Nice Hair, Too

Copyright June 8-18, 2001 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: NC-17 for graphic male-male sex

Pairing: *NSYNC

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 slashwriters.  Also to that poor moth trying to get in my room.  I almost let him in, for Chris's sake.

Wherein Justin is a shoe thief, Joey is a seamstress, and Chris is a moth.

Notice: Metaphor warning.



Adam

        "Where are we?" Justin asked.

        "Somewhere on Planet Earth," Chris said.  "But that was last time I checked, and I've been asleep for a while.  I felt us launching into the atmosphere, but I thought it was a pothole."

        Joey rubbed sleep boogers out of his eyes.  With the tail of JC's shirt.  Which JC was wearing.

        "Philadelphia," Lance said.  "We're in Philadelphia."

        Justin nodded.  "Thanks," Chris said.  JC laughed and pushed away Joey.

        Lance looked out of the bus window.


        There were half a dozen reasonable excuses.  Each one was shoddy.

        He was young.

        Well, Justin was younger.

        He was the latecomer.

        They'd been together for years now.  He wasn't the new kid on the block anymore.

        His voice part kept him in the background.

        Joey wasn't their star soloist, either, and Joey was right there in the thick of things.

        Lance had to face facts.  He wasn't as integral a part of *NSYNC as the others were.  He was an outsider.  The other four hadn't just bonded; their hearts and souls were Krazy Glued.  But he was off to the side, not quite as necessary to group harmony.

        Obviously he was necessary for group harmony.  At least, his voice was.  The rest of him?

        It was right there, undeniable: *NSYNC.  N for Justin, S for Chris, Y for Joey, C for JC, and that second N sitting there.  Unrelated to Lance.  And he was tired of trying to force himself to fit.

        Justin, Chris, Joey, and JC were best friends.  Brothers.  They played like children.  They loved like old married couples.  They knew each other and understood each other.

        And Lance, Lance was a step apart.  He had a good voice, and they needed that.  And they got along with him just fine.  It wasn't that they disliked him, or fought with him.  He just didn't feel as deeply connected with them as they felt with each other.

        It wasn't only because he had a talent for management.  They all had their sidelines.  Sure, he liked the business side of the business.  But that only made him an asset to *NSYNC, not distracted from it.

        Lance didn't fit in.  He knew it.  He felt it every day.  Some days more than others.

        He tried to accept it.  He tried to live with it.  But he couldn't overcome it.

        It hurt.


        "No!  No!  You'll never take me!"

        Justin fled from Chris, vaulting over the sofa.  Chris gave chase, falling over the sofa and onto the floor.  "Joey!  Joey!  You'll have to go on without me," Chris said from the carpet.  "Be brave.  You're a good man.  Don't come back for me."

        "Where am I going?" Joey asked, resting a foot on Chris's stomach.

        "After that little kid who stole my shoes!" Chris shouted.

        Justin laughed and ran past JC, handing off one of the shoes.

        JC gave Chris's sneaker a puzzled look.  "Thanks, Justin."

        Chris gave a dramatic cough.  "You'll make it, Joey.  Be strong."

        "Okay," Joey said.  "Stay here.  I'll come back for you, Chris.  Don't let the coyotes eat you."  He turned and scanned the room.  "You!"

        JC looked up, distracted.

        "Skinny!"

        "What?" JC asked.

        "Gimme that there shoe, ya varmint."

        "It's not my size," JC said.  "It's not your size," he added.

        "I'm takin' that personal, Skinny.  You mean to insult my feet?"

        "I think he's insulting Chris's feet," Justin said from his hiding place.

        Joey strode across the room and picked up JC around the waist, setting him on the lighted counter.  "Now you answer me good, Skinny."

        "Can I get down first?" JC asked.

        "I'm askin' the questions here!" Joey said.

        "Sorry," JC said.  "Sir."

        Joey acknowledged JC's proper respect with a nod.  "Where'd you get that there shoe?"

        "Justin."

        "Who's this Justin character?"

        "I don't know, sir.  I never saw him before in my life.  Funny-looking kid."

        "Funny-looking, hunh.  Like you?"

        "Hey," JC said.

        "Don't get riled, Skinny."

        "Don't call me funny-looking!  He's young, tall, lots of curly hair."

        "One of those types, eh?"

        "One of those types," JC agreed.

        "What's that mean?" Justin demanded.

        "I don't know," JC said.  "I'm just agreeing with him so he'll let me down."

        "All right.  You're dismissed," Joey said, stepping back and taking Chris's shoe from JC's hand.  "Chris?"

        "What?"

        "You dead yet?"

        "Not yet."

        Joey nodded and scanned the room again.

        Justin ran for the door.

        "Hey!  Thief!  Stop there!" Joey shouted.

        Justin whirled around and grabbed the first thing he saw: Lance.  Standing behind Lance, one arm around Lance's chest, he said, "Stop right there or the blond gets it."

        Joey put up his hands.

        "Drop the shoe," Justin said.

        Joey dropped it.

