It was nearly a week later when Justin crawled onto Lance’s lap, tossing the magazine from his hands, straddling his lover with one leg flanked on either side of denim covered hips. “Whatcha doing?” Lance grinned, removing his glasses and placing them on the side table. He wrapped his arms around Justin's waist and pulled him closer, still amazed at the feelings incited deep inside of him -- with every touch. With every movement. Each brush of Justin’s hand wiped away grime from his soul, spawning new feelings. Like a child seeing the expanse of the ocean for the first time. Or tasting cotton candy. Justin’s eyes twinkled as he leaned down to kiss Lance’s temple. “I want to do something with you,” he said coyly. “Something that you might tense up at a little.” Lance’s hands froze on the waistband of Justin’s jeans, his nose nuzzled against his bare chest. His tongue darted out to lick over Justin’s nipple in a sign he wasn’t afraid -- not anymore. “Mmkay,” he rumbled lowly. “What’s gonna make me so tense? Cuz I have to tell you, Justin, I can’t remember ever being this relaxed.” “It’s all the surf and turf,” Justin laughed, nodding toward the ocean and grabbing his crotch playfully. “And I take it that’s the turf under those jeans eh?” Lance rolled Justin off his lap to the couch, pinning him to the cushions with an attack of fierce kisses. He felt the instant rise in his blood pressure, the way his body throbbed incessantly with each touch of his lips to Justin’s. The ache that always pulled at his groin when Justin was close. “That would be it,” Justin admitted, accepting the kisses with a little moan. “Yeah. Um. Yeah, that would be it.” Baby nipped at Lance’s jean leg, growling and tugging, and he groaned into Justin’s neck. “She gotta go out again?” he whined. “Yep. Little bladder I guess.” Justin pushed up at Lance’s chest with a sigh. “When you come back, I’ll tell you what I want to do with you.” Lance took a deep breath before standing, his body already wobbly with expectation. “Alright. I’m a gonna walk her,” he said, his cheeks a rosy blush of pink. “And when I get back. You show me.” He scooped Baby up and cuddled her against his chest. Walking backward toward the door, he eyed Justin lewdly. “Any chance you can show me naked?” It amused Justin greatly to hear those words from Lance’s lips, and he sat up, smiling from underneath his eyelashes. “Could be. Could be.” “Alright then,” Lance grinned, sliding the doors open to the deck. “Hurry Baby. Hurry girl. Daddy and I need some alone time.” He tossed his head back and winked. “We will return. Don’t start without me.” His spirits soared as he saw Justin sitting there, his chest strong and naked, battered jeans comfortably slinking along his body, low enough to reveal treasure hidden below. His bare feet now kicked up on the coffee table, rocking back and forth in some kind of silent melody. So hippie like, Lance thought as he stepped out onto the deck. Baby lead the way, and soon he was running along the surf with her, chasing the tiny dog in sweeping circles as she barked and jumped. Lance turned back toward the house and saw Justin standing in the window, his face pressed against the glass, a faraway look in his eyes. It made Lance stop -- pause to lift his hand up in a wave. A wave that he hoped meant something to Justin. A connection. A small sign that even while he was out on the beach running with Baby, his heart was still inside curled next to his. Justin smiled warmly and waved back before disappearing into the house. And Lance stared after him, shading his eyes from the sun that glinted into his eyes. Wondering what Justin needed. Daring to hope he could share something with him. Maybe take care of Justin somehow. “Come on Baby,” he called, smacking his hand on his leg. Baby trolloped over, her tongue draping from the side of her mouth. “That’s it girl. Let’s go see Daddy. See how he’s doing.” Lance jogged into the house, wiping his sandy feet  on the welcome mat that sat along the deck. He trailed Baby inside, and looked around. “Justin? Where are you?” His eyes wandered around, his ears prickled at the unusual silence. There always seemed to be music playing. Now, there was simply silence. His heart skipped a beat. His palms broke out in a clammy sweat as he heard no reply. Fear took its seedy place in his body as he poked his head into the kitchen. “Justin?” Lance heard his voice waver, and pressed his hand to his throat to clear it, to regain composure that was sliding away. “J? Where are you?” Lance swallowed hard, and forced a cleansing breath into his lungs. Exhaling the bad air, letting the sour feeling traipse out with it. “Okay, he’s fine. He’s fucking around. I’ll just go upstairs to the loft. Maybe he’s there.” He was mumbling to himself and Baby stared up at him, her head cocked to the side, her little ears pinned up in confusion. His feet were heavy with apprehension as he made his way to the steps --  eyes drifting upward. His voice afraid to call out again. He couldn’t handle not being answered. “Jesus, God,” he prayed silently, and for the first time in a year, grabbed for his cross instinctively. But it wasn’t there. The cross had been packed away after that last N Sync show at Madison Square Garden. It had been time, he’d thought, back then, time to take the talisman off and move on. Now, in the slits of sunlight that fell across his body, he ached for it. Wanted