| *INSATIABLE* song by darren hays //When moonlight crawls along the street Chasing away the summer heat Footsteps outside somewhere below The world revolves I let it go We build our church above this street We practice love between these sheets The candy sweetness scent of you It bathes my skin I'm stained by you And all I have to do is hold you There's a racing in my heart I am barely touching you// They say you’re too young for love. Even at twenty-one. “How can you know?” they cry. “You’re still a baby.” It’s a word you hate. A word you’ve learned to despise. A word that is synonymous with the celebrity that encompasses you. It’s hot in the loft. Lance insists on sleeping with the air conditioner off and the windows wide open. You can hear the cars whooshing underneath and you creep out of bed. A humid breeze flutters through the window and you peer down. You don’t think you’ll ever love the city like Lance does--it’s not in your blood. You would much rather have the stillness of the mountains or the calming thundering of the ocean--you are the earth and he is the air. Still, when you turn and see at him lying in bed, there isn’t a fire you wouldn’t walk across to get to him. His eyes flutter open and you see his skin bathed in the yellow glow of the streetlights. He pokes one leg out from under the sheet and his arms stretch over his head. “Whatcha doing?” he whispers, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “It’s hot,” you laugh. You perch on the window-sill and think how blessed you are to have each other--to have bonded and made it through so much. “I don’t know how you deal with this ...” “I like the heat,” he chuckles, curling onto his side. “Come back to bed.” You smile and turn toward the city once more. The lights are still there and the cars still rush by. It’s hectic and noisy and you long to close the window ... “Leave it, please?” he asks in that impossibly low voice. “I like the noise.” “Okay.” You hop down and head back to the king sized bed. Lance slides over and you climb in. He’s so close, his body barely touching yours, but you can feel heat raging off his skin. It makes you tingle so you reach out to touch his cheek. He curls into your palm and nuzzles closer. “I love you,” you whisper because you don’t think you can ever say it enough. He blinks slowly and wraps his hand around the nape of your neck, pulling you toward him. “I know,” he smiles before capturing your mouth in a kiss that you know will drown you. Because Lance is like that. His very essence makes you disappear in a flood of security and heat--where fear and hesitation have no place to embed themselves. Because Lance is your other half without ever thinking about it. Because you complete each other with the simplicity of a children’s puzzle. His tongue flutters against yours, gently at first then more insistently, and this is his way--the only person to ever do this--a move that is exclusive to him. It’s yours now, you think as you sigh into his mouth--and he’s yours now. His hands are so beautiful. They trail over your jaw and neck until you shiver despite the sticky summer air that sheathes bedroom. Lance rolls on top of you and you love the way his body depresses you into the mattress. It’s reassuring and genuine. You turn your head and sweep your nose against the inside of his wrist. His pulse seems to jolt and he crumples down on his elbows. The sheets tangle around his feet and he laughs trying to kick them away. A fire engine screeches by and someone on the street begins to sing in a drunken fit. A smile tugs at your lips because this is all Lance--this world--this constant state of unrest. He needs it to feel human, and you accept it because you need him to feel human. Lance shrugs at the noise before tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. He shifts and drapes his hand on your hip. “Want me to close the window?” he rumbles against your mouth. “I’ll close it.” Your hand runs along his spine and you shake your head because you just want more of him. You want all of him. He makes your heart race with one look--with one touch. Turn the lights down low Take it off Let me show My love for you Insatiable Turn me on Never stop Wanna taste every drop My love for you Insatiable There’s been no one else in your life. Lance was your first and only lover. You allowed no one else the privilege of your body in this way. Fooling around means nothing in your world. Never has. Blow jobs and sticky kisses shared with other partners were a physical release at best. But when Lance slides down your body, it’s all love. It’s love that bursts down the walls of your heart and makes you look up at him with eyes that tell tales of pride. His mouth drags across your collarbone while his hand caresses your thigh. It’s natural for you to twist your fingers in his hair and close your eyes--ride the wonder and refuge he gives you. You feel his chest slither against your erection and drop your legs apart. His tongue dips into your belly button and you throw your hands over your head. It doesn’t even matter that your wrist cracks against the headboard because Lance is melding into you. And that’s all you care about. Lance has an amazing tongue that dances against your skin with pressure that can make you crazy. He holds you in check and licks a damp path from your belly button to your cock. You can feel his breath tickle your