        "Back up nice and slow."

        Joey backed.

        "Hey," Chris said from the floor.  "What about my shoes?"

        "Right," Joey said.  He charged.  Justin yelped and ran.  Lance ducked to avoid being tackled.


        "Justin, Justin.  What are you doing?" Chris asked, putting a hand on Justin's chest to keep distance between their bodies.

        "Guess," Justin said.

        "No, wait.  Down!  I forgot how horny children are."

        "Children," Justin repeated, offended.

        "You can't.  We can't.  JC gets the first one."

        "I know."

        "We can't, anyway.  Not now."

        "Why do I have to kiss JC first?  Why can't I kiss you first?"

        "What are you complaining about?  You get to kiss JC first.  I wouldn't complain.  Throw a party, maybe.  Do a happy dance."

        "Yeah."  Justin smiled.  "When I'm finished with JC, I'm coming to see you.  And I know Joey's going to swoop in and steal JC."

        "What about Lance?" Chris asked.

        "He can watch," Justin said.

        "He can help," Chris suggested.

        "You think I need help?  Maybe you need help, you old fart.  Lance can be your body double."

        "I don't need a - - you little-"

        Justin escaped, laughing.

        Lance closed his eyes again.


        "It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you..."  Joey zipped up his fly and looked in the mirror.  "And when we are apart...  Are these pants getting bigger?"

        "Yes," Chris said.  "They're the famous Growing Pants.  We hired them out from their tour across Europe.  Every day they get one inch longer."

        "Modern miracle of science," Justin said.

        "I'm losing weight," Joey said.

        "Good," Justin said.  "Give some to JC."

        "We go through this every tour," Chris said.

        "Every tour," Justin repeated.  "Because this is our fourteenth one and we're old pros by now."

        "We are old pros by now," Chris said.  He considered Justin and altered his statement.  "I'm an old pro.  You're something else."

        "I'm something else all right," Justin said, and shimmied.

        "We should make it a weight-loss system," Chris said, deciding to ignore Justin after giving him a wary look.  "Charge people to tour with us."

        "We could make it a sleep-deprivation study, too," JC suggested from his corner.

        "Don't lose any more weight," Lance told Joey.  "We're not altering all of your costumes."

        "He'll do it himself," Chris said.  "Joey the seamstress.  I can see him sitting on the bus with his needle and thread, taking in his pants."


        "Justin has good ears," Joey said.

        "Mine stick out," Chris said, trying to pin them back with his fingers.

        "Ears are usually the last thing I notice about a person," JC said.  "Did you ever look at a girl and say, 'Hey, now she has nice ears.'"

        "Check out the ears on that one," Lance said.

        "Lance has skinny ears," Chris said, and gave a gentle tug on Lance's right earlobe.

        "That's nice, Chris," JC said.  "What do you want him to do, get silicone injections?"

        "It wasn't an insult," Chris said.  "I like the way Lance looks."

        "I like the way Lance smiles," Joey said.

        "Oh," Justin said, "the way when he talks - - when he smiles, there's more on the right than on the left."

        "I noticed that the first day," JC said.  "Now I watch for it.  I sit there looking, waiting, there it is!"

        "I like the way Justin smiles," Chris said.

        "All teeth," Joey said.

        "I'm the good-looking one," Justin said.  When everyone laughed at him, he just smiled.

        "I'm the good-looking one," Chris said.

        "You're a leprechaun," Lance said.

        "And sometimes you look demonic," Joey said.

        "Demonic," JC agreed.

        "Sshhh," Chris said.  "You're not supposed to know about my pact with Satan."

        "Oh, we've known about that for years," Justin said.

        "It wasn't hard to figure out," Lance said.

        "Darn," Chris said.  "I have to kill you all now."


        JC was quiet.  He smiled a lot.  And blushed.

        Justin was squirrelly all day.

        As soon as the five of them were alone, Justin dropped to his knees before JC and looked up with clasped hands.  "Sir, I beseech you.  Please, sir, may I have another?"

        Lance felt light-headed.

        "Get up," JC said, turning red as he smiled, looking at the others and hoping that they weren't noticing Justin's behavior.

        "I knew it!" Chris said, pointing at them.  "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!"

        "You didn't," Joey said, staring at JC and Justin.

        "Let's watch Joey's eyebrows try to climb up into his hairline," Chris said.

        "It was one kiss," JC said, trying to downplay the incident.

        Lance's gut clenched.

        "JC kisses real good," Justin said with a big grin, then licked his lips.

        JC sat between Chris and Lance on the sofa, pretending not to know who this JC person was.  Or who Justin was, either.

        It didn't work.  Justin followed, climbing onto the sofa and kneeling over JC, clasping his hands again.  "Please, JC?  One more, a little one, between friends."

        "We're not friends," JC said.

        "Lovers," Justin said, and raised his eyebrows, pouted his lips, and gave one quick thrust of his hips.

        "Justin, please, I just ate," Chris said.

        "You're going to put somebody's eye out with that thing," Joey said.

