Fuck. Lance was brooding again.
Sometimes, Lance could be more fun than anyone, even Chris, because he wasn't crazy, he was just into it. And then sometimes Lance would sit in the corner and brood and no one, not even Joey, could bring him out of it.
So Lance was in one of his moods and Justin had plans and didn't really feel like the extra effort, but it was Lance, it was Brit pulling on his arm and saying, "Honey, Georgia is a really sweet girl, come on," it was almost midnight and he and Lance were in their rock star excess phase.
"Everybody has one," he'd told Lance, and Lance agreed that everybody except maybe Amy Grant probably did at least a few things they'd hold on to until Rolling Stone was calling about the comeback album.
Lance was talking about maybe driving home to Orlando that night, sleeping in his own bed for a change, and Justin leaned in close so he got a taste of hair gel and told Lance about Britney's friend. "Cause, you know. Sometimes you fuck girls, and she's really hot, and --"
"I'm tired," Lance said, dragging the word out, exaggerating. Justin faked a big yawn and draped an arm around Lance's back. Lance breathed in, took another sip of whatever he was drinking.
"C'mon," Justin said. "You do this, Brit gets off my case for at least a coupl'a weeks. You and I can hit every club from here to South Beach and really show them what being famous is all about." He tilted the side of his head against Lance's and could feel the grin touch his cheekbone.
Britney had one of her dancers by the hand, this chick with bleached hair in soft curls, a little taller than Britney but still shorter than the guys. Great tits and a little chain hanging around her bare stomach and Justin stood up to kiss her hello.
Brit turned right around to talk to some guy near them and Justin looked at Lance. "This is --" Justin shrugged, raised an eyebrow and grinned, knowing she wouldn't really care that he'd forgotten.
"Georgia," she said, deep drawl. Good. Lance liked it when they all sounded like they could have grown up together.
"Justin," Lance said, standing up but shaking his head.
"I know you're gonna be a star," Justin said, bobbing his head, and Lance sighed and looked back to the girl.
"I'm Georgia," she said again, unfazed. Justin wondered what Brit had said when warning her about Lance.
Lance put an arm around Justin's waist and leaned in to gently kiss her cheek. "Mississippi," Lance said. Justin slid a hand into the back pocket of Lance's carefully distressed jeans and Lance pulled him closer, nodded. "What do you say we take Tennessee and Louisiana here and go find us a room?"
Lance looked hot, half naked, on top of naked Georgia, sliding his hand under the chain around her waist. Georgia tugged at Lance's cross, arched her back and kissed him. Justin could see their tongues and when he glanced a little lower down, Georgia had pulled down Lance's jeans and boxers and wrapped her hand around his cock. Justin was so turned on, he could've fucked a nail into a concrete wall.
Britney's abs were hard but inside she was soft and wet and usually that was okay, usually that's how he liked it, hot and soaked like the fucking Everglades. She squeezed his dick inside her and he remembered why, pulled himself up and held onto the top of the headboard, thrusting in and out. Brit's hair was all sweaty and her cheeks were pink. She wrapped her legs around Justin's hips and her tits jiggled uniformly every time he slammed into her. She panted with her mouth open and Justin wanted to have two dicks so he could hear her gasp around it while he was fucking her. His grip on the bed was slipping and he pushed up fast so he didn't lose his balance. Britney cried out and came and her back went limp and he kept going, kept pushing, closing his eyes and listening to her try to catch her breath.
There was Brit's breath still quick and tight and the spring under his knee and the base of the bed hitting the wall in time with his hips, all of it laid down like tracks on a mix board. And high up where his ear had to reach for it there was a girl saying Lance's name over and over and far beneath it a low, humming groan, too low to be the girl, overlapping with all the other noise, and Lance grunted and Justin came like it was being ripped out of him, sounding strangled on top of the other voices. He fell back and out of where it was warm and his head hung down off the edge of the mattress.
Britney pushed him off the bed and he just barely caught himself before he hit the floor. He dragged himself back up and lay on his back. Lance was sitting up, sweat drying on his bare chest and his hair sticking up in demented directions. Lance pulled the heavy silver cross over his head and set it on the nightstand. He looked over at Justin and grinned. Justin mouthed "c'mere" and Lance rolled his eyes.
Britney stepped on Lance's condom as she walked to the bathroom and said, "Shit. Would it kill you to learn to aim? Fuck." She shook the thing off her foot and grimaced as she threw it in the trashcan. "Always was a better shot than you, Bass. Georgia," she whined, "come with me for a second." Justin closed his eyes and stretched. The bed dipped and someone long and warm settled next to him. Justin opened his eyes and enjoyed the view of naked, sweaty, languid Lance in profile, eyes half-closed.
