Boarding the plane, Lance saw the back of Justin’s head in the first class cabin. He was bent over the back of his seat singing with a little girl, bopping his body in time with a music-less harmony. It caused Lance to smile as he loosened his tie. Justin had always been a lover of kids -- of singing to them in hospitals and encouraging them in the area of music. He still sat on the head of several charities, lending what was left of his teen idol status toward creating a better day for children. Lance admired that if nothing else. As Justin turned around to settle in, their eyes met. And Lance let the smile drop from his face, wanting to convey a hard shell -- not wanting Justin to pity him, or feel as if he’d won. Lance slipped silently past Justin to the window seat, suspecting Justin left it free with memories of how superstitious Lance was about that -- always having to sit at the window while traveling with N Sync. The plane was safely in the air before Justin lifted the middle arm rest and flopped his chin down on Lance’s shoulder. “How’d you know I’d come?” Lance whispered, not entirely comfortable with Justin’s affectionate nature -- unable to imagine exactly *what* it must look like. Justin let out a sigh and snuggled down for the long flight. “Because I know you more than you think.” His eyes fluttered shut, and soon a light snore was dropping from his lips. And Lance stared down at him, in awe of the fact after twelve long months he was once again alone in Justin’s company. Lance drifted off, content for the moment to be thousands of miles above land -- drifting far away from the leash that held him so tightly. His lap top toppled over onto his ankle, rousing him several hours later, and he couldn't resist. No matter how delightful temporary escape with Justin was, business was still business, and he was certain his office would be worried. Plugging in, he used the air phone to check his email, worried when he had several messages from colleagues and his assistant, demanding answers, asking questions, begging for guidance and leadership. The businessman in him emerged ferociously, and he pulled his reading glasses from his bag, slipping them on to begin his work. His fingers flew over the keys with automatic knowledge -- with no hesitation or mind for pause. “Lance,” Justin whined sleepily. “Lance, no. No laptop, man.” Lance didn’t blink -- his fingers continuing their routine glide over the letters, his eyes glued to the project at hand. “Hmm?” “Lap. Top.” Justin spat, brushing his fingers along the top of the machine, lowering it slowly, noticing how Lance’s body seemed to slink down in the seat in a heartfelt attempt to continue his work. “No lap tops. No watches. No cells. Come *on*.” “Justin, stop.” Lance bowed his head down to see the final sentences he’d typed, straining to get another glimpse as the top of his computer was sliding shut. “Quit Justin. For real.” It was remembered, in that split second, how persistent Justin had always been in getting his way, and while some had called him “golden boy” they all knew the truth. That Justin had heart. Not an ounce of truth to the primadonna accounts. It was all soul coming from the group’s baby -- now a twenty-two year old man. “Justin,” Lance warned, gripping the wrist that was assaulting his lap top. His green eyes wandered up Justin’s arm, over his neck to his face where an impish grin was awaiting him. “Oh, man. Come on with that look.” “Lance, one month. Remember, it’s only one month. Let me own you for that time, learn you. Make you what you used to be.” His words were so low and sleek that Lance wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard them at all. Still, he let Justin shut him down, albeit with a frown. He allowed his lifeline to be shipped back to it’s hiding place in black leather, and watched with a dismayed face as Justin called the airline attendant over. “Would you please check Mr. Bass’ computer bag up front for him?” The pretty young woman nodded, taking the bag. And Lance groaned as she carried it off. All those papers. All that information. In the hands of a woman who made less in a whole year than he made in a week. “Justin, I don’t think ...” It was then that Justin kissed him -- cupped his chin in the palm of his hand and drew their lips to one another’s. It was then that Lance felt Justin’s tongue probe delicately into his mouth. It was then that Lance lost his mind. Shoving back. