It was this constant hum in Lance’s head that drove him to drink. Literally. To find solace in the bottom of the nearest bottle of JD. It wasn’t healthy, he knew, but it solved his itch. Temporarily. Until they headed into New York City and ended up with a plate full of public appearances. It was then, in the elegant hotel suite he occupied, that Chris demanded in. “What do you want?” Lance cried with exasperation. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the guy controlled his dreams, his sexual energy and his life. Present time of course. “Just leave, man.” But Chris was not having it, and he shoved in with dark eyes and a FuMan outfit that would lead no one to guess about his elusive nights. “Talk to me, Lance,” he said easily, moving toward his friend as he’d done so many times in the past. Only this time there was a hint of a riddle peeking out -- a mutual understanding of the game. “Just tell me what’s going on.” It was too innocent a question in nature. Too caring and gentle. Too friend-like. Lance ducked his head, choosing to stare intently at his bare feet. At the smattering of hairs that sprang from each toe. He wondered, in an attempt to alleviate ‘Chris’ thoughts, if everyone had so much hair on their toes. Which led to an instant thought of Chris’ toes -- interested if they too were painted black. Imagining sucking on them -- which ripped him up once more, sending  shards of exhilaration through his veins. He was growing hard,  twitching with want.  He curled up inside, fisting his hands in the loose sweat pants he wore -- wondering if he could physically shove Chris from the room. “Lance, is this about last week in the club?” Chris was so sedate and calm, his tone never falling above hush. It drove Lance mad to hear how tepid Chris could be when the sun shone, and how  insanely sexy he became at night. “Maybe,” Lance said, blinking out from under his lashes. “I mean, I don’t know.” He spun around to face the window -- to get lost in the bright rays of light that sailed through. But the electricity just intensified, and he knew Chris was moving in. For the kill, so to speak. “Would it help if I tried to explain?” Chris asked, and Lance was right. He heard the footsteps falling closer. Even on the carpet. “You don’t owe me,” Lance admitted, leaning his forehead against the window. He was ashamed that he could feel both the raw power of lust and the pity of rejection. He felt weak. Mortal. More human than he wanted to feel. It was a jerk that rang through his body as Chris laid a hand on the small of his back. Trying to comfort as a friend would. And the hand didn’t feel as hot as it did when Chris was dressed in black with wild eyes and smeared lips. But still. It was a brush Lance had been longing for. A simple touch he hunted for. And he wanted to take full advantage of it. So he lifted his head from the window, and let his green eyes glower with that agitated craving he‘d held in for so many days. “Talk,” he said with a rumble. “I want to hear.” Lips brushed suddenly against the back of his neck, where his brown locks maintained their natural color -- untainted. Where the hair stylist carefully clipped -- not too long and not too short. Lance jumped, startled from the gentleness. Completely different that the self-indulgent kisses he’d witnessed Chris give at the club. It was a whisper at his ear that sent his body on a downward spiral -- a kitten-like lick that sped his heart and made him horny in an instant. “I can’t tell you,” Chris murmured. “I have to show you.” Lance spun around with sinful eyes, glaring hotly at Chris. Unamused with the notion of being toyed with. “Don’t fuck with me, Chris,” he warned, wrapping his hands around Chris’ wrists, garnering pleasure in gripping them harder than needed. “Don’t you dare because I can’t ...” The words jammed inside of him, fearful to even attempt expulsion. Fearful that control would be truly lost and fearful he would commit acts he couldn’t take back. Emotions simmering that he had hoped were cooled. “Never,” Chris said, his eyes wide, his trademark smirk in place. “Tonight. After work. Me and you. No questions asked though.” It was not what Lance expected, not in any way, shape or form. Slowly, he released Chris and nodded, his throat thick with tortuous want. Staring into brown eyes that were like secret pools of sexuality. Prepared to show, explain -- and maybe teach. Chris draped his hand on Lance’s waist, continuing to gaze into jade eyes. He nodded every so slightly and trailed his fingers across the elastic of the sweat pants, drifting down to grip the erection that had formed so solidly. Squeezing it roughly. “I thought so,” he said with a iniquitous gleam. “I got your number now.” He backed away, leaving Lance open mouthed and stiff -- dripping with anxiety and reeling with surprise. Aching as he watched Chris saunter out of the room with all the cockiness of a master. Stunned. ************ “What is with you?” Justin asked, poking Lance’s arm. “Jesus, you’ve been on zombie mode for EVER!” Lance sighed and filled his plate with mediocre quality cold cuts and bread that had seen fresher days. “Why’re