"Lance," Justin whispered, "wasn't that nicer than going home?" Lance just shook his head and rubbed his stomach. Lance was always so calm about these things. Justin was hyped up on the sexiness of it all, the debauchery of fucking girls or boys together, and Lance would just lay there like hedonism came naturally. Though Lance was never the one to suggest the idea again.
Britney and Georgia came out of the bathroom, and Britney was still whining, only faster now. "You know, we could have gotten two rooms. Or nicer rooms. That bathroom is almost scary. And it's fucking small."
"That wasn't the point, Brit. This is the good stuff." Lance was calm and Justin was wired and Brit was just Brit, always the same. She had whatever it was she was doing with Georgia in the bathroom and there was Lance's broad chest sprawled out next to him. What was the point of excess if you didn't break some rules, he thought. Justin leaned over Lance, throwing one leg over Lance's hip.
That earned a reaction of sorts from Lance, a squint and raised brows. They usually only did it alone if they were on a bus or holed up recording and couldn't get away. "It's just too weird otherwise," Lance had said once, and Justin didn't think about it too much, just agreed it was better than nothing.
But it's not like they were alone, not really. Justin put his fingers around the side of Lance's waist and Lance nodded slowly, calmly. Justin wanted more than anything to make Lance scream, to fuck him into the babbling incoherence Justin was still wandering back from. Justin reached for Britney. "Come here, baby."
Brit took his hand but didn't come closer, looking at him half-wrapped around Lance. Georgia flopped back on the other bed and lit a cigarette, wiping her nose. "Do I get to watch? Cause that would be fun." She crossed her legs and grinned. Brit turned her head and looked at Georgia. Looked at Lance with his half grin and closed eyes, looked back at Justin and got that he'd been watching her the whole time, waiting to see what she would do.
Britney climbed on the bed and Justin smiled wide, licked his lips and leaned back to kiss her. She put a hand on his stomach, bringing him up onto his knees. Her mouth was dry. He was straddling Lance now, Brit behind Justin, stroking his cock. Lance was tucked underneath, his dick hard and warm and Justin scooted forward on Lance's stomach so it was flush against his ass. Lance thrust up and Brit shifted so she was sitting on Lance's leg. When Justin turned, there was a slick trail where she'd slid against Lance's blond leg hair, and it was good but Justin couldn't see everything at once.
He pulled Britney around and she fell down on her back next to Lance and batted a hand toward Justin's chest but missed. "Real smooth, Timberlake," she said, legs still open and spread and little brown curls all wet and glistening.
Lance pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at Justin and those wild green eyes dead-on were like the full force of a screaming crowd. Justin sat back weakly on his heels, balanced himself with a hand on the coverlet. Lance touched Britney's wrist and said, "Why don't you sit against the headboard?"
She glared at Justin, and he leaned down over Lance's chest and kissed her. "Baby, this isn't a video. There's not, like, a choreographer. Please?"
She sat with her knees tucked up under her arms, pouting and still sweaty, and he called her baby again but it didn't help. But Lance dragged a light touch over Justin's chest and raised an eyebrow like he was asking permission and Justin shrugged because he'd thought anything goes became the rule a long time before.
Lance turned around and walked on his hands and knees over to Britney. Ran a slow hand up her shin and pushed one knee down, then the other. Justin remembered the other chick and when he looked over she was spread on her stomach, one hand between her legs. Justin grabbed at his own dick, watched Lance's ass, watched Lance's head as he lowered it between Brit's thighs. She closed her eyes and brought her legs back up, hooking them over Lance's shoulders. Justin hadn't realized Lance liked girls quite that much but Brit was squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lower lip like it was good.
Justin laid down on his side right near her hips to watch and Lance seemed totally into it, two fingers like scissors inside her cunt, one up her ass. Lance had his eyes closed and her clit deep in his mouth. He hummed low in his throat like he was blowing her and Britney thrashed and hit her head hard against the wood and yelled something unintelligible. Lance blinked and swallowed on reflex and turned his head, grinning when he saw that Justin was right there. Lance pressed his wet lips against Justin's forehead and climbed back up Brit's body.
It made Justin want to have Lance suck him off, a really great mind melting blowjob of the century, and he sat up behind where Lance was nuzzling her tits. Lance kissed Britney long and slow and when he moved away she whimpered and Justin put his hand on Lance's neck, ready for his turn. He pulled Lance's mouth to his. Lance tasted like pussy and he twisted into Justin's arms, hands playing across Justin's ribs. Britney spread her legs more and pulled Lance back and around so he was sitting inside of them. Justin bent forward, hands on her hips as he sucked on Lance's tongue.
