“So you wanna be my bitch or what?” Justin laughed, mostly because Lance was saying it out of desperation. Almost pleading. Big green eyes just stuck with hope. Last ditch effort. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be your bitch,” Justin giggled, flopping down on the bed. He toyed with Lance’s cell phone and sighed. “Tell me again about this event.” Lance shoved his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and shrugged. “Supports men’s health in New York City. They came up with a ball. Everybody has to bring someone in drag so ...” “So I get graced?” Justin snorted, tossing the cell phone to the side. “How’s that happen?” Lance swiped his phone and smiled. “’Cuz you owe me for taking the heat on that little tramp you put the moves on while your woman was away.” Justin grew solemn and nodded. “Oh shit. Yeah.” He blinked up with wide blue eyes. “She never did find out about that.” “Scratch marks are a fucked up thing, J,” Lance reminded him with a chuckle. He pulled a baseball cap over his head and smiled. “To hide isn’t to say it’s right.” “I know,” Justin groaned, rolling onto his back. “So what time are you picking me up?” Lance rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket. “It’s not a date, Justin. Remember that.” He snapped the door shut, leaving Justin alone with his thoughts. Not a date. Justin sniffed as he scratched his stomach. “I didn’t say it was,” he grumbled under his breath, rolling off the bed with a sigh. Still, he thought, it might be nice to spend the whole night alone with Lance. But Lance schmoozed, he reminded himself, and would be off doing networking things. And he, Justin Timberlake, would be dressed as a ... woman. It kind of turned him on to think about it as chewed on the inside of his lip. Silk panties and a dress. Some lip gloss.  He snickered at his devious side and let himself in, ready to take a nice nap before Lance arrived with his goodie bag. **************** “Why don’t you just come out and tell people you’re not gay?” Justin stared at Lance from his spot on the toilet, gazing up with stiffened eyelashes, thick with black mascara. His hands fidgeted as Lance studied his face. Lance knelt on the bathroom floor, his body positioned between Justin’s legs, a stick of eyeliner between his fingers. “Stop moving, man. You’re gonna fuck this all up.” “Can’t we do it in the limo?” Justin asked. “So no one will see me?” “I can’t apply this shit too good here. In a moving vehicle? Damn, you’ll be minus an eye.” Justin sighed and tried not to focus on the fact Lance was so close -- that he could smell the shampoo he’d used just minutes ago in the shower, his hair still damp. He tried really fucking hard not to stare at his chest, which was still bare. He tried not to imagine Lance on his knees doing something other than applying gobs of makeup to his face for a drag ball. But the bulge in his pants was growing by the second, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Lance noticed as well. Then what? Justin didn’t know. “So why?” “Huh?” Lance chewed on his lip in a sign of concentration and studied Justin’s face harder. “Don’t you deny rumors you’re gay.” “Oh.” Lance pulled back a little. “Makes ‘em think. I mean, if you like me for me then it’s all good right? Like me only because I’m gay? Well that’s shallow. Like me because I’m straight? Fucked up. Like me because I’m smart, or funny. Or make fun of me because I can’t dance. Right?” Justin thought Lance could be reciting the alphabet in German for all he was paying attention. He was lost in some erotic dance, focusing on how pink Lance’s lips were and wondering just a little what they tasted like. He was busy staring intently at the eyes all the fans fawned over, suddenly realizing just what the big deal was. He was licking his lips without realizing it, and no longer fighting the erection in his pants. “Close your eyes,” Lance said, and Justin thought it sounded very breathy. Sexy. Hot. “Okay,” Justin stammered, and he wiped his palms off on his jeans, letting his eyes close. Wishing he had a shot of something to take the edge off and sedate the damn flutters in his gut. The eyeliner touched his lid and Justin let out a shaky sigh. Lance’s thumb pressed against his nose, steadying his hand. “Jesus, this is hard,” Lance cursed. “How the fuck do girls do it?” “Maybe you should go as the girl,” Justin smiled. “I’ve seen Brit do this a hundred times. I could probably do it in my sleep.” A wet tissue slapped against his face and he opened his eyes. “That’s gonna smudge it,” he warned. “What?” Lance stared at him blankly. “Smudge it? Justin, you’re scaring me, man.” He held out the eyeliner. “You do it then oh king of ‘makeup observation‘.  