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Lance doesn’t run away to Vegas this time. This time he goes to LA. He still thinks of LA as home, still has a house there, although he’s been looking around half-heartedly for another one. He just needs to settle on a new realtor. The last one worked out pretty well for quite a while, at least until it all went to hell in a flurry of unpleasant publicity and salacious tabloid stories that had his mother calling him every night. Lance thinks this time around he’ll look for a female realtor.He’s having an okay time, and he actually takes a couple of meetings while he’s out here, at least the ones he can get scheduled on such short notice. It’s not like he can just call people and announce he’s in town and they’ll drop everything to see him. Not anymore, and not like Justin can. He pushes that thought aside. It’s not Justin’s fault, if he’s honest with himself, that’s just the way things are.
And anyway, Wendy’s been keeping up with things out here, and the things that need his personal attention he’s been taking care of over the phone.
“Lance, seriously, David and I met last week. There’s not a lot of activity on that project right now.” Wendy sounds apologetic, which Lance appreciates, but the lack of activity on any project that involves Lance on his own isn’t something he talks about with Wendy.
So Lance has some free time for a few days, and that feels strange already, even after just a couple of months of being busy again. He’s amazed at how quickly he fell back into the rhythm of recording, and it feels good, in spite of everything. On some level he’s happy to be there. If only it didn’t take so much energy to deal with all the other levels.
He calls a few friends and arranges to meet them at a club, but his heart’s not really in it until he sees the guy standing at the end of the bar. He’s about Lance’s height, dark hair, eagerly scanning the crowd. Lance watches as the guy considers and dismisses a half a dozen prospects in one sweep of the room. Once his eyes light on Lance, though, it’s obvious he recognizes him, and equally obviously, that’s what piques his interest. He smiles and tilts his head inquiringly. Lance recognizes the type. He’s actually very much Lance’s type. Lance isn’t really that fond of his type, but the only time in his life Lance didn’t stick to his type was Justin, and that’s a mistake he won’t make again.
Lance raises an eyebrow and sends a friendly smile in the direction of the guy at the bar. No sense playing hard to get. It’s not like he has to try to make a good first impression. Lance is still well-known enough for his fame to be sufficient to the cause.
He’s also famous enough that he can wait for the guy to come to him. He does, carrying two drinks, one of which he hands to Lance with another smile, seeming very pleased with himself. Lance takes the drink, raises it in a salute, and downs it, never losing eye contact.
“Lance,” he says, putting the drink down on a nearby table and holding out his hand.
“Jason,” the guy says, shaking Lance’s hand. “You ready to get out of here?”
That’s a little more of a direct approach than Lance is accustomed to, but it’s also something he’s beginning to expect. There’s no need to feel him out or to be circumspect anymore. And truth be told, that’s mostly a relief.
“Sure thing,” Lance replies with a shrug and a smile.
Jason has a car, so while they wait for the valet to bring it around, Lance texts his friends to let them know he’s leaving. Jason drives and Lance stares idly out the window as the lights of West Hollywood go by. There’s not much to talk about, even though Jason wants to tell Lance all about his attempts to break into acting. Lance pretends to listen. He’s not interested in Jason’s career in the least. He’s only interested in getting laid.
All in all, it’s not a bad three days, and he goes back to Orlando feeling almost refreshed. He’s kind of sorry he missed seeing Briahna in her Halloween costume, but he’s mostly glad to have had the time away.
~~~~~
“In here.” Justin pushed Lance in front of him into a small room about halfway down the corridor from the enclave of dressing rooms and ready rooms backstage. Justin had no idea what the room was used for, and he really didn’t care. He just knew it was isolated and had a lock on the door. They were already dressed for the show and they had ten minutes, tops, and Justin planned on using every one of those ten minutes. The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, just a table and a few chairs shoved against the far wall.
“Justin?” Lance turned to speak, but before he could, Justin pushed him against the wall, kissing him hard.
“What-” Lance started, and then he seemed to forget that he had anything to say as he kissed Justin back, licking at his mouth, pulling at his lower lip with his teeth.
Justin was so turned on he could hardly talk. “Come on, come on,” he panted, shifting Lance’s shirt out of the way, moving his hands up under it. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.”
He ground his hips against Lance, and Lance was hard already, ready for him. It was so hot, with everyone just down the hallway, with Britney just down the hallway.
Lance fumbled with Justin’s track pants, yanking them down just enough to get his hand inside. Justin closed his eyes and whimpered as Lance took hold of his cock. “Oh, fuck,” Justin choked out. He’d been watching Lance all day, watching him move, watching the way he laughed and joked with Britney at lunch, touching her, his hand on her arm. He wanted to feel that hand on himself, right where it was now, pulling and stroking, Lance’s thumb rubbing over the head of his dick.