        JC laughed.

        "If you don't give me some good down-home lovin', I'm asking Chris," Justin told JC.

        "Don't drag me into this," Chris said.

        "Chris in drag," Joey said.

        "Don't paint me that picture," JC said.

        "Is that how you like your men?" Justin asked Joey.  "JC and Lance would look good in drag."

        "Excuse me," JC said.

        "Oh, yeah," Chris said.

        Everyone looked at Chris.

        "Was that too enthusiastic?" Chris asked.

        "A little," Justin said.

        "You worry me," Joey said.

        "Scare me," JC said.

        "You'd look good in drag," Chris told JC.  "And Lance.  I don't know - - Justin, get out of the way so I can see Lance - - it's the skin or the eyes or something."

        "Lance looks like a girl," Joey said.

        "So does your mother," Justin retorted.

        Joey frowned, not sure he should take offense.

        "Am I getting some or not?" Justin asked JC.

        "In front of-"

        "Why not?" Justin asked.  "They'll all be taking some of you later."

        "Do we get in a line or take numbers or what?" Joey asked.

        "Don't be crude," JC said.  "Guys.  It's not going to be like that, and if it's going to be like that, I'm out of it."

        "It was a joke, JC," Justin said.  Lance wondered if anyone else noticed the way Justin's fingers trembled, millimeters away from resting on JC's thigh.  "It's not like that."

        "How was the big first kiss?" Chris asked.

        "Good," Justin said.

        "I don't kiss and tell," JC said.

        "I will," Justin said.  "It was good.  This time, I want tongue."

        "Justin," JC said.

        "Give the boy some tongue, JC," Chris urged.

        Justin licked his teeth.

        "That was lewd," JC said.

        "That was gross," Joey said.

        "That turned me on," Chris said.

        Justin laughed.


        It was happening.  JC and Justin had kissed.  At least twice.  Lance hadn't witnessed either exchange, but after the second kiss, Justin had staggered to Lance and Chris and collapsed before them, gasping, and begged them to remember him fondly when he was gone.

        JC had kissed Joey, too.  Joey was keeping quiet about it, but Chris had found out and leaked the news to Justin and Lance.

        When Chris kissed Justin, Lance was there to see it.  JC and Joey were, too.  It was fast and wet, and when it was over, Chris pinched Justin's cheeks.  Then Justin's feelings were hurt, so Chris kissed him again.  Then Justin had a hard-on, and got embarrassed about it, so Chris gave him another kiss.  Then Joey felt left out, so Justin kissed Joey, a short kiss, friendly and almost chaste.  Joey turned bright red and hid for the next hour.


        Lance couldn't remember whose bedroom was on which side.  He thought that it must be Joey.  He didn't care if Joey saw him in his T-shirt and boxers with his hair doing more interesting spiky things than usual, so he opened the door.

        Not Joey.  JC.

        "Hi," JC said.  "Can I come in?"

        "Sure," he said.  "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

        "I was talking," JC said.  "To the guys."  He looked Lance right in the eye.  "About you."

        Lance's stomach knotted.  "About what?"

        "They said I should talk to you first.  Alone."

        "Why you?"

        "I'm gay.  Justin's young and open-minded, Chris is old and confused, and Joey's half-straight, half-Syncsexual.  They thought you might be more comfortable with me."

        "Syncsexual," Lance repeated.

        "Chris thought it up," JC said.

        "Ah.  That sounds like Chris."

        "I'll put it on the line for you, Lance.  We love you.  We love each other.  We want to be closer but we won't do it without you.  And we don't want to push you into anything - - Chris said I should grab you and kiss you and take it from there, but this is a big step, this is a big thing.  If you don't want to do it, it's over."

        "Is this an ultimatum?"

        "It doesn't have to be like that," JC said.  "We can wait.  If you want to wait.  We know you didn't come into this planning to...to get four sex partners.  We can wait.  Or we can back off and let it go."

        "Why is this up to me?"  He wanted to pretend this had never happened.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to kill JC.

        "We don't know how you feel about it.  We're not going to do it without you."

        "You've been doing it without me so far."

        "No, we haven't.  It hasn't been right.  It hasn't been real.  We want you to be a part of it with us, or else it's not us."

        Lance tried to understand.

        "Chris said I should grab you and kiss you.  Justin said I should talk to you."

        Lance took his cue.  "What did Joey say?"

        "That I should seduce you."

        There wasn't enough air in the room.

        "We love you, Lance, and we love each other, and we want to share that.  If you say yes, Joey has first dibs.  If you say no, we're not going anywhere."

        "Joey?"

        "It doesn't have to be tonight," JC said.  "But he's right over there if you want to talk to him about it."

        Joey.  On the other side of the wall.  Lance couldn't stop thinking about it.  Joey on one side.  JC on the other.  He was trapped between them.  Joey, affectionate, selfless.  JC, beautiful, abstract.  And what were Chris and Justin doing?  Waiting for his answer with bated breath?  Screwing like rabbits right down the hall?