If you’re so good at it. I’m gonna get dressed.” And that was it. Lance was out the door again. Justin sighed and stood up, peering into the mirror with wide eyes. Wondering just what the hell he thought he was doing. Dressing like a girl just to go on a date with Lance. It was ludicrous. It was insane. It was fucked up in every which way possible. Lance was his friend, and Lance had a new girlfriend. Britney was his girlfriend, and while he wasn’t lucky enough to be getting any, he wasn’t exactly disillusioned by it. Lance was everything he wanted to taste for a night -- or two. Lance was the body and mind he craved. Lance was the spirit and heart he ached for. Lance had these arms Justin loved to stare at when he thought no one was watching -- and when the lights went down, he imagined those arms wrapped around him. His chest was heavy as he looked at his reflection, blue eye shadow glaring back at him. He laughed because truly Lance had no inkling of what or how to apply it. At best he looked like a cheap Madonna rip off. At worst, a two cent whore. Chuckling, he wiped the eye shadow off and hummed as he stroked the brush against the powder. Bringing his hand to his face, he winked one eye shut and grazed along his lid trying to steady his hand. “Shit!” The plastic case tumbled from the sink to the floor and Justin growled as it splattered across the tile. “Shit!” Lance slid in, his green eyes wide. “What the hell?” Justin frowned as he dropped to his knees with a wad of toilet paper, dabbing at the baby blue dust. “Nothing, I just dropped the eye shadow and ...” His eyes wandered up the legs that stood before him, drifting over the bare thighs and exposed skin. The wonder that was naked Lance. His eyes blinked several times, rapidly. Trying to speak or breathe. Trying to compose his trembling hand. Wishing to fuck he didn’t feel like some teeny bopper fan who was doe eyed over the great Lance Bass. “Is that it?” Lance laughed, his deep voice thundering through Justin’s ears. “Jesus, I thought you cut yourself or something!” He rubbed at his lower stomach and Justin gasped, his hands and knees flush with the cool tile. The tickle in his throat overwhelming, and the blush in his cheeks unforgiving. The pit in his gut was hot and dusty. His tongue darting out to lap at his dry lips. Wondering how close he could get to Lance without touching him. Daring to move just an inch closer to take the very tip of Lance’s cock into his mouth. He licked his lips again and stared up, surprised to see Lance gazing back down at him. “Not enough blush,” Lance said with a crooked smile before shaking his head and walking out. Justin rocked back on his heels, stunned. His heart pattered erratically inside his rib cage and he abandoned the scattered eye shadow at his feet. “Holy fuck,” he gasped, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. Wondering how the hell he was supposed to make it through the night with Lance so close. And him so horny. Slowly Justin stood and stared back in the mirror, at the painted face that hid him. He was flushed and wobbly, and the hard on between his legs was throbbing without conscience. Without care. “Fucking shit,” he hissed, sticking his hand down to grab at it. Pissed. Furious that he could manage to have these feelings. Annoyed that the idea of being Lance’s bitch for the night was turning him on. Lance poked his head in again and Justin turned around quickly. Embarrassed. He drew his hand out of his pants and sighed. “Limo is coming in thirty minutes, J. You gonna be ready? Should I call Laura and get her in here to help?” Justin scowled, his cheeks even rosier than the blush that covered them. “No. I don’t need her help. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He could feel Lance standing there gazing. Rotating his head he swallowed thickly. “What?” “Nothing,” Lance said, stroking his scruff in amusement. “Nothing at all.” **************** Justin tried, he really did, not to think about jerking off, not to think about how easy and quick it would be. Not to touch himself as he strolled around in his room. But he was hard, and it wasn't going away anytime soon. Flopping on his bed, he grabbed the bag from the floor and dumped the contents out. He stared at the clothing. Undergarments he’d had plenty of experience getting girls out of, but slipping them on seemed -- too erotic for him to be liking so much. Justin’s eyes slanted as he fingered the satin panties and lace garter. They tickled his fingertips and he looked around, like a panicky child. Fearing someone might catch the glimmer of arousal in his eyes. “Hmm,” he whispered, leaning over to shut out one of the nightstand lights. He was slightly self conscious, having finally mastered what he hoped was a decent make up job. Tiny silver hoops dangled from his ears and he had a head-wrap to cover his barely there curls. He figured he looked borderline ridiculous with a hard on poking out of his boxers. But as he stood to slide them off, his skin hissed  -- and a tiny dribble of liquid glared up at him from the head of his dick. Taunting him. Daring him to wrap his fingers around and give a few hard tugs to release the pressure that had been there for so long. “Dammit!” Justin cried in frustration. He swirled around and gripped the panties, bending at the waist to slip one foot in. He lost his balance in the delicate shuffle and toppled back to the bed.  