Diamond
Copyright February 1, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Rating: NC-17
Pairings (so to speak): Lance Bass/Chris Kirkpatrick, JC Chasez/Justin Timberlake, Lance/Chris/Joey Fatone
Disclaimer: The young men who comprise *NSYNC are their own people. The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life. This writing is a work of fiction. I make no money from this venture.
Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and the Savage Garden slashers. Also for Diamond, who told me that my readers deserved resolution.
Wherein Joey has a plotline! Joey is gay! Joey gets laid! Don't get excited.
Notice: I don't have a thing for threesomes. I don't! Oh, leave me alone. Whimper.
First came "Torn Pages," a two-part story of angst and drama. Then came "Awakenings," which was somewhat low-key; it answered some questions but raised some new ones. Now here's "Earning It," which is a short story of nonsense.
Chris and Lance were a different story. Chris had a new habit of licking Lance's ears. Joey really didn't understand it at all. Lance's ears weren't really that attractive. But Chris kept doing it, and Lance seemed to like it.
Joey couldn't remember the last person who'd licked his ears.
He licked his thumb and passed it around the shell of his ear. Then he felt stupid and pointless and sort of embarrassed. He was sure that Chris's tongue would do a much better job than his wet finger.
Oh.
In all sorts of places.
Oh.
Well holy shit.
Bad choice of words.
He turned red and decided not to think about that anymore.
Still, Chris had to touch Lance there. With his fingers. And his, his cock. And maybe? Maybe his, maybe, maybe his tongue.
Gross. Gross gross gross gross gross. That was disgusting. A tongue? There? He wasn't putting his tongue anywhere near there. He knew what came out of there, and he wasn't getting his tongue close to it.
He wouldn't put his fingers there, either. Even if he washed his hands afterward, there were limits.
And his dick? From the way everybody acted, it must feel good. And if it felt good, it might be worth it. Yeah, maybe. He'd put his dick in there if it felt good.
He'd have to find a girl who'd let him.
But girls, women, they didn't have that thing. That place. Justin called it his happy place. Persons of the female persuasion didn't have it. It was strictly a guy thing. So getting it up the butt probably would be more trouble than it was worth for women.
He'd have to try a guy, then. Just to see what it was like. If it felt so good that JC did it to Justin ten times a day, then he wanted to try it, too.
Chances were, he couldn't try it with Justin. And he couldn't pick up a guy, because oh yeah, that would be great publicity. He'd have to find someone else.
Hey, Lance, mind if I borrow Chris for half an hour?
Yeah, that would go over really well.
He wondered why it felt good. What the point was. Women were all soft and wet, but tight and so, so, so right. Doing that to a guy...it had to be seriously tight. Wouldn't that hurt? That would hurt him and the guy. And lube sounded way too messy.
He'd taken a girl's virginity. With more than one girl. It was different with each one. Some barely seemed to notice, and some were in pain. One had cried from the pain, and two had cried for emotional reasons. Sometimes they bled just a little, and that one had bled all over the place and scared the shit out of him.
Speaking of shit. Back to the main point. Gross.
Anal sex sounded gross and disgusting. It also sounded painful for everyone involved. So what was the big deal? Why were his four best friends acting like it was the best thing since, since, since...
Since sex was invented?
It had to feel good. It had to feel great. It had to feel fucking fantastic, to overcome the pain and grossness.
Not that Joey was squeamish. No. He wasn't. He just didn't see the big erotic thrill of putting his fingers where the sun didn't shine.
He ate girls out, yeah. He licked pussy. At first he'd done it just because the girls seemed to like it, and they'd thought he was the biggest stud ever for doing it to them. Then he'd started to like it, too.
But there was no way he was doing that to a guy. Licking out a guy's ass? It was vomit-worthy. He'd be brushing his teeth for years to come.
He wondered if the guys did that. Justin probably did it to JC.
Hey, Chris, you licked Lance's ass yet today?
Go ahead, Fatone, try and ask him. See how many times his fist meets your face before you pass out.
He wondered about the pain part of anal sex. It had to hurt both guys. Maybe it depended on size. Maybe some guys had tighter assholes than other guys. Maybe if you did it enough, you weren't as tight? Maybe if the guy had a smaller dick, it wasn't as bad.
Size does matter.
He snorted. He'd rather have a big dick, thanks. Even if it hurt cramming it in there, he'd rather have a big one.
Lance's was bigger than Chris's. Maybe Chris did Lance, then. No, they took turns. He was pretty sure they both did stuff to each other. Didn't it hurt Chris?
He could ask. He was allowed to ask that.
"Chris?"
"Hey, Joey. Are these socks too green?"
"I'm going to go blind. Where did you get those?"
"Some fan sent them to JC."
"Does it hurt?"
"Wearing socks?"
"Sex."
"No, Virginia, sex doesn't hurt."