        Two weeks passed.

        There was no more kissing.  The flirting remained at its usual level, something they could pass off as friendship and closeness as long as outsiders never picked up on the eagerness in Justin's eyes, the warmth in JC's voice.


        "It's his skin, I'm telling you."

        "We all have skin."

        "No, it's almost...there's a word for it, I know there's a word for it..."

        "Translucent."

        "That's it!  Translucent!  His skin is translucent."

        "I think it's the eyes."

        "Green."

        "Whoa.  Say it with a little more feeling there, Justin.  'Green.'  Sounds like Justin has a new favorite color."

        "Shut up."

        "All moany and breathy.  'Green.'  I bet you get turned on watching Kermit the Frog."

        "God, Chris, that's sick."

        "Guys, guys.  We're overlooking the obvious part here."

        "His-"

        "No, not that.  Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "At least I'm honest about what I like."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "So what's the obvious part, JC, if it's not his-"

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert.  It's his voice."

        "The voice."

        "Oh..."

        "He could talk you into an orgasm."

        "Justin!  Wash your mouth out with soap!"

        "Orgasm orgasm orgasm.  Na na na."

        "His saying 'orgasm' isn't half as dirty as when he was moaning 'green' like...like...like something dirty."

        "Joey.  You mean to tell me you're after Lance for his..."

        "What?  No!"

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "We've all seen it.  I'm just saying.  It's not bad."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "Pervert."

        "Shit!  Shut up, shut up."

        "Hey, Lance."

        "Hey," Lance said.

        "Nice hair, too," Chris said, and coughed.


        "You ever see a moth trying to get inside to get to the light but the screen's in the way so he's throwing himself against the screen, beating his wings, trying to get in?"

        Everyone looked at Chris.

        "I feel like that.  That's me.  Throwing myself, dying to be let in, getting nowhere, only hurting myself in the end."

        "I missed the metaphor," Lance said.

        "Chris is a moth," Joey said.

        "I thought he was a leprechaun," Justin said.

        "You're the moth," JC said to Chris.  "What's the light?"

        "Lance."

        Lance's heart dropped.

        "Shit," Joey said.

        "Shit," Justin agreed.

        "The rest of you, you open the screens and let me in.  Joey didn't have any screens to begin with."

        "Chris," JC said.

        "You, you keep the screens up, every time there's a little rip you patch it right up again, you never let anybody in, I'm out here, we're out here, beating ourselves to death trying to get close to you," Chris said to Lance.

        Lance couldn't breathe.

        "Lance," Chris said.  "I can't help it.  I'm just going to try harder and harder, beat my wings faster and faster, to get in.  It's up to you.  You either have to let me in, or you have to...finish my metaphor."

        "Slam the window?" Joey suggested.

        "You could say turn off the light, but that would mean he has to kill himself," Justin said.  "I don't like this metaphor."

        "Grab a rolled-up newspaper and beat Chris with it until he gets a clue," JC said.

        "You can't make it all Lance's fault," Joey said to Chris.

        "I've been trying to get through that screen for years and every time I think I'm getting somewhere, something happens and I realize I'm not getting anywhere.  None of us is.  He won't let us."

        "Maybe we're not giving him reason to let us," Joey said.

        "What?" Chris asked.  "We don't spend enough time with him?  We aren't trustworthy?  We don't love him enough?  I love Lance as much as I love you, as much as I love Justin, as much as I love JC, more than I love myself.  Which isn't all that much right now, because I feel like an incredible jerk for bringing any of this up, and if I want to get closer to Lance this moth metaphor isn't going to help, so I'm shutting up right now so he can get a good head start on hating me."

        "I don't hate you," Lance said.  At least that's what he wanted to say.  What he would have said.  If he'd been able to speak.

        "Lance put up that screen," JC said.  "If he wants it there, that's his business."

        "Respect the screen," Justin said.

        "I hate that screen," Chris said.

        "So do I," Joey said.

        Silence.  Chris frowned and picked at his shoelaces.  Lance wanted to go home.  Or disappear.  Or never have met these people.


        He wasn't one of them.

        There was a screen.  He could watch them through it.  Talk with them.  See how they lived.  But he couldn't share their world.


        He'd been laying on the sofa, trying to sleep.  Joey sat down, pushing his legs out of the way, waking him with cheer.  They started talking.

        Half an hour later, still talking, Joey was laying on top of him.  Mostly on top of him, a little off to one side, their legs mingling.  They were talking and laughing, listening and smiling, conversing like any two close friends who happened to be sharing very personal space.

        Lance never would have gotten into this relaxed, intimate situation with anyone else.  But it was Joey.  Joey was a friendly person.  Affectionate.  So, why not?  It was Joey.

        Joey was sort of heavy, too.

        "Did JC tell you I'm..."

        Lance's breath caught.  No, no.  Not this.

        "If that's what's keeping you from...  I mean, if you'd rather...  I don't have to be first.  Or ever.  If you don't-"

        "Joey, get the fuck off of me."  Lance couldn't get out of there fast enough.