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Letting shards of disbelief stab from the jade in his eyes. “What the FUCK?” he hissed, leaning back against the window. “Justin? Jesus!” But there it was again, that shit-eating grin -- that laid back manner that got under Lance’s skin. Just a sated smile and a body that rested against the airline seat -- liberated azure eyes that blinked open and shut lazily. Justin’s hands rested against his stomach and he curled his bottom lip between his teeth seductively. “You object to my kissing skills?” he hummed. “No good?” Fuck it was good, Lance thought as he covered his mouth with his hand. Too good. “JC,” he muttered faintly. It wasn’t JC on his mind, however -- a fact Justin called him on immediately. “JC’s not yours, Lance. You’re not a taken man. Never were.” The words were precise as they were spoken, pointed and deliberate. “JC tried to tame you, and much as I love him and hate to see him hurt, he’s not what you needed all these years.” Lance balked -- widened eyes and trembling hands in search of something to tear up. “What?” Not that his hearing was at all damaged, he simply couldn’t understand where Justin got off saying such things. Audacity was one thing -- this was beginning to surf beyond that. Justin sighed and readjusted the airline pillow behind his head. “I’m what you needed,” he stated simply. “I’m free enough to release you.” He kicked his sneakers off and crossed his ankles, stretching his long legs out under the seat before him. “You’ll see. One month.” Lance was stunned, and sat still for a long while, just staring at Justin. Curious if the guy was actually asleep again, or feigning it. It didn’t really matter, he decided after a time, because as soon as he got to LAX he was planning to book a flight straight back to JFK. Leave this lunatic to his yoga and free life style. Get back to the grime and dirt of the business world. Free spirit shit was for birds. And he was no bird. Los Angeles was soon in sight, and Lance had calculated his words carefully -- what he would say to Justin as they disembarked the plane. “I’m sorry, Justin. Thank you for the offer but I really have to get back to work. I have clients waiting and I need to make amends with JC somehow. I’ll refund you the cost of the plane ticket as soon as I’m back in New York.” He’d replayed it over and over in his head, not really caring to have a long good-bye. The first one a year prior had been hard enough, and that was no a scene he cared to repeat. Quick and brusque, Joey would say, like a band-aid. One rip. It made Lance chuckle silently to remember Joey and his quirky sayings -- and the odd tee shirts he seemed to favor. Yeah, Joey. He sighed as the plane rolled to a stop, and vowed to give the guy a call once he was home. Justin’s eyes were opening and Lance took a deep breath, wondering when the hell he’d gotten hesitant to speak to anyone, let alone his one time group mate. He twisted his body in the seat and cocked his head, calling upon his acting skills to carry him through -- knowing that Justin might be disappointed and maybe even plead with him not to go. The idea sent tiny ripples of excitement though him, and he paused as Justin stretched and yawned -- and his vision betrayed him as his gaze fell to the open jacket and raised tee shirt -- to the muscles that rippled underneath and the smoothness of his stomach. Lurch again. His gut. Lance blinked it away and opened his mouth again to speak, only to find Justin’s lips on his once more, quickly, briefly. Then his hand captured in Justin’s -- and those fucking cerulean eyes batting back at him. Fucking sloppy kid like smile. His words snagged in this throat, contracting like a boa constrictor, and he cursed in his head. “Let’s go,” Justin whispered, dropping Lance’s hand. “Cabs are gonna be a mad house.” “Cab?” Lance gasped, stumbling to his feet. When the hell was the last time he took a cab? He wasn’t sure. He employed a driver nowadays, and walked when he deemed in necessary. A taxi? Sounded so JC -- so earthy. Not at all where he was in life. “Um, yeah. Justin? I um ...” Dammit, the words, he screamed to himself. He wanted to say them, and they were right on his tongue, ready to tip off, but Justin was tugging him along, thanking the airline crew for a wonderful flight, and pausing to grab Lance’s laptop bag on the way. Lance was bewildered. Once in the tunnel, he jogged to catch up with Justin’s long legged strides, swiping for his bag. “Justin. Look, I ...” “You what?” Justin asked, hauling his own overnight bag higher on his shoulder, never breaking his pace. “You love me for this, I know. You owe