It was supposed to be talking, Lance thought as Justin stripped in the candlelight. It was supposed to be soft whispers and giggles in the dead of night while they awaited sleep to claim them again. But Justin was naked, and strolling around the room with out shame, his body long and muscular. His lips curling at the corners as he fluffed the pillows and lit more candles. Lance was dizzy with anticipation, completely dumbfounded by such a quirky chain of events. It made no sense to him -- none at all. He licked his lips and tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and it calmed his beating heart just a bit. Following Justin, he removed his own clothes, shyly. It had been a long time since Lance Bass had been shy, or at a loss for words. His eyes cast up at the moon dancing it’s way through the skylight, and he smiled. It was almost like God was saying something important, and suddenly his hearing had returned. Justin bounced on the bed with all the energies of a small child. “Kinda cool huh?” he asked, flopping onto his back. His hands clasped behind his head, and he let out a long sigh. “I always wanted a skylight so I could stare at the moon during the night.” Lance covered his nakedness with a sheet, still slightly uncomfortable at being seen so openly with such powerful forces at work in the room -- forces he didn’t dare try to fight or explain. “As I recall,” Lance said softly, “You always were the hopeless romantic of the group.” He chuckled gently and stretched his body out next to Justin’s, mimicking the position of his hands, directing his own eyes out at the huge moon -- so big it looked like he could reach up and grab it. “Sad thing is, all those fans never knew. They all had you pegged so wrong, Justin. None of them ever knew the real you.” “Y’all knew the real me,” Justin said peacefully, twisting his head to the side. “You and JC, Joey and Chris. And I had my other friends from home. My family. I mean, they knew me. They knew I didn’t act like a brat, or harass fans. They knew my heart, my soul.” He paused as his body shifted onto his side. “And I think a lot of fans got me more than we knew. I think some of them could see right into me. I felt it.” The words Justin spoke were touching, and insightful. So profound and full of love. Lance felt Justin’s hand glide under the soft sheet to rest on his stomach. So warm and breathtaking, sending little jolts of serenity into his body.  “Why’d you come for me?” Lance asked, covering Justin’s hand with his own. He let his head roll to the side so he could see the diamond-like sparkle that glittered in Justin’s eyes -- the enchantment that had been sucking him in all day. Justin’s hand slipped out from under Lance’s, and traveled down, dipping into his belly button. “Do you ever miss us, Lance? The group? The brotherhood that only the five of us could understand?” His hand swept through the fine line of hair that settled beneath Lance’s belly button, toying with the strands absently. “How we were the absolute only five people on the face of the earth who understood each other? No matter what differences we had, no matter how hard we teased each other or fought.” He paused to snuggled closer, letting his lips brush against Lance’s nose. “We could fight the world so long as we survived as a group? Remember?” And Lance blinked as Justin’s breath arced over him, warm, sweet breath that captured him and sent divine shudders down his spine. “I do,” he croaked, barely able to find his voice. Dragged under Justin’s tow. Drowning in that faded reality he hated so much. Clearing his throat, he shifted a bit. “I uh. I remember coming to you guys to tell you about JC and I.” Lance teetered on the edge of the memory, surprised at how real it seemed even thinking about it. It had been a long time since he thought about it. But Justin was there, laying gentle kisses along his skin as he spoke, lending him the comfort he needed to recall it. “We decided that I should be the one to tell you all. Since I was so proficient with words and drawing people to my side of things.” He let out a half laugh and sighed as Justin nipped his shoulder lightly. “I was scared back then. Really afraid that you three would just plain hate me -- or hate JC. That I think would have been far worse, for you to turn from him. I knew I could survive. I’d been there before, ya know, the outcast of sorts. Joining the group late and all.” Justin nodded silently as his eyes connected with Lance’s, and Lance read them like a crystal ball, seeing how that abandonment he’d felt so early on was nothing more than kids being kids, teasing and testing until they could accept. The names and being shunned. Nothing more than his dues to join the brotherhood. Once he’d been allowed in, it was a free for all -- no one N Syncer more outcast than another. Equal ground. And Lance saw that now as he saw it then, but this time the sting seemed to scrape away, float off to the place where bad feelings went when they were released. “I think ... I dunno. I think I was searching for something then. And I had my armor on when I came into the hotel suite that day.” Lance felt the sudden blaze of tears stab at his eyes, and he grabbed onto Justin’s arm for safety -- for strength to carry on this endless conversation that he never spoke of before. “I wanted