        He decided to talk to Justin.  Justin was their leader, right?  Their front man.  The Diana Ross to their Supremes.

        "Hey, Lance-"

        "If you can't keep it in your pants, that's your business.  If you want a partner-swapping sexual orgy, that's up to you.  Don't get me involved.  If you want JC, take him, and don't pretend that it has anything to do with me."  He left before his mind could imprint a clear image of the look on Justin's face.


        He could tell that Joey hadn't told the others about his behavior.  He could tell that Justin hadn't said anything to them, either.

        Not that keeping secrets was big among them.  Joey and Justin couldn't keep anything from Chris and JC to save their lives.

        Justin came by Lance's hotel room.  Lance had been trying to sleep, but he rose from bed at Justin's knock and opened the door.  Justin smelled like smoke, alcohol, leather, and sweat.  Guess who'd been out clubbing?

        "Can I talk to you?"

        Not "Can we talk?"  Could Justin talk to Lance.  "Sure," Lance said, and let Justin into his room.  He closed the door.

        Justin looked nervous.  He was very cute when he was nervous.

        Lance wasn't in the mood to admire how cute Justin was.

        "If it were just sex, I wouldn't be getting anywhere.  Chris would say I'm too young, JC would say no because he's annoying like that, and Joey wouldn't want to compromise his heterosexuality just for me.  For JC, maybe...  Lance, I love the guys.  I love them, I love Chris and I love JC and I love Joey.  And I love you.  You know that.  You have to know that, you have to know how deep it goes.  It's not just sex, it's not just love, it's not just friends, it's...  There's this bond, this experience, we all share...  If JC and Joey want to knock boots, that's up to them, you're right.  But this is the five of us.  We're not getting into it without you because we can't.  We're not inviting you to our orgy to be polite, Lance."

        Lance wanted Justin to go.  Now.  If not earlier.

        Justin fidgeted for a moment.  "Lance, I know I've kissed JC and Chris, but I never actually, I've never...  I want you.  Whoa.  Yeah."  Justin blinked a little.  "I want you.  I know you're a guy.  And I keep getting the feeling you don't want me.  And if you don't, that's kind of insulting, because you know I'm first-class sexy."

        Lance didn't want to smile.

        "I'm in love with you and I want us to have sex.  I hope there are no fans in the closet taping this.  You know if I wanted sex, only sex, I could find some.  Even if I just wanted to experiment with gay stuff, I could probably find somebody who'd keep quiet about it.  It's not about that.  It's about you, and us, and *NSYNC, and...  I know you understand."

        Lance couldn't move.

        "Joey has dibs," Justin said, voice soft, eyes soft.  Touch soft.  Kiss soft against Lance's cheek.  "You'd better hurry up and take him up on it, Lance.  I know you want me in your bed."

        Lance wanted to close his eyes.

        "I'll do anything you want," Justin said.  "Anything you want, Lance.  I know you love us.  Even if you want to keep up the screen, at least you can get laid."

        He had to smile.

        "Let me know when you're ready to take it up with Joey.  I get JC first and he's killing me."

        "By doing absolutely nothing," Lance guessed.

        "I can't stand it.  How can someone that sexy be that clueless?"

        "It's JC."

        "Were you sleeping?"

        "Yeah."

        "Can I sleep with you?"

        "No."

        "There's room."

        "Justin-"

        "I won't snore."


        Joey's hair was red again.

        Chris kept apologizing for spilling ketchup.  Then he kept trying to bandage Joey's head, saying that scalp wounds always bled a lot.

        "Give me a break," Joey said.

        "For how long?" Chris asked.

        "Ten minutes.  Go bother JC."

        Chris checked the time and went to find JC.

        Lance took Chris's vacant seat, beside Joey on the sofa.  Joey cast him a brief glance, not eager to make the first move.  That was fair.  "I'm sorry."

        Joey was generous enough to look at him.

        "It's not...  That's one of the things that I can handle."

        "If you'd rather-"

        "No, Joey.  If I'm going to...  You're the one I'd want to..."

        "Oh."  Joey scratched the side of his nose, avoiding Lance's gaze for a moment.  "Then what's the problem?"

        "How can we have casual sex?  There's nothing casual about this."

        "That's the point, Lance."

        "Then what are we doing?  What's...  Are we going to stop seeing other people?"

        "That's up to you."

        "Joey, we can't jump into this without deciding what we want from it.  What if we all start, and then Chris thinks we're all a couple but Justin's still playing and you still want women and JC gets a boyfriend, and then-"

        "When's the last time one of us got laid?"

        "I don't know.  I can't keep track of your sex life, Joey."

        "Think about it."

        He tried to remember.

        "Last one of us who had sex was me.  Five weeks ago."

        "Five weeks?"

        Joey nodded.

        Lance didn't know what to say to that.

        "No one's said anything.  We didn't make a group decision to put it on hold for each other.  But we all did anyway.  We're all in this, Lance.  Nobody's saying this is forever.  We'll probably all meet somebody and fall in love and get married and build a white picket fence.  But for now, this is where we are."