He lay on his back and sighed, blinking slowly. Trying to recompose himself. The clock on the nightstand glared at him, challenging him to be on time. “Okay, okay,” he whispered, resting his hand on his stomach. “I can do this.” His heart was throbbing, and he glanced down at his body. He felt hot, warmer than usual, like his whole body was brushing against fire. It was a different sensation for him, more sensual than needy.  He closed his eyes and licked at his lips, bending his knees and letting them fall open -- running his hands slowly over his inner thighs. Justin moaned a little as his fingertips brushed toward his crotch, fingering the elastic around the legs of the panties. It was so strange to feel them there, straining to hold him in. The palm of his hand rested over his balls, while his finger ran the length of his erection. The silk caressed him from both angles and he allowed his mind to wander to Lance. To green eyes and stiff spikes -- to lips and chest. Justin was lost, swimming away as his hand slid over his stomach, brushing against his searing flesh, up to his chest -- running over his nipples. Pinching at them defiantly. Leaving it all behind. A master of meditation, he allowed his breathing to deepen as he touched himself. And soon he was lost in a plethora of tingles and rushes -- ready to glide the clothes on and find Lance. Lance. Justin bit his lip as he thought of naked Lance -- from the bathroom. Being so close. His eyes fluttered shut and he pulled the panties up over his hips, adjusting his erection uncomfortably. A smile flashed across his face as he yanked the garter belt from it’s place on the bedspread and latched it on. “Jesus,” he gasped as he pointed his toe and slid it into a stocking. It was silk against his foot, silky, completely erotic. The soft material wound between his finger and thumb. He concentrated on the feeling it created against him, washing past the fine hairs on his leg. It amused him to clip the stocking to the garter, and he frowned, wondering if it was “normal” for him to have these arousals. These deep seeded trickles of stimulation. The bra was lace, and Justin smiled at the ease with which he managed it. Stuffing two silicon inserts into the cups and he looked around. Quite enjoying the naughty feeling he had simmering under his skin. The raw wonder of doing something that he’d never done -- experiencing something he’d never dared. He walked to the closet, pulling the black dress out -- and stared at it. For a long time. Debating over the head or step in. “This is stupid,” he snorted, deciding not to muss his face. He unzipped the back and stepped in, drawing the velvety material over his thighs. And he almost moaned at the sexual nerves it seemed to hit, and then he frowned some more. “Fuck!” he cried, pulling the dress up roughly. “This is dumb. Stupid shit! Scary shit!”  He tried to laugh it off as he slid into the black sling-backs that had been carefully chosen for the event and wobbled over to the mirror. Justin was pleasantly surprised at how his reflection looked. He smirked and put his hands on his hips. “Not fucking bad,” he said, turning slightly to catch a glimpse of his ass. His brows knotted, however,  as he saw the zipper dangling half way down his back. “Well, that sucks,” he mumbled, wrapping his arm around to try and grab it. A dozen turns later, and his face was red, his cussing vocabulary out of words, and his hard on long gone. Because that clock was glaring at him. And the last thing he needed was for Lance to be pissed at him. Not when he wanted him so badly. The zipper was not having any part in cooperation, and Justin let out a final cry of desperation as his phone rang. Lance stood in the lobby, his suit already bothering him. His head already throbbing because Justin was late. He checked his watch and sighed, wandering over to the courtesy phone. “May I?” he asked the gum cracking desk clerk. “Sure,” she garbled back, leaning back over her magazine. Lance pressed Justin’s room number and tried to control his irritation. “Of all the times to be late,” he mumbled under his breath, flashing a fake smile to a doe eyed girl who was gaping open mouthed at him. “What?” Justin hissed into the line. “Justin, come on. We’re late.” “Jesus CHRIST!” Justin growled back. “I can’t fucking move. You gotta come up here and help me!” “We don’t have time,” Lance stressed, rolling his eyes. “Just get your ass down here.” Justin scowled on the other end, at a loss. “Lance,” he whimpered. “Lance please. I can’t ... my ... the ..” “What?” Lance tapped his fingers on the desk. “Justin for the love of fuck. Come ON!” “Icantgetmydresszipped.”  