to sob for it. His eyes blinked slowly and he licked his lips, driving his feet to move one after the other up those steps. With each step, his pulse drown out his hearing until he heard nothing more than a sick hum droning methodically. At the top of the steps, he peered into the room. Wishing. Praying. Justin was sitting in the middle of the bed, his long legs folded beneath him. His eyes closed and his hands resting peacefully on his knees. Deep breaths caused his chest to fall and rise. And Lance sighed quietly, unable to pull his gaze away. Letting his eyes dance over the tranquil site before him. Meditation. He knew Justin drew upon it, craved it. Always had. Silently he turned to allow Justin his privacy, happy that he was alright. Suddenly wishing he had a beer to calm the nerves that fried inside of him. “Don’t go,” Justin murmured as his eyes fluttered open leisurely. “Come sit here with me. Let me show you something.” Lance nodded obediently, and made his way to the bed. Justin wiggled over and patted the mattress beside him. “Sit.” It was all foreign to Lance, even after seven days, to have Justin rule him with nothing more than a smile or hand motion. It had been laid-back days of unhurried love making and long walks on the beach. Of simple barbequed chicken eaten on the deck as the surf played their dinnertime music. Of building sand castles at dusk while sweatshirts adorned their bodies, and the cool evening breeze made them huddle under a fluffy quilt. Lance had eaten tofu for the first time that week -- and even found time to glance through the Biblical Psalm book Justin kept opened on his dresser. He’d lounged. And loved. Still sneaking in the occasional news programs, even though he knew Justin was frowning. But it was playful, always. And understood that being cut off from life as he knew it was difficult. Justin was a skilled teacher. So as he took his spot next to Justin, he trusted. “Face me, okay?” Justin asked. And Lance did. He propped his back against the headboard and settled down in the lushness of the mattress. “Now, just trust me okay?” Lance cocked an eyebrow as Justin dug into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a long, black, satin scarf. “What are you gonna do with that?” Lance laughed nervously. Sharp memories flooded him of the time JC had requested to tie him up -- the foulness of the fight that had ensued -- the pain that perched in JC’s eyes for days afterward. Suddenly, trust came back into play. Lance pressed his back tighter against the bed and pulled his knees up in front of him defensively. “I don’t think ...” “Lance, stop fussing,” Justin said seriously, tucking Lance’s chin into his palm. “I’d never hurt you.” Sincere azure eyes landed a direct hit to Lance -- saying all that needed to be said. He dropped his legs instantly, the little boy lost emerging, his lower lip trembling with a hint of uncertainty. A curious look emerging from his eyes as Justin steadied his gaze -- transmitting the message loud and clear -- “I will not hurt you” A tingle bathed his body gently as Justin rubbed his thigh, never breaking the silent vow of trust he’d pledged. He dropped the scarf and ran his free hand along Lance’s waist, curling under the hem of his shirt -- gradually. Taking his time. In tune with the level at which Lance was letting him in. Fingertips brushed against ticklish flesh, yet Lance didn’t laugh. His expression surrendered to Justin -- trying to understand. Inch by inch his shirt was being lifted, and he ducked his head to assist, to free himself of the material that Justin wanted gone. It was surreal, Lance thought, as he sat there shirtless. Feeling more vulnerable than he ever had. Sinking into some foamy haze that Justin had webbed around him. He watched as Justin’s hands dropped again to his waist, unsnapping buttons one by one. “Keep your eyes on me, Lance,” Justin whispered. “Look into me.” “Okay,” Lance replied, his voice timid and tiny, no hint of the bad ass bass he’d once been. Just a small boy who was dry mouthed and a puddle of liquid. His jeans were unsnapped and Justin folded them down to expose flesh and dark hair that sat where boxers would normally, knowing commando was just the sort of casual comment he’d influenced Lance on. Bending at the waist, Justin leaned down to kiss the angry red crevasses that ran along Lance’s waist -- marks from denim against flesh. Tiny wounds that felt like nothing, yet marred skin. It was the lightest touch Lance had ever felt, barely a breath of a kiss that ran along him. Yet it made his body shudder suddenly and he reached out to touch Justin’s head -- just to feel. Justin peeked up at him, his blue eyes vibrant and alive. “Okay?” he asked. “Okay,” Lance smiled. The scarf was in Justin’s hands, and Lance kept his eyes locked on it. Speculating. Concerned. “Look into my eyes,” Justin said soothingly, winking up at him. “Look right at me. Breath slowly, deeply. Surround yourself with the beach and the bed. With the moment.” Justin ran the material over Lance’s cheek, keeping his eye contact. “Feels nice right? Slippery. Soft.” The fear slunk away in some fog, and Lance leaned into the black satin, nodding ever so slightly, his green eyes dark with trust. “Feel, Lance. Keep the walls down for me.” Justin ran the silk along Lance’s chest slowly, letting the cool fabric stroke each nipple, caress it with suggestion. He saw the flicker