to protect someone. I thought I was weak. Mamma’s boy maybe. Simple. I thought if I could protect JC from having to face you three, then I won.” His voice struggled to maintain a steady tone, to hold his emotion in, to force it back down to the black hole where it had come from. But the brutal ache that was the past surged through him, sending the carefully constructed wall slamming to the ground. Justin continued to kiss and caress his body with such  relaxing form, it soothed the words that smolder from his lips -- iced over the hurt, allowing him to continue. “I never wanted to be brittle, Justin. To be feeble and weak. I wanted to be like Joey who screamed masculine, or you who screamed sexy. Or Chris who was so funny and smart. Or JC who was poetic and deep. But what was I? I was weak. I collapsed. I was the fifth wheel -- the one who had to have a made up nickname just to fit into N Sync.” His voice tussled in his throat, fighting for a scream. But he held back, clawing Justin tighter to him. “To tell you about JC was my moment of power. And to see the three of you stare back at me like you’d been punched was a high for me. God help me but it was.” Justin stopped nuzzling instantly. “That was the day you changed, Lance,” he said, as if it was this great revelation. “My God. That was the day.” Justin sat up and drew his knees to his chest, suddenly surrounded by his own thoughts on the memory. Lance rolled onto his stomach and buried his head into the pillow, ashamed. Traveling backward through the expanse of time to the smell of the breakfast that they had been eating, the drone from the television tuned to Jerry Springer, the plush feel of the hotel carpet under his bare feet. He could taste the bile that pooled in the back of his throat ready to spew with each pair of eyes that focused on him that day, and the way his heart had thundered violently, drowning out his own thoughts. But he had gone on, spit the proclamation from his lips with a cool exterior, pausing mid-confession to swipe a piece of melon off Joey’s plate. He had stuck to the facts, with his bass voice a layer of cool -- no explanations -- no discussions, just a simple “JC and I are having a relationship. We like each other a lot and while we have no plans to make this known outright, I felt it was important for y’all to know.” And that had been that. Chomping repetitively on the melon, he smiled, turned and walked steadily from the room. And once the door had been shut, he ran to his own room to throw up -- and collapse to the tile of the bathroom floor with racked breaths and a slew of horrific emotions that caused him to wretch  himself into a ball. Shuddering, Lance sniffled, pushing the memory back. Fighting the weakness that tried to attack him again. “Never again,” he mumbled into the downy softness. “Never again.” “Lance, oh shit, Lance. This explains so much.” Justin dropped his legs and rolled over onto Lance, covering the trembling body with his own, attempting to stop the shaking and transmit well-being. “You were never less to us. Never. We loved you as our own from day one, from the second we heard you sing.” He rubbed his hands along Lance’s arms which were tucked guardedly under his body. “Yeah, we were immature, but Christ, how could you think we loved you less?” Lance was humiliated at the puddle of sop he’d become in Justin’s bed -- like that little Mississippi boy who’d gone to Florida on a wing and a prayer, never expecting a thing from it. But now there was only the grace of God and the strong arms belonging to Justin shrouding him, keeping him safe. “I guess I never thought. I was too emotional back then. Let my guard down and just went with my heart. I fought that after a while. I built stronger walls.” “And lost so much.” Justin kissed Lance’s ear and cheek, flooding him with lost love. “So you heal, Lance. You don’t stop loving. You aren’t supposed to give up on humanity and kindness.” “But I did,” Lance whimpered into the pillow. “I did and now this is me. Some crazed machine who no one dares cross. This fucking suit of armor that JC had to be shut out of for years.” He groaned involuntarily in anguish as it swamped his senses. All that unnecessary pain. Justin tugged him over onto his back, keeping his body over Lance‘s. “And now you make amends. Learn to love. Get that gift back you had Lance.” He brushed Lance’s blonde hair back from his face and swiped the tears away with his thumbs. “Now is your time to fly.” Lance cried. He sniffled and clutched Justin’s biceps with his hands. He let the tears of a child finally come out, and with it, all the hostility of past. Endless tears that slipped down his once round cheeks, now strewn with the scruff of a man. Tangled eyes that once shone with the innocent wisdom of a country boy who put all his stock in faith and family, now clear only with anxiety of a man twice his age. A heart that once beat vibrantly with love for his fans, now pattered erratically under stress that a man of his years should never feel. “I love you, Lance,” Justin whispered beneath breathy kisses, symbolic flutters of a bond that sprang from past lives and a rapture unexplained. “Let me love you this month completely. Go back to that time when you told us about JC and rework the path. Show you what kind of person you were supposed to be.” The