It pained Justin to say, nearly humiliated him -- and when the deep chuckle came back over the line, he melted. Straight away. Like some girl on prom night. “Can you help?” he pleaded. “Be right up,” Lance replied, hanging up the phone. He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, entertained that Justin had even agreed to do this. The kid had a lot at stake, he figured, dressing like a woman when there would be press there. It took balls, and Lance knew it. Nothing could have prepared either of them for the sight -- when the door opened and they came face to face. Lance’s mouth dropped and Justin fidgeted under his gaze. Lance blushed and Justin ducked his head. “So you gonna help me?” he asked quietly, turning so Lance could slide the zipper up. Lance stared, unable to pull himself back. Justin was positively delicious. He blinked, and then blinked some more. Shifting from foot to foot, he raised his hand and took the silver zipper between his fingers. “Justin,” he whispered. “You look ...” “Stupid. Yeah. I know.”  Justin closed his eyes as he felt Lance move in a step, as Lance’s hand brushed against his back. And he wanted to spin around and have at him. Just dive into Lance and devour him. “No,” Lance said, clearing his throat as he forced himself to finish the job. “You look amazing. The wrap. The heels. The dress.” Justin sighed and turned around, touching the delicate hoops the dangled from his ears. “You think?” He was confident, his blue eyes shades deeper as he forced the lust that coiled inside him over to Lance. “Amazing? Really?” His hands ran over the silicon breasts he’d placed inside the black lace bra and he smiled. “It’s weird having tits,” he laughed, inching closer. “Wanna touch em?” Lance didn’t realize he was gaping, lost in a haze -- nearly forgetting his purpose. His eyes were wandering over Justin, wondering what it would be like to undress him. Touch him. Let his lips take a stroll down the skin that peeked out in all the right places. “You okay?” Justin asked, resting his hand on Lance’s arm. Letting his fingers play coyly -- wandering in tiny circles over Lance’s bicep. It was hot, Lance noticed as his feet became glued. *Very* fucking hot in that room and he was pretty sure he wasn’t mistaking the signals flying from Justin. And for a moment, he let himself go. Fly with the obvious sexual innuendos. Before Lance knew it, he was kicking the hotel door shut and forcing Justin against the wall, draping his hands on his waist and pressing his lips down. He was gasping as he tasted lipstick, and a seemingly female chest, and lower still, a swell that left nothing to the imagination. For the most gratifying and fiery of seconds, Lance let his tongue coax its way into Justin’s mouth as they exchanged breath, and he felt utterly dizzy when Justin’s hands slid over his ass, urging him in. And then it was over -- broken as Lance pushed himself back. “Oh fuck. Oh FUCK!” His eyes were frantic as the back of his hand wiped away the crimson lipstick that smeared across his lips.  He stared at Justin, at the smudged lips and long eyelashes, and gasped for air -- forcing himself to look away. “Oh Fucking shit!” “You keep saying that,” Justin whispered, tugging his dress down. He chewed on his lip and gazed at Lance with wild eyes. Sorry eyes. He’d let it go too far, and now his friend might need serious therapy to recover. Lance pressed his palm against the door and hung his head, hundreds of confused feelings whirring around. The only one he was familiar with was the heavy feeling of an erection that had built in mere seconds.  It was just wrong on every level he could think of, but still, a nag yanked at him, daring him to spin back around and push Justin down to the floor. Explore the living fuck out of him. All. Night. Long. Justin knew the struggle happening. He knew he had an in, so to speak. And he planned on taking full advantage of it. “So we’re gonna be late,” he stated, wandering over to the mirror to reapply his lipstick. “You ready?” His heart was hammering and his blood prickled as he caught Lance’s reflection in the mirror. The way he slumped, almost defeated. Confused. Unsure. “Yeah. I’ll be ...” Lance twisted his head to the side and took a shaky breath. “... in the hall. Hurry okay?” Justin smiled and winked as the lipstick glided over his lips. “Gotcha. Be right there.” As the door snapped shut, Justin licked over the glossy residue and adjusted his dick, hiding the evidence the best he could. “Hah!” he chuckled lowly. “You are mine tonight.” ****************** There were hundreds of people -- and Lance was ill at ease. He avoided looking at Justin, the ache in his gut a very definite sign of desire. He wasn’t sure where to place it. It was Justin, he kept reminding himself. Justin. As the limo door opened, Lance jumped out and straightened his jacket, blinking as cameras went off. “Jesus,” he