*****
"Fuck," Justin gritted out irritably. The car crept forward a few more feet, then he tapped the brakes again. "Dammit!"
Lance sighed.
"Shut up," Justin snapped. His hands griped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He inched the car further through the throng of fans that crowded around them. How they knew that Justin and Lance were going to be at this particular location at this exact time was apparently a mystery to Justin, but Lance knew exactly how they found these things out, because, hello, he could use a computer for more than just email. Justin stubbornly refused to use his laptop for much more than that, so he was constantly surprised and annoyed when fans showed up for what Justin considered non-public events. Like this trip to the damn dentist, for instance.
But the fans always knew. Lance could foresee, somewhere in the dim misty future, that there would come a time when Justin wished the fans still cared enough to stake out their every emergence from their homes, but now was not that time. And now sure as hell was not the time to mention that. Lance didn't have a death wish, especially with Justin behind the wheel.
Justin hated going to the dentist and Lance had been making allowances for that all morning. Scheduling the appointment for this early in the day had seemed like a good idea at the time, getting it over and done with, not letting it totally screw up the whole day, but maybe another time would have been better. Like, say, maybe three AM, when Justin was unconscious. Lance took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out. Then he did it again, just to make sure.
"At least your teeth are clean, right?" Oops, wrong thing to say. He should have counted one more time, maybe. When Justin was this pissy, Lance's look-on-the-bright-side schtick always made things worse. "Justin, just don't run over anybody, okay? When we get back to your house, I'll see what I can do to make it better."
"Whatever," Justin snarled, as a girl who looked like she was about twelve planted herself in front of the car and screamed "Justin!" at decibels normally only achieved by jet engines. Lance smiled and waved at her, and Justin said, "Don't do that! It'll only encourage them."
The girl waved back at Lance and moved out of the way. The car inched its way out of the parking garage and into the street. Lance turned around and waved one more time at the fans, who were waving madly back at him. He straightened in his seat and risked a glance at Justin, who was concentrating hard on maneuvering around the traffic, now that there were no girls to run over. Lance knew that Justin had no problem with fame, he just wanted to be left alone when it suited him. He knew it didn't work like that, and normally he could deal, but there was something about having his teeth scraped and poked at with sharp instruments that upset his usually unflappable equilibrium. Lance was completely down with that.
Now it was Justin doing the deep-breathing thing. Finally, Lance saw his shoulders droop a bit, and his hands relaxed their death-grip on the steering wheel as he eased into the flow of cars on the Interstate. Lance still thought he should have driven this morning, but he had lost that argument before it had ever really gotten started.
"Justin?" He put a tentative hand on Justin's thigh, curling his fingers to fit around the curve of hard muscle. When Justin tensed under his touch, Lance didn't pull away, he just let his hand rest there, rubbing soft, slow circles on the rough denim of Justin's jeans with his thumb. After a minute or two, Justin shifted in the driver's seat and Lance heard a quiet huff of laughter. He grinned and patted Justin's leg. "You okay now?"
Justin shook his head, but he glanced over at Lance and gave him a small smile. "Man, that was scary. I hate doing that, I'm always afraid one of them is going to..." he trailed off, blinking, then shook his head again. "Get hurt or something, you know?"
"I know." They drove in silence for a while, Lance letting Justin concentrate on the road while regaining his composure. Justin loved to drive, and had an obscenely huge collection of cars to prove it. Lance kept his hand on Justin's thigh, and eventually Justin shifted restlessly again. Lance smiled, knowing what Justin wanted.
"Hey. I thought you were going to make me feel better. So, what's your plan for that?" Justin sounded a bit breathless all of a sudden.
"Plan? What makes you think I have a plan?" Lance smirked.
"Dude, you always have a plan." Justin smirked right back at him. They grinned at each other, until Justin dragged his attention back to the road.
By the time they pulled into Justin's driveway, Lance's hand was no longer resting on Justin's thigh. It had slowly crept higher, and was now cupped over the bulge at the front of Justin's jeans. Justin threw the car into park, yanked the keys out of the ignition, and snarled, "Let's go," at Lance as he shoved the door open. Lance grinned to himself as he followed Justin into the house. He just hoped Trace wasn't here. Trace was perfectly capable of making Justin get over himself, but Lance knew Justin would be happier with his way of dealing with a pissy superstar.
Lucky for Justin, Trace was out, so Lance was able to hustle Justin into the kitchen and push him up against the refrigerator, where he could do whatever he wanted without fear of interruption. He kissed Justin firmly, registering the taste of the gritty paste the dental hygienist had used to clean his teeth. Ick. No wonder Justin was in a bad mood.
Lance stepped back and unzipped his jeans. "Here, you need something to get that awful taste out of your mouth." He pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and sat down, sprawling back with his legs spread and his hand inside his pants. "Get your ass over here." He looked at Justin's stormy face. "Please?"
"Fine," Justin huffed as he crossed the room and knelt down in front of Lance. "It's lucky for you that my kitchen is carpeted."
"Well, make it quick and your knees won't hurt." Lance laughed at Justin's scowl. "Come on, Justin, just quit bitching and do it." He caught his breath as Justin grabbed his wrist, pulled Lance's hand out of his pants, and replaced it with his own. His long fingers wrapped firmly around Lance's already hard dick and he looked up with an evil smile. God, he was beautiful.
"Quick, huh? I'll make it quick, all right." He swallowed Lance down in one fast move, and Lance's legs spread wider of their own accord. It was unbearably hot to watch Justin's mouth slide up and down, and he knew it would make him come sooner if he kept watching, so out of sympathy for Justin's knees, he didn't close his eyes. Justin's lips were wet and red, stretched around him, and Lance could feel heat gathering at the base of his spine. Wow, Justin was certainly determined to make this happen, working his tongue, his hand moving fast and it was so hot and Lance gripped the sides of the chair and just hung on for dear life.
"Fuck, Justin, fuckfuckfuck," and Lance came with a groan, almost falling off the chair in the process.
Justin sat back on his haunches with a self-satisfied smile on his face. "That quick enough for you?"
"Shit, you fucker," Lance panted. "Yes." He looked at Justin and laughed shakily. "Yes, it was."
"But Lance, wait, I don't understand how you getting off is supposed to make me less tense." Justin frowned.
"Because you love me and you want me to feel good?" Lance could breath again, and he laughed at the look on Justin's face. "No? You don't love me?"
"Of course I love you, you dick. I'll love you even more after I get off, too." Justin grinned. "Come on, Lance, it's my turn." He waggled his eyebrows at Lance.
"Okay, you have a point," Lance conceded. "C'mere." He pulled Justin up and kissed him again. "There, you taste much better now."
"You're weird, you know that?" Justin grinned.
Lance stood up, then reached out and helped Justin to his feet. They stood in the middle of Justin's bright, sunny kitchen, kissing hungrily, until Lance could feel Justin practically vibrating in his arms. He popped open the button on Justin's jeans, and tugged the zipper down, sliding his hand into Justin's underwear. Justin moaned, pulling Lance closer and thrusting into his hand.
Lance jerked Justin off without teasing, kissing him through his orgasm, not letting his mouth go until Justin finally pulled back, gasping, and rested his forehead on Lance's shoulder.
Lance rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Justin's back, until Justin raised his head, took a deep breath and said, "By the way, tomorrow, I'm going to the eye doctor."
*****