        "You're a lot smarter than you get credit for."

        "You say shit like that and I still love you."

        "Are my ten minutes up?" Chris asked, returning.  "JC's busy making Justin drool."

        "What's he doing?" Joey asked.

        "Existing."


        Hotel.

        Joey was in the next room.

        Lance went to bed.

        He couldn't sleep.

        He went to Joey's room.

        Joey let him in.


        "Is it okay-"

        He nodded.

        "I don't-"

        "It's okay," he said.

        "Lance," Joey said.  "I've thought about this.  Being in bed.  Having you...under me.  You look...  We don't have to, I don't, if you-"

        "Joey," he said, to stop the babbling.  "You can take off your clothes."

        "Now?"

        "I'd prefer to do this naked, if that's okay with you."

        "You're not the funny one," Joey reminded him.

        "Funny-looking, maybe."

        "No, that's not you, either."

        "Yeah, well, you have to say that if you want to get some."

        "Lance Bass!"

        "What?  I'm just saying."

        "Kids these days."

        "Are you getting naked or what?"

        "What about you?" Joey asked.

        "What about me?"

        "You're dressed."

        "I'm in my underwear."

        "And T-shirt.  I'd prefer to do this naked, if that's-"

        "Get off of me and I'll oblige you."

        "That sounded dirty," Joey said.

        "Probably because we are in bed."

        "Probably because...  Do you listen to yourself talk?" Joey asked, climbing off of him.

        "I try not to listen to you talk, if-"

        "You're a real funny guy tonight."

        "Thanks."  Sitting up, Lance pulled off his T-shirt.

        "I'm straight, so-"

        Lance raised an eyebrow.

        "Besides this."

        "Right."

        "Anyway.  I'm straight, so it's not like I care about...  You have the best voice for sex."

        "Joey.  No, you're not the first person who's said something like that.  And no, I don't believe it for a second."

        "You don't?"

        "Frankly, no."

        "You should hear yourself.  You sound good, Lance.  Don't look bad, either."

        "Thank you."  He settled on his back again.  Okay.  No big deal.  He was going to have sex with Joey.  Sex.  With Joey.

        "You're...  That's not naked."

        Lance rolled his eyes.  "Fine."  He lifted his hips and tugged down his underwear, sliding it down his legs and dropping it to the floor.  "Is that better?"

        "Lots."

        "Stop staring."  He stifled the impulse to cover himself with his hands.  Joey'd seen it all before, anyway.

        "I'm used to girls, so if I treat you-"

        "It's okay, Joey."

        "Do you have any rules?"

        "Rules?  What are you planning to do to me?"

        "No, I...  Anything you don't want or don't like?"

        "Long walks on the beach - - Joey, no, Joey.  I like you.  You probably know what you're doing more than I do, anyway.  If I pull a muscle or do something wrong, we'll work it out then.  For now, take off your clothes and kiss me, like I'm any other cute blond in your bed."

        Joey laughed.


        Heavy, masculine bodies.  Sweat.  Lance had spent an inordinate amount of time on his back, being kissed and caressed.  Now he was on his hands and knees, head lowered, eyes closed, holding himself steady through Joey's hard thrusts.

        The question flashed through his mind.  Was this what Joey was like with women?  Foreplay, petting, sweetness, then the quick change to forceful fucking.  The best of both worlds.

        There was happiness popping and snapping inside him.  Each explosion of pleasure made him all the more susceptible to the next one.  If Joey didn't come soon, he was going to go nuts.  Lance couldn't take this much longer.  Too much of a good thing.  And this was a very...good...thing.

        Oh.  What?  What?  Joey had stopped.  He was going to kill Joey.  This was no time to stop.  This was really, really, the wrong time to stop.  Maybe in another year or so...

        Hands, pulling and pushing.  Joey's hands, broad and sure.  Lance dropped to his back and tried not to beg or demand, "Get me off!"  As it turned out, he didn't have to say anything.  Joey cupped his balls with one hand, nice and gentle, then started to jack his cock.

        Now, logically, Joey knew what to do because Joey had the same body parts he had, and knew what to do with them the same as any guy did.

        But that was no excuse for how good it felt to have Joey's hand on him.

        And there was no reason for him to start writhing and moaning.

        Adult men did not writhe.

        Lance was writhing.

        He was naked in bed having sex, he'd just had Joey's joystick pushing his happy button, he'd been kissed and stroked up, and now he had a very nice, very well-schooled, warm man's hand right where he wanted it.

        Lance came.

        While Lance was still trying to breathe in the correct order - - in, out, in, out - - and realizing that he'd misplaced a few brain cells, Joey came on him.  Right on him.  On purpose.  Aimed and everything.  Was that rude, or had Joey seen a few too many porn movies?

        Then Joey started touching him again.  Stroking his arm.  Squeezing his thigh.  Pulling at his nipple.  Poking at his balls.  Ouch.  "Joey, what are you doing?"