hissed, rubbing at them in shock. Justin curled his lips steadily and stepped out next, laying a hand on the small of Lance’s back. They were ushered inside quickly, but Justin didn’t let go. He knew his hand was searing Lance -- in more ways than one. The ballroom was a crazy vision of neon and strobe lights. A meld of erotica and mainstream culture all fused into one. Senators mingled with drag queens, and well known actors rubbed elbows with a smile. Lance dove for the bar, ready to grab a shot or two and try to rub the kiss from his lips. He wanted to elude Justin’s presence for a while, just to get those azure eyes off of him. Those lips. The fucking hands. All of it. All of it he was fighting not to want to want. But want he did. Really badly. So with a double in his hand, he swiveled to find Justin facing him, practically nose to nose. “So,” he rumbled, lifting the glass to his lips. He was stumped for a beat of two before allowing his body to sink back -- to pin Justin with his gaze. Dare him to be the one to back down. “So,” Justin batted back, cocking his head to the side. “About before,” Lance whispered, leaning in close, letting his wet lips brush Justin’s ear. “In the hotel.” “Yeah?” Justin was shivering, his body aching to be grabbed. He dropped his head back a little, uncaring of how it looked. “I think I want on that,” Lance admitted, swiping his tongue over Justin’s earlobe. And he realized he really didn’t care that much anymore because his body was on overdrive, commanding the barrier he usually allowed himself to have. It shocked Lance when the words tumbled from his mouth. And it shocked Justin to hear. Lance forced himself to stay still, to stare at Justin through narrowed eyes, at the expanse of his neck -- to imagine sucking on the soft flesh near his collarbone. “You do eh?” Justin laughed, grabbing the glass from Lance’s hands. He took a small sip and winced as it burned a trail to his stomach. “You sure about that?” Lance swallowed thickly, forgetting about right and wrong. Good and evil. Whatever normally kept him in check.  He growled somewhere inside and searched for an escape. A way out of the night so he could whisk Justin back to the limo and take care of things. Get the horribly confusing sexual desires out of him and into Justin. “Later,” Justin’s voice was sinful as it splashed at Lance and soon he was gone in a blur of heels and black material. “Well what the fuck?” Lance mumbled, shifting under the tug between his legs. He was dumbfounded as Justin weaved his way through people, out of his sight. “Justin Timberlake is a cock tease.” Lance mused unbelievably. Several shots and moral debates later, Lance was seeking Justin out. The hour was late and he’d done his duty, put in his appearance. The party was heating up as politicians exited and only a young, horny crowd was left. Lance pushed past several people to find Justin on the dance floor, a beautifully dressed queen grinding against his ass, large hands flitting over Justin’s stomach and chest lewdly. And Justin was sweaty, orgasmically so. Lance trembled as he watched, unable to comprehend what had taken over him. Not thinking about Laura or his obligations to her. Nor was he thinking of his responsibility to Justin and their friendship. Only wanting to have a chance to lick that sweat away. To have self-indulgent sex on the floor, or in the bathroom. To delve into whatever drug-like effect Justin was having on him. As the stranger’s hands rummaged to the hem of Justin’s dress and began to hike it up, exposing the black nylons and garter, Lance sprang in. “Come on,” he grumbled, grabbing Justin’s hand roughly. “We gotta go.” “We do?” Justin smiled out from under hooded eyes, his lips glistening as the disco ball churned round and round. “Where?” “Out of here,” Lance answered with a devilish gleam. “To finish what I started.” Justin’s insides quivered as Lance hauled him through the club, barely saying good-bye to the hosts and promoters -- dragging him outside to the cool air and shoving him into the waiting limo. The door barely slammed shut before Lance pounced. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed pinning Justin to the cool leather seats. “What are you doing to me?” Justin stopped breathing as Lance’s hand pushed his face to the side, exposing his neck. He was drowning as his hands tugged at Lance’s suit jacket, eager to get it off. Eager to rip at the button down shirt and fumble with the buttons at his waist. “What am I doing to you?” Justin countered. “Jesus! You with walking in naked and ...” His words were sliced in half as Lance attacked his mouth, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. Swirling his tongue inside Justin’s mouth with little thought. Justin thought he was dead, or dying, as Lance’s hand slipped up the dress, sliding easily beneath the satin panties. “Oh,” he gasped as Lance’s fingers tickled the smooth space