Perfect Love Gone Wrong Sting You said I wasn't just your Christmas toy I'd always be your boy I'd be your faithful companion And I would follow you through every thick and thin Don't need nobody else And we don't need him He had said that. Not in so many words but in his actions. He swore Chris was ‘one of those things‘ and ‘nothing to worry about‘. Promised and vowed. Sat under the Christmas tree and held his hand. Stared into twinkling green eyes and said special words that rang sweetly in Lance’s ear. Rubbed the back of his hand and smiled with big blue eyes and an assuring smile. Leaned in and whispered, “You’re my Christmas present, Lance.” It made sense, Lance thought as they made love later that night. As Justin screamed his name in feral fits of orgasmic bliss, and Lance felt loved like never before. Christmas love, perhaps, but a connection nonetheless. So over coffee and endless garbage bags full of crinkly, used wrapping paper, Lance was perplexed to find an unmarked envelope. And it was like a bad movie, where the lover finds a secret number, and Lance squinted his eyes a little because he was afraid. But he looked anyway, and felt his stomach roll. A bawdy reminder of the ‘thing’ Justin had with Chris. The ‘thing’ that made him wonder if he would ever truly *have* Justin. Because Justin had promised that he was his boy, and nothing would ever change that. He pledged and affirmed that Chris was nothing more than a friend, a part time lover at one point. Justin had admitted it freely, the fact that they shared nearly everything. Orgasms included. “He jerked me off a few times,” Justin said simply, and Lance stared at him with wide eyes. It was recited as casually as movie times at the local cinema, and Lance battled with that. He eyed Chris day after day, and felt a knot in his gut constantly. Jealously. Resentment. A feeling that Justin’s cock was now private property and the playful glints in Chris’ eyes were torturous to see. For Lance. For the rest of the world, it was friendship. “Am I really all you need?” Lance asked as he watched Justin enter the kitchen and guzzle some juice with sleep still crusted in his eyes. “I said it was. You’re my boy. Not just a Christmas toy.” Justin smiled at that, quite proud. “That’s a rhyme. Damn, I got it even in the morning.” Rolling his eyes was something Lance learned to do at Justin’s odd behavior. “I found this,” he said shyly, extracting the envelope. “So I was wondering if you and Chris ...” Justin’s face spoke volumes. Huge encyclopedia volumes of being caught ... instant flashes of regret. Lance shrugged and slipped the envelope toward Justin on the counter. “I just thought I should let you know I found it. You don’t have to say anything.” Lance burned with self pity, and he turned away so it wouldn't show. “This thing,” Justin said slowly. “This envelope. It’s just Chris fucking around. You see that right? Chris is Chris.” “You don’t have to explain,” Lance said again. “I don’t know if I want to hear. I see the way he stares at your crotch Justin. I see it.” Justin looked away with shame. “I can’t tell him where to look,” he said softly. “But I love you. You’re my one perfect love. Since forever.” Words that were poetic enough, floating through the post-holiday air, mingling with the scent of coffee -- but conflicted in Lance’s mind. Aching to believe what was said versus what was real. “Perfect love?” Lance questioned, inching closer. His feet were chilled from the kitchen floor and the thin white tee shirt he wore was barely enough to warm him. Justin blushed under Lance’s gaze, and he figured it *was* the perfect love. Even if Chris had been around at times. Defenses dropped over coffee and a subsequent breakfast. Resistance gone as Justin took Lance’s hand and led him to the bedroom, kissed his fears away and sucked him into eventual contentment. “I don’t want to see him on this break,” Lance said afterward, rolling onto his stomach in his bed. “See who?” Justin asked lightly, but he knew who and he knew what Lance was getting at. Professing innocence had done wonders in the past. “Chris,” Lance replied, burying his face into Justin’s stomach. “I don’t want to see him okay? Not until we have to.” Plea sent