"I mean, you know what I mean. Don't be a dork. Anal sex. When Lance does that to you."
"I like what Lance does to me," Chris said.
Well, damn. Did Chris have some secret ability to turn his eyes into hot melted chocolate on command? Suddenly he was giving this sort of smoldering look. Chris was smoldering. Joey needed a therapist. "Stop that."
"Stop what?"
It was getting worse. Chris must be exuding special invisible "fuck me" rays. Pheremones or something. His lips looked all soft and inviting, and his eyes were like sex, and he was leaning closer to Joey like -
Joey backed up right into something and turned around and there was Lance and soft and wet and Lance pushed at his shoulders to make him stop and he turned around to escape but Chris was still there and he didn't know where to go now but he had to get out, out, out.
Out.
Out of the, um, room.
Not out of the...yeah. Because he wasn't in one. Just because he wanted his best friend and he'd just kissed his other best friend. That didn't mean anything. That was just one of those things.
Shit happens.
"Don't kiss me like that," Lance said behind him.
"How should I kiss you?" he asked. A joke. He was cracking jokes. Dumbass.
"Like this." Chris kissed him. Fingers against his jaw, mouth meeting his, chest to chest. He kept his hands to himself but couldn't keep his mouth to himself, had to share it with Chris, shared Chris's mouth as well.
Lance coughed.
Chris stopped kissing him but stayed right there, close, in his face, dark eyes asking him something. Chris had a question.
Joey had an answer.
Chris took Joey's hand and pressed it right against that hard bulge. Lance made a soft, low sound of pleasure and closed his eyes.
Damn. That looked really good. Lance looked good like that. If those screaming girls only knew. All stretched out and relaxed like some pleasure-seeking buffed blond country boy.
"If you touch him right here," Chris said quietly, "he'll let you do anything you want."
"Where?" Joey asked, to make sure.
"Right...here." Chris pressed Joey's fingers right behind Lance's balls. Lance made a small moaning sound and went limp all over, except for the obvious place, which was nice and hard. Chris looked very pleased. "Let's get him undressed."
"You're sure this is okay?" Joey asked.
"Yeah," Chris said. "You can have him for tonight. But just tonight."
"What if it's good and I want him again?"
"Then you'll have to start paying money for the privilege."
"What if I want to try something else?" Joey asked, and ran his finger along Chris's jaw.
"Then you'll have to earn
it," Chris said.
Lance didn't just hop in bed like that. Lance wasn't like that. Especially when he was in a steady, strong relationship. A steady, strong relationship with Chris, of all people, his close friend and co-worker.
Lance would never hand out his body. Not like that. Not like last night.
Something else was going on here.
And Chris, Chris wouldn't let Joey take Lance. Chris and Lance had that whole serious deep love thing happening, a committed relationship. They didn't take sex lightly, and they definitely didn't take each other lightly.
So why the fuck had they let Joey screw with that?
Screw Lance, specifically.
At the time, Joey had been experiencing life through a haze. He'd expected them to turn around and smack him and tell him to get out at every second. But they hadn't. He'd stayed, and he'd screwed Lance, and he'd made out with Chris, and he went on his merry way.
It had been like a one-night stand.
Only, weirdly, he felt like he was on the wrong side of the stand.
He felt like he was the one who'd been screwed.
He wasn't used to that feeling. He didn't like it. It made him feel pathetic and girly. And desperate.
He usually was on the other side of the equation. He was the one who screwed and walked away from it with a satisfied smile, leaving the girl to deal with the aftermath.
This time, he was the one thinking about that night, wondering about it, wishing for it, wanting another chance, having a dozen questions.
Had it been good for them?
Did they think of him? Did they care? Had it meant anything?
"I want to have your baby."
Lance looked at him.
Joey didn't really have anything else to say.
"Come by my room tonight.
I'll see what I can do about it," Lance said.
He'd seen them together. More and more. Even in bed. Now they belonged together, in his mind. They were an item. He wouldn't want to separate them. He wouldn't take one without the other.
He wasn't here to take. He was here to be taken.
Because he loved them. They were his best friends and his coworkers and his partners and his family. They were friendly and smart and talented and fun and dedicated and professional and everything he was, everything he wanted to be.
Because they had beautiful eyes and they knew him better than anyone and they smelled good when he was tired.
Because they understood when he got homesick and they understood when he got tired and they knew what it was like to be Justin and JC's back-up singers.
Because Chris had helped him clean up vomit and Lance had helped him learn routines and nothing felt more like home than Chris's touch, Lance's voice.
Because when he saw them, when he talked with them, when they smiled, he felt tuggings. At his heart and at his groin and everywhere, all over, this full-body sensation of desire and longing and hope.
Because they loved him, and they knew, and they'd been waiting for him to get a clue.
He'd finally gotten a clue.