between his leg and balls. He’d never been touched quite that way -- quite in that spot. “Help,” Lance mumbled, struggling with the tangle of garter and panties that seemed to hinder the moment. Justin’s eyes rolled as Lance touched his cock, sweeping over the satin covered tip. “Lance, I can’t ..” “Justin, come on. Help!” Lance bit Justin’s shoulder in a fit of impatience as his hand tussled with the lingerie. “I wanna touch you. I wanna ... taste .. umph.” His finger ripped at the lace garter and they both paused mid breath as the sound cried through the car. “You ripped it,” Justin said simply, his eyes droopy in the blue tint of the runner lights. “Well, I asked you to help,” Lance whined as he rolled to the floor. Justin laid still and smiled. “Sorry.” Lance leaned against the seat and threw his head back onto Justin’s chest. “I’m so horny,” he moaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “What did you do to me? I was fine! Now not so much!” He snorted and let his eyes close, concentrating on Justin’s breathing, the quick spurts of forced air that seemed to coincide with his own heartbeat. Justin reached in and pulled out the silicone, anxious to feel Lance against him. He tossed them across the limo and sighed unsteadily. His hand ran over Lance’s blonde hair, massaging his scalp as his fingers tugged at the thick strands. It wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to allow it to be. Slowly, he lifted one leg up and over Lance’s shoulders, moving his body so it was in a half sitting position, shifting so Lance was no longer against his chest, but between his legs. His cock was stiff, rigid from the day, no longer wanting to be tolerant. “Do you want me?” Justin whispered softly, rocking his hips, digging his erection into the back of Lance’s head. “Do you want me Lance?” Lance burned. Literally. He grabbed Justin’s ankles and ran his fingers over the nylon stockings, relishing the peculiar feeling of a man under the graze. Erotic was the mildest word that rumbled around inside Lance’s head. Fuckable was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to wait until the limo stopped and they were in the hotel. He longed to undress Justin slowly in the soft light. Treasure it all because he wasn’t sure it would ever happen again. A warm buzz still fluttered through him, and he kneaded Justin’s calves as his hair was toyed with. It was silent in the limo, neither daring to speak for fear of breaking the thick rope of lust that tangled around their waists. Wickedness was in the air, and they relished in it. When the limo stopped, parked in a dark area of the parking garage, Lance crawled to the door. He swept Justin’s silicon up and climbed out, quickly adjusting his suit. Looking out for stray fans or midnight paparazzi that may have found their way about. The coast was clear and he waved Justin out with a smile. They slithered up to Lance’s room, not touching. Not speaking. Saving it all for the walk through the doorway. Understanding and taking it for what it was. A night where inhibitions were meant to be tossed away. ************************* The door made a voluble buzz as Lance inserted his room card, and he could feel the press of Justin against his back. It made him weak, weaker than he’d ever felt in his life. So out of control and achy. They tumbled through the door and Justin quickly tore the wrap off his head, craving to get naked and touch Lance, be touched. As he grabbed the hem of the dress, Lance stopped him, catching his hands firmly. “I wanna,” he rumbled lowly, his voice so cavernous and deep Justin almost couldn’t hear it. But there was no mistaking the shards of desire that etched in Lance’s eyes, and no mistaking the intent in his uninhibited smile. Justin nodded and backed up, through the small hallway, into the bedroom. The back of his knees hit the mattress, and he fell back, draping his arms over his head, letting his hands dangle off the bed. He stared up at Lance with a fervent gaze, and a grin that was sexy in every possible way. Lance shrugged his jacket off, stripping slowly -- deliberately. Enjoying the ripples of lust that tingled over him. He secured his eyes to Justins as his fingers dropped to the waistband of his pants -- as they unbuttoned and unzipped -- as he stepped out of them leisurely. It was natural for his lip to curl between his teeth, and as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers, he watched Justin’s chest heave erratically. It was an outer body experience as he climbed naked over Justin. His mind was blurred, and only his body spoke. “I am going to have to ... I mean ... I ..” “Shut up!” Justin cried, wrapping his long legs around Lance’s waist. “Just shut! Up!” Lance smirked as his body folded on top of Justin’s, as their bodies lapsed into the bed. It was kissing and licking. And biting. And clawing. “This is weird,” Lance whispered as his hands ran over the