Disclaimer: I have no association with any member of *NSYNC, their families, management, etc. This is a work of fiction. I do not intend to imply anything about the sexualities of either Lance Bass or JC Chasez. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely (partially?) coincidental. This story contains portrayals of homosexual (male/male) sexual activity. Don't read it if you object to that kind of thing for any reason or if it is illegal for you to do so. Please send feedback! sshayla@hotmail.com
Get Away Part 1 of 2: Scream Copyright (C) 2000 Shayla-Shayla
"Hey. JC."
A tap on JC's shoulder startled him, and he turned from the girl he'd been dancing with to see Lance standing behind him, a giddy smile clinging to his face. Around them the club pulsed with excitement, bodies gyrating on the dance floor, the scents of sweat and smoke permeating the air. JC allowed his eyes to briefly drift over Lance's body, taking in the baggy black jeans that were cinched just tightly enough at the waist to cut into the curve of his belly, and the snug long-sleeved knit shirt that showed the mild definition of Lance's chest and arms. Clearing his throat, JC was about to ask Lance what he wanted when the blond held up his beer bottle, holding it loosely by the neck. It looked empty. "I'm gonna go get a refill," Lance stated, swinging the bottle slightly, and gestured to JC's own bottle, which he held as he danced. "You want me to get you one, too?"
JC glanced down at his bottle, considering. It was about two-thirds empty, but he'd been nursing it slowly and that one-third would probably last him another half hour. He drank for refreshment mainly, not to get buzzed or drunk. He looked back up at Lance, about to tell him that it was okay, that he'd pass; but there was an unspoken question in the younger man's eyes and a fierce light illuminating them, and suddenly JC thought that maybe he should accompany Lance for that refill.
"Um, yeah, sure. Lemme... lemme go with you for that," he stammered, raising his bottle in a casual salute before turning back to his dance partner to excuse himself. When she nodded and began to make her way through the crowd, JC followed Lance's lead through the masses of hips and limbs, away from the dance floor. As he expected, Lance passed the bar without a sideways glance, not even slowing, and JC's heart quickened. Please, God, he prayed, let there be a hallway around here, or a room, or something, anything...
He caught up with Lance when the latter stopped short at a darkened corridor next to the mens' washroom, leaning forward on one foot to peer down to the end. It looked unoccupied, and he looked back over his shoulder at JC to see if it met with his approval. JC nodded, and as Lance started down the hallway ahead of him, JC turned to their bodyguard, Wes, who had followed them, and gave an apologetic shrug. Wes smiled in grim resignation, folding his arms across his chest and settling himself into his position of watch post, and JC left him then, maneuvering his way down the hall to meet Lance. A rusty-looking pay phone stood nailed to the wall in the corner; it was an older model, one with no digital display, and was probably broken. At least that was what Wes would tell anyone who attempted to navigate that hallway.
Lance set his bottle and JC's down on top of the phone, wedging himself into the nook between the phone and the wall, and pulled JC to him. JC leaned into Lance, one palm flat against the wall beside Lance's head. The fingers of the other hovered over Lance's shoulder, his thumb dipping down to stroke a sliver of exposed collarbone. "When was the last time we got to be alone together?" he asked softly, his eyes lowered, watching Lance's chest rise and fall with his breaths.
"We sleep together, JC," Lance answered, his voice equally soft and mouth turning up slightly at the corners. JC was close enough to feel Lance's breath fan his face. Lance ran his hands up the insides of JC's arms, down the sides of his chest, over his ribs. He repeated the action. "We woke up alone together this morning."
JC leaned in further, shifting his weight so that his shoulder was to the wall, and shook his head. "No, you know what I mean. Really alone." He finally lowered his fingers to brush Lance's shirt, brushing them lightly over the surface. "No meetings to go to." He trailed his fingers down to Lance's chest and traced the path of his pectoral muscle. "No guys around so we keep getting interrupted." His fingers dragged over Lance's nipple, already hard under his teasing touch. "No public around so we can't touch each other unless we sneak away like this."
