Justin joined them at the table, so JC stopped shimmying enough to stick his tongue out. "You do that enough, someone will grab it," Justin said. Joey reached out and grabbed JC's tongue. "See?" Justin said.

"Yeth, I do," JC replied. Instead of trying to wriggle free, he bit down on Joey's offending fingers.

"Ack!" Joey yelped, drawing back his hand. "That hurt, you little cannibal."

JC grabbed Joey's hand back and licked the wound in apology. "Mmmmnotacannibal." JC kissed Joey.

Lance noticed. Offended, he grabbed Justin, who yelped as well, and mashed his own face with Justin's.

Justin wondered how much an order of mashed Justin would go for. It could be a side dish at House of Blues to be served with porterhouse and salad. He bit Lance's lip, and not in a sexy way.

Lance pushed himself away into the corner of the booth, nursing his mouth. "I'm gonna bruise, bitch!" he mumbled.

"You shoulda thought on that before you tried to dislocate my nose," Justin replied.

They glared at each other. Then they turned to glare at JC and Joey, who were too busy doing their kissing thing to glare back.

"Jayce," Joey whispered, "I think Lance and Justin want us to stop." Lance was tugging on Joey's pants. Justin just stared.

JC shook his head. "No, they want to watch us," he said, grabbing at Joey.

Joey shook his head. "I think you're wrong, bro."

"Okay, I am wrong. I think they want to join in," JC said after a moment. "I know!"

JC pulled himself away from Joey briefly, grabbed Lance by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him over to join him and Joey. He licked up one side of Lance's jaw, then deposited him in Joey's lap and went back to his previous activities involving Joey's mouth. Lance liked to watch, so he enjoyed the view.

Justin decided to take matters into his own hands. "Aha!" Justin thought. He grabbed Lance by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off of Joey.

"Whee!" Lance squealed. "Fun, fun! Let's do it again!"

"Okay," JC said, before grabbing Lance's unbuttoned shirt and pulling him back into Joey's lap.

Lance clapped in delight. "Where do I put the quarter?!?"

Joey blinked, opened his mouth to make a comment, then shut it again. "Nope, not going there."

Meanwhile the Lance tug-o-war had reached epic proportions. Finally, Lance had to put up his hands in protest. "Stop!" He adjusted his pants and made a face. "Oooh. I didn't know leather seats chafed like that."

Justin walked away slowly, stealthily, unnoticed when Lance, Joey and JC tried a triple kiss. Ten minutes later, Justin came back with his camcorder charged and, unnoticed again, he sat off to the side in his own little corner. It was a good thing that they'd kept the VIP room for themselves. For the rest of the night. It made selling tickets for ten minutes of viewing time that much more profitable. He made a mental note that next time he should bring a boom -- JC's whimpers were hot but horribly quiet. Justin figured his bandmates wouldn't mind being videotaped for profit -- in fact, he was pretty sure Lance would approve of it as a sound business venture. Besides, he'd always though the addition of an audience made liaisons that much better. He knew he certainly liked watching himself on tape. In fact, that had been purely his suggestion for the Cry Me a River video.

"I'm so hot," Justin thought to himself, lost in reverie.

A hand crept up to his chest and pinched a nipple. At first, Justin thought it was his own hand, but it wasn't. Upon realizing this, Justin gasped, half-turned and almost dropped his camera in the process. He looked into Trace's smirking face, almost as drunk as his own. Justin smiled slyly, and Trace thought Justin would grab him. Instead, Justin handed Trace the camera, so Trace focused it on his very good friend. Justin began doing a little dance of post-double-show jubilation, singing, "I just wanna love ya, baby... Cry me a river!" while looking straight into the camera and beginning to strip off his clothes. "Oooh! Oooh! Yeah."

In the background, a blurry movement of partially-clothed figures continued their own little three-personed-quasi-horizontal tango.

Justin spoke to the camera, unhampered, entreating, "Let me be your hot oven of loooove...."

Trace flushed, and the camera kept on rolling.

"I will be your hot oven of love!" JC gasped, fingers tugging desperately at Joey's pants. Joey was about to ask what in the name of hot sex that was, but then Lance's mouth was on his, and well, sometimes there are better things to do with one's tongue than talk.

Seeing Lance's fly in front of his face, JC decided to put his multi-tasking skills to the test and take Lance's zipper in his teeth. JC also knew of better things to do with his mouth than talk. He didn't bother to think about logistics because he was sure that the minute he paused to think, a spare limb might end up somewhere it might not want to be. Or that maybe it did. He wasn't sure. But yes, one hand was still doing its job with Joey's pants and although his teeth were encountering some resistance from Lance's zipper (it was one of those with a round knob rather than a flat tab) he was pretty sure that would be dealt with soon. Which left one hand free. He decided this hand would be perfect for one thing.

In the heat of passion, reveling in his multi-tasking capabilities, the feel of Lance's pants' zipper knob hard in his mouth, Joey's pants unfurling under his ministrations, his own pants tenting as JC Junior perked up, rising to the occasion, JC raised his free hand. He moaned. He ran his hand through his hair. He moaned some more.

Somewhere, Justin could be overheard beatboxing furiously...

The passion raged on.

Raged on, that is, until a bouncer came in and told them to take it outside, because they had to shut down for the night.

So they did.

In the alley.

While Justin filmed. And Trace operated his boom.

~~~ Written with Schizanthus and Hunnie B.