        "I've never been this close to a naked guy."  Joey licked his shoulder.

        O...kay...

        "Lance."

        "Joey."

        Joey was running a finger through the hair on his calves and not looking anywhere near his eyes.  "You look really good when you come."

        "Thanks, Joey."


        "They did it," Justin announced to no one in particular, staring as Lance and Joey sat on the bus sofa.

        "Oh, no," Chris said, and grabbed the sides of his head.  "Brain...malfunction...  Can't...compute...  Shutdown...imminent...  Lance...had...sex..."

        "Go Lance, go Joey, go Lance, it's your birthday," Justin cheered, starting to groove.

        "What did I miss?" JC asked, stepping onto the bus.

        Justin froze.

        "Go Justin, go Justin," Chris stage-whispered.

        "Joey and I had sex," Lance told JC.

        "Guys," JC said.  He smiled and his eyes crinkled.

        "I made Lance come three times," Joey said.  "Three."  He held up three fingers.  Then he paused and looked at his fingers.  "Whoa."  He looked at his index finger, tilting his head to one side.  "I put this in-"

        Chris clapped his hands over Justin's ears.

        "I had sex," Joey said.  "With a guy."

        Justin broke free from Chris.  "JC.  You busy tonight?"

        "A guy," Joey repeated.


        After JC and Justin made love, Justin was high-strung and half-hard all day.  Chris groaned over what he'd gotten himself into and suggested that Lance take his place, but Justin talked him into it.

        Everyone knew that while Chris was entertaining Justin, JC and Joey were making love.  But neither JC nor Joey ever said a word about it.  It wasn't that they were ashamed, only that what happened between them was private and special, and JC never talked about what went on in his bedroom anyway.

        Lance was about to find out why.


        "I knew," JC said.  "I knew from that first day."

        "He completed the sound," Justin said.  "Filled out the group."

        "Hearing his voice, listening to him fit right in with us, I knew," JC said.

        "I knew just looking at him," Chris said.

        "I thought Joey was the pervert," Justin said.

        "No, that's me," Chris said.

        "Right.  Joey wants Lance's guy thing, but Chris wants Lance to dress up like a girl," Justin remembered.

        "His guy thing?" Chris asked.

        "Adam's apple," Joey said.

        "I wonder if he'd let me suck on it," Chris said.

        "His Adam's apple?" Justin asked.

        "He let me," Joey said.

        "What are we talking about?" Justin asked.

        "You sucked Lance's voicebox?" Chris asked.

        "Sure," Joey said.  "He let me."

        "Did he like it?" Justin asked.

        "Yeah," Joey said.

        "Tell us more," Justin said.

        "I should be taking notes," Chris said.

        "Lance has to sound good in bed," Justin said.

        "You would think," Chris agreed.

        "You sound good in bed," Justin told Chris.

        Chris looked flattered and embarrassed.  "I do not."

        "You do.  I didn't know, but it's true."

        "Really?" JC asked.

        Chris turned red and pulled his shirt over his face.


        Lance opened his door.  "Hi."

        "We only have a minute.  JC will be here any second," Justin whispered.  "Let me in.  Let me in, let me in."  He fidgeted past Lance and into the room.  "Where can I hide?"

        "Hide?" Lance repeated.

        "Bathroom?  Closet!" Justin whispered to himself.

        "Justin-"

        Justin kissed Lance's lips and ducked into the closet, pulling the door almost shut.

        Lance turned in a circle, looking for someone sane.

        JC walked in through the open doorway.  "Hi."

        Lance felt warm.

        "Is this a good time?"

        Very warm.

        JC closed the door.  Locked the door.


        On the bus the next morning, Chris was climbing all over Joey.  JC was shy yet serene.  Lance was still trying to remember where he'd left his brain.

        And Justin...  Justin was in a great mood.  Happy.  Laughing.  Lance was the only one who knew why.  And Lance was the one he pulled into the bus's bathroom.

        Not for a quickie, exactly.

        Justin licked his neck, sucked his voicebox, and let him go.

        There was no chance Lance would ever find his brain at this rate.


        When Justin had promised, a few days ago, that he would do anything Lance wanted...

        He'd meant it.

        Justin was curious, flexible, adventurous, intelligent, and at ease in his own body.  He was comfortable with Lance, comfortable with his sexuality, and happy to get to know Lance's sexual tastes.

        Justin had the upper hand in this encounter, already having seen Lance with JC.  He used some of what he'd learned, and tried new things.

        Sex with Justin was fast.  Physical.  Justin's graceful, muscular body worked towards its own climax, and supplied Lance's pleasure along the way.  Lance would never be able to watch Justin dance again.

        Lance knew that he and Justin were more alike than people realized.  Justin was young and goofy, yes, but very smart.  Talented.  Deep.  Justin had depth.  Laying beside Justin's slumbering body, Lance traced Justin's features with a thumb.  "I love you."


        "...so the lady throws the guy's cigar out the window," Chris continued.

        "Wait," JC said.  "They're in an airplane."

