room, Lance turned on his side, watching the ocean through the wall-to- wall picture window. He is so zoned out he doesn't hear JC return.

JC drops to his knees next to the couch, kissing Lance's forehead. "Miss me?"

Lance props himself on his elbow, running the fingers of his other hand through JC's loose, curly hair. "More than you know."

JC smiles. "I'll try not to stay away so long next time."

Glancing down at JC's sizable erection, Lance says, "Long being the key word."

"You're so cute when you're suggestive."

"Cute? Cute? I'm supposed to be seducing you!" Lance whacks JC with one of the couch pillows.

"You can be cute and seductive at the same time." JC pushes the pillow aside and runs a hand down Lance's side, stopping to cup his firm ass.

"Well, now that's a lot of pressure."

"I think you're up to it." JC slides his hand around Lance's hip and grasps what he encounters. "Definitely up to it."

Lance reaches out for JC's cheek and draws his face near so he can capture that tantalizing mouth.

JC leans into the kiss, his hand stroking at Lance's erection, feeling the flesh get tighter, fuller, hotter. Lance responds immediately, as he has so many times before this moment, only now it's more intense--there 's more sensation, more emotion behind the act. One more kiss and JC pulls Lance up and into a kneeling position, leaning on the back of the couch. He kisses the back of Lance's neck as he rolls on a condom and covers his erection and Lance's opening with lube. Then he slides slowly, achingly inside.

Lance groans in delight at the deliciously agonizing pace at which JC enters him. He grips the back of the couch tightly and buries his face in the soft, plush upholstery. JC bends over Lance, covering him like the warmest blanket as he picks up the pace slightly, still keeping his movements languid, fluid. Lance writhes in time, his body cushioned by the soft back of the couch and the pillows beneath his knees. JC's body heat seeps into every pore, sending chills throughout his body and sending another moan up his chest and into his throat. The sex is every bit as hot as it has always been between them, but with the added depth of the emotions they hadn't allowed themselves before.

JC breathes damply into Lance's ear, not even trying to form words. As though the sounds were words of love, Lance pants back, turning his head to the side and watching JC through one eye. JC stretches his neck to kiss those panting lips, pumping into Lance a little harder, knowing just when Lance wants more. He gropes blindly for Lance's neglected erection, finding it, stroking it.

Lance's muscles strain against the couch as he pushes back against JC. He reaches with one hand and grabs JC's ass, pulling him closer. JC feels himself getting close, then falters slightly when his phone starts ringing. Ignoring it, he kisses Lance's shoulder as he finds his rhythm again and doesn't lose it even when his cell phone starts to ring. When Lance's phone follows suit, he cracks up. "Popular, aren't we?" he gasps.

"I . . . didn't . . . know . . . we . . . had . . . so . . . many . . . fans."

Lance takes a deep breath, the sweat from his cheek dampening the couch. "Do you think we should get it?"

"Later . . . voice mail." With one final thrust, JC explodes into Lance.

Lance cries out as the flash of JC's intensity hits him, his eyes tearing as his own climax builds. The phone momentarily distracted him, and now he's trying to focus all his attention on what JC is doing to him, the sensation of JC filling him completely, until he, too, comes hotly against the sofa cushion. JC collapses onto the couch, pulling Lance with him, cradling Lance.

"I messed up your couch," Lance mumbles into JC's arm.

"My mom convinced me to spring for the scotchguarding," JC replies, then cracks up at how ridiculous it sounds.

Lance giggles right along with him, not because the remark was so funny, but because JC's jubilance over the silliest things is so contagious. "Yeah, in case you SPILLED anything on it."

"My friends are such SLOBS."

"At least we wash our socks!"

"Hey! My way's sanitary, too."

"I want to see your sock bill."

"I want to see your cell phone bill."

"I don't throw out my cell phone every time I use it. Speaking of which, I wonder who called."

They both reach for their phones and dial their voice mail. Johnny, with the time for their meeting. JC looks up. "We're going to fix this?" he says trustingly.

"If I have to do it myself," Lance affirms, taking JC in his arms.

"I'm convinced you can do anything you put your mind to."

"When I have a goal, you know it," Lance says with a wink, swiping JC's nose with his fingertip.

"Keep doing that and I could fall in love with you."

"What, this?" Lance touches JC's nose again, then replaces his fingers with his lips.

"All of it. Bein' you."

"So you're saying you're not in love with me yet?"

"What would you say if I said I was?"

"I'd say that's, you know, pretty cool."

"Just PRETTY cool?"

"Okay, very cool. Very, very cool."

JC grins. "Cool." He glances at the clock. "We better get cleaned up."

Lance puts a hand on JC's arm, stopping him. "Whatever happens, I'm behind you."

"I . . . thank you."

"You're welcome. Because we may have started out just having sex, but we've been friends for a lot longer."

"That's the most important thing. Whatever happens."

"I know one thing that's gonna happen."

"What?"

"I'm buying you a new couch."

JC wraps his arms around Lance, laughing. "Dude, I told you. Scotchguard."

"I hope you bought a case of that stuff. We're gonna need it."

"I think that's the first time we've actually done it on furniture. One of these days we'll have to try it lying down."

"I like a guy with a sense of adventure."

"I like a guy . . . who's you."

"So I guess it's okay if I mess up your bed?"

"Anytime you want."

Lance extracts his palm pilot from the pocket of his discarded pants. "Let's see . . . I'm free tomorrow night and, oh, wait, here's an hour in the afternoon and . . ." He looks up at JC. "Oh heck," and tosses the device aside and pounces on his lover.

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