They never had a fucking minute to themselves, the bus was impossible, hotels almost worse, except late at night after everyone had settled down. Joey seemed to think every night was a party, and Justin just wanted some time alone to touch Lance.
Lance dropped to his knees, and oh fuck, fuck. He nuzzled Justin’s stomach, dipping his tongue in Justin’s navel and Justin gasped, half-laughing at the sensation. Lance licked a path to Justin’s hip and bit down, his teeth sharp, and he sucked hard, right below Justin’s hip bone, and Justin knew he was leaving a mark.
His mouth was hot as he moved to Justin’s cock and he swallowed Justin down, no teasing at all. Lance worked him, sucking and licking and swirling his tongue around, until Justin didn’t think his knees were going to hold him up any longer. He was sure he was about to come, then Lance stopped, pulled off and shook his head. He stood up, grinning at Justin.
Justin grinned back, grabbing Lance and kissing him, not stopping as he used both hands to untie his pants and yank them down. Their cocks lined up hard and hot against each other, and Justin let out an involuntary moan. Lance whispered into his mouth, impossibly filthy things that made Justin want to bend him over the table and fuck him right there, only they couldn’t do that, not before a show. He managed to hold on to enough sanity to remember that.
He moved them to the table anyway, pressing Lance down on his back. Lance shifted, and then he was spread out on the table, swearing up at Justin. Justin leaned over him, holding his wrists, pinning his arms to the table. Lance strained up at him, “Fuck you, Justin, come on,” he said shakily, arching his hips up. Justin ground down against him, and it only seemed to take a minute, they were both coming, and Justin practically saw stars he came so hard.
Justin slowly straightened up, trying to catch his breath. Lance sprawled beneath him, looking used and open and hopelessly debauched. Justin imagined him on stage like this, pants down, fingers twisted in his shirt, mouth open, eyes closed. God. Justin shook his head. They had to go.
He grabbed Lance’s hand and hauled him to his feet. They busied themselves cleaning up with the handful of tissues Justin stashed in his pocket earlier. He looked at Lance critically. They were so dead if they got caught, but Lance’s hair and makeup weren’t messed up too badly. He felt his own hair. Still crunchy with product. They were good to go.
Justin listened at the door for a minute, then slowly opened it, peering out into the corridor. The coast was clear, not a soul in sight. He nodded to Lance and they slipped out, easing the door closed behind them. Lance had that flush across his cheekbones that he got when he came, and Justin grinned at him happily. He felt loose and relaxed, but with enough energy that he thought maybe he could take on the whole world, and not just an arena full of screaming girls. He knew, feeling like he did, that when they hit the stage, the adrenaline rush, on top of the sex rush, would be something truly amazing.
Britney was backstage, getting ready to go on for her set, and she smiled excitedly at Justin and Lance as they came up to her, each of them kissing her on opposite cheeks. “Go get ‘em, girl,” Justin said.
“I will. You boys have fun, too, y’hear?” She threw a smile over her shoulder at them both as she headed toward the stage.
They others were ready to do a hackey, and Justin tried not to notice that Chris was looking at him and Lance quizzically.
Later, when Justin kicked off his track pants in the quick-change area for the costume change between For the Girl Who Has Everything and That Thing You Do, Chris looked over at him, laughing like a loon at something funny he’d just said to one of their dressers. He paused, then pointed at Justin’s stomach and said in what he apparently thought was a whisper, “What the fuck is that?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what I think it is, Timberlake?”
Justin looked around to see that the dresser was occupied with JC right then, then he looked down at himself, to where Chris was pointing, right below his waistline, in the hollow of his right hip, to the livid bite mark that Lance had put there.
“Did Brit do that?” Chris asked as he pulled on his shirt and tie. His eyes were bright with curiosity, and something else. Something almost mocking.
“I-uh-” Justin straightened up as he grabbed his next costume off the rack without waiting for the dresser to finish fixing whatever the fuck was wrong with JC’s costume and come help him, and glared at Chris. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” He thought about it while he quickly zipped up his pants. Chris was perfectly capable of asking Britney about it, maybe teasing her, even if he didn’t think she did it. Especially if he didn’t think she did it. “No. No, it wasn’t Brit.”
“Ah, the credit goes to Lance, then,” Chris chuckled, tying his shoes. Justin looked sharply over at him while he shoved his arms into his jacket. Chris fluttered his eyelashes at him, and Justin knew that Chris knew perfectly well that Britney had nothing to do with the hickey on his belly.
“Shut up,” Justin said.
“I’m not saying a word, J. Not a word.” And Chris laughed at him all the way back out onstage.
~~~~~
Orlando usually has pretty gorgeous weather in November, well, when there aren’t any hurricanes, the intolerable heat of July and August just a memory, and the uncertainty of the winter months still ahead. But their first day back in the studio after Halloween makes Justin reconsider Lance’s preference for doing this in LA. It’s hot and humid here, with the threat of thunderstorms making Justin’s head hurt. The air conditioning in the studio is laboring ineffectively, and Justin’s shirt sticks to his back, making him irritable.