He both heard and felt Lance sigh as he touched his nose to Lance's temple, hot with fever and the buzz of intoxication and what he knew was lust for him. Beneath his palm, he felt Lance begin to speak before the sounds left his throat, the wonderful low vibrations rumbling against JC's skin. "We get to go home in a week, babe. You get to come home with me," Lance was saying, but his voice wasn't so light and easy anymore. No, JC didn't suppose that it would be, once he'd started in on that slow, maddening foreplay that got Lance so excited so damn fast, and then JC would draw it out until Lance was ready to scream, before he ended it for them both.
JC didn't respond right away, nuzzling Lance's temple before moving down the side of his face, pressing his lips gently against key points. That spot right in front of Lance's ear. The dip at the curve of his jawline. Lance's soft stubble tickled his lips (why was Lance's stubble so soft when it grew in, while JC's was so bristly and rough? It was the same damn hair, wasn't it? He couldn't figure it out), and he smiled against Lance's skin before extending his tongue and flicking Lance's earlobe with it. He closed his mouth over the lobe and sucked on it tentatively, testing for a reaction, and received his answer when Lance's hands stilled on his arms, fingers pressing into his muscles. Now he could feel Lance's heart speeding up beneath his hand, could feel his breath become heavier.
A quick check over his shoulder re-confirmed the presence of Wes's sturdy back blocking the entryway from all who dared enter; then JC nipped Lance's earlobe more roughly and brought his hands down around the blond's waist, daring to press his hips against his boy, feeling the hardness of Lance's pelvic bone against the hardness of his... well... damn, but he was hard. He was met with an answering shove from Lance's own hips, the younger man's shallow, quickened breath resounding in JC's ear. He fanned one hand out over Lance's stomach while the other slid between Lance's body and the wall, seeking out his rear, kneading it with slow, deliberate motions. He kissed a path down the column of Lance's neck, nudging aside the metal chain of the cross that Lance wore and claiming that patch of skin with his mouth, licking the area and latching onto it with his lips.
We go home in a week, he thought; 'home' which meant Lance's place, since JC didn't have one of his own. Not that he'd want one when it meant he'd either be living apart from Lance or neglecting his home in order to spend more time in Lance's. "Why don't you just move in, JC? I don't mind," Lance had said on more than one occasion; after all, JC had already helped with the interior decorating and chipped in wherever else he could. But Lance always said it without the weight of making it seem a proposal, so JC didn't feel guilty about his unwillingness to take that step.
It wasn't that he would feel tied down, or that he didn't love Lance; he did. Oh, God, he did. But Lance took things so seriously. In a relationship he gave his all, and if JC were completely honest, Lance's devotion to making things work almost scared him. He was afraid that would let Lance down; that he wouldn't be able to take the relationship seriously enough for Lance and that they would both end up hurt. But he would definitely enjoy spending *NSYNC's week off in Lance's house.
"I'm gonna make love to you in every room of that house," he whispered breathlessly against Lance's neck, his fingers following a path down the fly of Lance's jeans. One of Lance's hands travelled up to JC's shoulder and squeezed rhythmically, the other still gripping JC's bicep. JC pulled his head away and Lance raised his own, allowing them a moment of eye contact before JC descended once more and their lips met. The image of Lance's face, hair unstyled, forehead shining slightly with perspiration, pupils dilated from alcohol and arousal, burned itself into JC's mind as he dragged his lips gently back and forth across Lance's slightly opened mouth. Their breaths mingled between them and Lance's tongue darted out to moisten JC's lips when the older man increased the pressure of his hand stroking along Lance's growing hardness.
"I'm gonna start in the Seuss room," JC continued, meeting Lance's tongue with his own and closing his mouth over them both before drawing back for a feather-light touch. "Right in that big plush chair in the corner, and on the floor next to it in that soft carpet you have there..." He punctuated his words by curling his fingers around the outline of Lance's erection through the denim. Lance bit JC's lower lip not-so-gently in response, his sharp exhalation tickling JC's cheek, and the mild pain sent a thrill through JC; sliding his other hand up under the back of Lance's shirt, he forced his tongue past Lance's lips and crushed his boy to him.
