Come On Down Written by JM
-- Disclaimer: Uh, simple. Not 18, not interested in a relationship between two males, not open-minded, not a fan of the pop genre, not sure what fiction is, not a interested in anything written by JM, DO NOT READ! --
** This is a just small piece of the BSB/NSYNC saga. It's just a songfic. This is number eight of eight. It is in no way a start to another series, so I ask that you not think of it that way. Understood? Missundaztood? It's all the same now a days. At least I think so. **
Two years ago, when he wasn't much out of the ordinary, no one could ever tell him that he'd fall in love with a Southern gentlemen with a past that could rival General Hospital's best storylines. No one could ever tell him that this man would be famous and beautiful. And he'd never believe anyone that would tell him he'd find other qualities in him outside of his gorgeous green eyes, smooth pale skin, and easy Southern drawl.
He would easily dash the thought and continue believing he was destined to be a businessman that dated and just that. Dated. Never connected. Never became attached. Never find a boyfriend because his mother thought it was a lost cause after the first three boyfriends. If you could call them that, actually.
Of course, he did one better. He found a guy with a past. He found someone that he knew loved him, adored him, and cherished him more than most would while still maintaining a struggling friendship with two of his ex-boyfriends, whom just happened to be married to one another now. Oh yeah, he's good. Good for it all.
But the honeymoon was still there. There were moments like this where he knew it was worth it all. Moments where the wine was sweeter than the strawberries that awaited him somewhere else. Kisses were more passionate than anything TV had to offer and smiles were shared throughout the whole ordeal because they loved each other just that much.
And he was a good boyfriend. Well-deserved without a question. His mother told him that a good man would know to cherish a man like him. And Lance's mother told him that no one could be as lucky and blessed to have someone like him in his life. He knew that, always did. Never needed to be reminded about it. Well, sometimes. Sometimes he objected to the idea because what was the point in saying it if the one man he wanted to savor all that he gave was still hung up on things he didn't have anymore?
He'd have to ask Lance someday. Ask him why everyone said it and he never felt it until Lance said it? Never knew the meaning or worth of the words until moments like this where Lance just wanted to love him, touch him, be inside of him until they both devoid of the voices they needed to scream out in their fits of passion.
If you need a little tenderness
Can't find it nowhere else
If you want a little something sweet
You just come to me
If you're hungry for some love at night
I'll fix you up just right
There's a tender place just down the way where you can stay
And I'm sayin'
His thoughts revolved around feelings like this. They were just a satellite in Lance's atmosphere. When hands sculpted his muscles and molded his body into shapes that felt just right, he couldn't escape the gravity of it all. He was just pulled in. He was removed from that sudden reality that this was just lovemaking, just a good feeling that lasted for awhile and dried up when the morning was over and the day began.
"Oh, Lance." He knew no one could say those words so genuinely. He checked the past resumes. Not Nick. Never Nick. That was just not possible. He was sure Nick was just sex; liquid, solid, and everything in between. It was never pure and no one had to prove it.
JC had a way of making Lance believe that the words were endearing instead of the fool's gold that they were. Just another to play the strings, strum the guitar until Lance believed that JC wasn't just stroking his ego instead.
When he moaned, when he tightened his fingers in Lance's damp mane, it was real. A defining moment in their physical relationship. It made it clear that he didn't have to put on an overdone show to express what was felt. It wasn't necessary. It wasn't dramatic. It was love. What a concept for Lance.
"A little faster." He could be instructive. He could tell Lance everything in a twist of his hips or a hand on one of Lance's cheeks. But, more or less, he could be vocal if Lance needed because he wasn't afraid. Not anymore. Not when he could look in his lover's ghostly beautiful eyes and see a world that he knew didn't exist before. Lance made it simple. He made sex easy. He made love pure and without disillusion. And he had yet to figure out why JC and Nick ever let Lance go.
Come on down where the water tastes sweet
Dive into my ocean, bring your love to me
Come on down where the loving feels right
Door is always open, open all night
Come down
Baby, won't ya come on down
"Fuck." He never found a reason to just let it all go. Justin told him he never would when he'd truly found someone he loved. Justin told him that he never found a reason to just let Brian go, not for good. Joey told him he'd never find a reason to bail on Lance because the past can't only haunt you if you believe it's dead. He didn't believe the past was dead, just ashes in a Mason jar, waiting to be poured out.
He was quiet at times. When Lance moved slowly, when Lance kissed his neck and squeezed his hips a little harder, he stayed quiet because it felt like a warm bath and tasted like candy. All of it. He just moved with the motions, changed his position a little because he knew Lance liked that and he knew he liked what Lance was doing.
And sometimes, when it was just too good, he'd cry. He'd let a tear slip out of his eye, hold back a sniffle and wait until Lance saw it all. It was the only time he let Lance see it all. Other times, he cried by himself or with Justin because Justin understood. He understood the competition, the constant struggle to be better, to be greater, to make his lover forget. It wasn't easy to do, never was. To just release it all and be vulnerable, but Justin never told. He swore he wouldn't.