out. A beg with so much intensity it scorched the fragile air. A relationship not ready to topple. “Whatever you need, Lance. You know that.” Justin toyed with Lance’s hair and repressed a sigh. ************ Fuck Chris anyway for sending that envelope. What the hell was wrong with him. Justin felt the tension build behind his eyes as he massaged Lance’s scalp. Soon, Lance was breathing deeply, and he was able to extract himself from his arms. “What’s with you?” he grumbled across the line. Naked pacing had commenced, and Justin was in a foul mood. “With who?” Chris retorted, pausing to coo over a doggie yip in the background. “With you’s who!” Justin hissed. “Sending that here? Are you totally insane?” “I wanted you to remember me is all.” Chris laughed, and Justin cringed. Play 101. The master at work. “Chris,” Justin warned, and his teeth were grinding at a maddening pace. “You’re my best friend. That’s it. Lance is my heart. Don’t fuck with it.” “I’m not,” Chris said, but there was evil intent and malicious tone underlying those two words. “I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. A little vulgar, but still.” “Vulgar is not cool,” Justin said, and he was whispering angrily because Lance was asleep, and his heart was making enough noise to wake the dead. His dick twitched though, as he fingered the envelope, and his eyes peered inside for another look. “You like it, man. Just admit it.” Justin scowled and stared at it. “You’re fucking naked, Chris. On my Harley. It’s not cute.” But his penis disagreed a little, and shame attacked him again. “Ah, put it on Lance’s fridge. He’ll get it.” “You’ll get it if you don’t back off.” The voice was so soft and sleepy, it yanked at Justin’s heart. “Is that Chris?” Lance asked. Justin spun with guilty eyes, and dropped the phone. It made a muted sound as it hit the carpet and both pairs of eyes stared blankly at it. Lance swore he heard Chris cackling on the other end. “Justin?” The picture fluttered through the air, dropping beside the fallen phone. “I’m sorry,” Justin whimpered, and he bit his lip caught in the web of something he didn’t quite get. Power play. Follow the leader. Some game he couldn’t grasp. “Am I the only one?” Lance demanded, and Justin dropped his eyes. “You are,” he said quietly. “Then pick up the phone. I’ll be there for you forever, Justin. I’ll never leave you. But we don’t need him. You don’t need him. I’ll be your everything. So tell him. Please.” Hesitation for no real reason. A movie put on pause and forwarded frame by frame. Lover versus best friend. Who could win such a thing? “Okay,” Justin said weakly, bending to grab the phone between shaky hands. “For you.” “For us,” Lance corrected, smiling slightly. “I don’t need you,” Justin said, with a shimmer to his voice, a tremble that echoed in his head. “Fuck you. You always need me,” Chris laughed. “We’re blood. You’ll come crying when you want me.” Justin cleared his throat and stared at Lance with unblinking eyes. “I don’t need you,” he repeated. “I have a perfect love now. I want to honor it.” “Bullshit! There’s no such thing. Where was he when your dick was hard? And you were crying because no one loved you?” “I don’t need you,” Justin said again, but it was a hint lower, and his eyes dropped from Lance’s. “Where was he when you needed someone to be with?” “Stop,” he cried, turning his back on Lance. “He’s not me,” Chris said squarely. “He’ll never be me. He can’t take my place.” “I ... don’t ... need you!” Score one for the lewdness and lonely moments from the past. ********* Lance moved away, back to his room with the gentleness of a lamb. Silent creeping back to his room to hide from the uneasiness Justin faced. The challenge and choice that was obviously difficult to make. Choice made for him, as Lance curled on his side and fell to sleep, dreaming of blackened roses and Harleys that purred like kittens in the sunshine. “I love you,” Justin said through his slumber. “My one perfect love.” Sun shone and Lance woke to emptiness. Promises that had vaporized and a scratched up photo of  Chris and the Harley tacked onto the fridge. A single rose lay across the kitchen table with a scribbled note. “The Perfect Love Gone Wrong” | back |