He suddenly found himself half-supporting Lance's weight as the blond simultaneously tried to press his upper back into the wall while thrusting his lower body against JC's. Lance's head lolled back when their kiss broke, before rolling forward to rest his forehead against JC's shoulder, his breathing even further laboured. JC went on. "We'll do it on the throw-rug in front of the fireplace..." Awww, yeah, scream for me, babe. His hand slipped below Lance's erection, following the seam between his legs to his buttocks and back up again, both pleased and excited by the way Lance's hips followed his motions. "And then we'll move the damn rug and do it right on the hardwood floor, babe." He sped up and pressed harder, massaging Lance with the heel of his palm, and worked his other hand up Lance's back to grip the nape of his neck. Mussing Lance's hair gently with his fingers, JC pulled the blond's head back, forcing him into the wall and falling up against him as he peppered Lance's face with eager kisses.
Lance whimpered into JC's mouth and JC drew back, the pace of his hand on Lance's groin growing furious as he felt the pulsing begin against his palm. Lance pressed his lips together to stifle any sound, but JC could feel a groan building in his boy's chest and it ended up burying itself somewhere in Lance's throat and it came out sounding like Lance was fucking purring and JC had to kiss him then, had to feel that against him. He kissed Lance until they were both breathless, until Lance's body had stopped shuddering, until his eyelashes no longer fluttered against JC's cheek, until his jeans grew damp in JC's hand, until JC felt that they could both stand on their own again.
Kissing Lance again, JC savoured the salt of the perspiration dotting Lance's upper lip. Breaking the kiss, he stepped slightly away from Lance and caught the younger man's crooked, though shaky, grin. JC smiled back. "My turn now?"
Lance's laugh was a short exhalation of air, his voice low and relaxed. Practically a growl. "Yeah. Your turn." He pushed himself away from the wall and strode back up the hallway, only slightly unsteady on his feet. Stepping past Wes with a grateful smile, he turned to face JC as he placed his back against the washroom door, winking a promise as he leaned into it and stumbled inside.
JC didn't bother to fight the grin from his face as he, too, side-stepped Wes in an attempt to get to the washroom, but was stopped by a large hand on his arm.
"So... what, man? Am I guarding the bathroom for you boys too, now?" Wes asked him, slight disapproval in his voice. JC understood the implication in Wes's words; it was one thing to prevent club patrons from entering a dark hallway to use the pay phone, but to keep people from the washroom? No one would accept that.
JC shook his head, his body unable to stop tingling with anticipation. "Naw, Wes, this one's on us. We'll be quiet." He was about to promise that they'd be quick, too, but he wasn't so sure about that. "No one'll even know we're in there," he said instead.
Wes placed a hand on JC's shoulder, his palm huge in drastic contrast with JC's lean frame. "Be careful, aaight?"
JC nodded emphatically, his mind already on what Lance would have in store for him, as he turned from the bodyguard and pushed open the door to meet his lover.
Get Away Part 2 of 2: Touch Copyright (C) 2000 Shayla-Shayla
Lance entered the washroom somewhat cautiously, checking to see how many people were inside and trying not to appear as weak-kneed as he felt. There were a couple of men at the urinals, lining one wall, and one was using the sink on the wall perpendicular to that. JC came in after him, performing a quick check under the doors of the stalls opposite to the urinals, and the look on his face confirmed that they were all empty. Lance made his way to the sinks slowly, turning on the tap and splashing his face with cold water until everyone had left, and when he examined himself in the mirror he was relieved to see that he didn't look quite so red-faced and sated anymore.
JC came up behind him, resting his hands easily on Lance's shoulders, touching him lightly with teasing fingers. Straightening up and drying his face, Lance grimaced into the mirror. He felt great, but a little gross; the dampness in his jeans was beginning to cool, and the during was always much more fun than the after. Still, he couldn't help but turn to JC, examining him appreciatively before allowing his boy to tug him into the stall furthest from the washroom door. Making sure to lock the door behind them, Lance leaned up against JC, pressing him into the wall. JC tilted his head and kissed Lance, his tongue battling for dominance within Lance's mouth, and his hands slid around into Lance's back pockets, forcing their hips together. Against his crotch Lance could feel JC's insistent hardness pressing into him, and it sparked a familiar heat within his own body.