Yet, he sometimes thought, just maybe, Lance knew. Lance knew the whole time and let him have his moment. Lance didn't take it away from him because Lance had been there. Lance was that to Nick and he doesn't think Lance ever got past it. He doesn't think Lance had his moment and for that, he loved Lance.
I can take you where you need to go
Take you there nice and slow
To a place where feelings run so deep
You just run to me
I can lead you to a special kiss
Fulfill your every wish
There's a place I know just down the road where you should go
"Kiss me." He always begged, never asked. It felt better that way. The tongue was sweeter that way and the music in his head increased in volume. His body got weaker when Lance kissed him like that, all lips and tongue without the perversion or pornographic bullshit. He doubted that Lance kissed JC like that because he was tentative the first time. He was so used to routine and rehearsed kisses. He was used to perfection and didn't know that there wasn't a such thing. He was trying to paint over a turpentine-soaked canvas and it was funny. Lance was so skillful, yet so naive.
"Harder." If he lifted his legs just right, Lance could reach all of him. Lance could be inside and he'd keep him in his back pocket when it was all over. He'd feel it all day while he was at work and while he was on the phone with Lance. It would be like fuzzy teddy bears at the carnival and bowls of chocolate ice cream on rainy days.
If he thought about it hard enough, he could remember all the endearing things Lance did for him. The picnic on the beach, after the sunset, on his birthday. He could remember the rumple white sheets under their glowing bodies the morning Lance recited the lyrics to his favorite love song for him. The weight of Lance's body on his lap in his office chair when Lance brought him lunch. The candles, the wine, the harmony of some Tony Bennet song when they made love on their anniversary. He could remember it all and remember it best when Lance was touching him just like this. When he was offering his body to Lance and Lance was taking advantage of it, just reminding him why he was there for Lance as more than just a lover.
I can take you to where the love flows like wine
And I can show you my deepest secrets inside
And if you take a chance where I wanna be
So come here and get close
And give me what I need the most
"Oh, yes." He hated when his eyes fell shut, but they did when Lance pinched his nipple with that much care. He wondered why MTV would create a whole show about his feelings. He wondered why he hadn't been dismissed yet, but he remembered his competition wasn't there in a physical-tense. Just mental and emotional. And he was battling, sometimes succeeding, sometimes falling back without a time-out card to rescue him.
He had a habit of playing second fiddle to his inhibitions. He never forced Lance to kiss him when they were about to come. He never threw Lance back and rode him to climax. He never told Lance that he hated when Lance took phone calls from Nick right after they made love. He never fought to get things his way because he wasn't sure if his way was the right way. He just let it all happen.
"Faster." He likes to purr things in Lance's ear when it feels just right. He moves his leg, raises it a little higher because it gives Lance a better angle and it feels damn good. He thinks he can hear drums cascading some kind of commanding melody in his ears and sweat clings to him like dew to morning petals. It's liberating and it sets him free. He thinks of Jefferson Starship and some 80s melody that keeps him breathing when Lance touches him, gropes him in places he's sure he wasn't supposed to feel heaven in.
Somewhere between Lance nipping on the skin covering his collarbone and his eyes rolling back, he thought of how he still had that country boy. He still had him in his life. Arms around his body, kisses on his lips, words of serenity, and smiles that were only meant for him. He didn't have to play pretend. Charades was never his strongest suit. But Lance was. Lance was something he could wear, show-off and still know that it was the quality and the price of this love that made him look good. He wasn't no Nick Carter and could never try to be. Cocky wasn't his style. Fuck Joshua Scott Chasez. He was better. He was different. He was caring. He was Lance's.
"Lance." He knows his voice isn't the best in the world, but during sex, he could give Patti LaBelle a run for her money. Just a few strokes, a quick jab, a swirl and he hit notes that Christina Aguilera never registered. And when it started to slow down, when he felt Lance getting closer and closer, he dropped his tone a few octaves and stuck to heavy breathing because it was all he could concentrate on. He's nothing but pants, low moans, sweat, and a tasty stickiness.
"I love you." Just the rush, the sensations weren't enough to degrade to words. They still had meaning, had a purpose to him. They helped to rid the sound of Cher blazing through his ringing ears and they washed away those firecrackers exploding behind his eyes. It eased him into a place where nirvana had a purpose and hedonism was king.
And that was all he needed to remind himself that Lance was his was that kiss on the temple and those eyes telling him without words. He was stuck in the moment and he had no desire to fall away from it. He didn't want to come down and Lance was determined to keep on afloat on the clouds.
If you need a little tenderness
Can't find it nowhere else
If you want a little something sweet
You just come to me
If you're hungry for some love at night
I'll fix you up just right
There's a tender place just down the way where you can stay
The End.
--- Story inspired by: "Come On Down" (D. Warren), performed by TLC ---