This is to Izzy, my dearest (to whom a million thanks for the beta), Rob and Dan, Writer Boy, SumSum, Korandda, Metra, Peter, Ryan, Myoshi, Julienne, Trish, Bethany, and all the other wonderful people who have graced me with their kind and helpful comments. Hell, it's to everybody who takes the time to read it! Enjoy...
Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned. Adult (m/m) content, probably foul language, don't be illegal, stuff like that. Any likeness to people personally known to me is either purely coincidental and unintended, or not in any way malevolent.
NEEDING YOU CHAPTER 20 By Neqs
Lance couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. No, wait, he could! It had been that night in that hotel where it all began. It felt like ancient history, but it wasn't more than a few months back.
Lance had absolutely no regrets about that night. He might have felt better about himself in the morning if he hadn't been so bold and uninhibited, but he wouldn't change a thing - it had paid off beautifully, and given Lance the greatest man in the world.
"My man is just the greatest, you know?" he slurred to the shorter man who was helping him stumble into the elevator.
Howie rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sure he is, hon. Let's get you to your room now, you have an interview at noon and you need your beauty sleep." Howie's own step wasn't all that steady either, but somehow the pair managed to make their way to Lance's door.
"Hey! Are you saying that I'm ugly?" Howie groaned at Lance's drunken belligerence. It was especially ill timed as his effort to push himself away from Howie's support made the brunette's attempt to fish Lance's keycard out of his pants pocket all but impossible.
"Ouch! Lance, calm down! I don't think you're ugly at all, that's so not what I meant. You're, well, pretty. You've got the prettiest eyes, and the rest of you - it's not bad at all!"
Lance frowned down at the blushing man, taking the keycard from his fumbling hand and sliding it in the lock in a short flash of clarity before the silliness of it all washed over him once again and a stupid grin spread on his flushed face.
"You think I'm pretty, you want to date me, " Lance sang amidst giggles as the door swung open and he yelped as he fell through, almost taking Howie with him. The older man's voice was full of sarcasm as he unsteadily bent down to help Lance up from his spineless heap on the floor.
"Sure I do, Miss Congeniality," he drawled. "I think you're the prettiest thing this side of Mississippi River, and I want nothing more than to jump your cute lil' bones!"
Lance laughed back at him happily. "Ain't so lil', Sweet. I'm afraid you'll have survive without the taste of me though, 'cause I got myself a man like no other, and that's a fact!"
"I'm so glad you remember that, James." It took the tipsy pop stars a few seconds to realize that neither of them had uttered the cool words. Howie froze to the spot when he saw a man rise from the chair, but Lance's reaction was immediate and sincere.
"Em!" he squealed excitedly, throwing his arms around the other's neck and jumping to encircle his slim hips with his legs. He covered the pale face with sloppy kisses, wiggling around, partly to get more comfortable and balanced, partly to get more contact with the other man's leanly muscular body. Lance was too thrilled at seeing his lover, so wonderfully unexpected, to notice the moment when the icy blue eyes softened and the taut frame relaxed into the caresses Lance was lavishing on it, but Howie did. His body relaxed in relief as he let out a shaky breath.
"Can I put you down now, babe? You're not the lightest, you know," Marshall said in a gruff tone.
Lance got back on his wobbly feet, but when he looked into Marshall's eyes again, his smile had slipped and his eyes were wet and vulnerable and impossibly large. "Are you saying I'm fat?" Marshall bit back a groan as he watched Lance's lower lip tremble, a groan that was a mixture of lust and helplessness. He took Lance's hands to his, willing the blond man to meet his eyes. When he did, he continued.
"No! That's not what I said, babe. You're absolutely perfect just the way you are, I wouldn't change a thing about you. Your soft skin, your sexy booty, your quirky personality...those are just a few of the things that make me love you more each day."
This, of course, was a good answer, but Lance was still more than slightly drunk, and the alcohol in his bloodstream was making him extra sensitive. Half annoyed, Marshall tried to keep his heart from constricting as he held the softly weeping singer. He murmured reassurance into the younger man's ear, and only then remembered that there was a third person in the room.
Howie had been trying to avoid attention and to inch towards the door, but Marshall's blue gaze froze him to the spot. "Oh, uh, um, I was just, you know, leaving, so, yeah." Howie felt like a helpless animal, held still by a predator's eyes.
Marshall scrutinized the babbling singer for a moment, and to Howie it seemed like he was trying to decide whether to strangle or shoot him. Not that Howie really believed that anyone Lance would date could do stuff like that, but he was almost as heavily intoxicated as the younger singer, he just hid it better. That didn't stop the alcohol from wreaking havoc on his thought processes, though.
All this considered Howie was stunned when the fearsome rapper chuckled softly. "Chill, man, I'm not gonna kill you. First of all, I don't do that to people, and secondly, I know you were just joking a minute ago when you said all that. Weren't you?"