in Lance’s eyes, the slow dissolve of fright into a surge of desire. Lance felt his crotch burn with each flutter of the satin over his skin. And Justin continued his pace, draping it around his biceps, sliding it around and around in some phallic symbolism. He bit his lip to keep from moaning. When Justin coiled the scarf around his waist, and dropped the tips against his lower belly, he pushed upward involuntarily. Justin licked his lips and let the scarf fall. His thumbs slid down Lance’s sides, under the jeans  He tugged them down, leaning in to kiss the corners of Lance’s mouth -- letting his tongue lick out at the pink flesh. The feeling of being naked while Justin wore his jeans seemed to amplify Lance’s senses and he gasped as Justin picked up the scarf once again. He tried to keep his eyes stable, keep the desire out to learn the higher lessen. But the black satin was slithering around his erection, tugging it playfully from his stomach, swirling in a counterclockwise motion. Lance’s mouth dropped open at the sensation, unable to stop his hips from moving. “I’m going to blindfold you,” Justin hummed in his ear. “So you can only feel. So you can’t rely on visual back up to get you off. So that the blackness can send you places you’ve never been.” Lance tensed briefly at the idea of loosing power in such a massive way. His muscles tightened and his face dropped. But Justin was there, pushing the blindfold around his head, binding it at the back. And Lance could only feel the warm spurts of breath that cradled him into obscurity. Justin’s breath cradling him, though. Lending him the courage he needed to let it happen. Lance was feeling now. Drifting to planes of pleasure based solely on his touch factor. His erection throbbed like never before. Rigid and sensitive, ruling him. His hands reached out blindly, hoping to capture some part of Justin. They swam around in air, though, feeling nothing. “Justin?”  “I’m here,” the voice sang out, but it no longer sounded near. Lance shivered as wind gusted over him, and he frowned, dropping his arms to the bed below. “Come here. You left me.” “No, Lance,” Justin whispered. “I didn’t leave you.” The voice was much closer now, to the left of him, clear and concise. Lance rubbed his palms off on his thighs, urging his body to slow down, to let things go as Justin had planned. “What are we doing?” he wanted to know, his fingers tapping absently on his legs, itching to grab at the hardness that sat between his legs. He was restraining, and trying to gain some patience. “Learning,” Justin replied, and Lance felt the bed dip beside him. “Loving.” Justin’s lips grazed along his arm, causing Lance to break out in gooseflesh. He shivered as a small smile spread over him. “Enjoying.” Justin’s hand wrapped around Lance firmly, causing him to moan loudly, sending his hips driving upward, arcing into Justin’s fist. Time took a breath as Justin sat pressed against him, nuzzling his neck, urging him to an vulnerable place. And then he was gone again, leaving Lance achy, with an erratic pulse and a dry mouth. He could feel his erection spearing into nothingness, making him sad. An odd emotion, but it tugged at him as desperation inundated his mind. “Justin,” he begged, reaching out again. Feeling nothing again. “Tune into me,” Justin said, and that voice came from someplace hidden -- no longer beside him. “Come and find me. Use your heart -- your instinct.” Old Lance fought to surface, to throw the blindfold off and storm away angrily -- hide in the bathroom and stroke himself to orgasm, then pack his shit and leave. New Lance took a sharp inhale of air and nodded, stumbling from the bed, using whatever he had to tweak his wits and find Justin. Darkness shrouded him so he listened for breathing, for tiny spurts of air laced with the soft exhales of his target. And he heard them, causing a proud grin. He heard the rustling and the shifting. And moved toward it. Once he was satisfied, he reached out -- without hesitation or uncertainty. And when his fingers curled around Justin’s wrist, he let out a small whoop of joy. “You found me,” Justin whispered. “You did it.” Lance tugged the wrist closer, and silenced the praise with a kiss, dragging Justin back to the bed with him, letting the black satin cover his eyes. Knowing he didn’t need to see to be. They made love that way, with Lance feeling his way to Justin’s jeans, peeling them off without vision. And he was the one to use his hands to please, and guide -- to press into Justin. It was dizzying as he rocked over Justin's body, thrusting with primal need that simmered with heartfelt feeling. When Justin’s hands tugged the blindfold off as he neared orgasm, Lance winced. Focus returned slowly and he saw the endless blue eyes gazing back at him, concentrating. Coming not only physically, but emotionally. Lance gasped as Justin struggled to keep his eyes open, watching the beauty of pleasure cloud the expression below him. It made his body roll with desire, and plow into Justin with renewed energies. Gasping. Driving. Sweating. And it was an explosion from the inside out, striking his body with a blow he was unprepared for, sending his eyes back into his head and making his toes curl. “Sweet Jesus,” Lance muttered as he collapsed, his heart a pounding hammer. His body Jell-O. “Amen,” Justin said, nuzzling closely. “A fucking men!” sweet november 6 menu sweet november 8