Fourteen

 

"So..." Lance wiped his wet palms on his jeans. "How are you doing?"

JC frowned as he looked at Lance.  "What are you wearing?" He had had a long day, even though it was vacation. He had done a lot of shopping to try and waste the time, but all he could think about was Lance.  He had finally gotten on the road around seven, driving up on his own. Chris had conveniently disappeared.

"I, uh, this?"  Lance ran a hand down his chest.  He wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt of Justin's.  "A friend loaned it to me. I thought you'd like it. I mean..."

"I don't."  JC's blue eyes bored through Lance. "Not at all."

"Oh."  Lance's face burned with shame.  "I just..."

"Justin's shirt?" JC asked, and Lance nodded.  "It's Justin's shirt, Lance, not YOURS. It's not you at all."

"Oh, I...sorry. I just thought I'd look...sexier, or something." Lance wanted to cry. He had really hoped to please JC.

"You're sexier without all that crap.  Were you dressed like this ANY of the times I saw you?  Did you dressing like this make me want you? No."  JC realized he was almost yelling and calmed down. "It's just not you, Lance. It's like you're pretending to be something you're not."

Lance looked JC in the eye and slowly peeled off the shirt. "Is this better?"

"God, yes," JC said in a husky tone, swallowing deeply.  Well-defined muscles were revealed as the shirt left Lance's body.  Lance smiled, relaxing a bit.  "Much better."

"Good."  Lance walked over and sat next to JC on the bed.  "Can I kiss you?"

JC's reply was a passionate kiss on Lance's mouth as his hand slid down Lance's bicep.  Lance shivered, but it wasn't because he was afraid. His mind was spinning. He still couldn't believe he was doing this, yet it all felt so good, so right. He briefly wondered if Justin felt this way with any of his customers.  Lance let a shy hand slide up into JC's curls. He felt JC moan against his mouth, and suddenly they were falling back onto the bed.

JC let his mouth wander down Lance's neck, to the tender skin at his collarbone. He nipped there, and Lance shivered again, his body rolling unconsciously.  This made JC moan once more, and he licked at Lance's throat.  "Take off my shirt," he ordered softly, and Lance slowly slid his hands to unbutton JC's shirt.  His fingers shook slightly, but he was determined to continue.  His hands moved across JC's slim frame, moving the shirt from JC's shoulders.  JC wriggled out of it, then moved back over Lance. "Better," JC murmured, resuming his kissing of Lance's neck and shoulder.

Lance let his hands slide up across JC's back, not even noticing the way he was arching up to meet JC's body.  "JC," Lance whispered.  "What...what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing but what you're doing now," JC replied, his hand sliding down to caress Lance's chest.  Originally, he had wanted a lot more. He had dreamt of the way he would use Lance's beautiful body, the way he would act and think and move.  All that was changed now. He couldn't get enough...and it was more than he ever thought he would feel.  "You're not a performing monkey, Lance."

"That's you, right?" Lance teased softly, and JC froze.  The smile left Lance's face and he looked at JC worriedly. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  I guess I am the performer here, aren't I?"  JC slowly rolled back and lay down again.  "Touch me, Lance."  Lance reached out his hand and ran it down JC's chest. JC hissed and arched up.  Lance traced the line of JC's stomach, smiling as it fluttered a bit.  He then moved up to JC's nipples, teasing them slightly with a fingertip before he cautiously leaned in with his tongue.  JC gasped and grabbed at the back of Lance's head. "God, I love that," JC said in a strangled tone.  As Lance continued to torture him, JC slid his hand down and opened his own jeans.  He reached inside and began to stroke himself.  Lance looked down, watching the slender hand rub across the smooth skin.  He took JC's hand and moved it, using his own hand.  "Lance..." JC panted, arching up.  He held Lance's head in place as he thrust into Lance's hand.  "Oh...God..." JC wanted it to last, but it was all too good.  Soon he was cumming hard, some of it landing on him, some on Lance.  He grabbed at Lance's hair, pulling him up for a brutal kiss.  "Fuck," JC breathed, letting his head fall back.

"I guess...I guess that was okay?" Lance said.  JC opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Hell, yeah," JC said, and Lance blushed with pleasure. "There's that blush again."

"I hate it," Lance confided. He left the room and hurried down to the bathroom. He came back with a warm cloth, and handed it to JC.  JC cleaned himself up and tucked himself back into his jeans.  He leaned towards Lance, who shook his head. "You don't have to," Lance said. "I'm fine. Really. Not your job to please me."

JC blinked. For a moment, he had forgotten their odd situation. It had been like...like he was with a boyfriend, or something.  "Oh, right," JC said, falling back onto the bed.

"Where did you get this?" Lance asked, lightly fingering the pendant at JC's throat.

"Oh...an old friend," JC said with a sigh. "His name's Tony.  We started out in the business together...but I haven't talked to him in years. He works on Broadway now."

"You fought?" Lance asked. 

JC shrugged. "Something like that."

"I'm surprised you don't do Broadway. I mean, you've done everything else," Lance said quietly.  "Your lyrics are great for the stage."

"No," JC said. "No Broadway for me," he almost snapped.

"But I think..."

"I doubt what you think about music is really important," JC said, then regretted the words.

"I guess you're right," Lance said softly, then finally changed the subject.

Fifteen