velvet dress. “So fucking weird.” Justin shook his head and squirmed beneath Lance, anxious -- unable to take much more. He pushed Lance away and sat up, winding his arms around to grab the zipper. But Lance pushed his hands down. “Un uh,” he grinned, hiking the dress up to Justin’s waist. “Lie back.” And Justin did, the dizzying feeling of Lance’s hands overwhelming. Lance rocked back on his heels and studied Justin’s body, his pulse was ramming violently in his ears, and his eyes darkened as he ran his fingers over Justin’s stomach. Tickling the flesh as his wrist brushed over the erection just slightly lower. Craving the little moans that were streaming from Justin’s lips. He wanted to speak, to say something really sexy, but his mind was stuck, and soon he was peeling the garter down and off, lowering his head to lick Justin’s inner thighs as the stocking came down. It was soft, but muscular, so different and so good. Justin jerked under the touch. His legs quivered and his hands sought some place to rest. They curled in Lance’s hair and tugged. Itching to hurry things along. Pleased that he’d managed to get Lance this far. Surprised that Lance was so agreeable to things. Lance discarded the stockings slowly, tossing them to the side with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He glanced up at Justin and smiled, trailing his fingers back up Justin’s legs. The palm of his hand rubbed over the erection peeking out from under the tiny black panties, and he watched as Justin’s mouth dropped open, as his eyes rolled back and his hands dropped to his sides. Bending his fingers under the elastic, Lance yanked them down. Justin lifted his leg, bending it so they could slip off easily. “Lance?” Justin hadn’t meant for it to be a question, but his body was floating, drowning in some land he’d never been to. “Umm hmm. I’m here.” Lance crawled up Justin’s body and captured his mouth. “Right here.” The velvet crushed against Lance’s skin and he rubbed against it. Pulling the neckline down, he pushed the bra aside, catching Justin’s nipple in his mouth for a sharp bite. Justin sucked in sharply as pain shot past him. He ran his hands around Lance’s back, stroking up and down his spine. Dipping his fingers down the slope toward Lance’s ass, pressing his fingers under to pull him closer. Enjoying the friction of his cock against Lance. Thrusting up in a struggle. His nails dug into Lance, clawing at him. “Oh ..” he garbled as Lance licked the base of his neck. The feeling swam over Lance instantly, and he boosted up onto his elbows, using his thumbs to smudge over Justin’s lips, traipsing the lipstick across his cheeks. Leaving streaks behind. Staring down into the unknown. “Fuck,” he hissed, bending to gnaw on Justin’s lower lip, sucking on it until he heard Justin whimper. He slid his hand down between their bodies and gripped Justin’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. Holding it tightly as his cheek pressed against Justin. Not knowing where to go, what to do. Justin was rocking, thrusting into his hand, and Lance watched his face wash over, watched his head thrash from side to side, begging for more. So he moved, down Justin’s body, past the velvet that was now bunched up around Justin‘s waist. Pressing bites into his rippled flesh. Feeling completely untamed as he moved between Justin's legs and grabbed his erection between his thumb and forefinger. Studying what was seemingly so familiar to him. Lapping the tip with curiosity and lust. Smiling at the feral reply it incited. Taking more into his mouth, licking where he himself liked to be licked. Swallowing as much as he dared. Digging his fingers into Justin’s hips to keep him still. Not liking the idea of gagging. Pulling back when he feared it was too close -- wrestling his own erection that rubbed against the bed spread -- using his finger to press against Justin, taunting for entry -- not knowing if it would be accepted or not. Mew like sounds urged him on, so he ventured in, feeling how Justin tensed and bolted up, then relaxed and dissolved. Murmured words were falling incoherently from Justin’s mouth. A string of moans and curses that poured out with no real meaning. And Lance wanted to fuck. He ached to slither inside and feel this. He wandered back up Justin’s body and gripped his face. “Open your eyes,” he growled, brushing his lips against Justin’s. And Justin did stare up with watery eyes that were wicked with darkness. “I want to fuck you,” Lance whispered unsteadily. “But you know we can‘t.” “Yes,” Justin replied raking his hands against Lance. “Yes. Yes we can. We can.” Lance shook his head. “No, Justin. We can’t.” Justin stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. “I want you to,” he cried. “I want ...” Lance was losing his battle but managed to roll off Justin. Almost immediately, Justin was on top of him, staring down with deadly eyes, licking his fingers and