tears did slow under Justin’s thumbs, and with each kiss, the racking sobs crushed just a little less. And soon the kisses were more passionate and alive, with a fiery tongue that seemed to mesh with his flesh. And Lance saw nothing but sapphire when he looked up, big blue pools of warmth that guided him selflessly along. Sex that was making love. Hands that clasped together in a union that always was. Candlelight that flickered gently over faces far too young to ever know true pain. Beauty the likes of which Lance had never seen. Purity that reigned down on his body as he allowed Justin inside him, as he experienced face to face intercourse for the first time, as he locked eyes with the man poised above him with the face of an angel and the heart of a saint. The intensity of the storm washed away and a cool tide rippled in, replacing the clouds with sunshine. And as Lance reached up to stroke Justin’s face, the moon dipped behind the window, leaving only easy flutters of candle to light the way. Primal instinct was for Lance to grab himself, stroke himself to a peak of pleasure and roll away, curl and hide, avoid all intimacy. But he fought it, tooth and nail. He held onto Justin as his body rocked, and glanced up with trusting eyes and a face that flushed with faith. He let his erection throb and enjoyed the frustrating desire it caused. Slithering heat that coiled in his belly, causing it to flip with want. Justin closed his eyes as his hips moved easily, his lips hung open, pausing every so often to twist to the side and brush along Lance’s calves tenderly. And Lance watched in admiration, in a swell of longing. He felt Justin’s breathing become a desperate pant, and observed as Justin’s face contorted in a myriad of erotic flinches. The way his eyes squeezed shut, the way his tongue swept over his upper lip, the way the muscles in his jaw twitched with concentration, and the little beads of perspiration that slid down his temples. The tiny moans that plummeted from his mouth incited Lance and he blinked slowly as his body demanded for release. Unwilling to break the moment, he laid still, mesmerized by the beauty of love, sinking helplessly into Justin's life-force. He reprimanded his penis for being selfish as he watched the orgasm rip from Justin’s body to his, and shuddered involuntary as Justin’s eyes opened to focus on him. “Lance,” he gasped, liberating Lance’s legs, letting them fall gently to the bed. “You are amazing.” He took a shaky breath and bent to kiss Lance’s lips. “Beautiful and strong.” Lance quivered under the words, under Justin’s mouth and hands. He swallowed thickly as Justin grazed over his neck, sucking and kissing along the tender flesh. His body strained against Justin’s, aching for something more. He didn’t have to ask as Justin seemed to read him, and soon his hands were fisted in the sheets, ripping at them like a man fighting for air. Demanding his soul to take lead away from his mind, and let the moment happen. Justin was unhurried, deliberate in his actions. Pairing delicious kisses and strokes with soft words. Gentle sayings that allowed Lance to open like a book, be perused and studied in a more intimate way than ever. It was like his first time, only the way it was supposed to be. Weakness was no longer an issue as Justin’s mouth closed over his erection, and there was no thought that stopped him from snapping his eyes shut and allowing his body to rock with the feeling. There was no evil or hate, or harm he felt. Just feral pleasure tinted with a love he didn’t want to explain away. Lance felt his body reaching plateaus he never thought existed. His hips were on their own and his head rolled from side to side as Justin’s mouth pushed him over. “Justin,” he gasped, whimpered, as his eyes flew open and he pushed up to stare, to make a connection. Justin was gazing back at him with angled eyes, eyes draped in untamed lust. Lance threw his head back and let out a wild moan, a vocal tribute to the most eloquent second in his life. It drained his body, the orgasm, and he lay very still afterward, mesmerized and lost in the complete feelings that thread through his veins. He was in a state of consciousness that was unexplainable, and he lay with one hand on his heart, the throbbing of his heart pounding against his palm. His other hand rested on Justin’s head, urging him back to him. Justin chuckled in the orange glow of the room and climbed back by Lance’s side. “It’s the way it’s supposed to be,” he whispered, burrowing his nose in Lance’s neck. “Now you sleep.” Lance was already half there, being dragged sweetly away into dreams that were sure to be of affirmative visions. Justin smiled as Lance’s chest began its deep heaves into that slumber. Then he crawled out of bed and wandered to the locked cabinet where his cocktail of pills awaited him. Carefully, he extracted the ones he needed, wincing at the pain the rushed his temples so violently. Swallowing them down with a palmful of water from the sink, he returned to the bed, blowing out the candles, and sinking back down to snuggle next to Lance’s warm and flushed body. Stroking Lance’s jaw with his thumb. Sighing with teary eyes because he was already half accomplished in his mission, and that was his life line at the moment. sweet november 5 menu sweet november 7