Brit had one hand on Justin's face and the other on Lance's chest and over Lance's shoulder she looked stoned and sated, eyes glazed, lips swollen. She was tranced out on whatever she'd put up her nose and getting off twice and Justin wondered if fucking passed-out girlfriends was going to be part of being a rock star, if he'd even want to. And then Lance bit at his ear, whispered "fuck me now" and Justin's chest hitched with all the wanting he had left inside.
There were condoms strewn on the nightstand and Lance put one on him, hands sliding back across Justin's hips and ass when he finished squeezing lube all over. Justin pulled Lance's feet up and over so they were splayed outside Brit's legs, tugged Lance down so his head was propped on her ripped stomach. Lance pulled his hips up off the bed and held them there and Justin thanked god for rehearsals. Britney's hands played lazily in Lance's hair and she looked at Justin, egging him on, getting more into it, saying "do it" and "fuck him already" and "you're such a fag, Justin, you know you want to," and he was, he did, he got harder still every time she said it.
He put one finger up in Lance and Lance moaned and spread his legs more. Lance bit down, skin pulled tight across his jaw, Adam's apple bulging at his throat. "Just do it," he spat, reaching an arm out.
Justin came down into the embrace, closed his eyes and pushed in slow, inch by inch, until Lance dug nails into his back and sneered "just fucking do it, man," and he did and Lance yelled and Britney moaned and something fell off the other bed. Britney ran a hand over Lance's cheek and he bit at her fingers and Justin slammed in harder this time, pushing both of them back against headboard. Lance put his hands on Justin's shoulders, took a deep breath and loosened up.
Justin slipped in and out, in and out, wanting to be everywhere at once, wanting to feel the scratch of Britney's cunt hair against his upper back like Lance must, wanting his hands in Lance's hair, wanting a bird's-eye view of the whole scene. He pawed at Britney's breast and she reached down to take Lance's cock in her hand and they all pushed back and forth together, grunts low middle and high all in time with the others, sweet slick harmony that burned into his brain like a needle in soft wax. Brit tugged roughly at Lance and he flailed and came hard, spraying his stomach and Justin's chest and where it had been tight and warm before it was a nuclear vise now and Justin exploded, gasping for air, falling onto Lance who was falling back against Brit as she slid down onto the pillows.
He passed out for a second or two there, and when he opened his eyes, there was only Lance beneath him. Brit walked around the room, rooting through bags and checking pockets. Georgia followed her, double-checking everything Brit rifled through. "We're out!" Britney said, bitching again.
Lance murmured from somewhere underneath Justin, "No, I'm really not. I know everyone thinks I practically am, but not really." Lance giggled and even as exhausted as Justin was, that low, sexy, I've-just-been-fucked giggle still sent something twitching and sparking in his stomach. And lower.
"God," Brit said, drawling it out. "Shut up, queenie. I mean we're out of stuff. The good stuff." She smirked at Justin like she deserved the credit for what had happened, like he'd never gotten to second base with Lance without her there.
Georgia volunteered that she had something at her place and the two of them threw on clothes haphazardly. Brit stopped at the door. "You two coming? Or no?" There was an ugly edge to her voice, something vaguely threatening, and Justin wished maybe she'd never seen him want Lance that much.
Justin looked away from her and down at Lance. Justin got lost somewhere around staring at Lance's strong thighs and an idea, or maybe just a stray thought, of those thighs wrapped around him and he forgot to look up. Justin said something about already having the good stuff and didn't notice when the girls left.
Justin woke up again and sighed. Still with warm, sweaty smelling of sex Lance beneath him so he sighed again and snuggled closer. "Justin?" Lance sounded more gravelly than normal.
"Yup?"
Lance kissed Justin's nose. Said in a whisper, "Have you ever seen that movie, with, uh, D.B. Sweeney and that chick and they're ice skaters?"
Justin breathed in so he could smell Lance again. "Yeah, on cable. The Cutting Edge, right? And they all want each other and she's scared of success or something? And they kiss at the end?"
"That's a good movie. Toe-pick!" Lance laughed low.
Justin thought maybe he was over his rock star excess thing. He moved his hand, feeling Lance's hip smooth and silky below his fingertips and remembering how the movie ended after the kiss but before you found out if they won the gold medal. He said, "Somewhere in the middle of all this I fell in love with you."
"That was a good part, too," Lance said, licking Justin's jaw. Justin thought of Brit, wondered if she would come back. Decided he didn't care. With his eyes closed, he found Lance's mouth and kissed him.
END.
Credits: J-Lo was in the mood. Inspired in part by good and bad lays that came before. Also Tigerland, True Romance and The Cutting Edge.