rubbing himself. Soon Lance was defeated as Justin grabbed his cock and guided it inside of him. Slowly. With winces of pain flitting across him. Throwing his head back as he lowered himself down. Gripping himself as he moved, slowly at first to adjust himself. Lance shuddered and grabbed Justin's hips. “No,” he said firmly. “Get. OFF!” “I plan to,” Justin smirked, gazing down with wild eyes. He leaned back and rested his hands on Lance’s thighs, his erection bobbing against his belly. Lance pushed at Justin, afraid of the iniquitous looks. Afraid to let go. But the pressure proved too much. Helplessly he grabbed Justin’s knees, rubbing his thumbs along the inside. Watching as Justin’s body rocked up and down, as his head dropped back. The velvet bunched around his waist. Makeup smudged over his pretty face. It was a build up that was a long time in the making. Pure sex that balled up in Lance’s gut ready to release. He moaned and thrust up, pinching Justin. Trying to signal something. Justin pulled his body back and grinned, placing Lance’s hand over his cock, covering Lance’s fingers with his own. Using Lance’s hand to stroke roughly. Quickly. Bouncing as he screamed in a fit of pleasure. And Lance wanted to silence him, keep him quiet, but there was no way as he watched Justin orgasm, as he watched with wide eyes as Justin’s body jerked then became perfectly still. As he felt muscles tighten, pushing him harder. “Oh my ..” Lance squirmed and gritted his teeth as Justin let go of his hand with a slack expression. Satisfied. He threw the dress over his head and began to swirl his hips methodically, sensually. Allowing Lance to press in deeper, giving him the movement he needed to come. Justin saw the split running down Lance’s expression, the debate. So he gripped Lance and rolled over, giving Lance the more comfortable position. Coercing him into his world. “Go ahead,” Justin grinned. Lance down up at Justin’s naked body, at the painted face that topped a muscular body. And screwed his eyes shut as his body jerked into Justin, aching and hot. ready to go. His body raged and his mind deadened as the orgasm split down his body, and his eyes flew open as Justin ran his hands over his flaring skin.  He couldn’t speak as he came, couldn’t utter -- his mouth fell open but nothing came out. Lying side by side felt surreal. But complete. Not touching or cuddling. Just being. “Damn,” finally said, closing his eyes. Lance was breathless, and stunned, and at a loss for anything to say. And as he tried to come up with something to break the awkwardness, Justin rolled over, pecking him on the lips before getting up. “See you tomorrow,” he said, gathering his dress, hells, and a pair of Lance’s sweats before sweeping out of the hotel suite. And Lance managed a half-hearted  nod as he drifted into a much needed nap. ****** “Hey baby.” Lance stopped typing and glanced up as Laura smiled at him, tossing her purse and jacket to the carefully made bed. “Hey,” he responded, plucking his glasses from his face. And he blinked slowly as she moved toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “How was your night?” “Oh please!” she laughed. “Clubs and more clubs. Do you have any clue how many clubs Manhattan boasts? And Joey is a maniac!” Lance buried his nose in her stomach and closed his eyes. She smelled of smoke, and beer -- light whiffs of her perfume managed to fight their way through to him and he inhaled deeply, shivering away the thoughts of Justin. “What about you?” Laura asked, bending down to kiss his head. “Have fun at the drag ball with your bitch?” “Huh?” Lance lifted his face to stare at her, blush crawling over his cheeks, hoping he wasn’t as readable as all that. “My what?” “Justin,  silly. God, Lance. I would have paid money to see that boy in heels.” She brushed a kiss against his head and wandered away, flopping on the bed. “I’ll bet he was real purdy huh?” She kicked off her shoes and bent to pick them up. “Lance?” Lance glanced down as Laura’s hand came up. He gasped, and panicked inside. Panties. Justin’s. “Are these his?” Laura asked, cracking a grin. “Justin’s?” He nodded and jumped up, swiping them away. “Yeah,” he stammered. “He was pretty anxious to get out of those clothes.” He chewed on his lip as Laura giggled, pulling him down over her. Ignoring the lie he’d spewed as his body grew warm thinking about Justin’s body. “I’m pretty anxious too baby,” she whispered, nibbling on his neck. And Lance kept his hand wrapped around the black satin, settling into sexy images of Justin as he sank back into the bed once more. Smiling as he chucked the panties to the side. ********* Justin collapsed onto his bed in a fit of giggles. He rolled onto his back like a cat and stretched. The panties left behind were a reminder that Lance couldn’t escape the world he’d entered in to. And soon, Justin planned, to have Lance to himself more often. The End? * BACK *