me, yep. I know.” Lance stopped dead in his tracks, his head shaking back and forth vigorously. “No! No Justin! I do not owe you. I do not love you for this!” Several older passengers passed with disgusted tisks at the scene the young man was causing and Justin finally stopped to turn. “Oh stop your bitching city boy,” he chided, retracing his steps to grab Lance by the sleeve. “Come on. I’ll buy you a fruit smoothie. Come on.” “Oh my god,” Lance growled, digging his heels in a failed attempt to stop Justin. But Justin was stronger, and to avoid landing on his ass, he begrudgingly went along -- muttering hotly the whole way. “What kind do you want?” Justin asked as they stopped in front of a cafe. “Strawberry? Yum. That sounds good.” “No thank you,” Lance replied curtly, shrugging his jacket from his body in a huff. The scream caught them both off guard as two young women bolted toward them. Lance looked behind him to see who they were fussing over. Justin smiled casually as he withdrew his wallet to pay. “N Sync!” one girl garbled as she moved closer, clutching at Lance’s shirt passionately. “Ohmigod! I was your biggest fan!” Lance blinked and backed up, unused to the hysteria after so long. He tossed his gaze back to Justin who was sipping his smoothie with a grin. Calmly. “Hey,” Lance smiled tightly. “Hey, could you let go of my shirt? Please?” His hand gripped hers firmly and pried the fingers away. “Okay, could you stop screaming?” Justin rolled his eyes at Lance as the other girl moved toward him with pandemonium in her expression. “Could I bother you for an autograph?” she stammered, and Justin nodded happily, pushing his smoothie into her hands. “Sure thing, can you hold this?” The girl nodded as he searched for a pen and napkin. Scribbling his name, he made chit chat as Lance stood paralyzed as the fan continued to gush at him, spitting question after question. He managed to let color flow back into his face as he signed his autograph, and posed for a picture -- and felt his ulcer flair as Justin finally began to walk away, explaining sweetly to the girls that they had things to do. Lance was freaked. Out of practice. Somehow in the back of the cab, he felt that lost glimmer of exhilaration. The rush that N Sync had always created. A magic that he’d long since forgotten. A slow smile spread across his face as he rubbed at his chin. “Wow.” Justin slurped his drink. “Hmm?” “That. Being recognized. Wow.” Lance tugged his fingers through his hair and settled back a bit. “It’s been a while.” “Feels good huh?” Justin asked, sliding closer. “Makes you kind of tingly? Kind of alive right?” His hand fell nonchalantly on Lance’s knee and he began to rub steadily, locking his gaze with his former friend. “Feels hot, right? Sexy a little?” Lance forgot how to swallow in that second -- in the fleeting moment of desire that rushed over him. As blood circled hotly in his body. As his heart throbbed, pumping in time with the growing need between his legs. Justin’s hand was hot -- hotter than it had a right to be. “Feels like orgasm, hmm?” Justin was licking his ear, swirling the very tip of his tongue madly around the inside of Lance’s ear, sending violent shudders through his body. Making him moan as his lips fell open and his head rolled back. As the city whizzed by uncaringly. As Justin teased with his hand, moving it up toward his crotch slowly, only to bring it back down before contact. Causing Lance’s hips to jerk subtly. Loosing control. It was nice to swim about in for an uncontrollable  moment, but a horn blasted him back, and Lance sat up, brushing Justin’s hand away with a deep blush. “Jesus Christ,” he rumbled, sliding over toward the window. “What is it with you?” He met Justin’s gaze with fluster -- not at all able to convey a message of anger. Because his face was flush with pure desire -- and that made his words lies. Still, he cleared his throat with conviction and admonished Justin with a wave of his hand. “Stop.” Justin grinned and nodded, sliding down in the seat, spreading his legs unnecessarily, draping his hands between his legs with a vulgar little swipe at the creative bulge forming. Lance growled in frustration, and turned to look out the window, vowing that Justin was not going to play his silly little mind games with him. Promising that he would get to Justin’s and make arrangements with a limo service to come get him, pick him up immediately and catch the next flight home. Because Justin was persistent, he remembered again, and dangerous. Part Two Sweet November Menu Part Four