As promised, Diane took Laura back to the hotel, leaving Lance free. JC took his time, passing by at random intervals, realizing Lance had things to attend to. Namely schmoozing. So he hung back with hooded eyes, and sipped from a bottle of beer. He made nice with fans and gave quotes to various news outlets as needed. He shook his hips on the dance floor, and cracked jokes with Joey. He even managed to wrangle a new photo of Brianna from Mr. Fatone. But his gaze was never far from Lance, drinking in the way he moved with poise, like he owned the place. Like it was his time, and he was making the absolute most of it. Long gone was the suit jacket, and JC watched as Lance unbuttoned the first two buttons of the black shirt, the way he pressed his beer to his cheek to cool off in the sweltering heat of the room. And their eyes met, across the room -- JC locked Lance in, pinning him. He lifted his beer in a salute before pressing the bottle to his lips and downing the rest of it. When it was gone, he lowered his head and saw Lance moving toward him. It was slow motion as JC felt the warm hum of an alcoholic buzz rush through his veins. It was this magnetic heat that seemed to burst the closer Lance got. It was the very real throbbing that was building between his legs as those slightly drunken green eyes smiled at him. It was a fight not to grab Lance’s arm, and guide him down the hallway to the managements offices and throw him against the wall -- dive into his mouth and taste what he’d been begging to taste. JC’s body wobbled as he reached behind to put his empty beer bottle down, and he smiled seductively at Lance. “Hey,” he said lowly. “How’s it going?” Lance raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Good.” He nodded toward the Heineken and scratched his neck. “How many have YOU had?” he laughed. “Nuff to know I’m not thinking straight,” JC countered, aching to reach out and sweep his fingers along Lance’s waist -- dive under the button down shirt and graze along flesh he just knew was hot, and soft. “I’m ready to bolt,” Lance admitted, looking around. “Most of the press is gone. Em, Joey and GQ are going to stay. My head is throbbing a little, and I could really use a break.” “Say no more!” JC exclaimed with a wink. “Let’s jet.” They were in the limo before JC had much time to contemplate his nature -- the beast ready to emerge. He was warm, his entire body a flood of new sensations. And as he leaned back in the limo, it was a scramble to engineer his next move. “So,” Lance said, tossing his jacket to the seat beside him. “My mom called. Laura is really ill. Vomiting and shit.” He paused and slouched back. “I’m glad you didn’t eat the Sushi!” “Me too,” JC snorted, cringing at the mere idea of vomiting his guts out while trying to save his voice. “You have NO idea!” Lance laughed, a deep rumble that filled the limo, and JC closed his eyes, letting his body curl around the sound. Delving into his own conscience to brush away moral thoughts. Letting his sexual nature drive him. Until he was certain he’d achieved what he had to. His hand slid from his leg to the seat, and his pinky brushed against Lance’s pants. “She’ll be alright,” he sighed. “She just needs some rest. Your mom gonna take care of her?” “Yeah, thank Christ,” Lance muttered. “One thing I really suck at is taking care of vomiting people!” “Oh I know,” JC reminded him. “Joey. 1999 VMA’s. After party. When we decided we were going to make a break from Lou? The shade of white your face turned when Joe wretched! It’s not something I wanna see again!” Lance rubbed his nose and giggled at the memory. “Oh shit!” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “God, that was pretty awful!” “Mm hmm, it was,” JC murmured. “But you took care of things. Like when his leg got jammed. You always take care of things.” The purr of drunkenness darted around inside him, and he pressed the side of his hand closer to Lance, enjoying the delicate touch. Loving how content Lance was with him -- having no clue of what was to come. “Eh, I try,” Lance shrugged, turning his head to face JC. “I’m just looking forward to kicking back at your hotel room. I feel like I’ve been being ripped apart lately and I can’t breathe anymore.” JC nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, Justin and I were saying how we haven’t heard from you an awful lot with the movie and all.” “Are you okay with it?” Lance questioned, pinching the bridge of his nose in discomfort. “With me doing all this? I mean I know y’all have said you were but ...” “Looking for a way out?” JC asked, shifting in his seat to face Lance. He stared at the profile he knew so