you poking me, man?” “Because,” Justin replied, swiping a slice of cheese off Lance’s plate. “You’re like ... grumpy.” “And you’re fucking Snow White,” Lance retaliated, yanking the ham off Justin’s plate. “So go find Dopey and have some fun.” Lance walked away with a sarcastic smile. Spinning too high on what was to come later. Not caring if JC was complaining about the food service, or if Joey was grabbing the ass of every female to wander into the green room. His focus was on Chris who was sitting silently on the couch, headphones placed over his ears, eyes closed, swaying in some kind of peaceful trance. And he wanted to slide over there. Sit down right next to Chris -- so close that their thighs pressed together. Just to feed off his energy. Get that jolt for the upcoming night. Satisfy his needs to get through the press junket waiting them. As he debated, one of Chris’ eyes opened -- in a slow wink. With a sly smile. And the requisite hand that drew from his leg to the triangle of his crotch. Dangling in a tease. Meant to torment Lance. The plate in Lance’s hand shook and he almost lost it when Joey clapped him on the back. “Wendy get in touch with you?” he asked, snapping Lance out of his moment. “No why?” Lance snapped, and he didn’t mean to, honestly, but his nerves were hypersensitive, and his body on some crazy tingle rush. “She had some things to go over with you. Said you haven’t been picking up your cell. Called me to relay the message.” He blushed, ashamed. He’d turned his cell off at odd times, hoping the quiet would bring him some kind of perspective on the whole ‘lusting after Chris’ thing. Only it hadn’t. It had only served to drag him further behind in his obligations. And drive him crazy. “I’ll call her,” he said, moving away from Chris, to the opposite side of the room. To gather his wits, and make his plan. No fucking way was Chris getting away from him later on. ************* “Jesus,” Lance hissed, throwing the contents of his overnight bag to the bed. “Not a fucking thing!” His clothing was scattered, his hair still damp from a quick shower. His nerves jumbled in some kind of web that made him shake with each noise. He was waiting for Chris -- for the midnight hour he knew Chris favored. And staring at his pathetic wardrobe, he realized he was far too preppy for his own good. The knock came early, a persistent bang at half an hour to twelve. Lance bit his lip and looked down at himself. Still not dressed. He strolled to the door in his boxers and used the peep hole to confirm Chris’ presence. It was Chris -- dressed quite normally. No makeup and no leather. Disappointment flooded Lance as he opened the door and stepped aside. “Tornado?” Chris chuckled as he waded through the balled up clothes strewn about. “I don’t know what to wear,” Lance admitted, snapping the door shut. “What am I supposed to wear?” “Dude, you’re like the best dressed guy I know,” Chris grinned, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Whatever you wanna wear is fine.” There was a glint in Chris’ eyes, though. A hint that Lance should be wary of appearance. “You sure?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow as Chris’ eyes licked slowly up and down his body. He felt naked, but alive. Like he was on even playing ground perhaps. Chris lurched forward, catching Lance’s arms and twisting him to the bed -- giving him no time to react or object. He pounced like a cat, pinning Lance easily. Savoring the shock that prickled through his expression. Then, much like a feline, he used his tongue to swipe up the side of Lance’s face, drifting over the fine stubble that created the grown up man look Lance so desperately wanted. Lance froze -- his limbs collapsed. And by the time Chris crawled off him, he had a pulse that was racing hard enough to make him dizzy. “So get on up, Lance,” Chris said, staring in the mirror at his own reflection. “Put on a dress for all I care. We’re going to do some heavy exploring tonight.” Lance clambered from the bed and yanked a pair of jeans on quickly, his heart exploding with each move. And when he was dressed, Chris smiled fiendishly and nodded for him to follow. Which Lance did with exhilaration and anticipation. Keeping his eyes on Chris. Creeping out after the expert, off the hotel property and toward the village. Into a shop that made Lance’s eyes cross with all it’s leather and studs -- with it’s piercing advertisement and wild outfits. With the thick scent of pot and obvious sale of X. Chris mosied up to the counter and embraced the exotic man behind it. Laughing secretly at jokes Lance didn’t know, and whispering about things he might like to do. “Come on,” the man said, his blue eyes hazed with a high Lance didn’t get. “Let’s go pretty boy. You got you some fun to have tonight.” Chris licked his lips and smiled. “Let’s go Lance. You wanted me to show you. This is it.” The curtain loomed ominously before Lance, and he strode through with conviction. Ready to do whatever it took to slam Chris up against the wall, and find out just how good that black makeup would look painted all over his body in the throes of obscene sex. NEXT MENU