"How do you feel?" JC asked him, breathing more than speaking into Lance's ear.
Lance grinned wickedly. "Wet."
JC pulled back, a slightly guilty look in his eyes, and Lance hushed him before he could attempt to apologize. "But terrific," Lance assured him, pressing his lips tenderly to JC's and allowing them to linger there until JC relaxed against him. He reached his hands between their bodies, unbuttoning the dark blue shirt he wore -- silk? My God, JC -- and exposing the wifebeater undershirt beneath. Lance began to work at JC's belt buckle, meeting JC for another kiss and slipping his tongue past the taller man's lips as he unfastened the jeans with one hand and eased the zipper down over JC's hardness.
Ignoring the inevitable for a moment, Lance focused his attentions on JC's stomach, easing JC's undershirt up to expose the planes of hard muscle (always so hard, so angular, all the places where Lance was softer, plumper. Sometimes Lance wondered if the real reason why he didn't work out anymore was so that he could maintain the contrast). Dipping his head, Lance licked a path around JC's navel, blowing delicately on the wetness before closing his lips over the area. He continued on, kissing a path down the trail of dark hairs that led to the waistband of JC's underwear before pulling back. JC braced one leg against the side of the toilet, one arm pressed against the wall behind him to steady himself, while Lance knelt, easing the older man's athletic shorts down, freeing his length and encircling the base with his free hand.
"Talk to me, babe," Lance breathed, his mouth barely grazing JC's erection. "What do you want me to do?" He dropped a kiss on the tip of JC's penis before enveloping it within his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head in lazy circles. Against his lips JC was warm steel draped in silk, throbbing with a life of its own, and Lance revelled in the feel of it, the scent, the very taste of JC.
Sliding the other hand up under JC's shirt, he pinched JC's nipple with a light touch, allowing his boy to buck his hips slightly as he lowered his mouth further onto the older man's erection. Applying a gentle suction for a few more moments, Lance moved on to caress JC's length with slow, leisurely strokes of his tongue, from base to tip. Under Lance's fingers, JC's nipple was hard, and Lance could feel JC's heart thudding heavily in response to the attention.
JC's breath hitched as he attemped to calm the gasping sighs that rose to his throat. His words were almost lost amidst his accelerated breathing and the rush of blood through Lance's ears. A breathy plea. "Deeper... God, please..."
Widening his jaw slightly, Lance tried to take as much of JC into him as possible. He never could really deep-throat like JC could -- beautifully so -- but he could get about half in if he relaxed. He kneaded the base of JC's erection, allowing the wetness from his mouth to lubricate his actions, and JC moaned softly, thrusting gently into his mouth. Not letting up, Lance moved his thumb downwards, skillfully massaging the soft orbs of flesh that jumped anxiously under his touch.
There was a sound that didn't come from either of them. A different sound; a foreign sound.
Lance froze as he thought he heard the washroom door swing open, and taking the cue, JC bit his lip, attempting to quiet his breathing. When the distinctive sound of footfalls reached Lance's ears, he lowered his forehead to JC's stomach in frustration, JC's erection slipping from his mouth. He straightened himself and slid his hand from JC's chest, gesturing for JC to raise his other leg. The older man did so, bracing his foot against the opposite wall of the stall, and Lance supported JC's weight with both hands while he stood upright. If anyone were to peer beneath the stall door, they would see nothing unusual; only one pair of shoes, standing.
When the sink tap stopped running and they heard the door open and close again, Lance let out the breath he'd been holding, paralyzed with relief. Widening his eyes and looking up at JC in appreciation of the close all, Lance noticed that JC's eyes had already closed, waiting for Lance to resume the gentle teasing. Lowering himself back to his knees, Lance went back to caressing his lover's chest and smiled slightly, brushing his lips over JC's length once more before going back down on him, following the motions of JC's hips closely.