Howie's eyes bulged as he rushed to agree. "Yes! Just joking, I'd never touch Lance, not that he's not totally hot, but I know I've got no right to touch him anymore-"
"'Anymore'? You mean you had that right once?"
Howie groaned out loud. So Marshall hadn't known THAT. "Um, shit! Yeah, we fooled around sometimes, before you two hooked up, nothing serious. We're just friends now, I haven't laid a finger on him, I swear!"
Marshall regarded him in silence, and nodded grudgingly. "We haven't exactly told each other our complete histories yet. We get to meet so damn rarely, and when we're together we're usually, hmm, busy."
"So, uh, you're not going to kill me?" Howie just had to make sure he'd understood the rapper correctly.
"No. You seem harmless, and besides, I trust James completely. It's good to know he has friends he can trust, too. His secret and mine could cause a lot of damage if they got out."
"Lance is my friend and he can trust me, and so can you. I know something about keeping secrets, you'd be amazed at the skeletons in the BSB closets, no pun intended!"
"Hmm, I believe you. Now, I'd better get this sleepy boy here in bed," Marshall said, tightening his arms around Lance, who'd been lightly dozing on his shoulder while the they talked.
"Need any help?" Howie had never thought there'd be a day when he offered to help Marshall Mathers get Lance into bed, but here it was. Go figure.
"No thanks, I can handle him. Um, Howie, right?" At Howie's nod, he continued. "You can call me Marshall if you like. Thanks for taking care of James. Goodnight, now."
It took Howie a few seconds to realize he was being politely but firmly dismissed. "Oh! Goodnight, uh, Marshall."
He took pride in the fact that he waited until reaching the elevator to sag against the wall with his eyes closed and exhale a shaky breath. In the morning he'd find this slightly amusing, and in a year, he might think the whole thing was hilarious, but right now his silent laughter had a hysterical edge of relieved tension to it.
Back in the room, Marshall was in the process of getting Lance ready for bed. It would have been easier if the singer hadn't been so smashed, but as it was, his efforts to aid in the removal of his clothes were hindering rather than helping. Finally Marshall snapped.
"Dammit babe, hold still will you?" Lance complied by flopping spread-eagled down on his back on the bed. Marshall paused to appreciate the view before he carried on stripping Lance of his rumpled clothing. Lance was a little too obliging now, not trying to help at all, letting his lover move his arms and legs like he was a doll.
Marshall spied a suspicious bulge in Lance's groin and glanced at his smirking face, feeling torn between desire, responsibility, love, and vexation. "Damn, you're a horny drunk, aren't you James? We can play this game some other time, you need to sleep now."
"Come on Marshall, I don't wanna sleep now...I wanna fuck...I wanna fuck your cute ass..." Lance's fumbling hands were feeble and aimless, and even his lust was sort of absent-minded, like a child determined to stay up past his bedtime even though he's dead on his feet. It was easy for Marshall to disentangle his hands.
The rapper finished undressing them both, and then crawled in the bed, pulling the comforter over their naked bodies.
"Sleep now, you can jump my bones tomorrow, I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here," Marshall mumbled tiredly, nuzzling his lover's neck in sleepy contentment. Lance sighed in agreement, already in the land of dreams.
Lance groaned. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn there were corpses in his mouth*. He made a face at the taste and whimpered at the way the slight movement of facial muscles pulled at his pounding temples.
The events of the night before were...fuzzy. He'd been drinking with Howie, that much he could remember. He'd also had this weird dream of Marshall being there...
"Drink this, babe, you're dehydrated. And take these too, they'll make you feel better." Lance kept his eyes shut, savoring the remnants of the dream. Mm, Marshall was there in his room with him, and now the bed was dipping under the rapper's weight. The dream Marshall pressed a kiss on the nape of his neck.
Then he made a sound of distaste.
"Damn, you need a shower, babe!"
Now that was something a dream Marshall seldom said. Bracing himself for the pain, Lance opened his eyes to narrow slits and came face to face with a smiling Marshall Mathers. A real flesh and blood one.
For a second Lance forgot all about how miserable he was feeling. His arms shot around his lover and he rolled them over, draping himself over the beloved body. He beamed down at the blue-eyed man, painting his face with his hands as if to make sure he was really there and not just a figment of his imagination.
"It is you! You're here already! But you weren't supposed to come until the day after tomorrow, is something wrong? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you sooner..."
"We'll, it's stupid, really..." Marshall smiled sheepishly and eased Lance from on top of him to his side, spending a few moments fussing over him, making sure he was comfortable. Lance was feeling his hangover again, but he relished in Marshall's closeness. He felt so loved and safe now that there was someone to watch over him.
"So, yeah, I wanted to surprise you by coming a bit early, I guess I should have made sure you were here, huh? No, I didn't actually wait long, just half an hour or so."