flesh and his fingers scraping along your hips. It’s bliss, pure and simple, and you know that you’ll be exhausted in the morning when the sun crashes through the loft to wake you. But you know that he’s only yours for another day. Then he’s gone and you’re gone--the loft will be locked up for another six months until you can manage to escape N Sync again. The moonlight plays upon your skin A kiss that lingers takes me in I fall asleep inside of you There are no words There's only truth Breathe in Breathe out There is no sound We move together up and down We levitate our bodies soar Our feet don't even touch the floor And nobody knows you like I do The world doesn't understand But I grow stronger in your hands Lance is patient which always surprises you because his life never stops. Not ever. His hands are always moving, his leg always jiggling. But in bed he appreciates time and space. He doesn’t rush things and you think it makes you love him even more. There are times on tour when you catch him in an empty room and tug at his pants--and want him so desperately it hurts. He gives in to kiss and grope you--and rumbles against your neck in a flurry of sexual excitement--rubs his body against yours with nervous giggles. You love to make him come in those places because you know he’s yours--that for you he will shove aside his routine and not resist. For you he will come into your hand or mouth frantically, sweat and shake against you in hasty moments when anyone might stumble across both of you. Those are the shows he dances with that little extra something that no one but you quite understands. And when you get back to the bus afterward, he pulls out his patience and ravages you slowly, dragging you to the brink and back--because that’s his way. ******* In the loft with his body hovering over yours there isn’t anywhere else you want to be--in mind or body--so you tuck those images away and focus on the dark eyes shimmering down at you. You lift your legs and your body trembles in anticipation. Lance chews his lip--always--right before he enters. It’s his center, his concentration, his spirituality merging with his heart. Then he bends and kisses your mouth as he pushes against you. It’s always a blinding sensation. Your mind fuzzes and your vision blurs. You grip his hips and bury yourself deeper in his kiss. So much time has gone by since the night you and Lance first made love--but it always takes your breath away. Lance takes your breath away. He’s still sleepy you can see when the kiss breaks. His eyes droop and flutter open and shut. His body rocks slowly and he drops his chin to his chest. Its intriguing and entrancing to watch his face--how it morphs--and the sounds you crave in the silence. Low growls that sink into you. Breathless gasps that make your stomach flutter. You arch when the rhythm increases and the friction sends your insides spiraling. Your hand runs over his skin and you can feel him shiver. There is wonder in your heart because you never tire of this--of him. Fights come and go, misunderstandings and occasional bitchiness, but it’s the purest form of love--a gift from God. There isn't a blink in time that passes when you think Lance won’t be by your side. The sensations crest inside and you touch his face, run your fingertip over his jawline and trace his lips. His tongue flits out and circles it so you slip inside his mouth. You feel your cock rubbing against your stomach and you wiggle your hips. It’s the closest thing to heaven you can imagine. Lance quickens his pace and you smile inwardly, reaching down to stroke yourself. So unhurried, you think--same wavelength. You like to watch him when he comes, so you force your eyes to open. You love the way his mouth goes slack and his eyes tighten. You live for the way his head dips and throws back slowly--and how he grows almost silent. You cherish the beads of sweat that plaster his short hair to his forehead and still more that form over his lip. He releases your finger from his mouth and blinks down. “I love you,” he says in that instant before his orgasm takes him. Your hand works between you faster because you want to catch up--you always try to hit that perfect mark--but it never happens. He comes first but his hips never stop thrusting, not until you’re done. It’s the little things, you muse as your body explodes. Lance stays inside you as his body slows and you wish there was a way to keep him inside you all the time. That part of him that binds you intimately and lends you strength for times when you’re apart. Time moves, though, and he disentangles himself from you, pausing to kiss your nose. He flattens out beside you and rests his hand on his stomach. When you turn, you can see his chest rising double time, trying to regain a restful pace. You stare at him for a moment until you see his lips curl. “You okay?” he asks, and you know it’s not a shallow question. He asks you all the time if you’re okay. And what he means is ‘are you okay heart, mind and soul?’ “I’m okay,” you smile, rolling onto your side. He spoons against you instantly, his arm drapes over your hip, his nose buries in the nape of your neck. “Yeah, I’m good.” “Good,” he mumbles sleepily. “Love you.” “Love you,” you whisper back. A police siren screams past and the heat swallows you again, but there isn’t a place you’d rather be then in Lance’s arms. For eternity. [ back ] |