well, the person he’d seen grow from this awkward, shy, homesick boy to a sexy, confident, strong man. And *that* was the person he had grown to desire. Somewhere along the line, along the journey, Lance had gone from plain to striking. “What?” Lance dropped his hand and shook his head. “No! God! This is what I wanted. I was warned about this. About the very real fact it could flop, or that I would get slammed for even daring to act.” He sniffed bitterly and rubbed his arms. “So, if it flops, it flops. I’m *not* looking for a way out.” JC smiled and touched Lance’s arm. “Easy. I was just asking. I know you need to be honest and get this shit out.” Underneath, he was gaining ground, winning points and breaking Lance down. Underneath he was not feeling as guilty as he thought he might. “Thanks, C,” Lance whispered. “I just ... God, yeah. I need to de-stress.” The limo pulled to a stop, and JC grinned. “That’s why I’m here,” he said coyly, sliding across the seat to exit. His blue eyes were sharp as he scanned the hotel windows above for signs of Laura -- for any clue that her keen sense had drawn her out and about. But there was no one, JC noticed, no Laura or Diane Bass to scrutinize and wreck things. He glanced at his watch and saw time ticking, the late hour just a reminder that dawn was soon to come -- and  he had precious few hours to leave his scruples behind and bed Lance. His insides were in shambles as he fought his exterior to remain calm, focused and precise. Wandering past the few stray fans, JC paused with Lance to sign more autographs before heading inside. He chanted over and over again, silently to himself, that he could do this. That it would be cake. No problem. Lance was vulnerable, and while it was shady to a point, he was only presenting the situation. Really it was up to Lance to decide what to do with it. And well, if Lance declined, JC realized he’d be out a voice -- and out Lance. That scared him more. Once inside the hotel room, JC looked around with his mouth open. He felt the chill instantly. And he was stunned when he slid into the bedroom and saw a champagne bucket beside the bed with a bottle of Stoli and two shot glasses. Upon further inspection, he noticed a fuck of a lot different in the room. Lower lights and fresh flowers in a vase near the window. Slanting his eyes, he fingered the soft petals of the burgundy carnations and his fingertips tingled. The room was growing more frigid as he let his gaze drift about. “Motherfucker,” he hissed, roaming over to the bed. Carefully he sat down and stared at the nightstand table, watching as little droplets of condensation ran down the silver bucket to disappear into the white towel bunched at the base. His eyes blurred from focusing so hard, and his heart skipped every second beat as he thought about who had done this -- and why. To taunt or to help, he wasn’t sure. There was not trusting, not even in himself, as his fingers tugged at the nightstand drawer. He knew, just *knew*, what would be in that drawer -- but he looked anyway. The box of condoms and small tube glared up at him, and JC felt nauseous once more. Because it was do or die time. It wasn’t time to play. “You okay?” Lance called out, and JC slammed the drawer shut as he saw Lance appear in the doorway. “Fine,” JC garbled, nodding toward the Vodka. “Compliments of the house I think.” He laughed, but it was much too short to be sincere, and when his eyes fell into Lance’s, his heart stopped altogether. There was a deadened feeling in his throat as he tried to say something more, but no words made their escape. Instinctively, his hand wrapped around his neck and he gasped for air. “JC? What’s wrong?” Lance headed inside the bedroom quickly and stared at JC with eyes that wouldn’t quite open as much as they should due to his beer consumption, but the concern was still apparent. So JC balked and forced a smile, tried to gather some color back in his face -- even as his eyes stared wildly around, half furious, half crazed. The old man was fucking with the rules. Lance ducked a little to get a better glimpse as JC tried to turn. “Man, you’re not looking too good.” JC’s hands waved Lance away as he grabbed for the chilled bottle. Uncapping it, he skipped the glass and took a long, hard gulp. “Jesus, JC!” Lance ripped the bottle away and cupped JC’s chin in his palm. “Talk to me. What the hell?” His mouth opened, and words did emerge. “I’m ... fine!” JC slumped down on the bed and let out a shaky sigh, sure that it was a taste of what evil lie ahead -- of what he was up against. A brief glimpse into the future if Lance wasn’t in that bed consummating by dawn. continue menu