"I don't usually like surprises, they mess with my plans, but this time I didn't mind at all! Much of last night is pretty hazy for me, but the moment I realized you were there... it's burnt into my memory."
"I love surprises! I know exactly what you mean by that moment, it's an amazing feeling, and it's cool to adjust to the situation. Adventures are wonderful, and you just don't get the right feeling of adventure if you plan it. No offense hon, I know how you love planning things, but it takes some of the magic away."
Lance was getting inspiration. An idea...Marshall and he, an adventure, an exotic location...a surprise! He'd have to think of this when he had more time, and plan it very carefully, but this seemed like a perfect way to bring joy to his guy. But now...
"Em? How did you get into my room anyhow? We're supposed to have, like, security or something," Lance asked, feeling a little more alert.
"Justin, I mean Joshtin helped me," Marshall grinned. Lance slapped his arm playfully.
"You're evil, hon!"
"You know it!" Nibbling Lance's neck Marshall growled, "And once you've had a shower I'll show you just how evil I really am."
"Neat freak!"
"Stinky boy! Seriously babe, I think you'll feel a lot better after you've brushed your teeth and showered."
Lance regarded his lover steadily with only the barest hint of a smile ghosting on his lips even though his eyes were sparkling like little stars, his inner light mostly contained but dazzling enough to make Marshall's world spin and shift sideways.
"You might be right."
"You know I am. I love you no matter how smelly and vile-tasting you are, but I think you'd enjoy it more too when you're nice and fresh. That's just what I think though, you can do as you like."
"Hmm? So if I French kissed you right now you wouldn't flinch?" Lance's amusement was closer to the surface now, barely hidden.
Marshall took him at his word and tried to brace himself without seeming to. "No. You can kiss me anytime, babe."
Lance leaned slowly closer, watching how Marshall closed his eyes and scrunched up his face in fatalistic horror. 'Alcohol...stewed over the night, and cigarettes too, I know he smokes sometimes when he drinks...oh damn this is gonna taste bad, c'mon Marshall it's the man you love so it can't be that bad, take it like a man. Oh god he's gonna do it...'
When nothing happened, Marshall opened first one, then both eyes. Lance was looking at him with laughter dancing in his eyes, affection smoothing away the embarrassment.
"Silly." Lance kissed Marshall's chest quickly before getting up and shakily rising to his feet, but that's as far as he made it before Marshall jumped up and swept him into his arms.
"Thanks hon," Lance murmured contently as Marshall deposited him on the counter and handed him his toothbrush. He brushed his teeth with Marshall standing in the v of his legs, rubbing his knees and thighs distractingly. When he got into the shower he wasn't very surprised to find Marshall following him.
"Gotta make sure you get clean all over." And the crooked grin and lustful eyes would have told Lance what was going on if he didn't know already, know it and love it.
Marshall soaps him up, taking care to get everywhere, and Lance makes appreciative noises when strong, smooth fingers massage his shoulders, back, thighs, and then oh yes-
Lance has to grab Marshall's shoulders to keep from swooning into a puddle of want, need, and desire on the bathroom floor.
A hot, wet whisper and the touch of those wonderful hands coax Lance to turn to face the wall, bracing his palms against the cool tile. He waits for an endless, impatient moment, and then there is a hot weight against his back and a silky, smooth pressure down, down below, and Lance has never liked his own ass all that much but now he has to agree with the raspy, breathless voice in his ear that it's gorgeous, out of this world, fucking divine.
Then the mouth isn't saying things that make him want to scream anymore, it's mouthing his earlobes, teeth grazing sweetly and sending jolts of wantneeddesire through his quivering body. He's arching his neck to give that mouth more room to work on his neck, and arching his back to drive that hot cock deeper into his desperately flexing ass. He moans and hisses and whimpers until shower stall reverberates with his sounds and the ones his man is making, grunts and groans endearments that sound dirty and sweet at the same time, and it's that combination as much as the hands with their bruising hold on his hips, and the blinding, repetitive pressure on his prostate, and the teeth lightly sinking to the curve of his neck that make him come with a strangled gasp and an amazing amount of messy white on the blue shower wall.
The powerful body behind and inside his own is now trembling uncontrollably, squeezing him as tightly as his internal muscles squeezed it just a moment earlier, and then he has to struggle to keep them both standing as his lover collapses on his back, head bowed over his shoulder as in prayer, lips mouthing his neck lazily, tongue snaking out to caress the bite-mark which is already faintly visible. The weight is reassuring and welcome, but Lance can't hold both their weights for long and so he nudges his lover gently, and soon they're supporting each other, light to carry under the hot, gentle rain of the shower.
TBC
*Anyone like Ian Brown? Me too. So if you thought this line didn't work, forgive a poor writer with a weak spot for a great song.
Comments are greatly appreciated. Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com if you have time. Even a short note lightens up my day and encourages to write. I take requests if I find them interesting, and I often do. Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've received so far!