        "So?" Joey asked.

        "You can't open airplane windows."

        "She did," Justin said.

        "It's a joke, JC," Lance said.

        "I don't get it," Joey said.

        "I didn't finish it!" Chris said.  "So the lady throws the guy's cigar out the window.  And-"

        "I had sex with Lance," Justin said.  Everyone looked at him.  "What?  I just wanted to say it out loud.  Keep going."

        "And the guy gets mad," Chris said.  "He's like-"

        "I had sex with Chris," Justin said.

        "Can I tell this joke?" Chris asked.

        "Sure," Lance said.  "Don't let us stop you."

        "So the guy grabs the poodle, and-"

        "I had sex with JC."

        "-he throws it out the window, after the cigar.  And the lady's screaming and-"

        Joey patted his knee.  Justin climbed over Chris and sat in Joey's lap.

        "-and the guy's yelling.  'You killed my dog!'  'You threw away my cigar!'"

        Justin relaxed back against Joey's chest.  Joey rubbed Justin's stomach.

        "And they're shouting and crying and they look out the window," Chris said.  "And there, clinging to the wing of the plane, is the poodle."

        "He's okay!" Joey exclaimed, relieved.

        "And in the poodle's mouth," Chris said.  "Is."

        "The cigar," Lance said.

        "The pilot," JC said.

        "An Aerosmith CD," Joey said.

        "Disneyland!" Justin shouted.

        "The brick," Chris said.

        "What?" Joey asked.

        "Oh my god," JC said, laughing.

        Lance groaned.

        Justin applauded.


        Chris's kiss was soft and wet.  "You don't have to."

        "I want to," Lance said, finding Chris's mouth again.

        "Your eyes are so pretty," Chris said, touching his face, "and your skin is so soft..."


        "What's your favorite thing about Lance?"

        "Voice."

        "Eyes."

        "Hair."

        "Guy thing."

        "Other guy thing."

        "Booty."

        "Smile."

        "Eyebrows."

        "Hands."

        "Feet."

        "Clothes."

        "He's way too smart."

        "The way he takes charge."

        "Mmm...yeah..."

        "I didn't mean that."

        "I did."

        "You should have.  Damn."

        "Oh, yeah."

        "The way he kisses."

        "He let me touch him everywhere."

        "The way he touched me."

        "The way he sounds."

        "The way he looks."

        "Right before he..."

        "Oh, yeah."

        "Damn."


        Lance opened his door.  "Hi."

        Joey waved.  Justin smiled.

        "Can I help you?"

        "Uh-huh," Joey said, and grinned.

        "Invite us in," Justin said.

        "Please, come in," Lance said, letting them pass.  He closed the door.

        Justin reached over and locked the door.

        "May I help you?" Lance asked.

        "Uh-huh," Joey said.

        "Wanna have sex?" Justin asked.

        "With whom?" Lance asked.

        "Us," Justin said.

        "Now," Joey said, and grinned.

        "Both of you?" Lance asked.

        "I love it when your voice goes up like that," Justin said.

        "Uh-huh," Joey agreed.


        Justin was hard onstage a lot now.  Lance was, too.  Chris teased them about it.  But the rush, the crowd, the energy, the performance, and looking over and seeing JC, meeting Joey's eyes, hearing Chris and watching Justin and being there with them, right beside them...  Chris smiled at him and JC sang with him and Joey smacked his butt and Justin danced with him, and if that wasn't going to get him hard, nothing was.

        Chris started to open Lance's pants.

        "What are you doing?" Lance asked.

        "Looks like he's undressing you," Joey said.

        "Chris," JC said.

        "Whoa, Chris," Lance said, trying to push Chris's hands out of there.

        "Chris!  Chris!  Chris!" Justin chanted.

        Lance tried to stay on his feet.  Chris's hand fit right inside his underwear, scratching through his pubic hair, fondling his balls.

        "You need some help there?" Joey asked.

        "No, I've got it," Chris said, watching his work.

        Justin's hands steadied Lance.  He looked over Lance's shoulder.  "Wow."

        "Guys," JC said.

        Lance was on JC's side, but couldn't find the words to say so.

        "Joey, quit breathing down my neck," Chris said.


        "Where are we?" Joey asked, rubbing his eyes.

        "Morning," JC said, and kissed him.

        "Boston," Lance said.

        "You have the wrong accent," Chris said, stepping onto the sofa and running his fingers through Lance's hair.

        "Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd," Justin said.

        "We don't have a car, we have a bus," JC said.

        "Cah cah cah," Justin insisted.

        "Bus bus bus," JC teased.

        "If I tell you we're in Albany, will you stop it?" Lance asked.

        "Maybe," Chris said.

        "Albany?" Joey asked.  "Let's go to New York."

        "Manhattan," Justin said.

        "Harlem," JC said.

        "The Dodgers!" Chris said.

        "We're in Cleveland," Lance told them.  "Let's go."


matthew@matthewtime.com
Short stories
Boyslash
Home

MatthewHaldemanTime.com