He’s not the only one. Chris is snapping at people for no reason and Joey finally tells him to either knock it off or go the fuck home. JC frowns at them both, annoyed at the distraction. He’s busy tweaking the bridge of the song they all call “the one about the girl,” because it really is the only song they’ve recorded so far that’s about a girl. It’s actually about a girl who may or may not be able to transform into a tiger at night. Justin thinks maybe JC’s read too much Harry Potter, but it’s not really a bad song, and it has a kick-ass bridge, not to mention a killer hook.
The thought of having sex with all those claws and teeth makes Justin extremely nervous. He can see where it would appeal to JC, though.
Lance, now, Lance is in a good mood.
He’s fucking humming to himself and laughing at Joey and encouraging JC, and he’s even trying to cheer Chris up. He whispers something in Chris’s ear, and Chris looks over at JC with a startled laugh.
“No, really? You heard that? This weekend? Ha, that’s great.” He shakes his head and laughs again. “You rock, Chasez.” It’s the first time in a long time that Justin has seen Chris just relax and talk to Lance without the almost hostile impatience that’s usually in his eyes when he looks at him.
JC has known them both for entirely too many years to fall for that old trick, and he just smirks and ignores them, but they all relax a bit. Lance says he’s going after drinks, and what does everyone want. Joey goes with him to the small kitchen at the back of the building, and they come back with bottles of water and juice.
Justin tilts his head back to take a long drink, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Lance rub the back of his neck, twisting his head from side to side to work out the kinks. He’s sweaty, and he pulls the front of his shirt out away from his chest for just a moment to fan himself with it, and Justin can see, right below his collarbone, a dark red bruise. He lowers his bottle of water and stares, and then Lance lets go of his shirt and it drops back into place. Justin quickly turns away before Lance catches him looking.
But Chris notices. Chris always notices shit like that. Justin used to make the mistake of thinking that Chris was so busy being hyper that he didn’t have any idea of what anyone else was up to, but he always notices the details. Not a lot gets past him, it never has. That’s what makes him so dangerous when he wants to be, because he doesn’t hesitate to use what he sees.
Don’t say anything, Justin pleads silently. He wonders if Chris has enough kindness left in him to keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t dare look at him. Entreating glances never work with Chris, that’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
No wonder Lance is relaxed. Justin adds LA to the list of cities where Lance seems to regularly hook up. Justin doesn’t think it’s making him particularly happy, though. Not in the long run. At least he hopes it isn’t. That’s not what Justin wants at all, for Lance to be happy with the way things are.
Chris actually shows some sensitivity for once, and lets it go with just a sympathetic smirk at Justin. Justin nods his thanks, relief making him dizzy. If there’s one thing he and Lance don’t need, it’s Chris stirring things up again. Chris knows how Justin feels, he’s always known, but he can’t seem to let well enough, or even bad enough, alone. He never has. It’s been the one part of Justin’s life where Chris has been less than his friend, and he hasn’t always understood it, but he accepted it a long time ago. He really didn’t have much of a choice.
When JC has the bridge of the song finished to his satisfaction, they call it a day. Lance actually includes Justin in his good-bye smile, and Justin waves back at him, before watching him walk out with Joey. JC is still puttering around, gathering up his stuff, and Chris clears his throat.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Chris.” Please don’t make me talk about it, Justin thinks.
“I’m not saying a word, J.” Chris is such a liar. But he actually sounds kind, almost gentle. “He doesn’t seem to be cutting back any. Do you really think-”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ are you having trouble with, Chris?” Justin’s pissed, but his voice sounds more plaintive than mad.
It’s a note that JC will pick up on every time, from long years of exposure. “What’s up, J? Chris?” He looks between them, wary of playing referee, something also born of years and years of experience.
“Nothing,” Justin starts, but Chris talks over him.
“Lance is a busy boy,” he says. Justin wants to smack him.
“Oh,” JC says. He doesn’t say anything else, for which Justin is exceedingly grateful.
“I think-” Chris starts, but JC interrupts him.
“It doesn’t really matter what you think, man. Leave them alone. They’ll have a better chance of working things out if you do,” he says calmly.
And that’s something they should all know from experience, and in fact, Chris does mostly shut up at JC’s words, except to say, "Look, Justin. On the list of things I give a shit about, who Lance is fucking ranks right below who Brit has watching her kids these days. I'm just saying."
“Well, don't. Now, asshole, do you want to go get something to eat, or not?” There’s a clear warning in Justin’s tone, and Chris is smart enough to heed it. He shrugs, letting it drop, at least for now.
“Sure, but you’re buying.”
~~~~~
Below: a: lower in place, rank, or value, b: underneath