"Harder... ohhhh... Laaaance..."
JC swelled slightly in Lance's mouth, and against Lance's arm he could feel the muscles in JC's abdomen begin to ripple. JC was close... Lance could taste the droplets leaking onto his tongue and brought the hand on JC's nipple down so that he could grip JC's waist tightly, pulling JC's hips closer. JC pushed into him, harder now, and Lance closed his eyes, drawing back in time with JC's thrusts. He felt JC's free hand snake its way to his head, tugging on his hair, applying a desperate pressure, and he broke his grasp on JC just long enough to grab the errant limb and bring it down to his side. Increasing the pressure of his lips along JC's length, Lance opened his eyes and didn't flinch when the first wave of musky fluid erupted into his throat. Directing his gaze upwards, he watched his lover's face for the expressions that overtook him.
There was a harsh, laboured gasp of air. A thud as the back of JC's head contacted the wall. Fluttering eyelashes. Bitten lower lip. Slow trails of sweat trickling from his sideburns. Eyebrows drawn up in the middle, weird creases marring the smoothness of his forehead. Eyes blue; so blue, and so clear that Lance didn't feel clichéd at all to say he felt like drowning in them. JC was simply fucking beautiful.
Lance released him, moving back up JC's body, still touching him gingerly about the hips. "JC," he whispered, suddenly breathless at the sight of him, and the other man swallowed the sound, kissing him with small, desperate caresses. JC... JC was on his lips and in his mouth and against his body and under his hands and oh, God, Lance felt such need for JC that it scared him. "I love you," he murmured, touching his forehead to JC's, rubbing his nose against JC's cheek, brushing their lips together again.
"You know I love you," came the response, as JC tightened his grip on Lance, beginning to catch his breath. And Lance did know.
They separated, Lance leaning back against the wall to allow JC the room to adjust himself and re-fasten his jeans and belt before he unlocked the door. Lance darted in for a quick peck against JC's cheekbone, and then stepped out of the stall first, wiping his hands free of imaginary dust, onto his jeans. Turning and walking backwards towards the exit, he reached out for JC, linking his fingers within JC's own. To hell with it, he thought, the bathroom's still empty; it doesn't matter. He only let go to push the washroom door open.
Outside, Wes was still standing near the door, arms folded in the same stance where they'd left him.
"Hey, man," JC greeted him, "I told you you didn't have to stick around -- hardly anybody was in there. Were we that long or something?" Lance thought about it; he had no idea how long they'd taken.
Wes unfolded his arms and looked at them sternly. "Yeah, hardly anybody was in there after I got rid of 'em, is what happened."
Lance and JC exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing, Lance was sure. Okay, Wes gets a raise. He'd been turning people away? God bless him. "How'd you get people to stay away?" JC inquired.
"I told 'em one of the toilets was flooding and a custodian was inside trying to fix it," Wes explained. "So I said there was a bathroom around the corner--" he jerked his thumb to point behind him-- "so they should try that one."
"There's a bathroom around the corner?" Lance asked, his brows furrowing in a slight frown. He didn't remember seeing one, or he might have stopped in there instead.
Wes shrugged. "Hell if I know," he chuckled thoughtfully. "Only one guy came back to use this one, though. Come to think of it, he didn't look too happy with me when he left," he observed, and Lance laughed, grateful that the man hadn't snooped around when he saw that the washroom wasn't being serviced after all.
He let JC lead the way back to the dance floor this time, but by now Lance didn't want to dance very much anymore. All he really wanted to do was sit at a booth and nurse a drink, sneaking little touches under the table with his man and looking forward to the coming week, when they'd have time to spend together at home. Every room, huh? he thought, his lips curving into a grin. He didn't care if JC never moved in; he was there whenever he could be. That spoke volumes, and that was all that really mattered to Lance in the end. He considered suggesting that he and JC leave the club early tonight and head back to the hotel, get a head start on that alone time. His smile grew, JC's promise still echoing in his head. Every room. He couldn't wait 'til next week.
The End.
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